Happy new year.

I like wishing people a very happy new year. Because you can wish anyone a happy new year, irrespective of their creed, sex, religion or kite-flying capabilities.

So,

Happy new year everyone.

May this year bring you the change that you've always wanted.

Most importantly, you should concentrate on having a blast on new years. Who knows, 2009 might suck. So, make sure you have a very good party on new year eve. I, for one, am eloping with myself for new years.

Cheers.

Some days...

Some days, there is lots of work to do.

Some days, you are just not in the mood.

Some days, your best friend calls up, and you miss your friends.

Some days, you don't want to call mom and ask for cooking tips.

Some days, you just can't bug the shit out of your friends.

Some days, you are lonely.

Some days, you want to ride the bike, but you can't because of your broken back.

Some days, you miss the guitar.

Some days, you want to fall madly in love, all over again.

Some days, you cry without tears.

Some days, music irritates you.

Some days, you regret some decisions you've made.

Some days, you don't want to play this game of life.

Some days, you're sad that you've given up drinking.

Some days.

Some day.

Some day, I'll be back.

Some day, I'll live this life, my way.

Some day, I'll fall in love, again.

Some day, I'll make my friends smile.

Some day, I'll be a biker again.

Some day, I'll sing and be happy.

Some day, I'll be Saturday night.

Bringing down the house.

Hokay fellas!

I know, I know, it's been a while. There were a lot of ideas, lot of phone calls, lot of lot of things. A certain somebody told me that I am a failure, and I've always failed with one mark. I hope that certain somebody is feeling all smug and nice, now that the place of choice has been granted. Yeah, I sometimes miss Bangalore. It's nice to know that some of you actually follow the blog and let me know when there are no frequent updates. Eric Clapton - Signe - no words. Hang on, my cooker blew the third whistle. Be right back.

OK. Am back. And also managed to lose the train of thought which was, I am sure, brilliant. For those ignorant few of you, I am going to elope with myself for new years. The idea is pretty sad, if you are a woman, but I think its awesome if you are man irrespective of your marital status. You see, I have begun to believe that maybe I am not built for marriage, standing in a line, Altaf Raja, war, beer, cats (domestic), bungee jumping, etc., etc.

I was glued to the TV the whole while. Carnage man. What did they get? I've been to the Taj a couple of times between '97 and '01. I am very attached to places where I had fun, because that's where I met the people who make me what I am. I miss Mumbai. I miss Hyderabad too. Looks like there is a lot of missing going on here. Anyway, terrorists, the next time you are here, make sure you meet me first. Let's see what you will attack then. And a sincere advice to all those who support, help or know these mindless jerks - play ring wrong. You will get your priorities right.

I wrote something about the Mumbai terror attacks there. If you want to read it, you copy it, change the font from webdings to your font of preference, and read. The reason I changed the font is because I realised that its not going to make any difference to anyone out there. I know four people who have lost very dear ones. Its sad.

I also made a couple of friends out here. They are from ages 5 to 8. They cheat in cricket. Big time.

Dasvidaniya.

1. Drive a Mercedes SLK on the Mumbai - Pune expressway.
2. Own a fender stratocastor with amp and 1100 pad.
3. Cut an album, with the guitar, tabla, and some voices I love.
4. Get all the 'boys' to one place and introduce them to each other, and see what happens.
5. Have 5 girlfriends or more. (At least, one for now....and one at a time....)
6. Play with the tigers. (Tiger temple)
7. Learn seven languages.
8. Close the gap between teeth.
9. Shake hands with at least one major celebrity and get a photograph.
10. Do the farewell video. Really.
11. Cook a full course meal and serve it to the one woman I have ever really loved, and always will.
12. Play in the snow. (I've never seen snow....)
13. Feel healthy.
14. Buy a recliner.
15. Great wall, Pyramids, Ayers rock, Petronas Towers, London eye, New York. See.
16. Watch this movie again, see if there is anything I forgot, and add to the list.

Oh well...martian mindscapes on a sunday morning.....

Yellow pipals.

Happy birthday to me. I completed 31 years on your planet on Oct 25th. Jehangir told me about something which his uncle told him. His uncle tells Jehangir a lot of things in life. Famous quotes include, "mundi ghusao, gaand bhi ghusega", a euphemism on how to drive in Mumbai traffic. So anyway, apparently, once you are over 30, you should start counting in reverse. Guess it makes more sense once you are pushing 40. If you did not wish me on my birthday, its OK. I don't mind. It just goes to prove you are one hell of a pathetic lost lousy loser. My birthday was celebrated across five different locations in India and overseas without me being there, which goes to prove, that I only know those people who will drink themselves to death no matter what the bloody occasion is! The reason I am hamming so much about my birthday here is because this one time, I was made to feel very special and all. So a big thank you to:

Jehangir - The cake was a neat idea dude...thanks mate...

Amma & Nanna - That was a surprise! I mean, you paying the bill!

Uncles, Aunts - I know you love me. heh, heh.

Now. The buck stops here. There is this one person to who the rest of the post is dedicated.

His name is Khadar.

First, the cake:

Then, the guitar. (Will post the pic soon...)

For you, I will now learn the guitar. God promise.

(The story behind the cake is that I told Khadar one night that I wanted to stop the blog because I was bored of it....I keep writing the same crap and all....well, I'm touched man.)

Okay, My St. WIMSA (Why Is My Son Abnormal, a.k.a my mom) is here. Some nuggets during our conversations:

"Success is negative because it does not allow you to fail, but failure is positive, because it allows you to succeed"

"People who give up on life will stop living long before they are dead"

"Why can't you have a normal life? Will you ever marry again? Don't you want a normal life for your parents at least? Look at everyone else's parents! I have never understood whether I should be proud of you or bang my head against the wall."

So long. I have to finish this upma before I get another lecture on time and discipline and other useless shit.

Jesus rides again....

Note: Please read the post titled, "Jesus rode a Harley Davidson" before you read this.

Me: Heya God boy…how is it hangin’?

God: You owe me 700 bucks

Me: Erm…what for?

God: I paid for the beer the last time…

Me: Oh yeah….sure….I acknowledge the fact that I owe you money…(cough, cough)

God: Bronchitis, eh?

Me: Yup. So what else is happening, since the last time we met?

God: Nothing much, the planet still sucks…

Me: Yeah I know….I think you should get some friends…..

God: It’s easy for you to say that…

Me: Whatever. Say, God, you think I can get a girlfriend?

God: I cannot laugh out loud or roll on the floor laughing; it disturbs the ecology of this system.

Me: Erm…..can you tell me the future?

God: What do you want to know?

Me: The future…how is it going to be?

God: You will die.

Me: Yeah I know that…what I meant was, how is the time between now and till my death going to be?

God: That depends on you…I can only tell you the definitive future.

Me: I see that….by the way, do you understand religion now?

God: Nope.

Me: Humanity?

God: What humanity? The only things human on this planet are all the things which are not human...like all the flora and fauna which you guys destroy to make paper to wipe your asses…

Me: Whoa man…chill out…don’t be so angry…

God: Well anger seems to be the emotion of the moment….I see anger everywhere….

