India - The state at play.

Serious thinkers. Forgive me, but I think you are bollocks. Forgive me, for I never see any thought transform into action. Forgive me, for I belong to a land of high treason. Yes, this is blasphemy. Which is why my comments section is moderated, but I would love to be convinced otherwise of what I am going to write about.

My country is the largest democracy in the world. I was talking yesterday to a Major in the Army who is in Srinagar. And these, are his exact words:

"There is a very thin line between democracy and holding the country to ransom".

How true.

Another friend of mine, who was concerned about the state of affairs in the region where I stay, with regards to the state being bifurcated, the political unrest, etc etc., forced me to think. And here is what I thank:

I am a citizen of this country by birth and descent. I am a citizen of Oslo by naturalization. I have been given a good education and made to read books with complex English, like Wren and Martin. In short, I consider myself to be one of the self - aware, city bred yuppies who think they have seen other cultures because they have also read Asterix and Obelix. If you are reading this, you probably belong to the same class of social existence. Now, here is my question:

Has any political leader from any political party, ever approached you for a vote?

How many bills have been passed in our parliament in the last month, and what do they concern?

How many of those bills will directly work for your benefit?

How is it that we have a deficit of XXX Billion $, but still come up with 'hosting' the Common Wealth Games?

Do the Common Wealth Games stand for let's all get together and share the wealth of the people equally like, say a poker game?

Did you know that the cost of one vote is one chicken Biryani and 500 rupees? So, if the ruling party has won by a majority of so many votes, you know how many chickens were there.

Why does my country run on preventive maintenance mode? I mean, why does it take a 26/11 to actually review our competency?

Maybe it's the blocked nose, or maybe it's the confidence that not many people would read this, but I think what the country needs most is a dictator. Please vote for me. Thanks.





Disclaimer:
The views expressed in this are not the author's. The author was drugged, bound, gagged, and made to type with his little toe. The article does not attempt to change / correct any administrative red tape in any country on this globe. The name 'India' is used figuratively and does not necessarily mean the country.

The Future of Jeans - FADEAD

To,

The Management,
Levi's Strauss Jeans India



Dear Sir / Madam,


I have been you loyal customer for the past 27 years. I am also the proud owner of two pairs of Levi's 501's from the '80's. I recently went to the Levi's store to buy jeans and was taken aback at the quality of denims that are being passed off in the name of fashion. I understand that in today's world where nobody has time, you bring in pre-faded jeans, pre-torn jeans, etc., but it is my kind request that you also retain certain old school originals for old boys like me. My knowledge in wearing jeans is very limited and the only way I know for a jeans to fade is described below:

1. Buy Jeans.
2. Wear them.
3. Remove only in case of suspected fungal infection or excessive itching in the wrong places.
4. Wash both Jeans and self thoroughly.
   
5. Hang Jeans upright, like you wear them.
   
6. Go back to step 2.

Eventually, the Jeans also develops little tears due to aging. So please, for the sake of a dying breed of die hard romantics who do not understand pre-doing anything but would like to age with the Jeans, please, please market the old school Levi's blues. Each crease, each tear, each thread in these aged Jeans has a memory attached, and those, to me, are priceless.

Thank you very much.

Sardarji.

Okay. This is not an interesting story. I mean, it does not constitute the genre which stirs up your senses, makes you think, etc., in short, it will not make Subhash Ghai get up, brush his teeth, and say, "Damn! I am making a movie on this".
This is more of real life, no story. I will, however, try to make it interesting in a very uninterested way. We were in our last year of engineering, and as is expected out of people who are in their last year of engineering, we used to spend most of our time learning about life than in the college, which is of course, a very polite way of saying we were outstanding students. The 'we' here is a select few elements who were handpicked by each other for their varying degrees of hallucinating capabilities and/or complete disassociation from any kind of reality whatsoever.
Anyone who has stayed in a hostel will agree with me when I say hostels in general make you admire the finer things in life. Like food, for example. You never will understand hostel food and even the world's greatest chef cannot replicate the taste even remotely. Of course, legend has it that one particular chef from Japan, afraid of harakiri, came to our hostel to eat the food, but after one bite, decided that harakiri was a safer option. Under these circs., a search for alternate means was inevitable and our quest led us to the subject of this story. The Sardarji.

The sardarji was a man of frugality. He lived in the same place where he made Aloo Parathas, and made Aloo Parathas in the same place where he made masala chai, and served masala chai in the same place where he lived. His life was full circle. His tea (masala chai) was and is one of the best that I've ever tasted, and he even let us in on the secret. Being hard rock fans those days, we remembered the secret recipe as LEDS - short for Led Zeppelin, but actually was Lavang (Clove), Elaichi (Cardamom) Dalchini (Cinnamon) and Saunf (Fennel seeds). The man was demure and very friendly. Order an Aloo Paratha and he would know you were going for the tea next, so he would start off making the tea while discussing life. I often used to wonder what this man had done to bring him so far away from his region. Was he a convict who couldn't find his place in this bullish world? What about his family? He never left his shack during night or day, and he dint even have friends. What can a man do, to bring him to this stage of life? The reason I still remember this man and find him so intriguing is the fact that one afternoon, when we guys just finished some exam and wanted to have tea, the Sardarji had gone. Lock, stock and Aloo Parathas. No one knew where he had gone. He just packed his stuff and left. I remember I was staring at his shack for a long time thinking a lot of things, but I never saw the man again. I hope he is well wherever he is and if he has Internet access and is on Facebook, I hope I learn about his life someday, while drinking his Masala Chai.

