Sway...

There are few songs that you listen to, that make you feel like breaking into a dance the very moment they start. And since I sit in a 10x10 box of a room, I am a bit constrained in terms of the space I have at my disposal. But nevertheless, my imagination serves me more faithfully than I can ask it to. For inside my head, I could be waltzing, foxtrotting, or tangoing in the largest Ballroom, equipped with 8 spotlights, all focused on my partner and me. Oh! Almost forgot! Since I am still inside my head, I can choose the partner of my liking, and make the beautiful lady bend, fly and spin on my command, or that of my strong arms. Now, I'm just showing off. But yes, dancing is as wonderful in reality, as you'd like to imagine. What am I saying?? Dancing in reality v/s Dancing in your dreams? Dancing in reality wins pants down! Wait.. Does winning take place pants down? Or is it hands down? Ah,Chuck it! Who's bothering anyway?

It's the movies again. If I watch a movie, the theme of the movie lingers in my thoughts for a long while after I've seen it. I just saw the movie "Shall we dance", and now, all I can think of is a lady in my arms, and the two of us in that amazing ballroom I just described a while ago. The movie "Shall we dance" isn't all that great. But it was good enough to trigger the Dance-bug in me. And right now, I can't bloody help but think about waking up tomorrow, and grabbing the first lady I see, and dancing with her. But alas.... The moment I wake up tomorrow, I'll get this thought of dancing with the lady. It will most probably coincide with the time my alarm bell rings. So I'll chuck the thoughts of dancing, tell the alarm clock to go fuck itself, and off shall I go to sleep. Sucks, right?

But you never know about "Tomorrow". Maybe tomorrow, I'll hear the alarm bell go off, curse the living daylights out of the alarm clock, but somehow fight my urge to go back to sleep. Then I just might go through the regular morning ablution-rituals I usually go through, and step out of my shabby room, looking like the most awesomest thing that can ever exist. And then, I shall magically run into a pretty woman, magically for her of course, and then, we shall break into a dance in the middle of a bunch of college students, whose jaws just dropped 3 seconds ago. And the lady and I shall dance till we remember how the other smells, and then, we shall part to take care of our usual day's work. By the way, the crowd that surrounded us during the time we danced, are still searching for their jaws on the other side of the planet. Sucks for them, I know.

Dancing is a very strange, but wonderful activity that we Sapiens engage in, specially the close-quarter types. I can say this with certainty, despite having danced full-on only twice. The closest analogy to dancing that I can sight is probably breaking into a horse, or maybe getting used to a bike, neither of which I have any past experience of. I've only read about breaking into horses, and getting used to a motorcycle. 

There's always a bit of resistance in the very beginning. An invisible barrier. This is where all the lofty concepts like 'building trust', 'persistence', etc come in. THere is always this "Why-the-hell-shall-I-trust-myself-in-your-arms" expression on one of the partner's face, usually that of the lady's. That feeling is kind-of justified. Or maybe it is not. Either way, work on this initial Saint-Gobain-Invisible-glass problem just a little while more than you think the barrier will hold itself, and WOALAH! Break-in! Then what awaits you is poetry in motion, quite literally. And yes, it has a flow to it!

Then all that remains for one of the two dancers, is to "Take the lead". Now there's another Dance-movie. A lot better than "Shall we dance". You can say that a dance movie is always better off having Antonio Banderas in the lead instead of Richard Gere. You see, there is something about brute Spanish passion, that simply overpowers graceful white skin. Hopefully, I won't be called a racist for the last line. Like I care...

Another Dance movie, that has gained notoriety for its title is "Dirty Dancing". There ain't an ounce of dirt in the entire movie. I didn't even see a horse falling into a muddy pit and dirtying its legs. That drives the point home, I hope.

So this is exactly what I am going to do from now on. I'll watch movies, and try to fit their titles into sentences. Then I'll link the movie-titles in the sentences to their IMDB page, just for the sake of enlightening people about all the amazing movies that they could have missed, had they not joblessly, clicked my blog's link. I wish that were my job description. As for tomorrow morning, some lady must be getting lucky!Or maybe, I'll curse my alarm clock and just go back to sleep.

Rage

I feel a maddening sensation inside. I'm waiting to explode at the sight of the very first person whom I might come across, who even unknowingly pushes me over the fine line between anger and madness, that I'm tight-roping on. I have the usual suspects, on whom I think I'll be exploding. So, for now, I'm trying to keep at a safe distance from them. 

Tick-tock,

Tick-tock, 

That sounds like the clock

For me, it is rage, for you it's shock,

Maybe I'll take a walk, 

But if you came to me to talk,

You're head will hit a rock.

What a shock! What a shock!

Don't make me give a fuck,

Else in your life shall

Nemesis run amock!

Wow! For the first time, the writing things out loud hasn't quelled my restlessness. I guess there's always a first time to everything.

I just had a realization, as usual. There are some things that affect you, that you do not acknowledge as a cause of your disappointment. But these things stay somewhere in the back of your mind, manifest themselves much later when you least expect them to. And boy, do they trouble you! Trouble is that you never really can "Not" think about them. The worst part is that, even in your own mind, these troubles look and sound puny in nature. So your self esteem, rather ego, doesn't permit you to share the trouble with another person, no matter how dear the person may be to you. You simply don't trust your thoughts in the hand of another. So it stays inside. It rolls.... downhill. And then, before you know, this little nag you had inside a while ago, has snowballed into a full-size rage monster. 

Thing is, you can't even hide this monster inside. One look into your eyes will let anyone you know, that you are being controlled by your demons. The strange part is that you don't exactly mind being controlled by this demon, at least for now. What you think after you have wrecked havoc somewhere is anyones guess.

But herein lies the problem with our civilized world. NO FIGHTING! NO FLIGHTING! This is the first part of the problem. The second part is that if, suppose you do engage in an act of barbarism, you'll inevitably hurt a loved one. Unavoidable collateral. If not a loved one, someone WILL get hurt for sure. And now, I'm simply ranting. 

There we have it.. Modern society! A madly angry man sits in front of a screen and rants his mind out. What all is left to try?

Push-ups-- DONE..

Running--DONE..

Sleeping-- DONE..

Writing-- DONE..

Fapping-- DONE..

What else do you do to impede your anger? If there is something that remains, it's only talking. And that's one thing I have been perpetually incapable of, specially during my pangs of madness. 

I'll tell you what. I guess this post should have been titled "Return of the KID". 

We all love kids. I specially don't mind a cranky crying shit-piss-and-puke producing machines. It's probably because I haven't had to deal with one anyway. Agreed, Kids are cute. But so are piglets! I doubt that there is any kid who was born MACHO, with extra pair of balls. Maybe there must have been some kid born with extra pair of testicles, but then he must have been a genetic anomaly.... more like a genetic miracle. 

So, kids are cute, as long as they mind their own stuff, and do not interfere with your shit. But when they do interfere with your shit, more so, when they interfere with MY shit, I don't have qualms pressing a pillow on such kids till they suffocate. That last line would probably get me arrested, were I to star in Minority Report. But then Tom Cruise got that role. Damn him! Okay, he did play the role well. 

Now, I'm surprised at my capacity to relentlessly come up with words, as an excuse to kill my anger.So, where was I? Yeah, I hate kids with noses too long for their own good. Trouble is, besides having long noses, these little fuckers are deaf. So they won't hear you telling them to "Fuck off". Maybe I'll break the nose of such kids. That will take care of a part of the cost of Rhinoplasty, to fix that nose. Maybe a whack on their ears will also fix their hearing. Goodness! So much for sucky genetics! Maybe it'll be worth the effort, if my anger dies down on the process.