Me: Well, me and the boys don’t get angry often…

God: You are one big bunch of drunk losers…that’s why

Me: Sure…each of us is like Robert De Niro in Heat…we’ve lost everything, and we are ready for anything, because we ain’t got much to lose anyway, so you see…we are the other guys…

God: Yeah, right…even the excuse is so lousy….

Me: It was the best I could come up with…ok? So excuse me…

God: Excused.

Me: It’s boring right, this life…

God: You talking to me? YOU talking to me?

Me: I understand…must be really LOUSY to be alone, lonely and in the wrong place…maybe mankind is not ready for you yet…

God: Maybe you are right…..maybe I am not ready for man cruel yet….

Me: Anyway, drink up, your beer is getting warm….

God: You still owe me 700..

Me: Yeah yeah…I know….don’t worry….erm…one last thing…you think I can get a girlfriend?

(Thunder, lightning, hail, pandemonium…the world ends.)

La Poderosa II (The mighty one)

That is the name of the Norton used by Alberto and Ernesto. For further information, please read "The Motorcycle Diaries" by Ernesto 'Che' Guevara. If you are a non-male, you will thoroughly understand the bond between boys and their motorcycles.

I am in the hospital again. This time, it is acute bronchitis, which is further strengthened with the complete absence of any mallu nurses around. Why does god play this practical joke with me? I mean, I think its perfectly fine that I keep falling sick, but have you ever heard of a hospital with no mallu nurses? I mean, how the hell am I supposed to recover? So I decided that I am not going to be admitted.

Okay. So there is a poem running in my head.

I wish for a world, where dope is legal and sex is free,

where there are no urine tests, and everyone screws gravity,

where the sun is a shiny big disco ball, and the earth is not reality,

If only beer would rain from the sky, and we'd have steak mountains high,

and if all the animals could speak, they'd probably, on us, take a leak,

where a house is a motorbike, and all the money has taken a hike,

I wish for one world, where the national anthem is by Led Zeppelin,

where the national bird is Kentucky fried chickin.

(Time to cough my guts out and spew the venomous phlegm into the wash. See you next time.)

OK. Tata. Horn Please.

Hellos the peoples!

I ams the backs!

Afters the longs trips to the states! (States: The Punjabs, THE Hyderabads.)

Awesome trip I say.

Too much.

My mobile phone fell under the Delhi Metro Rail. The taxi had an accident. I made friends with an ex-fighter pilot who is now commercial pilot for Kingfisher. I asked him logical question and he found it funny. I asked him if he was going to announce the destination thus:

"Ladies & gentlemen, welcome on board flight XXX, this is your captain YYY, we are currently at an altitude of 32,000 ft. and would spot our target soon. Once we do that, please fasten your seat belts till our target is achieved and mission accomplished. I HOPE you enjoy your flight (chuckle chuckle)".

Anyway, My most awesome absolutely absent sense of humor is going real down, I tell you. I actually thought I would start this post with, "I went to Jackie Chan's house (Chan-di-garh)..."

But what with the lunch just in the digestive system and all that, I will start the post thus:

"Captain's log. 29.09.08. The time is after lunch time*. I am stranded here, off the coast of Bay of Bengal. My once empty crew is still empty and the world-famous-in-vizag-ship, the uns(th)inkable, has got a good career jump and become a coral reef. I have recently returned from the grand voyage of Jackie Chan's house. It is a beautiful place. There are things called Lorries, which display calligraphy from Pluto. They also have a species called Lorry drivers. If you have drunk your mothers milk and your fathers whiskey, you can have a fight with them. One of them banged the Toyota Innova in which I was travelling because he was averse to an Innova being Black in Punjab. Also, It did not have any sign of sikhism anywhere. Like "Chunnu, Munnu de pappa di gaddi", or "Beta the Sunny, Baap the Dharam, and brother the Bobby. I love you." I am tired now. I will post more later."

*There are only two times - Before lunch time and after lunch time. This AD and BC is all crap. Don't believe it.

Wanderlust.

That's a song by Mark Knopfler. 

"...You are afraid to die without having done something. You are afraid to die, Rusty, but you have hardly begun to live. 

I know you are not happy in Dehra, and you must be lonely. But wait a little, be patient, and the bad days will pass. We don't know why we live. It is no use trying to know. But we have to live, Rusty, because we really want to. And as long as we want to, we have got to find something to live for, and even die for it."

- The room on the roof (Ruskin Bond)

Frontier Mail.

It was a regular, hot, humid afternoon in Delhi. Somehow, the heat and humidity at the railway stations are directly related to the when the train arrives on the platform. Ram Singh knew this well. He was visiting his home town, a lot richer than when he had left ten years ago. Ram Singh was the son of a poor daily wage worker. He had no formal education and got married when most kids his age in the city were still to learn the fine art of shaving. Everyone in the village looked down upon him, for he could not earn any money no matter what he did. One day, during one of those quarrels between man and wife where tempers always run high, he challenged the entire world that he would someday become rich and only then would he step back into his village. The wife, knowing this all too well, coerced him and goaded him further. But this once, she was wrong. He left, leaving behind a seven month old baby, the wife, the parents, the village, even his favorite tree.

The city was not a place where you could relax under the tree. You had to keep moving, keep pushing and keep up with being pushed. When he arrived at the station, he immediately made friends with some coolies, and started life as a coolie with gusto. On the third day, he realized that his dream was running away while he was lifting luggage and haggling for measly amounts of money. He had to do something. What could he do? That night, the usual drunk party of coolies, including the old one, sat together, recounting stories of their past and lost glories. The old one lamented upon his lack of physical strength which once came in so handy. When prodded further, he revealed that during his heyday, he not only used to help people with their luggage, but if they were slow, he most often used to help himself. Yes, that was it. That was his answer.

You would agree that anything addictive this world has to offer is most often morally wrong. So the coolie became the conman. From the platform he moved on to the second class compartments, from there to the third AC, and finally to the First class. He was established in the trade now. He knew who he should share the booty with, and how much. He knew how to charm people in five minutes, and had devised ingenious methods of his own in trickery and sly.

He was making money, lots of it, but there are times in a man’s life when he tends to question ethics and morality, though he might not have either. Ram Singh too did the same one night, reminiscing about the good old days in the village. He suddenly remembered his son, his wife and everything and everyone right up to his tree. As expected, he was overcome with the feeling to go home. He decided that enough is enough, and packed all his belongings, including the cash and jewels in a separate bag, bought some toys, and boarded the frontier mail.

As he sat there deep in thought, he noticed the girl sitting opposite him. She was so beautiful, almost the same age as his son. And then reality sunk in, his son would be quite big now, how would he react? Maybe it would take some time to explain, but Ram Singh was sure he could convince the boy that he was his father. With this happy thought, Ram Singh looked at his fellow travelers, the girl and her mother who had a round face and a warm smile, the old man who was busy reading a book. He engaged the young girl in conversation which was soon joined in by the mother. The old man, realizing this conversation was there to stay, dropped his book and joined in too. They discussed about where they were going and why they were going there. It was dinner time and the girl and her mother, noticing that Ram Singh had not brought his dinner with him, decided to share theirs. He had a hearty meal because tonight, there were no worries. He had paid his dues and he was on his way home. He noticed that he was unusually feeling sleepy and attributed that to the same thought of going home.

