Bag-full of illegal chemicals.

I don't trust myself nowadays. I suggest you shouldn't either. Not only should you not trust me, but you shouldn't trust yourself either. Specially so if you are prone to bodily chemical imbalances, a.k.a. केमिकल लोचा (Chemical Locha), as famously mentioned in MunnaBhai movies.
Every time I think about the whereabouts of my brain, Jimi Hendrix sings in my ear,

I got a bad bad feelin', that my baby don't live here no more

 I possess an absolutely amazing ability to cook up things in my head. So there's always food for thought. Bu the food ain't good all the time. I experience extended periods of awesomeness followed by brief stints of morose darkness. The latter phases, although very short, or so feel, more than sufficiently cover-up for my 'Happy-hours'. And hence, I wonder, as to what is the cause of such rampant upheavals.
My quest has brought me to the subject of illegal chemicals.
Our body produces all the chemical compounds that are illegal. Yeah, even Cocaine. It's just all a matter of quantities. Basically, we are all born junkies. But let me focus on the matter at hand. Our moods, mood swings, emotions, what ever it is you want to call them, are basically controlled by a handful of chemicals. For instance, if you feel happy, you are in all likelihood, flooded with compounds called endorphins, serotonin, dopamine, or may be all the above. In case you're feeling a bit stressed out, Cortisol is usually to blame. And so is the lady/guy you just fought with. Maybe, a little adrenaline is also involved in foul play here.
Feel some luuvvvvv?? Oxytocin has taken charge of you! Run for your life!
I could research all day, all night, and type another dozen fancy words to show off my know-how about the body. But then, my life is precious to me. So in the name of survival instinct, also a result of chemicals inside of me, I shall stop my scientific sounding rant.
I feel pathetic inside my room. If I tell this to my mom, she'll tell me to clean up my room, which would......probably solve the problem. But then, that would in turn, introduce another problem, that being 'Cleaning my room'. So, I'm not going to tell my mom about how i feel inside my room.
I do know the reason why I feel like I can fly, the moment I step out of my door. That's because it gives me the freedom of running into the fellow chemical bags I want to run into. Specially since no ladies are allowed inside hostels. And also, there's something very arousing about morning sunlight. I can feel the sun rays engulf me in the mornings, when it is cold outside. But the heat from the sun purges and rejuvenates the soul from within, somehow.
Everything looks many shades lighter, many shades more beautiful. I bet if you have a lady, she looks even more sexy the morning after. That's just a speculation, as I haven't seen my lady the morning after. You see, just the imagery floods me with oxytocine, endorphins and testosterone.. In case you get that one!
Who would have thought that just by writing about the chemicals inside us, one could get a chemical high? But then again, I don't trust this high will last too long. This unreliable body of mine, I tell you! What a creation! Imagine a replicating machinery existing as a vehicle for a consciousness. That is all our bodies are. We are a part of  nature's experiment, an experiment called survival. And yet, despite each one of us knowing this at some level deep inside, we cling to this solipsistic existence of ours. As an ending, there's only one phrase that comes to mind, and as usual, I know not why..

Everyone wants to go to heaven. But no one wants to die.

Thoughts on a bus ride.

It's been a while since we saw the other's face.
So the lines of her face look a little blurry to me.
Her fragrance that I could feel on me,
only remains as a faint reminiscence.
Her ringing laughter echoes somewhere in the back of my mind,
but I know not what to make of all of this.
But once when I felt her pulse, I felt 2 hearts in abyss.

She tells me that the words she reads, look like they are mine.
She finds me in the face of others, and I think, that ain't a good sign.
And asks me stupid questions, of things I like, things I love
Sadly my answers go, but to her mind's around, below and above.
Who came up with the notion that men and women are saints
Rudy puritans, ruining the joy of life, with their black and white paints.
And to those who know not, maketh happiness a task herculean
Eat, drink and make merry, says the epicurean.

I think, think , think and think
But only at times, between moments I blink.
Of whether or not, and what to say
And then, I tell my thoughts to go away.
To call, to poke, to text, or ping
To hear her say just "nothing"
I know she hurts, from her sound
But little I can do, If I ain't around.
It is a problem she won't see
For I'm still stuck with "Let it be"..

The "Know-it-all" problem

You get the most startling epiphanies when you are absolutely at peace with yourself. The fact that you are at peace with yourself itself is a startling epiphany to begin with. This is more so true if there is a lot of commotion all around you, or at least, if that's how you feel.
So without further ado, I shall Wordify my thoughts for the sake of humanity. By the way, the word "Wordify" is the act of typing text into Microsoft Word. Now, with that technicality sorted, let's move on!
We humans are inquisitive by nature. We also have an incessant need to categorize, label and name things, let alone bring things to closure, just so that we can live in peace. Let us first concentrate on the "inquisitive" side of our behavior. This is the part in us that is AWESOME! Everything we have done so far is because of 5 Ws' and one H. Strangely enough, by the time most of us finish our 'education', we only have one W remaining with us. That is W for Why.
And hence, you hear "Why me?" so often... 
Now, about bringing things to a closure. We seek closure. We seek solace in closure. I'll give you a classic example.

