Friday, 31 October 2014

A bit about guys

If you have a big, fat, balding, unhealthy, funny AMERICAN man for a role model, there's something inherently wrong with your life. Besides, if you get epiphanies about women while watching this role model of yours perform in shows you illegally downloaded, we will soon need something like a 912 to call for an emergency psychiatrist. The fat funny guy, who has become my latest role model is Louis C.K. He's a stand-up comedian. He talks funny.
If you are a guy,  I implore you to read no further. Because if you do, I am going to get beaten up sometime real soon, by a lot of guys. So I am in Damage-Control mode ring now. Hence I once again implore you to read no further. Now, having averted the  threat to my life, I'd like to type some sense into this post.

If there's a guy who is more than 2 years old, then he devotes a very BIG chunk of his life to thinking about women. It might be about the girl he saw on the street, on a TV show, a magazine, it could be a girl he has a crush on in class, or it might be the girl who he is in a relationship with, or at least HE thinks he's in a relationship with. What he might be thinking about, in most cases is stuff I cannot reveal to anyone due to my sworn promise to manhood. Fine, there's nothing called a sworn promise to manhood. 
So in case the guy is not thinking about clearing his pipes, he's probably thinking about figuring out a way to communicate with the lady he is dying to talk to in some way or the other. It could be as simple as he wanting to tell a woman that she's on his thoughts. Or it could be he wanting to appreciate something he observed about a lady that he genuinely appreciates, and hence wants to tell her about his observation about her, just in case that would make the woman a little happier. This, for a change, could absolutely without any expectations of Return on Investment. Here, the investment is BALLS. The trouble is, most fellows remove their pair each time they step out of their home. And when they step out, they just become oblivious to their natural instincts. And hence, more than 99 percent of thoughts inside guys never comes out in public because they forgot their balls at home. That really sucks.

Let's talk about something else. How about the 5 senses? Touch, taste, sight, smell, and hearing. I don't know about the ladies, but guys are a lot more outward when it comes to sensuality. We are visual creatures. This of course comes out in society in the form of ogling, specially when we let the wrong set of balls loose. But no one really cares about a guy's sensitivity to the other four senses. Maybe the sense of touch has been noticed to a good extent. But we as a society leave the hearing, tasting, and our olfactory faculties to the 'ladies' department, I guess. Or maybe I say that because I am specially gifted with a very acute sense of smell and sound. Taste,  well.... I'll leave the description to that for some other day.
If anyone's seen the movie called "Scent of a woman", great! If you haven't, then what are you waiting for? The last 2 hours of your life? The movie specifically brought a paradigm change in the way I look and feel about women. I wanted to write a complete post titled "Scent of a woman". But the contents of that post are strictly "A" rated. And hence, here's a shorter version. 
If your woman smells good, OH MY GOODNESS!! A lot of things go straight out of the window. Firstly your brain, and then, everything else! It is like the biggest turn-on in which ever way you possibly want to think of it. And it is not about the perfume she wears. trust me. There are very few perfumes that blend properly with your sweat to give a pleasant odor. If the perfume is wrong, the smell of the perfume simply overpowers the odor from the pheromones in your sweat. And in the process, you end up smelling something very synthetic. I know, it's too technical. But raise the level of your intellect. It'll be handy someday. I SO shouldn't have said that...

Okay, coming back to senses. Now, sounds. I specifically have a thing for sounds. I usually recognize people more by the sound of their voice mote than anything else. And when it comes to ladies, I can't onto hold myself, the second I hear a strong, but feminine voice. Allow me to explain. Our society has virtually stereotyped the "woman" in general. We want a nice little obedient agreeable creature. This is despite all the Feminists going around and trying to propagate the idea of equality among the sexes. It's all a sham. Truth is... Most men are scared-as-shit of women. This is all the more true about chaps who don't make a move, and still say things like "Oh, women are so hard to understand!"
Let me not get carried away here. About the way a woman sounds, a 2 word answer would be Shubha Mudgal. That woman's voice is probably the personification of strength! 
It is a treat to hear a deep voluminous voice coming out of a lady. No, you do not want a lady who sounds like Amitabh Bachhan, but I hope to have conveyed my point. Having said that, a lady's voice is best when she's just woken up, or  the occasion when she's completely at peace with herself. And if there's silence all around, your mind just gets blown away after hearing her voice. 
All of what I said and wrote above may/may not be my imagination. You'll surely never get to know what it is, either way. 
Another thing I discovered about men is our incessant need to name and say things. Three worded phrases  come out a lot more easily out of us than we care to admit. This stems from our ability to quantify things. No wonder guys score more in the Quantitative section of aptitude tests. Now, I just took things too far.