When he woke up, the fellow travelers had gone, for he had overslept, the train had been at the platform for over half hour, and he was woken up by one of the urchins who scavenge the trains for any lucky leftovers. He washed his face, came out on to the platform, smelled the fresh air and hired a tonga to his village.

Everything had changed so much around here, he wondered loudly, upon which the tonga driver gave a city-ish smirk as if he was saying “bloody villager”. As Ram Singh neared his house, he got down, paid the tonga driver, and took wary steps. He knocked on the door, a small boy opened it. For a full minute, He just saw the boy and took the reality of it all. Then he managed a meek, “what is your name?”. “Bholu”, came the reply.
“Is there someone at home?”
“No. What do you want?”
“Where is your mother?”
“At the fields, she has gone to give lunch to my father.”
His mind went numb. He turned back, and then, remembering that he had bought toys, tried giving them to the child. After a long doubtful look, the child asked him to put the toys near the door and leave.
As he was coming out of their street, he saw his wife, and called out to her.
“Vimla!”
“You! But…but they said….you were dead….”
“Its OK. I promised you that I’ll be rich, here I am…”
He opened his bags which were full of stones and other assorted debris, carefully assembled to match the weight of all the riches he was carrying. He understood now why his sleep was so content. He smiled at her, as if to say goodbye and sorry at the same time, and she nodded in similar fashion. Even his favorite tree was cut down to make way for the road, and his parents were dead.

The end?

It was a regular, hot, humid afternoon somewhere in India. Somehow, the heat and humidity at the railway stations are directly related to the when the train arrives on the platform. Ram Singh knew this well. As he sat on his berth in the second class compartment, he surveyed his fellow travelers and gave them a benign smile. He had to charm his way again through life.

A mighty heart.

Dear all, 

I have just been informed of a catastrophe of mass proportions. No. It doesn't have anything to do with discovering the Higg's Boson. My guitar is dead. Correction. My only guitar is dead. The most unreliable Sources inside the Rashtrapati Bhavan, at Marredpally, Hyderabad, claim that the death was quick and painless. The cause of death, apparently, is the wind which gently nudged the drape where the head of the guitar was housed. The most unreliable sources were at their good offices in the next room when the mishap occurred. They probably even went to the extent of actually muttering "Maa ki kiri kiri" under their breath, but that has not been confirmed at this time.

Dude, I know you wanted the post to be called EDA, because those are the only three chords you played on my guitar, but I think you would agree with what the post is called. 

My most beautiful only guitar is dead. I bought it saving so much money. A long time ago, when my salary was INR 6,000/-, which, ironically, today is a measly piece of shit compared to what I make. Looking back, I think I was better off earning that measly piece of shit. I guess you realise things like this once in a while. I might buy another guitar, and maybe, just maybe, it might be a Gibson Les Paul (Sunburst), but my most beautiful only guitar will always have a special place in my heart. I played "Neele neele ambar par" (vocals, chords and tabs) to my ex-wife once just to surprise her. I played in front of an audience who thought I was awesome because I could play without looking at the guitar. I played it on so many of those lonely nights. The last time I played this guitar is the videos that are there in the post "The Ajuitar". I believe now that that quality time I spent with the guitar was its swansong. It was brutally thrown to the floor once by the ex-wife, which led to a fracture at the neck. It clung on to life to be immortalised in the video. Once its job was done, it died, without telling anyone. What a life. What a death. What a mighty heart. 

Adios, my most beautiful only guitar. Thank you for all the wonderful times and great company. I will miss you.  

The Ajuitar

Dead Drunk. 

Half broken Guitar. 

This is what happens. 

http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=P_-Ds6bh4fA

http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=eolUD1NOF8Q

Thanks Khadar. 

P.S: make sure you have headphones. 

Walk tall....

Its alright. Its alright to be me.

The sun is shining a little brighter today, the water seems to taste a little sweet, the air seems to smell like davidoff cool water, lucky seems to be licking my face, it feels like the rain in the middle of summer......or is it just me?

Those days that you spent with me, I shall treasure....like I always do. The biggest gift that you got me is your son, remember the time when me and rama were playing with him outside the restaurant when you were sitting in the car? I felt a joy I cannot explain. If this is love, then I love you, my dear. I love the both of you. Thank you. Most of all, for making me feel at home in my house. Till the next time that we meet, walk tall.

Happy bathday to N. When I turned 30, I was too shocked with other things to react about turning 30. When I turned 31, I was too busy celebrating my getting over those shocks. This time, I will genuinely be shocked that I have turned 30. 2 years ago.....

So many people come and go in your life. Take my advice, stick with those who don't think you are a rock star, but make you feel like one. Those, my man, are your friends. After playing for beetle billy dilly and big fat man and them not bashing me up, there is only one left, couch potato.

I'll play soon.

And oh, since there is nothing disgusting in this post, here goes:

I came out this morning and it was drizzling, not the pull-over-and-pee-fast kind of rain, but a pull-over-and-forget-to-unzip-oh-shit kind of drizzle. I stretched my arm to try and catch the raindrop, and missed. One persistent drop, however, managed to grip my index finger like tom cruise in MI. As I watched, it slowly danced and made its way along the length of my arm into my armpit. Bloody acidic rains. Its itching. Someone save this planet man.

Bloody valence electrons....

I am finally related to the Americans. My cousin, H, got married to S. So now he is American and so am I. I just met them at their hotel, had dinner, conversation, coffee, cigarettes and all other things which start with a C. During dinner, I blurted out to S's mom that true control comes only when you have no control.

So, since I've been having a good amount of alcohol over the last one week, I have decided to stop today. So till tomorrow, there is no alcohol. True control.

And, it's been one year, so I thought I should write a letter.

Dear J,

It's been one long year. I miss you terribly. I still love you the same way the first time I saw you. The first time I stood next to you, I felt so proud, so much like a man. I miss the way we used to go out for those long drives together. Just you and me. It broke my heart when you left me. It was a tough choice but you know the circumstances. Bloody circumstances. The first time we went on a drive, my heart was thumping, and all I could hear in the night was your heartbeat. You were my dream, and then you became my reality, but just for a short while. Maybe you just wanted me to treasure those moments. I do. Even today, if I just hear your sound or see you on the road, I cross my heart and a little tear lingers on, while my heart smiles a little smile, knowing well that you had been a part of my life, and always will be. I miss you, my baby, and wherever you are, be happy Juggy(Juggernaut).

P.S: I hope you had your third service done. Juggernaut = Royal Enfield 350CC

Mani.

