Here's to the spirit of all those dogged souls who step out of their doors every morning to take on the world. In case you are one of those who work from home and take 53 beaks every hour, you too have my permission to read on.
You'll find many kinds of people on this planet. Chirpy ones, perpetually PMSing ones, creepy ones, nay-saying ones, pesky ones, ones who chat with thin air, and also those who laugh to themselves for inexplicable reasons. Or at least for reasons YOU cannot explain. Unless of course you're talking about Navjot Singh Sidu. That's because the 52 year old turbaned bugger does little else but laugh for absolutely no reason.
But talking about rest of the lot who inexplicably laugh by themselves, it's a ball to watch these folks. I see their kind everyday, and sometimes laugh my entire train journey away in amusement. You do see the dichotomy, I suppose. I'll tell you what it's like to watch these folks. It's a bit like a pot high you share with your best friend. You're looking at each other, some stray thought enters both your minds(often times the same thought), and then, the laughter unleashes till you sprout tears and then some.
It's like watching someone read a Jeremy Clarkson book. The chap's laughing his pants out, and you're wondering what the hell the obnoxious-looking, unnecessarily tall guy on the book's cover wrote that's so amusing, and in your bewilderment, you start laughing out loud yourself. A note about Mr. Clarkson's writing though. The chap writes like the world depends on his finished pieces of work for survival. He reads like a trip gone horribly, but nevertheless hilariously wrong. That's until of course you reach the end, where all the pieces come together to form something revelatory, an epiphany of sorts, where secrets of the world seem to unfurl in front of your bloody eyes. Bloody because if you start reading the Brit, you'll not stop until your eyes are blood-shot, and you slept only because your eyelids forced themselves shut.
Chuck the mad blokes who laugh by themselves! So enamored is one of my seniors with Jeremy Clarkson that he compares the ex-Top Gear host (and future host of some godforsakenly named TV show) that with Jesus Christ. Jeremy Clarkson, Jesus Christ, JC JC, see the connection? It's okay if you don't. You wouldn't die. And yes, the JC connection may sound like blasphemy to many. But then, what doesn't?
People believe that Jesus walked on water. Poof, big deal! I say, given Mr Clarkson's height, he could walk right across the Pacific ocean, via Mariana trench, with his head bobbing above the surface throughout the journey. And what's the deal with blasphemy any way? A bunch of humans(usually unemployed, or too self-righteous or both) taking offense on behalf of an enigmatic, unknown... errr entity that everyone apparently calls God? Really, do they even wonder from time to time that god could be a lady or something? Goodness! You see, man can't be god. Rather, god can't be a man. Too much testosterone simply screws you in the head, and even downstairs, especially in the morning. Then, there are the relentless urges to do things to things, and then things to more things. Anyway...
Thing is that there are too many things to do other than watch random strangers from the psychiatric ward laugh their while away. Yes, it's a fun thing to do for as long as you do it, and seems so even after you're done doing it. Actually, it's a brand of fun that should be accessible to all men, women, children and Navjot Singh Sidhus alike.
In case you were curious about what the "Cheyalo Aanduaar!" title is all about.... It's actually "Chalo Andar"("Go inside" in Hindi), as it sounds verbatim from chaps who usually travel on trains by hanging onto the coach's grab-rails(and mind you, their own lives). They make space to grab onto the train by forcefully pushing a lot of fellow travelers into the coach. And each time they push more blokes in, they shout.....Cheyalo Aanduaar!
You'll find many kinds of people on this planet. Chirpy ones, perpetually PMSing ones, creepy ones, nay-saying ones, pesky ones, ones who chat with thin air, and also those who laugh to themselves for inexplicable reasons. Or at least for reasons YOU cannot explain. Unless of course you're talking about Navjot Singh Sidu. That's because the 52 year old turbaned bugger does little else but laugh for absolutely no reason.
But talking about rest of the lot who inexplicably laugh by themselves, it's a ball to watch these folks. I see their kind everyday, and sometimes laugh my entire train journey away in amusement. You do see the dichotomy, I suppose. I'll tell you what it's like to watch these folks. It's a bit like a pot high you share with your best friend. You're looking at each other, some stray thought enters both your minds(often times the same thought), and then, the laughter unleashes till you sprout tears and then some.
It's like watching someone read a Jeremy Clarkson book. The chap's laughing his pants out, and you're wondering what the hell the obnoxious-looking, unnecessarily tall guy on the book's cover wrote that's so amusing, and in your bewilderment, you start laughing out loud yourself. A note about Mr. Clarkson's writing though. The chap writes like the world depends on his finished pieces of work for survival. He reads like a trip gone horribly, but nevertheless hilariously wrong. That's until of course you reach the end, where all the pieces come together to form something revelatory, an epiphany of sorts, where secrets of the world seem to unfurl in front of your bloody eyes. Bloody because if you start reading the Brit, you'll not stop until your eyes are blood-shot, and you slept only because your eyelids forced themselves shut.
Chuck the mad blokes who laugh by themselves! So enamored is one of my seniors with Jeremy Clarkson that he compares the ex-Top Gear host (and future host of some godforsakenly named TV show) that with Jesus Christ. Jeremy Clarkson, Jesus Christ, JC JC, see the connection? It's okay if you don't. You wouldn't die. And yes, the JC connection may sound like blasphemy to many. But then, what doesn't?
People believe that Jesus walked on water. Poof, big deal! I say, given Mr Clarkson's height, he could walk right across the Pacific ocean, via Mariana trench, with his head bobbing above the surface throughout the journey. And what's the deal with blasphemy any way? A bunch of humans(usually unemployed, or too self-righteous or both) taking offense on behalf of an enigmatic, unknown... errr entity that everyone apparently calls God? Really, do they even wonder from time to time that god could be a lady or something? Goodness! You see, man can't be god. Rather, god can't be a man. Too much testosterone simply screws you in the head, and even downstairs, especially in the morning. Then, there are the relentless urges to do things to things, and then things to more things. Anyway...
Thing is that there are too many things to do other than watch random strangers from the psychiatric ward laugh their while away. Yes, it's a fun thing to do for as long as you do it, and seems so even after you're done doing it. Actually, it's a brand of fun that should be accessible to all men, women, children and Navjot Singh Sidhus alike.
In case you were curious about what the "Cheyalo Aanduaar!" title is all about.... It's actually "Chalo Andar"("Go inside" in Hindi), as it sounds verbatim from chaps who usually travel on trains by hanging onto the coach's grab-rails(and mind you, their own lives). They make space to grab onto the train by forcefully pushing a lot of fellow travelers into the coach. And each time they push more blokes in, they shout.....Cheyalo Aanduaar!
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