This post was supposed to be about guys. But most of the rant in here turned out about women, And I guess that is always how it is going to be. So, as a MORAL OF THE STORY type of an ending, I have 2 things to say, one to each one of the sexes. 
For the ladies, "Keep doing your thing..."
For it is not like all of you are going to read this post and do something I tell you to. Well, if all the ladies do read this post and decide to do exactly what I tell them to do, then... Crap! I should have mentioned exactly what it is that I wanted the ladies to do!! Meh, chuck it!
To the guys out there, "Don't keep doing your thing! Go talk to the lady you felt like talking to!! And if ladies aren't your thing, and you're gay, it's fine! Go talk to the guy you wanted to talk to! Else, you'll never know if the guy was gay!"
Here's the thing about writing. You have all the liberty to tell things to the world. And you know for a fact that most people out there in most cases, won't have the balls to do what they read about anyway. So you get to spread knowledge without seriously denting your prospects of getting cock-blocked by some chap who actually was dumb enough to take your advice. 
And now, I'm going to get beaten up.

Sometimes, just wonder...

Right from childhood, we are all force-fed this idea about being good. Be good to elders, be good to kids, be good to the chaps and folks we happen to exist around, be good to everyone in general, do the correct things, things that you are supposed to do! The people who told us all this, tell us all this, and will tell us all this, are so many in number! Their's is the perfect sales pitch that can ever exist! Imagine a shop where all they sell you is one product. Next, imagine all the shops selling the same product as the first shop is selling. Now, in case your ability to imagine has not diminished, imagine that you have a LOT of money. Here's the caveat. You can have all the money in the world, but there's only one product that you can buy. Sucks, right? Now replace that 'product' with the idea of being good. It is inescapable! Our parents, teachers, elders, and all the unimportant population will tell us the same thing! Be good! Be considerate, polite, well mannered. Don't cause troubles, intentionally or unintentionally.. The religions take it to an altogether new level. They create lists of what to/NOT to do. Seven deadly sins? Ten commandments? Another bunch of lists from which ever religion one may please, although mind you, this post is not about religion and/or its fallacies. That may be a topic for another post of mine, just in case my creative juices get flushed out of my backside one fine morning. 