After re-reading my last line, the ounce of prudence that's left inside some nook of my cranium tells me that there is a part of the big picture that is evading my sight. 

Happiness is....

Happiness is..... a lot of things.

Happiness is when something begins.

And now, there shall be an onslaught of happiness!

Happiness is Thursday mornings.

Happiness is Thursday evenings.

Happiness is Ela ada on Thursday evenings

Happiness is She knowing that Thursday is Ela ada day!

Happiness is Eating tonnes of Ela ada! And feeling like a stuffed chicken...

Happiness is Solving Sudoku!

Happiness is Solving the hardest Sudoku!!

Happiness is a Hard Sudoku

Happiness is Not being able to solve Sudoku all night, and waking up to see that the solution was in front of your eyes all night long!

Happiness is More Sudoku!!!

Happiness is having balls!

Happiness is having balls and knowing it!

Happiness is seeing someone ballsy!

Sadness is people having balls, but still not having balls.

Happiness is renting balls!

Happiness is being loved.

Happiness is being hated.

Happiness is knowing that you can't be ignored!!!

Happiness is Doing stuff that no one can.

Happiness is solving a problem no one could.

Happiness is understanding what you hear.

Happiness is making someone understand.

Happiness is getting inspired!

Happiness is getting someone inspired!

Happiness is Running.

Happiness is running faster than someone fast!

Happiness is running faster than someone on a bicycle. A car, or a bike would also do, but then, you won't stay ahead for that long...

Happiness is... getting rid of an assignment... by finishing it...

Happiness is... a teacher telling "Why are you wasting your potential?"

Happiness is... the day before an exam gets over...Time to plan the list of movies to watch!!

Happiness is... the first day of school/college reopening!

Happiness is... her... When she doesn't show jaada/Bhaav(Tantrums)

Happiness is... her giggly laughter

Her gentle "Hello" at 1 in the morning.

Happiness is... knowing that she's looking at you.

Happiness is... when she talks about you.

Happiness is... you know her heart's beating just as crazy as yours.

Happiness is... blissful ignorance.

Happiness is... doing what you love.

Happiness is... someone who's happy to see you do what you love.

Happiness is... a kid sister, who is stupid enough to think that you might be a big deal..

Happiness is... to keep the sister thinking that way.

Happiness is... screwing shit up!

Happiness is... running after screwing shit up!!!

Happiness is... the guy chasing you not being able to catch you :P

Happiness is... also fixing shit!

Happiness is... lots of shit (Oh shit!! What a relief!)

Happiness is... someone telling you that you look like Dad.

Happiness is... looking in the mirror and seeing Dad.

Happiness is... being strong like dad.

Happiness is... also being stronger than dad.. Uh oh... If dad reads this, he's SO killing me!

Happiness is... the unsigned pact with dad.

Happiness is... travelling.

Happiness is... meeting new folks on trips

Happiness is... fooooooooooooood!!!!!!!!

Happiness is... anyone who gives you foooooooooooooood!

Happiness is... not giving a shit.

Happiness is... not having shits to give.

Happiness is... people demanding your shit.

Happiness is... sounding like a 6 year old girl for the past 80-odd lines, and still not giving a shit.

Happiness is... a book.

Happiness is... an e-book.

Happiness is... a free book!!

Happiness is... a new book and its smell.

Happiness is... getting hold of a banned book, and feeling like a boss!

Happiness is... finishing an Ayn Rand book! (Phew!)
Happiness is... finishing a book in one sitting.

Happiness is... seeing a book you've already read, on the bookshelf of a bookstore, and again, feeling like a boss!

Happiness is... Batman!

Happiness is... The Piano Guys making a track on Batman!

Happiness is... quoting lines from The Dark Knight! and sounding cool while doing so!

Happiness is... feeling like Batman after watching any Batman movie (Except the one with George Clooney in it. The BatSuit had tits!)

Happiness is... acoustic music.

Happiness is... heart thumping music.

Happiness is... hair-raising music. And since I have lots of hair, it's also fun to watch!

Happiness is... a piano.

Happiness is... a guitar.

Happiness is... movies!

Happiness is... lots of movies!!

Happiness is... more movies!!

Happiness is... even more movies!!!! Okay, I'll stop right there.

Happiness is... doing stupid stuff.

Happiness is... doing stupid stuff, and feeling like a BOSS!!

Happiness is... doing stupid stuff, watching others laugh at you, and also you laughing at your own stupidity!

Happiness is... being remembered for doing stupid stuff.

Happiness is... Writing.

Happiness is... writing everyday.

Happiness is... being able to write everyday. 

Happiness is... being teased with your blog's name.

Happiness is... feeling happy for being teased with your blog's name.

Happiness is... being appreciated for the stuff you write.

Happiness is... the urge to write.

Happiness is... in everyday.

Happiness is... in small things we say.

Happiness could be in small things we haven't said.

Happiness is... in saying to yourself "Ah, chuck it anyway!"

Happiness is... growing stronger.

Happiness ain't in longing, which gets longer.

Happiness is... when someone sees you from inside.

Happiness is... when you don't have to hide. 

Happiness is... in knowing why.

Happiness is... in giving things a try.

Happiness is... laughing till you cry.

Happiness is... eating fish fry.

Happiness is... knowing that I can go all day long. 

And why hide happiness, it ain't a bong... 

Worldly conspiracy

While typing the title of this post, I was on the verge of typing "Worldly Constipation" instead of "Worldly conspiracy". I don't know why so. It's probably because I mixed up the words "Conspiracy" with "Conspiration". The latter word doesn't exist, I suppose. With that out of the way, let me move on to today's agenda. 

I'm not sure if it is only with me, or is it that we all look for signs, symbols and indications that foretell a favorable situation for ourselves? For instance, "If I toss a dice, and 6 appears, my day will go awesome!", or "If I toss a coin, and 6 appears on top, I'll win at the casino.". Well, if you are in a casino, and your game requires a 6 to appear for you to win, the indication you are looking is sort-of justified. But I want to ask a question, as rhetorical as it may sound. My question is this..

If we see a sign of something that indicates to us a higher likelihood of getting what we want, is that sign/indication real? Or is it a figment of our imagination that gives us some form of fake reassurance to quell our inner restlessness? 

With every word I type into this post, I get a feeling that the post is becoming more and more abstract. Now, THAT is a sign/indication I'm getting. I have no clue of its authenticity. 

Why is it that we crave certainty? Tarot card and palm readers, fortune tellers, crystal ball shamans piss me off to no end. And as self contradictory as I might sound, I hate my own incessant quest to know whether what I feel and believe is true or not. Having said that, I am myself a big fan of the "Qaynaat" line from the movie "Om Shanti Om", the one that goes like this....

Itni shiddat se main tumhe paane ki koshish ki hai,(So passionately have I tried to get you)

ki har zaare ne mujhe tumse milane ki saazish ki hai.(That every universal molecule has conspired to bring you to me)

Kehte hain ki ...... Agar kisi cheez ko dil se chaaho to puri kayanat usey tumse milane ki koshish mein lag jaati hai.(This line is just the re phrasal of the last two lines)

Sure as hell, the above lines sound cool! But I have a hunch that some dude cooked up these lines to make his desperately uncertain fellow beings feel a bit better about their plight. Maybe what he said is actually true. Maybe, it is just wordy bollocks. Or maybe, the chap who wrote it, was not sure whether what he's written is true or not, but wrote it nevertheless, just to make himself feel better. Personally, I wish that the part, where the molecules conspire to make your passionate wish come alive, is true. But, I really don't think that nano technology and CLONING have gotten that advanced to replicate humans, at least as of now. But then, the concept sounds fascinating. Or maybe, the technology has already developed, but is hidden from public knowledge, in some place like Area 51.  