He/She loves me.... He/She loves me not...

How sad/ happy one gets on getting mystical hints that his/her lover loves/doesn't love him/her, respectively... if you know what I mean.
Remember the end of BBC's Sherlock season 2? The scene, as most viewers know, was the modern-day Reichenbach Falls. Sherlock jumps off, is shown to have died, and magically reappears in the graveyard scene, and the viewers are SO happppy!!
I have personally seen fans of the TV series rack their heads over the mystery of how Sherlock Holmes survived the fall. You see, the hero never dies. Irrespective of what things look like. Here, I quote Batman as usual..

You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself turn into a villain.

And besides, after The Final Problem, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had to reboot Sherlock Holmes purely because of pressure from fans. 
Let's look at another more recent event that raised the bar for Indian cinema. LUNCHBOX! Here's a rare instance where the brilliance of what was on display totally empowered our incessant need for a happy ending. The director leaves the end of the movie to our imagination. Another movie that pulled this trick of killing our need for closure is Inception. Remember the spinning totem in the end?And what did we, the viewers do to such movies? We marveled at them. Not just because these movies are bluntly brilliant, but because they did not provide a highly resolved finishing move. 
And if you carefully notice, what I have been doing in the last paragraph is exactly the second nature of humans I mentioned above, i.e trying to explain why things are the way they are. Despite feeling like a complete hypocrite, I still live by the fact that few things should just be left to be. No conflict, no conflict resolution. Their novelty rests in their inexplicableness. 
As a closing example... let's hit something for a home-run
Does god exist? Who knows? If you do, how do you know?
Does god not exist? Again, who knows?If not, how do you know he/she/it does not?
Just because a rock, the shape of a face rose someplace in the middle of nowhere, don't go and build a temple around it. And just because the existence of something "looks", "feels" improbable, don't shun it.
There are somethings we can buy. For everything else, 

And thank you, Mastercard!

About Dumb, and Dumber..

A guy and a girl were roaming with each other on an abandoned piece of road. On their right was a beautiful beach sunset. On their left was an entire line  of abandoned buildings, like the ones in "I am Legend", or say, "Inception". Empty, lifeless buildings. Let's chuck the buildings, and concentrate on the sunset.

They walked, and they walked and they walked. Neither one of them was getting tired with all the walking, and thankfully so. Suddenly, they stopped in the middle of the road. They turned toward each other at the same time, and each looked the other in the eye. 

If there were a camera onlooking the beach with the guy and the girl inside the camera frame, the scene would look like....

Both their hearts were pounding like the way hearts of racehorses would.

The guy faced the girl and said...

Guy: I want to feel your heartbeat. 

Girl: *Didn't/ Couldn't say anything out of anxiety*

Guy: Do you want to feel how my heart's pounding?

(What a dumb-ass question! Way to go!)

Girl: *Nodded sideways to say no at first, then nodded to say yes.* 

(Very intelligent thing to do)

Guy: Place your hand on my chest, and I shall place my hand on yours...

Girl: *Did as the guy said, and felt the guy's heart throbbing like CRAZY!!* 

Girl: Goodness!! Your heart's beating like CRAZY!! Can you feel my heart????

Guy: Err... Actually, I can't feel anything. Your boob is kind of becoming a hindrance....

WARNING!! Do not try this at a beach near you. For that matter, do not try this anywhere! 

Bad words

As kids, most of us had groups we officially or unofficially belonged to. We still officially or unofficially belong to some or the other group. And if you remember correctly, there always used to be at least one 'bad apple' in the group we belonged to. This one chap was the guy who had a little-to-early an exposure to puberty, adulthood, and basically to all the stuff we associated to being grown up, when we were supposed to be kids, like alcohol, cigarettes, porn, curse words and the likes. I don't know how it goes for ladies, but this bad-apple-guy in the group usually had an elder one at home, generally a brother. 

So, this fellow would walk with a little extra swag, speak fancy stuff the rest of the group had no idea about. His small dip into the world of adults would leave us all fascinated by a completely new world that we would inevitably immerse ourselves into.

Somewhere along the line, we all hear the word "Fuck". This is like a milestone in every kid's life, absolutely irrespective of your background. Barring the word "Shit", the so called "F" word is the second coolest thing that is going to exist till the time we shall live. Or at least that's what we think at the time when we hear the word for the first time. It is like all the things that are forbidden. You use it sparingly(initially), until a time, where everyone knows the word, it's meaning, it's usage as all seven figures of speech, and even it's etymology.

Between the time you go from the word's meaning to its etymology, another friend of yours says something like "Your father fucked your mom.". And believe me, that's the worst day of your life, for the time that you have existed on this planet. Your already puny existence feels like it has been completely annihilated. And trust me, I'm laughing as I type this. You have never been more offended by anything this badly. But more than a decade after the incident, when you think back at what that stupid friend said to you, you thank everything in the universe for the greatest truth the idiot told you. Come on! I love my parents. I just don't like the way parents tell their kids how the kids popped into the world. A fairy came in through the balcony and left the kid in a basket? Seriously?