There's something that has been bothering me for a while in this line of "being good". Remember the time, when we were in class, and there used to be someone's birthday?And most of us would get very happy with the prospects of getting chocolates from this birthday guy/girl? I often remember the time when we had to make this clown of a person stand in front of the class and sing the "Happy Birthday" gig for the kid. What I remember more distinctly is how much I hated doing it. Seriously! Why would a bunch of kids randomly sing the "Happy Birthday" song in such a crappy manner? Why sing it in the first place? Oh yeah! Because we want to make everyone feel SO happy! Specially if it is the day they popped out of their mother's..... err, forget it!
I don't want to sound hypocritical, but I totally felt like a complete rock star when I was called to the front of the class on my birthdays, despite the fact that the kids who sang for me, their singing sucked! Completely! I know...Sad solipsistic existence of mine... I used to look forward to the day primarily because of the ladies. Specially if I had a big crush on any of them. Teachers specially. 
I'm not sure if this is a 'guy' thing, but boys usually have a crush on at LEAST one of their teachers during their school life. Women are great teachers in the lives of men in general. And that, I just said to sound intelligent, but guys usually fall for teachers a lot more often than we'd care to admit. We probably have a thing for the teacher types.
In case it is a girl I had a crush on, who inevitably had to come and say the three magical words to me on this day, the three magical words being "Happy birthday, Hari..", goodness! My head would race so much into the future that I'd have the names of our two kids ready in my mind. The girl's name would start with 'N', and the boy's name.... err... well. I haven't thought about that one yet.
And I have so badly deviated from what I wanted to say!
So, birthdays were awesome as long as they were mine, or in case I got the sweets without having to sing the "Happy Birthday" thing. 
Now, coming to the thing that I want to say...
It is about feeling good about good stuff happening to other fellows. This is another thing we are told regularly. Feel good when something good happens to others. In my head, an internal voice says "I don't care a penny whether good or bad happens to others", but just to avoid conflict, I just nod my head to avoid conflict. You see? There's tragedy! We do everything in the name of avoiding conflict. 
From where I see, the whole of humanity is a Spartan race, that has been tamed to curb its natural instincts. That school of thought makes me particularly happy because thinking of it, imagine if we all looked like Gerard Butler in "300"! Awesome, right?
So, coming back to feeling good for the good happening to others...
Take the birthday example. I had a hard time maintaining my phony smile when I was singing the Birthday song. Ever had the experience, when you started off with a smile when you didn't want to smile, but withing seconds of holding onto that smile, your cheeks force the size of your smile to grow smaller, then your face turns droopy, and you know that you cannot hold onto the smile any longer? That's what I'm talking about. If you haven't had that 'droopy smile' experience that I just explained above, you are either non-existent, or you are lying!

It is the same non-enthusiastic feeling I get when I am SUPPOSED to wish some chap I don't give a shit about, on an occasion, say, if he got recruited into some company during campus placements. Mind you, I have nothing against this fellow. Besides, good for him, for all I care. I'll give you an example. 
Recently, I ran into a friend of mine. From thin air, he mentioned that a guy, our mutual acquaintance, got picked up by a company that came to our college for recruitment. I do not like this bloke a lot. I have nothing specific against him, but there's something about the guy that doesn't allow me to get along with him. It is probably because he's dating the girl I once liked, or what, I know not! Why the hell am I being so candid??
Anyway, so this friend of mine informs me about this mutual acquaintance who got placed. Now here's the deal. The moment I heard of this news from my friend, I turned around and started walking in the direction of this mutual acquaintance's room to wish him on this auspicious occasion of he getting placed. I went to his room, shook his hand, and tried to get the hell out of the place as fast as I could. On my way back, I met the friend of mine who had informed me about the acquaintance's placement. My friend asked me something on the lines of 
Friend: You're not happy for him?
I wanted to kill my friend that very instant for saying that. But instead, I said something like
I: Well, why would I not be happy? 
Inside my head, I was shouting "You good-for-nothing! I do not give a rat's arse about that chap whom I just wished!!"
The worst part is that my friend knows about the acquaintance dating the girl, whom I used to like. So, basically, he was playing with my head. And for that, I hate the bastard!
But seriously, so much troubles for feeling good for the good of others. Jealousy is another very disconcerting thing. You know what is more disconcerting? Our slowly diminishing ability to be impolite. You know what fat people are called in more 'civilized' societies? HORIZONTALLY CHALLENGED... Some challenge that is! And what is with the whole SPECIALLY ABLE label? With it, no one's making the world a better place. Sorry! It is not going to reduce anyone's troubles. Yes! By all means, we can tackle the problems we are faced with. But let's not muddle truth and political correctness with the help of Jargon. 
Somehow, hopefully, we all can be a little less fake about our emotions.

Tuesday, 28 October 2014

About bags, legs, and a beautiful mind!