But iff, just iff, there is even an ounce of truth in all this Urdu, the dude who wrote this must've been a genius! I just hope I find the thing I want to put all my "shiddat"(passion) into. I sure wish you do too. Else, if you're looking for it that badly, the world wouldn't exactly mind conspiring on your behalf to unite you with your passion, I guess.

Seeking a response

What is marketing? The lecturer asked. As usual, there was no response. 

And there I was, sitting in class, listening to a management lecture. Today was "Marketing 101".

The lecture went on, the way it usually does, with all the students in th class sitting like corpses, waiting for another bell to ring, so that they could attend another lecture like dead corpses, just to wait for another bell to ring. 

The lecturer changed slide, after slide, after slide, filled with bullet points, and fancy definitions of words and terms, which, even if were absent, wouldn't have made an ounce of difference to the  crowd sitting inside the classroom. 

That's when one slide popped up that caught my attention. It was just another definition of what a "Marketer" is. By the way, as per the definition,  

A marketer is someone who seeks a response, usually from another party, namely the Prospect.

I don't know if I was high while reading this, but something about that underlined sentence struck me like a bolt of lightning. This is despite there being nothing seemingly profound about the line as such. But if one were a fan of reductionism, it would be very evident that WE, ALL OF US, are marketers. 

Look at it this way. If you are a mother, you seek response from your children(prospects) in the form of their love and respect for the love and care you provide. If you are wooing your potential lover(prospect), you, ideally, want a like response from the other end. If you are an employee in a firm, you seek a response from the company's end in the form of feedback, criticism, a pay hike or a promotion, depending on how you have been performing at work. If you are a salesman, you want a response from your customer/prospect in terms of either a purchase, or customer feedback of the product you have on offering. 

One of the greatest salesmen, Zig Ziglar, often quoted in his seminars, that it is impossible for anyone to leave the profession of salesmanship. This is whether or not you go from door-to-door selling a product, or sit inside a laboratory for hours, working on the next big scientific discovery. 

Sadly, there are few who want to take up a profession in sales. That's basically because we only visualize selling as conning people into buy what we have. And hence, selling gets looked upon as a dirty job. 

We are all sales pitches. Right from every word we speak, to the clothes we wear, to whom we admire, to the people we hang out with, everything is a huge sales pitch. There may be experts who say that "marketing is the art of understanding the needs and requirements of the customer... blah... blah... blah". Frankly, these folks are the biggest liars. Their definitions only make them feel a bit less guilty about their cons. Little do they realize that it is cons that have allowed for progress. Allow me to take reductionism to its extremes. Let's talk about sex. 

Let us assume two people like each other. Now watch this scene from the movie "A beautiful mind". I request you to not get bogged down by the title of the video that you'll watch if you happen to be curious enough to click the link that goes by the movie's name. Below is what the protagonist said to his lady he went on a date with, just in case, all the school and college work has driven the curiosity out of you...

Nash(le Protagonost): (To his lady) I find you attractive. Your aggressive moves toward me... indicate that you feel the same way. But still, ritual requires that we continue with a number of platonic activities... before we have sex. I am proceeding with these activities, but in point of actual fact, all I really want to do is have intercourse with you as soon as possible.

Now THERE is simplicity at its bloody best! No bullshit what-so-ever! 

Here's the deal. Individuals as part of a specie, get together and interact, for ONE fundamental reason, namely "To Mate". So when one party(the marketer) is wooing the prospect(the potential mate), he/she is giving a sales pitch for the genes that the marketer carries in his/her DNA. The sales pitch is to secure the future existence of the individual's genes, with the prospect's genes gaining the same potential future security of his/her genes, by engaging in the process of mating with the marketer. Basically, dating too is marketing.

I could have said the above by using the example of an IPhone, by just tweaking and editing a few words here and there. But what's the fun in that anyway? Besides, the mere mention of the word sex, or even any thought that evokes even distant sexual feelings, in the middle of nowhere, makes people listen a lot more attentively. Why do you think Deepika Padukone features in Nescafe ads, instead of err... maybe... someone's grandmother? No offense to any grandmothers out there. About grandmothers, they are the wonderful creations who tell us the best of stories in our childhood, aren't they?

Even their stories are a sale pitch. Observe how children flock to the older ladies who know more stories. The stories they tell, are a sales pitch to the kids. The response the old ladies are seeking is the company of these children, who listen to their stories rapturously. Both sides win. The old ladies get the company they crave. The kids get stories that will keep them happy for a long time to come. So everyone's happy. And if the stories are good, the kids will come for more!

Chicken piece

I wanted to name this post "Perks of Fidelity". But that sounded like a mouthful. And besides, what is fidelity anyway? Since I'm not going to answer that question, I shall move on.

Non-vegetarians will relate to the contents of this post a lot more than my vegetarian fellow beings. So I feel bad on behalf of all the vegetarians. Actually, I don't. I never told you to relinquish meat. So try and keep up with what you're about to read!

If you consume chicken, then, at the time of being served your portion of chicken on your plate, your universe revolve around one single objective, that being...

I must get the biggest chicken piece!

 Sometimes, you succeed, and sometimes, you don't. And the day you do manage to succeed, you realize that you couldn't have been happier on that given day, until of course the person you like, asks you out or something. Hmm... Slim chances of that, I guess. Nevertheless, my boy/girl!! Enjoy the chicken, while it lasts! It's going to to be shit tomorrow anyway. Eww!

I have been eating from the same college mess for almost 2 years. This is despite that my college has 8 messes in total. But I like the food I get in my current mess. And I find very few other satisfied customers, as far as college mess food is concerned. Wow! I started ranting again. Didn't I?

Since I've been in the same mess for quite some time, I know the guys who work at the mess like they were an extension of my family. Besides, my quirky demeanor helps set up a rapport with people quickly, or so I think. Specially if I am dealing with people I like, which is again a rare case. So the guys at the mess know me, I know them, and I find that we are one bunch of happy people!

Today when I went to the mess for dinner, I was at the serving counter. There were two folks standing to serve. The first one served me the chicken portion I was entitled to for the evening. It was the leg-piece of a chicken. I was almost about to cry, as I hate the leg piece. Not much meat, you see?

The second guy at the counter reprimanded the chap who served me the chicken, and told him to serve me the piece with the most meat! I did not look into the mirror to see my face, because I didn't have one. But I'm sure my face looked something like this..

Nah, my face would look more like....

 Okay. I'm sure you got the idea. AND HENCE GOES THE STORY OF THE DAY AFTER WHICH I SHALL GET BIG CHICKEN PIECES EVERY TIME  THERE'S CHICKEN BEING SERVED! That last line just made me realize how small things have huge potential in making us insanely happy! I could still use some magic that's left in the day and get asked out by someone. Yeah! I truly believe that there's nothing called "Asking for too much". Bloody hell! There's no limit to how happy you can be. Emotions are qualitative!

If there's one thing that I still wonder,  it is that, had I not been in the same mess for the duration that I have been in it, would I still have got that bigger meatier chicken piece. I'm sure I wouldn't have. Well, now that's perks fidelity can buy. For everything else, there's MONEY! Anyway, here goes nothing....

I'm belly-full with cuckdoo koo!

And I got loads of work to do,

Maybe I'll get asked out today,

Maybe it's a matter of a day or two!

Dream on! Dream on! Dream on! Dream on!

Dream on! Dream on! Dream on! Dream on till your dreams come true!!