My mom never told me that thankfully. That's because I never asked her dumb questions.I turned out to be a precocious little tyrant when it came to matters that intrigued me. 

But if you happen to ask stupid questions to your parents, questions like "How did I come into the world", please try and understand your parent's predicament. Firstly, it is  "That Awkward moment" for them, as they cannot exactly tell you that people have sex to produce babies, specially when the word SEX itself makes them cringe because of it being a taboo in most societies that happen to call themselves civilized. This is more-so a problem if you happen to be born before the Facebook era, where your parents can't make a meme out of their "That Awkward moment" and post it online to at least get likes from a few fellow parents who share their predicament on a common group named "First, we fucked. Now, we're fucked!"

Secondly, your parents get to know how stupid you are, because you ask stupid questions. So they give you sarcastic answers that involve fairies and angels. Then you, as kids buy the idea they are selling you. And so, they have a little private joke that allows them to laugh a little, all thanks to you! Or rather thanks to your stupidity. Who believes that angels have anything to do with your existence here? Unless you're on psychedelics?

What sparked the thought of this post was a Stand-up performance I went to watch yesterday. It was the Pretentious Movie review duo, the handsome chap, and the IITian, who turned up at IIM Kozhikode yesterday evening. The IITian chap turned out to be a B.Tech graduate in Biotechnology. The moment he said that, I secretly gave him a Hi-5 in my head. I was just happy that SOMEONE in the field of biotechnology was doing something worthwhile, or at least having the proverbial, and in this guys case, literal last laugh. Any way, moving on...

Here's the deal. Before the IITian chap started his Stand-up act, he asked the audience, whether they wanted a clean act, or a dirty act. "Dirty act" was the unanimous outcry. No one heard the professors in the audience. Unfortunately for the professors, they had brought their wives..... AND KIDS along to watch two retards telling jokes. 

Dear profs

Bad call!

They fellows started doing their dirty acts. Now, if you don't know what a dirty stand-up act is, it is basically where the comedians go to the toilet, take a dump, and a piss, rub all the dump and piss on themselves, come back to the stage, perform their gig, and leave.

The professors were really upset. I have no idea why. The entire crowd had a ball of a time! Even the professors' kids had a ball. Each of them! No, literally! They were playing with their balls, running around, making all their baby noises. Completely aloof to the fact that there are people sitting around them to watch two stand up comedians perform. It was like an Under-5(age limit) cricket T-20 match going on in the middle of a stand-up performance.

But then here's the deal. If you are parents, your life basically sucks. I know that for a fact because I destroyed the peace of mind of 2 souls for as long as I can remember, and continue to keep their peace of mind destroyed with every moment of my existence. Not that I regret any bit of it, but, Just saying....So these kids were doing their  KIDDIE thing. We, the audience were laughing our pants off. A few of the ladies were wearing short skirts, so they couldn't laugh their pants off, and the two performers were using curse words like they usually would in front of a crowd. But somewhere, the DECENCY gene in the mind of a few professors got expressed. Basically, they thought something in the lines of...

"My goodness! What am I exposing my kids to? What will they learn after hearing these curse words? What if they use these curse words while talking to their future bosses? What will happen if my kids blurt out these words in front of my parents? What sort of an impression will I give to my parents, colleagues, and all the other unimportant people in my life, about my parenting skills, if my kids blurt out these hideous words in front of them?"

Thinking of all this, the  professors slowly started evacuating the auditorium with their wife and kids. The kids had no clue of what was happening, in the first place. They weren't facing a profound existential angst, wondering about what the two folks on stage were doing. They didn't give a shit! They must have left the auditorium, gone to their respective homes, and fallen to sleep within a matter of 5 minutes, like nothing happened. But the professors, NO, NO, NO, NO! They had to sit and think how every word that the two chaps on the stage uttered, would fill the tender minds of their kids with filth. 

Come on! The kids are going to know about all the holy and unholy things there are on the planet, regardless of you preventing/not preventing their exposure to the realities of life....curse words! Forget the kids growing up to use curse words in front of their hideous looking bosses. Chances are that they will pick up more curse words from their bosses, only to then use the same words against him. 

Why preach all the "Chastity of the Tongue" nonsense?

Just because your kid doesn't use foul language at home, it does not prove that he/she doesn't know what a dick means. That is a fact, as much as the parents want to delude themselves with the idea of things being otherwise. And actually, does it even matter if a kid uses foul language? Fine, agreed that not abusing might go to show how clean your upbringing, and well cultured the household you belong to, are. But all of that goes straight out of the window, the moment most of us step out of the confines of our homes, class rooms, or offices. So, quoting the Joker, 

"Why so serious?"

 So, to the professors, I say, "Folks! Chill! Your kids will/won't turn miserable despite you trying as hard as you can. And please, I saw your wives enjoying each and every joke that was being performed. So stop taking teir enjoyment from them because of your misplaced sense of self-righteousness towards your tiny tots."

I have a feeling that I made too many grammatical mistakes because of being carried away by my feelings. So please pinpoint any if you come across them.

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.