Imagine a big bag, any ordinary one will do. Now put all the people whom you consider important into the bag. All the one that come to your mind the moment you consider the phrase "Important people in my life". Did I mention to imagine a big bag? If I did not, then imagine a big bag with a lot of space, and then go on to put in your favorite people. Done? Then pick the bag up and try walking around.
Eh! Screw this intellectual shit about carrying a lot of emotional burden that comes in the form of relationships of any and every kind. Allow me to be blunt. I just got a jolt when I saw a kid getting too cozy with my lady. I could have killed them both and gone to jail. And I wish I had done that. At the point when I saw them sitting together, I went FUCKING berserk!! My blood pressure shot through the stratosphere. I could feel my breath shallower automatically. For some reason, I suddenly got a feeling that there was a camera recording all of this footage. The next that struck me was that the recorded footage might be used for a comedy show. Yeah! Of all things, I was going to become a star in some imaginary comedy show that I'm afraid I'll be watching tonight in my dreams! Not good! Not one bit! I even have a name for the comedy show...
जलाके राख कर दिया कमीनी ने!
Jalaake raakh kar diya kameeni ne!(The heartless bitch burnt me to ashes!)
 I am sure that had Stephen King seen my predicament today, we'd have got a Shawshank Redemption 2 in no time! Just that this time, Andy(From Shawshank Redemption) would be the second man guilty in Shawshank prison. Wow! I never thought my thoughts were this full of crap! It is actually alarming. Specially when you look for your sense of humor in tragedy, and cannot get hold of it.
Now that's what I call true tragedy.
But there is something very funny about the time you feel cheated on. You allow yourself the freedom to just let out all your anger at a projection of the person who cheated you, inside your mind ofcourse. Remember the time when one of the parent got mad at you and you got into your room and completely obliterated the very existence of your beloved parent? Strangely, and rather thankfully, our mind is completely equipped with all the necessary simulations to give your sinister thoughts their right to exist, without harming a soul. And this is still while you still hold close your feelings for this person in the back of your head, who ever he/she is. Convenient. No?
If you are stupid, or you happen to be attending some class in college, you'll remain crazy all throughout the time you think of your "loss". But, there's a cure. Go for a bloody run! You'll thank evolution for having given you legs. If you're reading this, and you don't have legs, then 2 things... Firstly, I'm not sorry for you. Secondly, you should try swimming. Trust me, swimming works just as well as running!
Crass jokes apart, running actually becomes a lot easy to focus on when your mind is preoccupied with unpleasant stuff. And you can go as long as you like. Your legs don't hurt as much. Besides, it puts you at peace with yourself. It becomes a lot easier to not give a shit about things. Your balls get revitalized. So you get the smarts to tell that flirty kid to fuck off, the next time he tries getting cozy with your lady. You get the smarts to realize that the lady was yours for a reason. That reason is YOU. All you need to do is get back your reason. And if the lady doesn't come back, who's loss is it anyway?