(Thank you, Aerosmith!)

Everyone has a box

Yes. Everyone has a box. It could be small, it could be big, it could be a tiny black one, or it could be one of those with fancy decoration all over it. Some hide theirs. Others leave them in the open, waiting for someone to open it. But whatever be the case, they'll never call anyone to show the contents of their box. That's just us, as people. 

What's inside the box? It won't be something that holds a lot of monetary value, in most cases. It'll be photographs, received letters, letters that were never sent,  little toys from someone's childhood, souvenirs from travels, and in case the box belongs to a serial killer, it will most likely contain trophies(earrings, finger nails, vials of the victim's blood, those sorts of things) from every victim. Leaving aside graphic images that I just conjured with the mere mention of boxes of serial killers, name any commodity, and it will find itself in someone's little secret box.

Another thing about the box is that it is almost ALWAYS a secret, clandestine possession. Go to someone's room, and for sure will there be something they keep you from touching or opening. If "Fuck off!" were the most commonly used phrase, the phrase following it with a close second position will certainly be "Don't touch that!"

Oh! Almost forgot! This box need not always be a box. Ever seen those diaries that people write all their lives, but never let anyone read its contents? And we perpetually wonder.... What on the planet does this person write? What's the big secret? But no! It's a big mystery, and apparently, we are supposed to leave the person's secrets to himself/herself. Beautiful! This is specially when every cubic inch of your 3D existence wants to flip open the diary and read every word of it. And that's true, not just for stupid little diaries, which have been put behind locked doors. It's just as true for any other box that may belong to anyone and everyone that you and I know. 

But here's what's crazy about "the box". Do you really think that the owner of the box doesn't want anyone to see what's inside their box? As a matter of fact, they are dying for someone to open their box and see what's inside! They want someone to get surprised at what they find inside their box and say "Woah! This fellow is not like the plain old vanilla he looks like on the outside! There's a lot more to him!". And besides, the box gives them a chance to gain a little attention in front of people. Remember when someone asked you about what it is you keep inside your box/bag, and you kept them begging and guessing about the contents of your so-called box? Wasn't it fun to watch them plead you to tell them what's inside? That's of course until they got bored of your incessant refusal to reveal what was actually there inside?

Strangely enough, there almost always is not a lot of "secret stuff", or of what people usually start imagining. But yet, the stuff inside is close to you. It defines a part of you as a person. A lot can be made out from the stuff that comes out of someone's box. And it's no rocket science to figure out about a person, specially of you have their little secret box in your hand.

When someone tells you to stay away from their box, what they mean is "See whatever is there inside it, but not when I'm around.". Now, just because you read this in a blog post, don't go around opening people's boxes behind their backs. You increase your chances of getting "Black-eye syndrome", if you know what I mean. What I mean is, they don't want to know that someone saw their "stuff", probably because they are too self conscious/ embarrassed to face someone who gains full access to what they have hidden from the public domain. Imagine for a second, why the hell would someone take their box to the grave without a soul having seen the stuff that's there inside that box of theirs?

Each one of us wants to feel special. Maybe it is because we are fed this line called "You're special", by everyone! Be it parents, grand parents, teachers, Cereal advertisements, and Cosmetics brands, and even YOURSELF! And most of them are trying to sell you something! And most often, they're lying!! Imagine, if everyone was actually special. Then, there would be too much specialty everywhere, and we know where too much of anything goes to, anyway. Straight down the drain! By the way, if the last two lines hurt your ego, or made you ask this question to yourself "Maybe I'm not that special", then, my mission is ACCOMPLISHED!! Just kidding.... Maybe you ARE special. But there's a caveat. The caveat is "MAYBE you are special." You never know. To yourself, you may not be that special. But there's someone out there to whom, you're the most special thing there exists on the whole planet. There may also be someone who wants you to think that you're special, so that they can sell their skin cream to you and make money out of your stupidity! You know what? Chuck it! Think what makes you feel happy!

If you get a kick out of crying over the fact that you're not special, do that! And just in case you happen to truly believe in the fact that you are special, and iff, by chance, someone tells you that you are not, then look him/her in the eye and say........

"And you will know my name is the LORD, when I lay my vengeance upon thee!"

And by the way, don't be so uptight about the stuff in your box. Get all the attention you like  from the ones who are pleading you to tell them what's there inside. But don't bore them. 

What's inside your box??

Gone

Now, my hours seem a lot longer. They somehow seem a lot shorter, all the same. Or it is maybe that I do now have a clue which of the above two is the case. I scavenge my surroundings, scrape the bottom of my think-tank, for things, and emotions, so that I can put them into words. For I have lost my muse.

Yes, conjuring up psychedelic paintings ain't beyond my grasp. For that, I need my crayons. And sure I can go out to buy them. But today, the shops ain't letting me in. It's either that, or they have not what I search for. Or it is that they know, I won't get what I need in their shop. For I have lost my muse.

I think more than I care to tell. Of things long gone, of moments I can't spell. Maybe now, I won't rhyme. Specially if, if I whine. And stupidly do I so write, of things I know of not, nor know why. I wonder, about the world at large, beyond this cage, I sit inside. But nothing comes ti my mind. For I have lost my muse.

Why do this, is all I ask. This pretense, that Oh,you care! All is nice, all  is fine. I'll thank you, but the gratitude isn't mine. Little do I have to say, and why bother what ever be it may? No offense, hopefully none taken. And if taken, not that I care. A wave, a smile, isn't any use. For now I know, I have lost my muse.

Maybe, I'm angry, but only at me. Trust too much, before I see. Of all plans, and device, Spare I shall not, an ounce of despise. To be angry, sad, mad, or stoic, is getting beyond me to decide. Maybe, I shall let loose, with Nemesis, crazy, and high on booze. Oh, I forgot, she need not a drop. Or perpetually drunk she is, I confuse. Anyway, I have lost my muse.

Start-ups, cuts and wounds.

The number of times that one can forget everything in one's mind, while doing something in life are really few. Ever remember doing your class assignments without thinking of some place, some thing, or someone? See? The answer would usually be a reassuring "NO". That is unless you are doing something you are truly passionate about doing.

With the start-up trend on the upswing through out the planet, there is more and more of the human population experiencing true passion in the work they do. This is specially so since they do not have to bear the hollow promises of big companies, that offer a little more than membership to their office gymnasium. And I consider more than happy to be able to do my own little part in a start-up.

A while ago, a friend of mine, two batches senior to me, talked to me about a start-up plan he had in mind. A bunch of friends of mine, and I, just went to hear what my senior-friend was up to. He had plans of making performance electric bikes, basically superbikes running on electricity. My friends didn't stick around,  despite their excitement, but then, that's their loss, or maybe not, or whatever. 

Thing is, the automobile-enthusiast made me stick around. Specially the name of the Start-up..... HOUND Electric!! SEXY NAME! Imagine someone asking me the dreaded question... "Where do you work?". I'm sure that the moment they hear of a firm called "Hound Electric", as the name of the company someone works in, they'd think "Woah! I don't know what the company is all about, but sure as hell, they're up to something cool!". Fine. enough rant about my admiration for the start-up's name. I didn't bother thinking twice about working with my senior, when the offer was presented.

A thing about start-ups is that you can put whatever you're good at to work, as long as you are willing to work. So, no worries about job description. You do anything that comes your way. You do it whether or not you know how to do it. Don't worry. You'll learn it eventually, whatever 'it' be. And besides, JOB SATISFACTION GUARANTEED!

I did, and still do content writing for Hound. What I mean is, whatever that goes on their brochures, executive summaries, etcetera, etcetera, are all a work of MY ART. Or so, I brag about it. Moving on...