Namaskaram. I come everyday to Flat #1 here, and wake the man up in the house at 7:00 AM. I don't know why he calls it midnight. My name is Mani. I am the maid for this house. I have been wanting to tell this to someone, but I think this man is a psychopath. I have never seen any person get up from bed with a cigarette in his mouth. As soon as he gets up, he switches on some weird music which is more like a woman crying in the middle of the forest. It is called led something. He then makes tea and settles down with his newspaper. He has a car and even speaks in English on the phone, but I have never seen him go to office. I don't know how he gets his money, maybe he is a smuggler. Everybody says this man is married, but I have never seen his wife. A few days ago, a photograph of a woman and this man accidentally fell from under a bag. The woman was very pretty. This man seemed happy too. When I went to him and asked him about who the woman was, he took the photograph away from me and asked me how I got it. When I finished my narrative, he simply asked me to do the dishes properly and that there was some oil still left in the kadai. I wonder who that woman is. And this man doesn't even have any friends. I wonder how a man can live on a rocking chair and the morning newspaper with tea and some woman crying in the middle of the forest. The other day, I made another startling discovery. I always wanted to know what he kept in a long wooden box. It is a sword the size of my son! I am now sure that this man is a killer and a smuggler. And I am sure he works for some international mafia, because he always speaks in English on the phone. And also the fact that he has no relatives or friends, adds the effect. Whatever it is, I must be very careful. I will not dust the house thoroughly like I used to, who knows, yesterday, it was a sword. Tomorrow, it might be a gun! The only reason that I am here is because I will not get another job which pays me so much. The day I get another job which pays me even half of what this man pays me, I promise to talupulamma talli that I will quit.

Namaskaram.

How Sardar Montek Singh Boob got his Kirpan zipped, sealed and Fedexed.

Yes. I finally got it. Cooking, that is, and yes. The title is 'inspired' by the book 'How Opal Mehta got her gujju back', or something like that.

Anyway, coming to the cooking part, the secret of cooking, like everything else in this nonsensical parody called life, is not to give a damn and throw things into the frying pan with gusto. I made sambar and delicious puliogare on Sunday. Having said that, I think the basic difference between men and women is that men are mathematical and analytical while women don't give a damn when it comes to the kitchen. Or maybe it’s true everywhere else too.
So, QED.

I was actually planning to discuss something but I have forgotten about it now. Oh yes, I remember. Yeah, I wanted to tell you that I am planning to go for a hair transplant. You see, I was born with a rather large forehead which was mistaken for my pate during my formative years. You might think nothing of it but imagine if you and Brad Pitt were being made the same day, you and Brad are given two different nationalities so that people on earth don't get confused, and then, it happens. God forgets to give you enough hair.

Brad Pitt ends up being famous and is voted as the sexiest man alive, while you spend your days brooding in a desolate, lonely place, with just one car and some JD and some job. How would you feel? I mean, think about it from the shopkeepers point of view.

Now, for those of you who are about to argue about me and Brad not being created the same day, remember Roark.

"My dear boy, who would let you build these loony structures?"

"That's not the point sir, the point is, who wouldn't?"

(Or something like that.)

Anyway, I just realised that one year is up. Yup, it was July 25th, 2007. If in case that someone reads this, I am alive. I cant forget five years of my life. So I do tend to think of those years sometimes.

Backing up to the business of life, I recently also realised that I feel claustrophobic in open spaces and very lonely in crowds. Does that mean I am an alien or all the rest of you are hiding something from me?

Lastly, proof that Satan exists - MONDAY.

Bhagwad Guitar

I've been reading Rudyard Kipling's poem "If".

'If' you've not read it, you should.

Also, there is a slight change in plan. The song for the video is not going to be "Tashan mein", its going to be made by us. Big fat man and billy beetle dilly would do the vocals, I would be doing the guitars, couch potato would be doing the flute, the rhythm guitars. BFM. BBD, CP, 'if' in case you dint know you'd be doing these things, now you know. We now need a percussionist. BBD, you also have to write the song. Heh heh.

I thought the video would be the major thing, now it looks like the song is also the major thing. And BFM, thanks mate. It means a lot to me. Its equivalent to Artie Traum saying the same. Thanks for making my day. As long as you think I am awesome, its OK. Just don't call me a guitarist, though. I am not one.

Which brings me to the point of discussion, the Bhagwad guitar.

A guitar is an instrument with a hole, six (or twelve) strings, and it produces musical notes.

Wrong.

A guitar is a vent to your innermost feelings. Its not an instrument, its a feeling. You don't play the guitar, you express yourself. I am sure other connoisseurs of good music would agree that its the same with other instruments, but I am crazy about guitars. Here is some advice to all those 'guitarists' out there:

1. Pray to Jimmy Page everyday.

2. Ego comes free with the guitar. DON'T take freebies and make yourself a cheap ass.

3. If you have six fingers out of ten, you are a guitarist.

4. It doesn't matter how fast you can play or how good you think you are, but if you can play one note with dignity, you are a guitarist in my book - Artie traum.

5. Never compare, and NEVER EVER, imitate.

Teach yourself to play the guitar, and the guitar will teach you a lot in return. And remember, 'if' the guitar sounds awful, you need to change yourself, not the other way round.

Enough crap. Time to start a band. Boys, get ready. NOT Sameera.

Field Marshal Sam Hormusji Framji "Sam Bahadur" Jamshedji Manekshaw

They don't make Generals like you anymore sir.

May your soul rest in peace Sam Bahadur.

Adios.

Big fat man, I hope you've finally decided on which dimension you belong to. The 9th is cool, though the 8th is OK. And I enjoyed the conversation about those Idli truths and Sambar lies.

Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker - Ogden Nash.

Sitting here in the "Pad", which is the name of my home, listening to Orbit rock on worldspace and drinking Gentleman Jack, the lazy Sunday afternoon, the fresh breeze of the sea hidden behind the concrete jungle outside my window. I just realised a truth. Never ask women on directions to cook. They make it sound so very simple. Starting from your mom, to all of your friends. I always held the opinion (remember the show "Yan can cook") that all you had to do to cook is wear an apron, put something in the pan, let it sizzle, sip some whiskey, and say "Voila!" and do one "Ummm.....that's so strong and earthy!" and you'd get something amazing to eat.

Single men, all you'll get after doing this procedure is ordering a pizza or a burger from the nearest joint. I have friends, who are men, who can cook. I don't understand it, why can't I?

I need to work on this. The other day, I called my mom and asked her directions for making sambar, she explained for about 45 minutes on how to make the 'perfect' sambar powder and then, as an afterthought, said "...or you could just go to the nearest shop and buy MTR sambar powder, that's actually better." Damn, now why dint I think of that before?

I hope I get better.

P.S: I just made puliogare with MTR sambar powder. Call me for this mouth-watering recipe.

P.P.S: I won't give it.

To be a rock and not to roll...

Irony of life = Bangalore University.