John Isner Vs. Nicolas Mahut.

John Isner and Nicolas Mahut.

Two guys playing a tennis match.

Stretching it for three days.

For two bloody points.

I normally am not moved by anything the rest of the world gets moved by (like gravity), but today, I am moved. I am moved because of the same reason everyone else is moved too. These two guys, playing a game of tennis, showed the world a lot of things. Back in the day, I was a tennis guy myself, and I say this with experience, that you cannot, and I mean CANNOT, play more than three hours. Anything after that is not you playing, but a heady mix of your chi combined with adrenaline combined with Redbull and vodka, and these two fine gentlemen seem to have got an extra dose of that in their DNA.

Whatever it was, whatever be the result, no one cares anymore. But everyone knows these two names now. Because sometimes, a match is what it is supposed to be. And very rarely, a match becomes more than what it can ever be.

So here's to you, Mr. Isner and Monsieur Mahut, for playing this game. For giving us this wonderful moment, when no one in the whole world gave a shit about those two bloody points.

Here's to you.

A Nikon, a fender stratocaster, Chiranjeevi, my dad and other stories.

All of us so-called humans have two basic operating modes. Side A and Side B. Side A is characterized by a docile, harmless demeanor and Side B, is, well, the same thing with a lot of Red Bull and Vodka. If you still are at a loss, then "Side A mein bajta hai. Side B mein bajata hai." (Any attempt to translate this would, well, defuse the effect.)

Side A:

It is true.

You don't need an awesome product to make your life better. In fact, I agree. It is a waste of money. Wait. Make that a huge waste of money. The innuendo being the purchase of a Nikon yesterday. Maybe it is a 'passing fancy' and it sure like hell won't help me earn any money. I am not even an amateur photographer by any standards, and frankly, the Nikon is to me what a Bugatti Veyron is to a guy learning the bicycle.

The same goes for almost any product. Human minds are strange. The question "Do I really need this stuff?" often is used to convince ourselves of the opposite. Why? I mean, if a guy really wants something and he can afford it without killing anyone, let him have it, I say. Why should he consider the world's economics, the consequences of his instinctive folly, etc. etc. ?

Also, I will never understand why 'growing up' has something to do with forgetting all that you promised yourself when you were, say, five or six years old. Maybe inside us, there really is the most awesome guitarist, artist, photographer, poet, pilot, bus conductor or whatever we dream of, and it's only because of this stupid growing up thingy which brings in ego, occasional diarrhea, and other unnecessary evils, that we decide somewhere down the line to join the rest of humanity in leading a 'normal' life. Normal to me is going out and winging it. No matter what it is.

Okay, at this point, all the wives will argue that they have to save for the future. You never know what is going to happen. Which is exactly my point. When you don't know what is going to happen, then why save at all?? I mean, you can save enough to lead the same kind of existence that you are used to, but if you earn more than that, wing it boys. I think I have spoken for all the men out there who want to buy something which they've always wanted, something which will make them awesome in their own eyes, something which they know is a 'passing fancy' but would be more than glad to let it pass over them, balls to bones.

Concluding this, I just would like to say that I did what I've always wanted to. I feel good about myself.

























Side B:

Fuck you. Watch me.

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Very disturbed. Very depressed today. I feel like calmly going out for a stroll and killing a couple of people, without straining my back in the process. I really really need to get out of myself. Or, maybe I just need to find that something which will hold my interest for longer than 3 minutes. I scoured the web today for all the certification courses that are left for me to do and sadly, there are none. Maybe it's time I got that hair transplant thingy done. Maybe I should really get out and meet more people. But then again, they all remind me of someone or the other I had already met and made a mental note not to meet again at that time. Maybe I do really hate people, as is the general opinion of the masses. Or maybe as someone from Bangalore once put it in a very casual, non-interfering way, I am one of the biggest bastards ever. Maybe I need to be more tolerant, more of an actor instead of just being plain blunt and showing what I feel on my face (or my trousers - circumstance dependent metric). I am tired of doing nothing, depressed with being happy all the time, and have had it with those 'intellectually stimulating conversations' to last a lifetime. Wait. Make that two. Maybe this is what happens to people when they are alone, they are confused.
I really fail to see any meaning in me anymore. I am either searching in the wrong places or there isn't any meaning anywhere. What is it that I want to do in my life? Where do I want to go? Who do I want to meet? Aah....it is all bull. What I need is a person who can play the tabla. Can anyone help me with this? Please email me at aditya.jammi@gmail.com in case any of you guys know anyone who can play the tabla in Hyderabad.
Thanks.

My Best Blog Post Ever.

Oh.