I always had a thing about working with my hands and legs. And now, with my senior and his team, I'm building a freaking bike!! So it's all sparks, hammers, and the sweet smell of metal being cut. No A/C rooms for me, thank you! What's the point of having hands and legs, if the only part of your body you use is your bum, to sit yourself on a chair, that too, now-a-days in front of a computer screen??

There's another thing about working in a nascent work space. It's the passion that's SO infectious it just wipes out everything, I mean, everything from your head, except the job at hand. This is all the more so, if it is a venture where you have no stakes involved. The sheer dedication of the start-up's founder, specially if you can witness it, makes you want to put in everything you've got into the task you've been assigned.

Another thing often encountered, when working in a fresh atmosphere, is MISTAKES. Yup! Someone simply has to screw up from time to time. And very often, that someone is me, given that I have an attention span of a 4 year old's. 

That might sound like a caveat, but it actually is not. Despite that the words "Start-up" and "Screw-up" almost rhyme, there's a reason why they do. And the reason is this. And it sounds almost like a dialogue from Chris Nolan's Batman flick....

"Why do we screw up? So that we can learn to unscrew shit, and create a possibility to do something great!"

 Does that sound like?

Why do we fall sir? So that we can learn to pick ourselves up.-Alfred Pennyworth

 Not like anyone cares. So, once again, moving on!

Start-ups are exactly like life. They allow room for mistakes, room for growth, room for finding your own ground. And this is all while you're having fun, working of course. Then again, seldom do you hear work being fun. Here, you work because you want to, not out of any kind of obligation to the one writing your paycheck. Sure, you'll get cut every now and then, get pricked with tetanus injections(If your life is precious to you). You'll feel tired like you ran 15 km straight. Nights will never look darker, and will eventually bring the sight of daylight back in sight, without you having slept a blink for the longest time you can remember. But when you get to finally go to bed, the sweat will evaporate off your body, taking with it all your stress and worries, leaving you sleeping like a baby. But you'll wake up again, work like you did on the day before, put on another couple of band-aids, only to experience the previous night's sleep again....

Poke

You think of what to make of it
And then, you think, "why bother?"
You stare it right in the face,
And it looks like not another.
When it comes to poke you first,
To it you pay not heed
For then you notice, some time later,
That it does make you bleed.

It got you curious, then a bit furious,
And now, it's got your attention.
For all it would, and all it won't,
either say or mention.
Then you think, "Oh! Tis a game",
Or so that you are playing
But what it be, ne'er you see,
Goodness, what a shame!

You think you're smart, and all that crap,
Until in shit neck deep,
Then you figure, "It's a trap!"
Sorry, all you can do is weep.
For what to do,
Than think, then screw,
up, all that you can't handle,
But hold on, I know it's dark,
There you go! You do have match and candle!

Little does it make sense,
To you for sure, and to me,
These words, that we need not admire.
The mind of mine, is one big goblet,
in which, there's a dragon breathing fire.

Ouch!

What is education?

The last Monday, the 17th of November was International Student day. It has been so on every 17th November since 1939. For more details, check Wikipedia!

There was a small discussion, of which, I happened to be part of. The topic of discussion was "What can be done to improve our education system". The discussion, being a discussion, wasn't exactly the most productive use of time, for the hour and a half that it lasted. But there was a question at the very beginning of the discussion, that got me pondering over its answer. The question,  as I'm sure that every educated one reading this would have guessed, was "What is education?".

What was a bit surprising was that none of those present in the discussion, came up with an answer to this question. And for a change, I am included in the "none of those".

A day before the discussion, while I was traveling to the test center of an exam I was supposed to give, I met this guy in the bus. I didn't really notice him until I was trying to pronounce the name of the stop in Malayalam, I was to get down at. That was when this guy sitting next to me, helped me tell the bus conductor where I wanted to go. I bought my ticket, and the friendly chap that I am, this guy and I started a friendly chat. He asked me about my education, what I study, and stuff like that. I ranted all the stuff he asked me about. I inquired the same details about him. This guy was a bit embarrassed to tell me about himself, for some reason. So I prodded a little further. The guy happened to be a cook. He trained people to cook. Middle-East-Asian food was his specialty, apparently. I just happen to be interested in cooking, so our conversations hit all the right notes, or so I think. This chap had done virtually everything I wanted to, all except getting into an engineering college. But he did bear a grudge against his fate for not having gotten a formal education, given the financial status of his family at the time he was supposed to be in school. I am probably naive enough to think that he hasn't exactly missed a lot, specially since I have the privilege of belonging to a well off household. I was just mesmerized by the fact that he drives all kinds of vehicles, except for planes. More so by the fact that he started riding bikes at age 13. This hurts a little, considering that I was sent to a driving school, and my dad was made to pay a chunk of money to get me to learn how to steer a car. And the fact that I still haven't learned how to ride a geared bike, makes me feel like my life stinks. This is all despite that right now, I feel my life absolutely rocks!

So, again, back to this guy. He blatantly felt bad  about he not getting a shot at completing his education, whereas now that his family is slightly better off, his younger brother is studying. According to him, education make you capable of speaking when you are in a group of people, discussing something. He said, it lets you understand the world better. And maybe, even deal with a situation better. At the time we, he and I were having this conversation, I brazenly shrugged at all his complaints with his life. But now, when I think of it, maybe he was right about what he is missing. I obviously don't know if that's the case, for I don't have a time machine to go back in time, stop my education, live a life without an education, get back into a time machine, go back in time, do everything I have done in my present life, so that I could get back to writing this post. Even if I had a time machine, I don't think I'd go through all that much trouble, just to clarify my little doubt. Besides, what if I go back in time, stop my education, live an uneducated life, where I don't know what the hell a time machine is? I'd be so screwed!

All that yap hasn't yet helped me answer the question "What is education?".

And so, I shall do what I do best. I'm going to write about a beautiful lady! Nah, just kidding. Let's see what education is NOT. That will leave us with fewer options to choose from. 

I'm pretty sure that one's education is not the grades one gets in school and college. Grades, I believe, are just an indication of compliance to the requisites of a system. This is, again, in no way an attempt to mitigate the efforts of those who excel at their craft of getting more "MARKS", so to say. I guess, that sounded a little sarcastic. Never mind!

Education is also not the number of degrees one possesses. Maybe that is the aspect of ones education one can brag about in their matrimonial ad, but one can have 3 degrees, that he/she spent 15 years to obtain, and still be dumber than a postman who has lived 4 decades of his life delivering letters within a city.

What education is, is probably everything that makes you in charge of your life, and keeps you feeling that way. It is the realization, as Steve Jobs said, that everything around you, is created by people who are no smarter than you, and that you can go build your own things that other people can use. Here's the exact quote. Education is what you make of all of your experiences, be it inside. or outside the confines of a class room. What use is it to know that sound doesn't travel in vacuum, when you go to watch a sci-fi movie, where you can hear the exhaust noise of a spacecraft in the middle of outer space? Specially if you are an observer outside the spacecraft?

What good is acing a test in a subject, when any, if not all practical applications of that subject seem like rocket science? That is of course, given that the subject you aced was not Rocket Science. If the subject you aced was rocket science, and if the practical application of this subject looks like ANYTHING other than Rocket Science, then......

And I feel I am yet to arrive at an answer to my question.

I don't call out for mom anymore

As kids, when trouble came, the first word to come out of most of our mouths was "Mummmmaaaaayyyyyyy!!!!". That is again, when you consider the average demographic. In case you do not belong to this worldly populace, don't feel bad. The bogeyman will come to catch you anyway.