Wednesday, 22 October 2014

The butterfly story

And then there are times when you rant about everything serious, when there is the least need for you to be serious. You think you sound like you're on a mission, the biggest undertaking by man, but you actually sound more like a quack. And when realisation strikes, "Whoops, buddy! Too late!."
Damage irreversible. 
The pursuit of happiness is a fundamental right for everyone. But in our pursuit of happiness, we actually forget to be happy. A huge contradiction in itself, isn't it? We're all uptight and serious about things that we think matter to us, or at least we pretend that way. But meh! Who gives a damn? 
Most often, we complain about things, issues, that can be easily dealt with in a far easier manner than we usually imagine. Small tweaks here and there, a few moments of silence, a little bit of patience, and a little control over the tongue, and the world will be a better place to live in without shelling a dime, or, for that matter, shelling any place. But NO. We are all smart! So we want to sound smart. We want to look smart, at least to others. 
We are so hell-bent on convincing the other to look through our eyes, that we forget about the two other perspectives that exist already. I picked the following from a poster in my friend's room. It said that 
There are 3 sides to every argument. Your outlook, the opposition's outlook, and the correct outlook. And as I watch and analyse the things I do, I see how conveniently I throw the other 2 perspectives, the right one and that of the opposition, right out of the window.  And again, by the time I even get a glimpse of where the banana peel was, I'm sitting on my big bum, wondering what just happened. 
I hate arguments. I absolutely hate it when I need to convince someone of what I think. It is a painful and energy draining exercise. I'd rather bee the non-argumentative Indian. It feels a lot more convenient. No one would offend you,  you wouldn't offend anyone, and everything can be happily ever after. 
I am a perverse creature. And I'm sure many of us are. It is like this. Imagine you are a butterfly. You want to enter a particular room in a building. The reason you want to enter the room is because the occupant of the room tries preventing you from entering the room. So basically, you want to to enter the room for kicks. You happen to be smart as you figure out that there is a vent above the room's window that grants you entry into the room. So you go prancing about, very proud that you figured out a way to enter the room, despite the room's occupant doing his/her best to keep you from entering the room. 
You fly full speed into the vent, squeeze yourself through the small space, and Woalah!! You just entered the room! But it is not a moment later that you get pulled into the vortex of the room's fan. And mind you, your wings are all-powerful. Agreed, that it will allow you to lift off the ground and soar to great heights. But sorry. They cannot let you escape the strong pull of the fan's vortex. And so, you get sucked into the fan's blades, and get in the way of one/more of these fan blades, breaking your wings, if not worse. And so, you come down with a crash. You are not going to survive. In your last moments, you hear the room's occupant say something. It's  a beautiful looking girl, with skin the texture of cream, and a certain curl to every strand of her hair. 
You cannot comprehend what the girl is saying, but it looks like she is scolding you for reasons probably way beyond your understanding. But from somewhere, you have an epiphany, a bolt of intelligence bestows itself upon you, and you suddenly realise that you can actually understand exactly what the girl is saying. 
She is scolding you for having entered her room, and in the process, having put your life at risk. And the whole time, when you thought that she was preventing you from entering her room so that it would be more challenging a task, what she actually was doing was trying to save your life. For she knew, that once you enter her room, you wouldn't be able to escape the fan's vortex, and that she would have to perform your final rites.  And that hurts her. You naively ask why. It is because although the pattern on your wings look like a pair of the most beautiful eyes there can ever be, you wouldn't live long enough to be the object of her admiration, if you happen to make the mistake of entering her room. Alas, that is a mistake you made, and it is a little too late.
But now, long after you are gone, she keeps a photo of you close to her heart, nevertheless, as a souvenir, as a symbol of something that made her experience an emotion she never felt before. And you shall never know how or what that emotion feels like, for a photo is all that remains of you... 