Ironically, ever since I got an Ipod nano (8GB, black. Yes, I have one. Yes, I am showing it off.), my in-built Mp4 player is working overtime. Maybe its because my itunes doesn't have all the songs my head has. Anyway, the song going on in my head right now is Altaf raja's quintessential masterpiece, "tum to thehre pardesi, saath kya nibhao-gaaaaaaaaaaayyyy". The sublime nasal undertones in this song are awesome. No one on this planet can replicate those ethereal sentiments which bring instant bowel movements to one's soul. No one. Not even when they have loose motions. Not even when they are in some ICU in some 5 star hospital with loose motions.

I have not been writing at all for the past so many days, so I felt that maybe I thought that I should write something. Anyway, my mom is back and this time, we are going to buy the curtains. For sure. At least, that is what I hope. And none of you have told me anything about the Buddha that I asked for so many posts ago. Kya kar re re tum loga? Pindi ki meri....chindiya ho jari yaha meri zindagi....maa ki kiri kiri. Kya to bhi hai yaaron?

And, like I discussed with so many of you, (about 2 or 3 of you) please give me some ideas people. For the newbies, here is the info:

They say that at the end of your life, just before you 'go', all the important aspects in your life flash by you. Well, I want my flash to be the way I saw life, and I don't want to 'go' forgetting someone whom I should have remembered. So, here's the plan. We'll make a song. I have made a list of people who have influenced my life or thoughts in some way. They are going to star in the song. The background score would be 'Tashan mein' from the movie Tashan. Each person would be introduced with a 'the' attached to their name. So if you are on that list, please think of something which embodies your personality in about 15 seconds of airtime that you are going to get. I have listed out a few ideas for your ready reference.

The entire video will be in black and white. big fat man, I need your help with the logistics, the camera, the works. The song starts off with A.K doing any of his awesome Zippo tricks.

Megz - Walk on the beach picking up sea shells, see towards the camera, come running up to it, strike one awesome kung - fu pose, hit one brick, say "Oh, shit." and go back to picking up sea shells.

big fat man - play the guitar like Clapton. (the cigarette, I mean.)

couch - sitting on your arm chair, reading a book and drinking whiskey, smoking, suddenly bombarded by your guitar, flute, duke, A, T, camera, etc. Finally scratching your head and searching for a comb.

Goo - Look into the horizon, look at the camera and give that stupid grin of yours.

siddypiddy - whole family plays guitar wearing lungis. Syd starts crying.

Gee - On bullet. smoking cigar. Looking real shady.

Doing - sleeping on the table surrounded by lots of coffee cups. Suddenly gets up, goes out of woodys, does the doing over his scooter.

billy_beetle_dilly - Just stares at the camera for 20 seconds.

Bhaiyya - Lots of things for you to do. Like financial funding, paragliding, doing a donut in the corsa, etc. etc. I'll explain everything when you get here.

Bouncy bong & Red - Red reading Sir Arthur's book, while bouncy comes 'jhooming' and lands up on him. Freeze frame.

A.C - Take one Intel chip set and bang it on something.

Khadar - What else but the Zippo?

S&T - Send me a pic of you both.

A&D - Same like S&T.

Rohit - Pic of your face. That should do. Big time.

C.D - your orkut pic, that would do just fine.

UDay and Vjay - Pic.

Venki - Pic of your stupid grin.

Ajai - Maybe the bullet and Cathy, will discuss with you.

Bishu - Wearing full suit, drink tea at the local chai tupree.

Rama - Open your mouth and look at the camera like you would when you get your passport size photo taken.

Masta - Listening to Led Zeppelin, and shaking your head till you bang something or someone.

Cherry - Run.

Gautambuddha - Pic. (I'll tell you which one. Or suggest something good and I'll fly to where you are.)

N.S - Pic.

Mohit - Pic.

Summi ga - Pic of you staring at the sea during sunset. Jamaica, I think.

Burla - Pic of you head banging, hair let loose, Led Zeppelin T - shirt.

Radish - (Radhika) Pic of your family.

Rupak - Pic.

Kanta - Pic.

Raja - Pic of you smiling.

Don - Do that thing which you used to do in class.

Giri & Ms. Pa - Pic.
Deepi & Mr - Pic.
Harry & Sally - Pic.
Kunni & VamC - Pic.

Chinnu & Sowj - Pic. (I am so sorry.)

Sandy (biradar) - Pic.

Giri, Pa, Deep, Mr, Kuns, VC, Harry, Sarah, Chinnu, Sowj, Sandy, I will tell you the poses after discussing with you.

Damn, I know so many people. Anyway, anyone who is not here should get in touch with me asap.

Thanks.

The Rambler.

Godspeed.

"You should always try and think out of the box..."

"What box?"

"Erm...."

__________

My mom needs a GPS system. Especially when she is let loose in a mall. I was just talking to big fat man and explaining that shopping with my mom is far worse than the total perspective vortex. It is more like a paradigm shift (that too, a little to the right.). I am still trying to get the shaken nervous system back into its usual pristine work flow.

Moral of the story: Never go shopping for curtains with your mother. You will end up with ice cube trays, forks, soap holders, hangers, detergents, eatables, dairy products, vegetables (at 25% off), kitchen towels, scissors, knife, wooden spoons (for the pickles), sambar powder, kalankari shirts, raja ravi varma fake painting (lady with the lamp), a visit to the nearest zoo, etc.

Thank you.

P.S: My mom says we are going to buy the curtains for sure by the end of this week.

Happy Birthday Naren.

Hi Naren,

Happy Birthday ra.

How are you and how is the great gig in the sky? I am presuming you are in heaven. Either way, I am sure you don't have to pay for the drinks wherever you are, ergo, you are in heaven. Don't drink too much. Life here on earth is cool ra. It's going on, just like we thought it would. I am doing something which we used to hate. I am working nowadays, but don't worry, I plan to rule the world some day. I play the guitar sometimes ra. Though, I never played on stage and won't too. I will only play on stage when I get to where you are. I got married after you left dude. I got divorced too. Funny, no? I am in touch with S and T and A and D. They are all cool. We all miss you dude. I stopped listening to "Blood brothers" by Bruce Springsteen and "Romeo and Juliet" by Dire Straits because they make my face wet. But anyway, I know that you are somewhere. I am sorry ra, I did not come to see your dead body, I dint want to see you dead, you know. So whenever I mention you, everyone gets sad, but I feel happy because I have only the happy things with me. I still think you are in Oslo without an Internet connection and telephone, somehow working in the BMW F1 pits. Its surprising that even though its been so many years, people who knew you reading this would reflect the good times they had with you. I think that's an awesome achievement. Well, you know me, I could go on and on but I guess you have limited Internet access in heaven. I'll keep mailing you from time to time while you get a bird's eye view of everything happening in our lives dude.

God bless you my darling angel.

I love you.

The J.

P.S: Don't worry, I wished T too.

P.P.S: You must be the only guy with wings without Redbull.

Wah wah.

Diarrhea (or diarrhoea) is life's way of telling you how full of shit you are.

dolceanna and gabbanna

OK. The luggage has come. So, here is some poetry:

If only I was blind just for a day,
maybe I'd see you in a different way,
If only I was deaf just for a day,
maybe I'd hear more in what you say,
If only I was dead just for a day,
maybe I'd not want to live again-ay.