I frankly feel a tad bit sulky typing this post. If you care enough to ask/think why so, it is because I no longer call like calling out my mother in times of trouble. I just hurl out some curse words till my shot temper cools down, and then, I move on. It kind of sucks that way. I often get into troubles of all kind, I being me. And sometimes I just hope that my mom will come and dell me something like....

"Hey kiddo, don't worry. It'll be all right."

I'd like it even more if she'd give me a hug too. 

I'd like it all the more if she would make me my favorite rajma-chawal!(Rice and kidney-beans). But then again, that alarming call of "Mummy!" never somes as spontaneously as it used to, when I was little. It feels like I'm losing my grip on the kid inside.

It's not like I don't get hurt. For instance, I was sitting with a friend of mine, not exactly a very close one, but a friend, nevertheless. He told me that I was being played with by someone. My initial reaction was a careless shrug. I barely took heed to what my friend had said. It took a while for the reptilian part of my brain to kick in, the part of the brain that is responsible for knee-jerk reactions. And the moment I realized what he had said, I felt a strange suffocating sensation. I wanted to leave his room as fast as my sprinter-legs could get me out of there. The very thought of being played with, drove away all my sense of peace of mind straight out of the window. This is despite that I had suspected a scenario of this sort being the situation I would find myself in. But thankfully, as soon as I raced out of my friend's hostel, I ran straight into a beautiful lady. And then, all was fine. At least till I decided to come back into my room, which is usually where all things I could potentially brood about, come "BACK" into my head. It's like this...

If an empty mind is a devil's workshop, then an empty room is a sadist's workshop. And despite that line sounding cool, it is complete bull! Hence, moving on!

So I got back to my room, got memories of my friend telling me about my situation, and started brooding over the whole scene. As simple as that. And simultaneously, I also realized that I don't call out for my mother as often as I used to when I was a whiny little twit. And now, I see it all very clearly. What I should have done half an hour ago, about the time that I started writing this post, is that I should have called my mom. Instead, I wasted a precious half an hour of my life over thinking  about things that, I know for a fact, are going to be a complete waste of my time. I'll call mom anyway....

Too-taw-taaw-taaw-taaw-to-taw-tee-tee-tey (Sound of dialing numbers)

It's ringing!

Pal pal dil ke paas....(mom's ringtone)

Hello, mamma!!

The coin that stood

If the gist of the post I am about to write were to be put in one single line, the line would be this...

"It's not about the destination, but the journey."

But why live on the planet without causing  trouble to the minds of some poor soul who happened to mistakenly click the link you shared? Nah! No fun in that! And hence, I shall write on!

The fun's in the chase. The end is there, exactly where it was yesterday. Perhaps we have only come a bit closer, or maybe farther. But we will reach the end, eventually. Be it one end, or the other.

I'm only afraid that what I write will enter a bit more than I expect, into the realm of philosophy.

Words like "Result/Goal oriented" sound good. In fact, they sound amazing. But only on a resume. And if the interviewer selects someone with the above words on his/her resume, the job is going to kill the person of boredom. Life would look like the view from a horse's eyes. Mind you, the horse has blinkers on both eyes. So basically, the world is the 5-6 inch space that you can see between the blinkers. Wonderful! Why not be an untamed stallion instead?

And now, all of a sudden, I'm completely blank.

..........................

..........................

..........................

All I can see is a blinking cursor. And there are fewer feelings worse than feeling that you have hit the proverbial wall, the wall of words!

Crapppp!!!!!! There's a gigantic cricket inside my room!!!!!! Mummmmaaaayyyyyyy!!!!! What a freak show! Okay, it's gone into hiding, somewhere behind a pile of newspapers, under which, someday, there used to be a table top. Goodness! I haven't seen the top of my table in a long while. 

I don't know why I am remembering the time when a cricket got into my underpants. Okay! The following content requires parental guidance. No! Actually, it is completely R rated.

So, this once, I was sitting in my room. This is about 2 years ago. I must have probably fallen asleep in the sticky, humid Kerala afternoon. I woke up, started doing whatever it is that I was supposed to do. I suddenly felt something in my underpants. Something wiggling. And I hate stuff that wiggles, specially when it is in my underpants. Underpants! Wow! Screw the formality. Chaddi it is! I would have preferred Kachchha instead, but then, moving on! So, I felt this riggly-wiggly thing in my chaddi. Upon a bit of manual inspection, the wiggly thing turned out to be a Cricket-ka-bachcha(Progeny of a cricket). Literally! I only wonder how it got there. There is another instance when red ants got into my chaddi. But I guess I should stop with crickets. I don't want humans to cringe after reading stuff.

Finally! I got a few words about life being all about the journey, and not about the final outcome. If we are all about finishing things, it is like Adam Sandler's movie "Click". You have a remote, that will allow you to see the end result, without you having to see all the toil that went into bringing out that result. Fun, no? And a double whammy, at least as far as results go,is that the moment you reach your decided mark, you shift your mark. So it is all back to the drawing board!

I have a subject called Principles of Management. The lenght of the subject's name is enough to put most of my classmates to sleep. And the subject itself.... Well, never mind. But today, the topic of discussion was "Decision making". There are 2 kinds of situations where we make decisions. In one case, we know the outcome of our decision. And hence, we follow a (usually) set path to attain the desired outcome. The second case is where the outcome to the decision taken is unknown. Stakes are higher. Even life might be on a balance. But I'm sure it will be fun, at least while it lasts.

Another incident happened in class today. I was sitting, trying to concentrate on what the professor was professing, for a change. I overheard some murmurs somewhere. I don't even know what it was that was being said, but I picked up a few random words here and there. For a second, I felt an inkling that I was being talked about. I'm pretty sure that what was being said, was definitely not something good, but the mere prospects of I being talked about sounds exciting to me. I don't even know if it was I that was being talked about. But I get a kick from thinking that it was me the chatty folks were talking about. No issues if the topic of conversation was derogatory in any sense. You're surely doing something right when people are talking about you, be it good or bad. I don't even know what it is that I am doing, this is obviously, only in case I was being talked about. I feel I have wallowed in myself enough for one day.

Wow! Now I feel like waltzing with the first person I can find.... Nah! I'll stick to watching the movie "In Bruges".

The cricket's flying around again!!!!!!!!!! MummmaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyYY!!!!!

Not anymore. I killed it! Yeah!

I saw her sitting there

Thinking of the title of this post, I feel it could serve as a good parody to the "I saw her standing there" by The Beatles. But I shall refrain from committing such a sacrilege.

A lot happened while I was sitting in my college's computer center. From that big lot of happenings, one was that of the lady sitting right in front of me. As I write this, I am in two minds as to whether or not I should proceed with writing this post. Hoping that writing this post wouldn't alter the greater scheme of things in the universe, let alone change the course of human evolution, I shall continue with my rambling.

She entered the computer center with such speed, that I suspect she already knew of my presence. For I know the exact velocity of her normal walk, in all three dimensions. So well do I know her trajectory that I can formulate a mathematical equation encompassing the movement of her hips, for "Hips don't lie". Sadly, I do!

So the lady, let's call her "My Fair Lady"(MFL) walked in with all her gusto, and sat on her seat. This is of course the first time I noticed her after noon. She sat with her back facing me. The only thing I could think of, after seeing her presence inside a 10 meter radius was that I wanted to tell her something. I would have even blurted something like "Nice weather, no?". This is when we both were sitting inside an air conditioned chamber at 24 degrees Celsius.

Now the following part of my life is what I call.... SPECULATION.