Sunday, 19 October 2014

DDLJ for real

I am a staunch believer in the fact that what we see in movies, is far from reality. I might hear a few sarcastic remarks, for instance, "Oh, What a genius!", from the other end of my screen after someone having read the first line. But think about it for a second. What we do see, did actually have it's inception rooted somewhere in reality. Having said that, the reality I am talking about could have been inside someone's imagination. And we all live in our own little realities, each independent from the other. What is strange is that haw conveniently, we dismiss this aspect of reality. But then again, let's not get into technicalities of sentiments.
What I want to talk about today, rather type about today, is about a movie, that by itself, was, and is a revolution in it's own right. And to be frank, the movie has turned into a cliché of sorts. And the movie is called Dilwaale Dulhaniya Le Jaenge, DDLJ for sake of convenience. Do not worry. I am not jobless enough to dissect the movie at the altar of joblessness. But I shall do so to one particular scene of the movie. Well, maybe,  I am a little jobless. Just a little. 
I consider myself a passionate movie watcher, a connoisseur, if I were to use a fancy word. You do turn into one regardless of who you are, where you come from, if you happen to get into an engineering college. But if I am to stack myself against someone who IS passionate about his movies, I would, in all likelihood look like a cinematic idiot. The reason why I say that is because, it was not until recently that I saw DDLJ. And if you are an Indian, existing on earth for more than 2 decades without watching DDLJ is a felony, regardless of your liking/revulsion to movies. 
The scene from DDLJ I want to talk about is the one where Kajol is about to board her train back to London, or where ever it is that she was going back to, and Shah Rukh goes to see her off. Yes, I am talking about the "Palat..... Palat" scene. I am not a huge fan of corny movies, but this scene was the one that kept me glued to my seat.
Let me describe the scene to you, just in the remotest case you haven't watched the movie yet. The guy and the lady are parting ways. Le Guy has feelings for the  lady. So when the lady is in the process of walking to her train, the guy stands watching her go. He says (translation)"If she loves me back, she'll turn back and look.". And then, he stands in anticipation. "Palat.... Palat.........Palat.......".
"पलट गई , ताउ!!"(Goodness, gracious!! She looked back!!) 
Trust me, there wouldn't be a happier moment in a guy's life than when this girl he is waiting for, turns and looks for his whereabouts.  And also trust me that the scene playing in the guy's head will, and can only be the "Palat" scene from DDLJ. There's just one last thing you need to trust me on. When a guy waits for a girl walking away, to turn around and look, something inside him tells that the lady will turn around. All he wants is the manifestation of his reality. Mind you, I do not intend to be cocky or arrogant about this last bit I just mentioned. 
There is something so intense about every step the lady takes that exponentially increases the space-time continuum between you and the lady. I don't know if it is a trick your mind plays with you, or is it reality. The only thing you know, you want to do is to somehow, telepathically hold her exactly where she stepped foot last. Actually, you simply want time to stop. And it is getting increasingly difficult to describe what you want as a guy in those moments, as I have no clue. 
Then magically, the girl turns around. 
 I only wonder why all this happens in slow motion, even in reality. It's a mind-trick!! Your brains are screwing with you! Actually, they have been doing that the whole time, if you carefully analyse your predicament. But, again, if the lady turns, the agony is probably worth it. That was all about the story from Mars. 
Let me try and fathom what it is that goes on on Venus. And I just had a blackout. Goodness! What happens on Venus? Huh? I'm going nowhere! Somebody help me!
You know what? I have a feeling that everyone knows exactly goes on in a lady's head as well as they know what goes on in a guy's head. We just want to wrap everything in a blanket of denial and mysticism. And mind you, if that was part of the plan, it is SO completely working! And so, I quote, "Nobody panics when things go according to the plan.".
I wonder what makes the lady turn. Obviously, the fellow has done something. Or maybe not. Who knows? I, for some reason cannot stop thinking about the lady walking away. When I run my tape in a loop, I do notice the lady's stride being a lot slower than her usual speed. Maybe part of her doesn't want to walk. Maybe part of her wants to walk. Maybe, just maybe, part of her wants to turn around and run to the stupid bum. Also, maybe, part of her mind has no clue what to do. And you know what she does? She turns around. Stops. Sees the guy, turns around again, walks slower than ever, stops, turns around, and then, everything sounds like white noise. And then she realises that this was only going on in her head, while she was walking ahead the whole time. 
Phew! Too much confusion!
By now, the chap has almost started shouting the word "Palat" at the top of his lungs, so loud that the lady can hear him say the word. So, out of frustrationtion, she turns and looks behind, just to tell him to stop repeating the word over and over again. BIG MISTAKE...
Stupid lady! She actually gave the bum exactly what the bum was waiting for. And then, the DDLJ track starts playing on the mandolin in the guy's head. May the lord bless the lady...

Friday, 17 October 2014

Amen!