Wait a minute, maybe the dead don't come back to life again because life sucks once you are dead. Who knows, maybe hell is all Led Zeppelin and JD/Isle of Skye/Exquisit/any other alcohol and heaven is also the same?

Tequila Sunrise

Its another tequila sunrise. Woe is me. Bliss is life. Together, we are wobbly wobblys. Moral of the story: Never have Tequila in front of your dad. And, Dan Brown is Maharashtrian.

I am currenly enjoying a nice bout of suspected malaria. Its like you wake up at 2 in the morning, shiver like shit, sweat like a pig, smoke classic regulars cos they dont sell classic milds here, walk out of the door, swat some mosquitoes, come back, cock up and sleep. Or at least, try to. Life coudlnt have been normaler. Oh shit. Was trying to download "I love you" by Saigon kick and got stuck with a virus in my system.

Anyway, I got the internet at home, so its one small leap for me, one giant step towards civilization. The luggage that was sent from Hyderabad is missing. The last I know was that the truck guy had some accident or something. I hope my aquarium is safe. Truck driver, if anything happens to my aquarium, I hope you know how to swim. Even if you do, I will still drown you. The house should be ready within a week, and then I will upload the pics for you guys. Its my gift. Erm, to my self. But you can come in anytime as long as you smell good and dont have dandruff.

OK. When was the last time you used alas? I mean, the word, in spoken language? Never, right. I used it on the truck driver. And I am sure Dan Brown is Maharashtrian. Because if you remember Silas in the DV code, the situation demands that someone should say, "Alas! Silas!". My point is, if you say that fast enough and the right amount of times, you will end up saying something very gross in Marathi. Moral of this story: The guy who actually wrote DV code is Danesh Browndekar.

Thanking you,

Yours sincerely,

The J.

And I just got this pic from A.K. Its called Divorce cakes, and I found this to be very funny.

Summer rains.

They say opportunity knocks once. What if I am the opportunity, I am knocking on your door, and if you don't open it before the rains, I will have to take shelter somewhere else. Open the door, rambler, open that goddamn door.

Orkut has banned my web page. Do you think I am offensive? If you think I am, up yours. Dad's 61 st birthday is coming up tomorrow. So I bought him an external hard drive with USB connectivity. Also, got the Chinese lamps that RK bought for me so lovingly from China. Dude, they are simply awesome. You will again have to redecorate my house, and this time, I will photograph the entire thing and put it here. Also, I am looking for a 5 ft tall Buddha statue, exactly like the one in Hussain Sagar lake in Hyderabad. If any of you by any chance happen to know the place where I can get it, please leave a comment or something. I met S.V, S.R, P.C, A. k at a place called Mehfil. The place is so named because of one old dude who sings songs right in front of you. When I was in the state of being married, me and S.V along with wives used to frequent this place. And we always used to sit in the seats closest to this chap and S. V used to sing along one famous song called "chitti aayi hai". He had his own remix version. Dude, with all due respect, may I reproduce the reproducible part? Thanks.
"Susu aayi hai aayi hai susu aayi hai,
bade dino ke baad, bade jooron ke saath, susu aayi hai."
We really rocked that night again dudes. Thanks for making it by. Went to a new place which A.K moved into, or rather, is trying to move into. He already has problems with the neighbours. Way to go, rocker. Met this really amazing bunch of youngsters. Realised that I still can feel the guitar sometimes. Played it till morning, went out to Purna Tiffin Center, had breakfast, came back home stinking of rum, had coffee, went to sleep.
Its about 3 in the morning, and I really wanted to tell you guys something, but you know how it is at 3 in the morning, its not the right time. Maybe I'll tell you the next time, if there is one. Psycho analysts, please DO NOT deduce at this juncture that I am depressed. I am NOT. Or maybe I am. Either way, up yours. I just happened to hear a bad news. A child was still born. I dint know how to react. Just said its OK and that time will heal and all. But am not able to sleep. Its so bad....

Tuzha aila bindass kar sandass.

I was talking to my uncle the other day and he wanted to buy a PDA. So he was asking me my opinion (so that he could take it and decide against it.). After a lot of ultra kinetic psychedelic drug free rave party kind of psycho-immuno-endo-ecto-neutrino-methyl alchoholo discussion which usually occurs during these times, I finally asked him if he wanted the phone or he needed the phone. He said he wanted it. I said, "Then, don't fix a price for it."

By the way, am in Hyderabad right now. And its the first time that I am posting through a laptop. So, if you are a blogger, here is some advice. Always post using a desktop. It gives your posts more meaning in life. It gives them that extra dum, that extra shots (Sony - Deewana bana de?), that extra boiled egg. Spoke to everyone in Hyd, its good to know that there are some people left here who make this place worth returning to. Also was showing Jehangir (he calls me Salim pheku) how to drive a Hyundai santro "hood" style. This style basically is "the" style. It is the driving position in which any person on the road, who is not aware of this style, would get confused whether you are driving, snoozing, or smelling your armpit. And, you gotta play some Led Zepp or The Doors or Shakti or something like that just for effect.

Also, A.K wanted me to write about seven. The number seven. Because there are seven seas, seven days, seven sins, etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. (See!! I told you so....) So, basically there are a lot of sevens. I am sure even Cat Stevens name is Cat Sevens, though he has a Muslim name actually. N, you are sooooo awesome. So there you have it dude. I just wrote about seven. No need to thank me or anything. You can just pay me some money.

Baiyya, just saw your profile on orkut. And yeah, you sure are one acquired taste. Ha ha. In fact, all those of you (less than 15 and not counting) are all acquired tastes. Someone said, if at the end of your life, you have five true friends, you have lead a full life. Well, I crossed that number, so Mr. Anonymous, tell me what to do....

And yeah, V, remember the last time you said that I am a rock star and that I can change lives just by being me, I have an answer now. Yeah. I am a rock star and I can change lives just by being me. And that is because you guys are my most awesome rock band.

You know the most depressing moment in my life? It was when I sold Juggy (Juggernaut). The doctor said, "Its your back or the bullet." I said, "Bullet." I sold my dream with a loss of 25K. So I have it all figured now. If I live till I am 60, I am going to buy a bright pink batik printed shirt, with ZOSO written on the front and one weird Nataraja on the back. I am going to buy one fake leather jacket (for PETA's sake.) and I am going to write, "Never drive faster than your guardian angel can fly." I am going to buy a bullet standard 350, paint it aquamarine, and drive. Or ride.

The man upstairs.

"Naren, if you were a girl, I would be so in love with you ra..."

"Same here ra. If I were a girl, I would be so in love with myself."

Aila bhai log. Kai zhala? I am currently expectantly expecting to shift to my own house. Finally. Phew. Sigh. Blah. Blah. Just wanted to talk some rot with you guys before I shift. Most of you seem to be liking calling me Rockstar. I like it too. Keep it up babus and babes. I called V and he said I am a rockstar and that I have the capability to change lives just by being me. ha ha. Sorry, that was HA HA.