She, MFL, was working in something with her Gmail window open simultaneously. Now I wonder how she was working. But again, let's leave the intricacies to where they belong. In the dustbin. I was on Gmail myself. Goodness alone knows how I was typing the contents of my previous post. All I knew was that my fingers were itching to ping her on Gmail. (Can you do that?) I wanted to type something like "Look around". There would have been a bunch of outcomes if I had written something like that...

1) MFL would have turned around, and given that awkward smile to me, the one that I am so familiar with, the one where she doesn't know what she should let herself or me think.

2) She wouldn't turn around, as she knows that if she did, she would have that above mentioned smile on her face

3) She would reply with something like "Why should I turn around"/"I don't want to turn around", which would have pissed me off to no end!

4) She wouldn't turn around, neither reply, or something on those lines.

5) She would have left the computer center.

I just realized that these were all the possible outcomes had I to tell anyone in the room to turn around, except the #1 and #2, obviously.

And the funny part is that MFL did none of the above. Well, that is because I was busy speculating the outcome of my action, rather than doing what I thought I wanted to do. Now, this is a scene that rarely happens in my life. The speculation, I mean. And I hated it so completely! Why do people speculate so bloody much? It isn't even fun! Look at me! Instead of talking to a pretty creation, I am here, sitting in front of a screen, typing my life away! And what did I get from all this?? What I got is what I, and all of us call.....

                                                         

Socially awkward

What is it about the human psyche that makes humiliation an effective form of punishment? Remember getting caught in class while you were telling a joke to your best-est-est friend sitting right next to you? In all probability, the teacher would have said something like:

Teacher: What's that joke you are telling your friend? Tell it to the entire class. Let all of us laugh at the amazing joke you have!

Rarely would there be a soul who would have said something like "The teacher called 3 students, who were talking among themselves, and sent them to all 4 corners of the room...". If there has been someone who said something like that, the entire class would have surely erupted in laughter. But then again, the mere instance of someone getting caught in a class would have been an excuse enough for the remaining kids to start laughing anyway.

I have a feeling about the teacher, though. I feel that the teachers who are so uptight about kids talking in their class are very dull, and also that they wouldn't be able to control the class even otherwise. Meh! Chuck it. Where I was, talking about humiliation... So coming back to the student who got caught telling the joke, why did the jeering from all his fellow moronic students put a dent in his happy joke? That is unless, of course, the chap was shameless enough to not give a damn about the intended humiliation. The fellow would have had a heart the size of a sperm-whale, and would have shared the real joke with the entire class. And everybody except the teacher would have been very happy too. But sadly, that's not usually the case. And yes, the person getting caught is rarely a girl, despite all the banter that goes on in the girlie-corner of the room., hence the chap/fellow.

Why would one feel so humiliated at a bunch of nitwits laughing at his/her misery? Mostly, the one facing the humiliation would never come across those who are laughing at him/her. Since everyone's laughing, the scene wouldn't be that serious in the first place. When we see a cartoon character slip on a banana peel, we laugh. It is probably because that's the most we can do. And that's true for all spectators. It's like the song by Kishore Kumar that goes like this

कुच्छ तोह लोग कहेंगे। (People will keep saying something or the other.)

लोगों का काम है केहना। (It's the people's job to comment on everything.)

 How does it affect us, what others say, I cannot understand. Neither can I understand why it affects us, about what people think of us/anything we do. 

I was sitting in the college computer center, where use of cell phones is "strictly prohibited". And I was using my cell phone. One of the staff noticed me using my cell phone. And it wasn't exactly a covert manner in which I was using my cell phone. So, the fellow asked me for my college ID. Then he thought of having some fun at my expense. Fucker! So he told me to stand up and read out loud the warning that said "Cell phone usage is prohibited". So I stood up, cleared my throat, and in my baritone, read out "CELL PHONE USAGE IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED". And felt amazing for having said it. You know why? Three ladies turned around to see the body from where the sexy voice emanated. Ha! 

But truth be told, after taking my seat, about 5 minutes after sitting, after all the sexiness was gone with the wind, I kind of felt pathetic. The bastard could have been a bit easy on me. But then again, who gives a damn! The line "Who gives a damn" is actually a question, if I'm not wrong. Strangely, just moments after I realized that, a small little meek voice inside said "Me". 

Now THAT sucks!

To think, or not to think

The world is what we think of it inside our heads. It has all the treasure troves marked in the map you hold right now, but only if you believe that your life is a treasure hunt. To schizophrnics who believe that everyone is coming to kill them, everything that they see makes their conviction stronger in the fact that everyone is coming to kill them!

It is strange that we all live on the same planet, share the same air, unless, of course you are in an elevator with a fat Sardarji, who just finished his heavy, fart inducing lunch. In that case, sorry, you surely have an air about yourself that nobody would like. And I completely understand your predicament.

We look for indications that affirm our convictions. If something's on our mind, we try to relate the occurence of that something to ourselves. A classic situation is while watching a movie. I am sure that there isn't a person who doesn't put himself/ herself in the protagonist's shoes and try to model his/her own life's situations around that of the protagonists. I can imagine myself standing like the hero when I as much as listen to a song, of which, the visuals I am familiar with.

I was travelling on a bus when the song "Kuchh Kuchh hota hai" started playing. And all I could imagine was myself standing in some green countryside with strong wind blowing my hair in style. Sure, the director could have reduced the speed of the blower fan. that creates the artificial gust of wind so permanent for visual effects. But then, that's more than I could ask, I guess. Sorry, I am not at liberty to tell who the lady standing next to me was. Phew So much for the sake of being mysterious. Nevertheless, the bus ride got over. The only thing i was left with was a BIG pain in my arse. But the song was enjoyable for the time it lasted, specially with me in it!

I came back to my room after a 'Brokeback' journey. I switched on my computer, and saw my first name's initial somewhere I did not expect to. That too in BOLD Now, I'm in dire straits. Here's the deal. It's not even like my entire first name is there. It is just the INITIAL of my first name that I saw, and that alone has made me cook up the last 300+ words. Here are the thoughts that raced through my head when I saw my initials where I wasn't expecting to.

"Is this an indication that the Initial is because my name starts with the same letter?"

"Is it possible that I am simply imagining things? I mean, why would it be the way I think it is?"

"I must be really crazy."

"Maybe, that Initial is really for my name."

I could go on and completely pove that I have lost it. Specially, given the fact that you, the reader has no clue of what I'm takling about. Trust me, neither do I.

Online

The world has become very convenient now. Just about anything and everything is available at the touch of a button. So that should solve the "laziness-problem", right? Just that now, we also happen to realize the need for someone to push the button for us.

People don't really talk nowadays. It was our files first, that we burnt to smoke. And now, that smoke is up in some cloud. Hence, "Cloud" storage. Now THAT was technology making life a lot less cluttered. But now, we are hell bent on doing the same to our conversations. All that we talk(type), is up in some cloud. After talking to someone, we can't be on "Cloud 9" because the server on Cloud 9, crashed a while ago. 

Sure, we can see when our last words were 'seen' by the person on the other end. And how does that ever come of any use to anybody? I have an analogy for this situation. But for that, I hope you have seen the movie 'Delhi Belly'. Here goes...

The protagonist  gets hold of the gun during the fight,and points it at the villain. All the villain's men have their own guns pointed at the protagonist. The villain says....

Villain: "Just because you're holding the gun, that doesn't give you the permission to fuck with me." 

Similarly, when someone sees the 'Seen @.....' in the chat box, with the other person yet to respond, I imagine the other fellow thinking 

Other fellow: "Just because you know I've seen your message, that doesn't entitle you to my response." 

Now, that's Facebook, folks!