From the darkest corners of our minds, spring the thoughts that leave us most bewildered. 
Imagine, you are sitting in the middle of an ongoing lecture. The teacher is boring the brains out of your head with the biggest drill-bit he has. And all of a sudden, you stand up and start dancing in the class. And just to add to the fun of it, every one of your classmate joins you.
Now consider another situation. 
There's a mind-numbingly beautiful lady walking in your direction. You look into each other's eyes, stand transfixed for a second, and have the most spontaneous kiss on the planet ever! And again, to add to the fun factor, let us assume there was no follow-up slapping. 
What if you could just tell exactly what is there in your mind to whoever it is you want to tell, and the consequence wouldn't matter? From the little more than 2 decade experience that I have had on this lovely planet, I do know for a fact that there are virtually no consequences to wearing your thoughts on your sleeve. 
Something very strange happened today. Actually, it is still happening as I write this. I get a feeling that time I have remaining on this ground, above which I stand right now, is not going to last too long. I told this to a close friend. He just told me one thing. "Dude, don't kill yourself!". Herein lies the problem. The problem is that I am not the best communicator, with neither written, nor spoken words, by a fucking long shot. So, I am not too sure of the impression I left on this friend of mine. 
I don't know how to convey the restlessness I am going through. 
Even as I write this, I have no idea how these words might resonate inside another person's head. Of course, I know what I feel inside. But to someone reading this, it will be like watching a stone lying on the ground. The stone might be screaming at the top of it's voice inside somewhere. But sadly, to no avail. I'll try to make my words as palpable as possible. 
I happened to stumble upon a video where a bunch of chaps went around asking men of all age groups if they would marry Sunny Leone. To many of us, the very thought might sound preposterous. Even disgusting to a few. What is surprising is that all the people who were reluctant to go with the decision of marrying Sunny Leone(given the choice i.e.) mentioned something very thought provoking. All, in some way or the other, brought in the standard "What will people think?" excuse. It was either family, friends, or the friendly neighbours objecting to the decision that the blokes being interviewed, were concerned about. Marrying Sunny Leone too extreme? I sure hope not! 
But just imagine! If a fellow happens to decide that he wants to marry Sunny Leone(with the understanding that Sunny Leone is willing to marry the fellow), and the chap goes and tells his parents about his wish, I am pretty sure that the bloke's father's eyes will turn bulging red, and surely one can imagine the rest that is about to follow. 
Chuck the example above. I'll be really honest. I am just scared of dying without having told few people how strong and wild my thoughts are for them. And now, I hope my father doesn't have the time to read this. Because the first person in the list of people I have, whom I think I will be unable to tell everything I feel for them before it's too late, is Dad, for sure. It is like a lot of shit held inside, man! I feel constipated just thinking about it.
About the rest of the folks who are fortunate enough to have made it to the list, I have virtually spent hours trying to tell them what I think about, only to remain a pussy throughout the duration of the conversation. I have said everything to them in the process of circumventing from the main agenda. And it sucks. 
I wonder what makes us afraid at the sight of exactly what we want. What we want, comes gift-wrapped to us, as if Santa really exists, and we just let it go for some god forsaken reason. 
Just today, it was raining outside. I remembered someone, someone who the rains remind me of. And I know that I sound too poetic here. For the time I was looking out of the window, all I wanted was to hold this creature as tight as I could and bloody well never let go! Now, I feel stupid as hell for having let my scandalous thoughts leak out. But I am a shameless son of a gun. So moving on... 
Strange, isn't it, that the the body that carries our thoughts is merely a sack of chemicals?
I am sure you have watched motivational videos on Youtube, the ones with music that gives you goosebumps! You would have also felt the weaning away of all the endorphins and adrenaline within moments of the video getting over. But while the video is running, it feels like even flying ain't impossible! And mind you, try doing pull-ups or push-ups while the chemical rush lasts. It works like a dream! You'll easily surpass your highest number of repetitions by a huge margin! I just wish to find a way to keep that effect prolonged. This is exactly where I feel that there is a higher sense we can move into where we loose all our inhibitions about everything. There is a state where you can do exactly what you want, where boundaries don't exist, where there is no malice, where everything is acceptable, and no one minds. Someone might suggest something like "Fill the earth's atmosphere with weed!" or something. You never know frankly. Anything, as long as it works. 
The strange part is that place where we all can be in that state of open-mindedness, is right here, right where we stand. 
Again, I am flooded with a sense of shortage of time, a sense of inexplicable madness, and it leaves me restless more than ever. And to you, and to everyone that this piece of written work might reach, if you feel the same way as I do for some reason, we are headed for a place where the only thing we will be able to look back and say is "It's a trap!!".
A lady, long time ago, asked me to choose one superpower that I wish I'd have. Being a huge Batman fan then, even more so now, I did not have anything specific I wanted, because even as a kid, I knew Batman had no superpowers. But now, as I think about that question, rather, the question being the only thing I can think of, all I want is the balls to say and do exactly the things I want to without holding back an ounce of what I have within. And to be all the more honest, I wish this ability for each person that shall ever set foot onto this paradise. Okay, maybe not all of them.