Anyway, between the begining and this point in this post I have shifted. To the new house I mean. The electricals are up. The plumbing is up. The cleaning was awesome; I have never seen so much reptilian fauna, specifically, the geckos. The spiders were big. As you know, I am a good boy, so I coaxed all of them out with water jets. Some dint acknowledge the water jets, and close scrutiny declared that they were the mummified remains of long dead beings. So I paid my respects apart from paying everyone (cleaners, plumbers, electricians, etc.) a hell lot of money. Remember this: When you shift your house, you are plumbed, electrified, spring cleaned, white - washed (Now thats one more thing I gotta do.), and basically, screwed. So there. I shall also upload some photographs so that you know that I have a clean, nice house which I can call my own now.

Also, This is my spam box. Just thought you should see it. Remember the song, "Ding dong, oh baby sing a song" from the movie hero? Well, it takes a whole new meaning right now, dosent it?

Puppy Bathday William. OKAY??!!

Kanchan Bhattacharyya: Happy Birthday William!
Erin: oh i thought
...
forget i
Kanchan: ??
Erin: it
Kanchan: say it
Erin: nothing
Kanchan: SAY IT
Erin: good morning anyway
i saw that good mornign william
and i was like ok
good morning
Kanchan: good morning and happy birthday to william shakespeare.
Erin: oh ok
Kanchan: ok...me gotta go
Erin: ok
Kanchan: chat later
Erin: yup
Sent at 11:20 AM on Wednesday
Kanchan: bye
Sent at 11:20 AM on Wednesday
Erin: puppy baathday
Kanchan: to mr.shakespeare
Erin: ess ess
for writing omlette
Sent at 6:06 PM on Wednesday
Kanchan: thou shalt not blaspheme!
Erin: to blasphme or not to blaspheme
Sent at 6:07 PM on Wednesday
Kanchan: that is no question at all!
Erin: oh ok
Kanchan: ok
Erin: ok
Kanchan: ok
Erin: ok
Kanchan: ok
Erin: erm....ok.
Kanchan: ok
Erin: OK.ok?
Kanchan: ok
Erin: ok
Kanchan: ok
Erin: OKAY OKAY OKAY
I GIVE UPOK?
Kanchan: ok
Erin: well, ok
what else?
you bizee?
Sent at 6:15 PM on Wednesday
Kanchan: no
kinda
not sure
Erin: ok
Sent at 6:21 PM on Wednesday
Kanchan: ok
Erin: ok
Kanchan: ok
Erin: ok
Sent at 6:23 PM on Wednesday
Kanchan: ok bye
Erin: ok
Kanchan: ok
Erin: before you go, may i put this eventful conversation on the blog?
Kanchan: ok
Erin: i really enjoyed it
ok
Kanchan: ok
ko
Erin: ok bye
Kanchan: ko
ok ko
Erin: yoko ono
Kanchan: ok bye
ko bye
let it be...
Erin: ok bye

The Love-Philtre of Marvin

Arthur C. Clarke formulated the following three "laws" of prediction:

1. When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible, he is almost certainly right. When he states that something is impossible, he is very probably wrong.

2. The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible.

3. Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.

OK macchan, I had this really amazing dream last night. Don, N.A, K.B are already aware of the dream thanks to gtalk. You remember the movie Deewar, and the scene where AB and Shashi Kapur face off? The ethereal "Kya hai tumhare pass, ai??" wala dialogue? Well, I was Shashi Kapur last night, and AB was, erm....my ex - wife. Led zeppelin was playing "Kashmir" in the background. The scene was the same, the dresses were the same. The heights were not the same. I wont go into the details but the dream ended with me in second standard and saying, "Teacher, mai please go to tie-let?"

Anyway, you remember O. Henry, right? So here goes the Love-Philtre of Marvin, the saddest, most depressing and weirdly funny love story of Marvin*. This was narrated to me by Marvin himself:

Marvin once fell in love with a girl called Zop*. Her beauty was divine and she was a desire worth dying for. Our bloke is OK looking. So, Zop and Marvin planned to get married and lead a happy life ever after or ever before or whatever. (Background music: TA DHAN!! Narration: Lekin Kahani mein twist! Toh aaiye doston, dekhte hai aage kya hota hai...) Marvin had an elder brother who had a love marriage and was divorced. (No. It is not ME.) Ergo, Marvin's mum vehemently refused to accept the proposal. She even refused to see the girl or talk to her or anything like that. She even threatened to commit self - suicide. Meanwhile, Zop's parents had arranged for a US bridegroom for her and plans were more than afoot for the wedding. Zop tried to convince Marvin in so many ways, but he was just so confused. She even called him the day before the wedding, pleading to come and take her away, but he refused. Forget that, she even called him just before she was being taken to the shaadi ka mantap, but he refused again and just wished her a happy married life. She got married, he dint and cried. The fact that someone else is with the person you have loved more than anything is worse than a divorce, (He told me this..) and it literally tore his heart. So, anyway, the marriage happened, the newly wed couple went on a honeymoon, and came back. When they came back, Zop called Marvin to her house to introduce her husband. He went, braving another bout of severe heart break. When they met, she suddenly said she wanted to see Marvin's family, his house, and everything in general. Marvin was shocked, he denied the request. Zop persisted, Marvin dint, or rather, couldn't, and so they reached Marvin's house. Zop spent the next three hours at Marvin's house. Finally, it was time for her to go, and when Marvin was dropping her back to her house, just as they were nearing the gate, Marvin got a call, it was from his mom. Mom said, "Marvin, if only we would have met this girl earlier, we would never have said no."

*Names changed to protect privacy. Also, to protect my skin. In case of any emergency.

Cocaine

I got up with this thought in my head this morning:
Perspective is not about the number of heads you have, its all about your bloody turning radius.

OK. Now that that is that, did you know that (Eric) Clapton, Mark (Knopfler) wrote cocaine and heavy fuel after they ordered their maharaja mac? In fact, so did George (Lucas). He is the guy who thought of star wars. (No. Star wars is not AB Vs. SRK, or whatever, its Jedi, Yoda, Luke skywalker, Chewbacca and all that stuff.)
I recently went to Hyderabad where me and dad were at IMAX. (Don't ask either of us what exactly we were doing there. We were waiting for mom.) There is a Mac outlet there and so me and dad decided to quench our hunger and satiate our thirst. Do you remember Jar Jar Binks?
Here goes the masterpiece: STAR WARS XXI - ATTACK MY MAHARAJA MAC.
You will read the usual titles of what you usually read when you are watching star wars, and then the screen opens to me standing at the counter with Jar Jar attending....

Me: Hi. I’d like to have a filet’o’fish & one Maharaja Mac

J.J: Yessa. Mai takyo dassa. Yessa.

Me: uhhh….filet’o’fish and Maharaja Mac please….

J.J: Yessa…yowa Fitzgerald Phillipe Massa….an thin yelssa?

Me: Erm….