And the next time the two people happen to run into each other, both behave like they don't know each other. And the whole issue they had between themselves, gets buried under light, fluffy clouds, in most cases, never to be dug up again. 

Then, we have email-fights! Lengthy long-drawn lines, some intended, many more unintended, but most importantly, all being a complete waste of time. And both sides involved in the conversation volley replies at each other. The worst part here is the size of each message. And oh, BOY! Is it daunting! But there is something about email-fights. Both sides involved in the fight are unquestionably stupid, and incredibly so! All it needs is a bloody phone call. But NO! Both people have their ego rods up their arses! And both are scared that the other will not yield, specially when all the other party is waiting for, is your phone call. And hence, goes another personal connection down the drain...

No one takes a lady's hand and takes her out for a dance anymore. No one sweeps the lady off her feet. Guys have left behind their manhood and have proudly turned into "feminists". Soft spoken androgynous creatures. It is like a tiger on a vegan diet! And then, we all get surprised when the ladies ask "Where are all the men?"

What we have become adept at is waiting. Waiting to look better. Waiting for a reply. waiting for initiation, Waiting for the world to change!

Position for "Girlfriend" Vacant

Now that the emotional recession is over, we at ShortDude & Co. are hiring! We see that there is room for aggressive expansion, given the abundance of available talent. But there is only one spot available for the position of "The Girlfriend" currently. And so, we will be having try-outs!

Candidates must be fun loving, free spirited, gutsy, and ballsy(Not literally), and most importantly, must have high self esteem, low expectations. All other parameters of evaluation shall be given little/no importance. Any candidate having non-proverbial balls shall be disqualified.
To apply now, call 9037696969.  After the phone interview, candidates will be provided with an application number, which they must produce on the day of the personal interview.  The date for the selection interview will also be provided during the phone interview.
On the assigned date of the selection interview, the applicants must submit their 
Application Number
Photocopy of Aadhar card/ Passport, Photo ID
Bank Balance, In full cash,(**as we do not have ATM card swiping machines)

In case of loss/theft of application number, as experienced by many candidates in the past, your phone number would suffice.

Call now!! And get a chance to go on a free dinner with our CEO!

You can be the one to pick up the tab!

The bomb in my chest

It's ticking. It's ticking every moment. Ticking, each time, toward one tick less. And we all, at least most of us, ignore it. We assume that our ticker will beat for ever. Alas...

Matters of the heart are complicated. And we hate complications. And what do we do when complications arise? We simply avoid confronting it, rather than facing it up front with every cubic inch of ourselves. We cower. We let others call us a coward. And despite feeling the music beat in our chest, we voluntarily retire to ignorance, as it is bliss.

I have a question. What do you do if, by chance, you grow the guts to enter a forest, only to run into a huge bear? For the sake of yourself, please do not run away!

Ideally, you must spread yourself, make yourself as big as you can, when faces with something as daunting as a bear. The bear is as scared as we are. And hence, stands on its hind legs, to become as large and visually daunting as possible. Or at least, that's the theory.

Now, TAKE 2

There is a lot of talk about body language floating all around. There is a particularly interesting "boss pose", where anyone in an authoritative position, stands in the Superman pose...

This pose

This pose has become a cliche, as far as bossy behavior goes. But then never the less, it IS the most empowering pose you can get into, specially if it comes in a moment of spontaneity.

I have a theory of my own why this pose works. Look at the pose carefully. Do you notice, that besides being a very domineering stance, the person standing in the pose is also at his/her most vulnerable position?

All vital spots on the body are completely exposed. Even weak opponents can easily attack and hurt someone in this position. But the fact is, that in most cases, no one would dare to attack someone standing like this.

Here's the thing. If a person stands this way, he opens himself to the world. And that includes all the good, and also, all the bad, though seldom do we come across the bad. But then again, not many of us know about this, as we remain in this closed cocoon called our SELF. And this is true not just for the position illustrated above, but also for all positions where the person is occupying a lot of space, not just by virtue of his/her blobby mass.

The deal is this. We are all to scared by the mere thoughts of getting hurt. Take any decision that has required a lot of deliberation at your end, specially if you ended up not taking a decision at the end of all the deliberation. Chances are that you let go of your power to decide because you were afraid of getting a negative response, maybe of getting rejected. 

All the above feelings do one thing in common. They make your heart beat like crazy. You feel hot behind your ears. It makes you do stupid things, like closing a door that closes by itself(the doors with hydraulic hinges). Words become difficult to say out loud, and you only wish for these tense moments to get over. And the tense moments do get over, like all the moments that get over as usual and we do not notice. The tense moments get over like all the moments that you are going to let go of.

And then, when you count the last ticks that remain, you will want your heart to beat, like it did when you felt it like a bomb in your chest, each beat an explosion that filled you with life.

Open yourself to the world. Feel your pulse. Feel the pulse of the one who makes your heart pulse like nuclear explosions. I'm sure their ticker beats just as hard as yours does. If you ask as to how you'll find this person, I know not how. But as Steve Jobs said,

"With matters of the heart, you'll know when you find what's right."

#facepalm

There are times when you are arrogant. There are times when you are wrong. And then come along times, when you are wrong, arrogant, and eventually screwed. The sad part is that by the time you realize that your troubles belong to the third category, you are already too late. You've reached the point of no return. So the only things left to do are

a) Tell yourself that you have learned from your mistakes, and so, you have added another item to your already brimming What-not-to-do-in-life list.

b)See illustration below...

Now, the one thing you should not do is, jump off a cliff. But if someone else does something face-palm-worthy, by all means, throw him/her off a cliff. In all probability, that person is alive because it is illegal to shoot him/her. 

One thing I have realized in the past, and more so in the last half an hour of my life, is that it becomes increasingly painful to live with yourself after you see your mistake. It just becomes more grueling an experience if there is no way to correct the anomaly in your perfect universe. And usually, you do not have access to a time machine to undo your misdoings, as the time machine in your friendly neighborhood is always having the "Engaged" sign on the door, written in blood red.

Let me give you an example...

Suppose you work in a laboratory. It's really late in the night. You're working...You're working....You're working.... and then, you're say to yourself, "Ah, enough work already! All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy".

So you decide to close everything, shut down all the lab equipment, all the lab's doors and windows, all set to leave! And you leave for the night.

You walk into the night. You've left the autoclave(a big pressure cooker!) switched on. But you don't know that yet. You feel something is fishy. You pause, you turn around, just to go back and re-check if everything was actually buttoned up properly, but then, chuck the thoughts of going all the way back. You reach home, tuck yourself in for the night, or whatever is left of it, and doze off like a baby. A NOISY baby.

Suddenly, you wake up with a start! You look around. It's morning already. But it is not the apocalyptic scene from you thought it would be. No freak-like machines crawling around. And then, realization strikes! You say to yourself...

"My name is not Jack!!"

 And just then, you realize that the autoclave was left switched on the night before. You think of your laboratory. Inside your head, the lab looks like 

 

And your face looks like 

That's a double face-palm. Just saying...

You brave yourself out of your bed, then out of your house, and somehow manage to reach your work place. And it is not the radioactive mess you'd imagined. You go into the lab. No one's come yet (phew!). You go to check the autoclave. Its switch is on (Shit!). But then, you remember that you'd switched off the electricity mains before leaving. And now, you feel like a GENIUS!!! 

You saved the day! If someone were looking at you right this moment, you'd think they are looking at someone looking like this....

 

Meh! So much for vanity. Forgot what it felt like when you woke up?? Already? Good for you! 

Just in case you screw-up, remember, Viagra was invented by accident. I know, so was Cornflakes and Velcro. But again, just saying...