Friday, 3 October 2014

On near-misses

A lot of professionals, each, veterans of their respective crafts, have written "On" a lot of things. For instance, Stephen King has written a book, his autobiography of sorts, called "On Writing". Zig Ziglar, one of the best salesmen of the 20th century, has written "On Selling". And if I go on to give more examples, the list would be endless. And to be honest, the fact is that I cannot recollect any more examples. But, the point I want to convey is that, once someone turns into a "Pro" in what one does, it looks like a worthwhile investment of time to write a book titled 
"On *whatever one's craft is*". 
If you are smart enough to see that 2+2=5, then, by now, you would have pieced together the title of this post and the gibberish in the previous paragraph. As a result, you would have also figured out what your dear future author is an expert at. 

So today, I am going to type to you about near-misses. And I shall specially focus on near misses in a social scenario. 
But first, i shall make it crystal clear as to what I mean by 'near-misses'. It is the situation where everything in the world conspires to unite you to your destiny of choice, and you magically manage to mess things up. And I, proudly claim to have mastered this magical ability. I also hope my father's never going to read this. Without digressing too much, I shall shift my focus to the social aspect of near misses. 
Ever been in a situation when you are walking toward an acquaintance, you wave at them, and they don't recognize you, and you have an "Oh, Shit!, What do I do!? What do I do!?" moment? There's another situation, where you wave at someone who looks like someone you know, but on closer inspection, turns out not to be the person you thought he/she was. And again, you're like "Oh, Shit!, What do I do!? What do I do!?".
These are situations you can laugh off, and write about later in life, while telling your story to a bunch of supposedly 'avid readers'.
But let's just take the "Oh, Shit!, What do I do!? What do I do!?" moment to the next level. 
The scene is set. 
You enter the scene. It is your college canteen. You go to the counter to place your order. It is the usual lady on the other side of the counter. You smile, she smiles, and you finally give her your order. Now, about the lady behind the counter....
She is a usual looking lady, the understated beautiful type. Her beauty doesn't jump at you screaming "You donkey! Can't you see I'm beautiful??!!"
But today, for some reason, she's looking really good! Perhaps, it is her off-white dress that did the trick. Goodness knows what it is that enhanced her looks, but whatever it is, has worked. And hence, you finally, after a wee bit of hesitation, decide to pay the lady behind the counter a compliment. So you turn to her, and say something like "Your dress colour really suits you"(in Malayalam). 

Two words. BAD TIMING.
While I was saying this out loud, she was in the process of turning her head to look for something. And all the words I blurted, that I had aimed at her ear, went and hit the wall behind her head. And no, the words didn't ricochet off walls to reach her ears. 
And I stood there hoping no one heard me. I was thinking to myself, "Oh, Shit!, What do I do!? What do I do!?"
See? perfect setting. Beautiful lady, bad-ass guy, nice lines, and still... AND STILL!! A BIG SCREW-UP!!!
Next time around, Timing is key. Check. 
Case Number 2.
There was a Durga Pooja in the college. And a very dear friend of mine was part of the organizing team. So as far as I was concerned, it was time to DANCE! My first time ever! And I bathed in my own sweat. Everything was going cool. I was about to break down after all the break-dance. Suddenly, from the corner of my field of vision, I saw a friendly acquaintance sitting silently, amidst all the noisy music. And my mom taught me to never leave a beautiful lady alone. No, mom never taught me that, but anyway. She is cute and everything, but, err (brain fart..) No clue what to type next....
So just to regain a bit of my energy, I felt it would be the perfect time to take a break. I walked up to and sat right next to her. We had the standard murmurs. And it was purely platonic. And I was getting bored. And like a dumb-ass, I said to myself "Let's get out of here." instead of telling the same to the lady next to me. *FACEPALM*!! Not that she was necessarily going to get up and do "Dhating Naach", but the odds of that happening, given the loud background score, was probably 50-50. What sucks is that..... I have no clue what sucked. Now that sucks. 

Wow! I sometimes wonder if I should let out such intimate details of my personal life in the public domain. But then again, who cares? I get to practice writing in the process, and some bloke gets free advice as to what not to do in life. And it all seems like I get a kick out of all the sadomasochism, which is obviously not the case. 
So until next time, hopefully, I shall be able to turn the tide around in my favour, and also be able to give a better account on what to do, as against what not to. Stay "tunn!"