J.J: Yowa cossa, fre fryssa, an thin yelssa?

Me: How much? (That seemed like the safest thing to say.)

J.J: Yessa. Zees nener peassa

Me: (Jean Claude Van Damn). OK bye.

Soon after, I saw Jar Jar jump into the Hussain Sagar Lake.....

Hang on, its not over yet. I forgot to mention this one conversation that was happening behind me between two girls. (hep, hip, self - proclaimed. College going types, on TVS scooty or Honda Dio. In short, typical Hyderabadi GTMCs (Gandhi Turned Mod Chicks))

"Heya, S. what you doing re?"

"Nothing ya, came to see *****, you saw that aa?"

"No ya...K told me we'll see it next week naaa"

"What? You met K aa? Ae tell me what did he say you?"

"(giggle, giggle) Nothing"

WHOP. Dhadam. (The sound in my head. The sound of me crashing.)

Nosferatu

Hello.
As you are all aware, or will be, I am basically a good boy. Some of you seem to be having operational problems/issues with the fact that I am normal. Well, I have deduced it.
I am normal, conclusively because of the following:
1. I dress in formals.
2. I don't smoke around women and children. (Even if the women and children are hard core junkies)
3. I like Parle Tiger biscuits.
QED.
3 is not my lucky number. So, I have stopped there. Should you need any further clarifications / suggestions / amusements / refreshments, please feel free to contact me at the email address which is not mentioned here. Or there.

Hokay, so how is death? (I got bored of the eternal conversation starters like "Whats up? sup? wassup? hows life? yo dawg? bow wow? "and all that.)
N.P wrote a poem and its in the comments of breaking news. I want all the people to read it. I think its an awesome thing. He asked me to celebrate life. Which I did. But, as an afterthought, life told me, that to celebrate, you also need a constant bank balance. Like this:
raat bhar sharab pi to raat kat gayee
subah uth kar hisab ki to gaand phat gayee.
I decided to celebrate life anyway. What the heck, I'll celebrate anything anyway. But I want you guys to be like death. From now on, be the inevitability of life. Laugh at yourself often, and smile at others when you feel like kicking their butt (which I am presuming is, also, often). Realize that your mind has a mind of its own and don't give a damn about what it thinks. Do what you want, take a hike, win awards, and all that sort of thing. Thank you.

(Curtains close, lights become a little brighter, the air con is switched off. One guy to another - "What the fuck was that?", the other guy, "exactly".)

Breaking News!

Breaking News - Something which, as soon as you hear it, causes you to have this uncontrollable urge to break something, like the telly or the news channel's programming directors head.

Breaking news from my life - On the 4th of April 2008, at 16:45, the judge decreed that I am a free man. No regrets, no comebacks. And of course, forget everything, forgive everyone, look forward. Got drunk in a nice way to celebrate the moment.

And there is this person who is my local guardian angel. He will come to any place, any time, just to be there for me. He made this for me yesterday.
To say "Thank you" would be the mother of all understatements dude. Thanks bhaiyya for being there all through. In fact, all my friends can be safely called an epidemic of mass proportions. They will grow on you. All of them are really really weird. And I have no friggin idea why they like me. Thanks (for lack of better words) to Sachin, Kiran, Navin, Rama, Tapati, Ashok, Kanchan, Ajai, Vittal, Cherian, Mohit & all the others, who were there for me. I normally don't take names but what has happened doesn't normally happen to me either mate.

And I also wanted to share this with you guys:
Pic courtesy: SV from Manor Park, London.

IT HERTZ!!

Heya crowd! Howz it hangin in the Indias, the Dubais, the Phillipines, the Atlantas, the Yokohamas, the works?? I currently have two major problems. (I was actually talking to Don on gtalk and Don, if you are reading this, don't read further till you see "eh?". Thanks.)

Hola! So I have two major problems. They are listed below:

1. Universe Problem.

2. Mother of all headaches in stomach Problem.

The universe problem that I have, should not be confused with any universal problem. I will explain it in later sections of this entry.

First, let me concentrate on the second. The massive headache in the stomach problem. I firmly believe now, that my stomach has a mind of its own. I feed it with the same fodder everyday (Breakfast at Venkatadri Vantillu, lunch at office, dinner - 3 Aloo paranthas at panchali), and had orange juice day before yesterday. My stomach was not in the mood for orange juice and refused to digest it. We had a small argument and I thought it was all hunky hunky. (I am a man, so No dory.) But turns out my stomach did not opine as much and had other ideas. The end result is, as you would have guessed by now, loss of considerable weight owing to extreme dehydration and running to the loo every 15 minutes. I have decreed, (I have passed a motion??!!) that I shall live on glucose and other life saving supplements till me and my stomach and my tenant sort this thing out. (24 hours without solid food is maybe making me sound sane.) And, because of this stupid episode, which, also includes me walking temperature (never understood why people always are "running temperature". Mine walks.) I could not call someone on their birthday and sing "puppy bathday to you". But the someone in question was real sweet and called me instead, so I gave a rendition of "puppy bathday to you" at 101 degrees Celsius and with only 4 litres of water in the body. (This water was feeling uncomfortable inside too, and so decided to go take a hike, which it did, throughout the night and through some of the morning.)

"eh?" (Don, you can start reading from here.)

The other problem that I have is with the universe. Oh, I already told you that. The reason for the problem is this:

The basic units in the universe are length, mass and time. Measured by standards called metre, kilogram and second respectively. These units form the basis of science. The whole universe is defined in terms of these three constants. (Or, like N.P from Atlanta would say, they were variables earlier, but Superstar Rajinikanth met them, and they became constants.)

The definitions of these three "constants" was taught to us at school. Fortunately, I never learnt anything there, so I refer to the wiki instead. Anyway, you will find, once you know the definitions of these three things, that they are all relative.

So, we chose to define the fundamentals of our existence on something which is relative. So, the entire universe is bunk. So, shit happens. And life sucks, because if it dint, all of us would fall off.

Thank you.

(Thoroughly disgusted freak who is running high, sorry, very high temperature and is having problems with his stomach, his tenant, his landlord, his dad, his universe, his CEO, and everybody in general. And who just wants to screw up your day too because he is having the greatest grand mother and greatest grand father of headaches in the stomach, temperature which walks, sits down, goes to sleep, smokes marijuana, sleeps, plays minesweeper, etc etc. I don't want to discuss the tenant and landlord thing. )
OK. Wait. I'll tell you.

My tenant told me that he would be vacating the house by 15th April and so I told my landlord that I would be vacating the house by 15th April. My tenant informed me yesterday that he would be vacating the house only by 25th April because the house to which he was supposedly shifting would only be vacated by the 25th April. That was because the current occupants of that house were shifting to another house which would be vacated on the 25th April. So I tell my owner that I would be vacating the house by 25th April and the house owner says,"No. Be a man. Do the right thing. Vacate on 15th April." And then explains that he has already given word to someone that they can move into the house by the 15th of April. And, not surprisingly, it turns out that their house would be occupied on the 15th of April as well. So there. Go figure.