Where I let you know what my attitude towards life is like

Now pay close attention. Really. CLOSE ATTENTION. Is your nose-breath frosting up the screen?

Good.

Now back away.

The next time you are walking in urban india and a clutch of stray dogs start frantically barking at some other dog, pay CLOSE attention.

Right among the pack of strays leaping out and chasing the poor “foreign dog” will be this one lazy mothafucka who just puts on a show. This fucka will be the last one to stand up, do a very desultory “chase” consisting of a delicate jog and a few growls. He will also be the first to turn around and fall back onto the road, giving a giant yawn and then just flopping down.

That, ladies and gentlemen and you also, is my secret.

Ta-da.

……………..

I am in Bhubneshwar right now. Which is odd cause I was in Cuttack yesterday and I just realised that I have never been to Cuttack. They have this dahi vada thing which is just super awesome. Its these delicate vadas which have been soaked in dahi and then they are placed in this leaf-bowl and smothered with this spicy aloo curry thing and some special sauce and then sweet imli chutney and then some onions and chillies and pudina and then covered with some bhujia.

I know it sounds real odd but my good lord man. Fucking brilliant. Just fucking brilliant.

……………

I quite liked Cuttack actually. There is this road which is built along the river and people go there for a evening walk and its real quiet and peaceful and the tea-shacks there sell a cup of chai for three bucks.

Its been a while since I had chai for three bucks.

Been a while.

 

 

So that song about the one who likes big butts yes?

Well, it came off on the radio the other day as I was driving me mum around. And ever since Star World (back when it was just Star TV) came into our lives, the Mother has managed to grasp American accents pretty well.

It was a nice, awkward moment. Kind of like a Kodak moment for my family.

…………..

I am here and there and everywhere nowadays and I think I could get used to this life. A nomadic lifestyle is just so frikkin easy these days. Book online here. Travel there. Swipe card here.

Cheh. I am now beginning to long for those highway rides. Brutus and me. Just chilling and cruising down the road. Smile on the face and dust in the eyes.

…………

I have been bumping into the oddest people these days. There are some who are honest, some who are mentaal and some whose talk can put me to sleep faster than watching Spiderman 3.

Makes me wonder about all the stories swimming around me. Little bubbles of pain and anger and smiles and hope, just floating all around me.

…………

Am going to meet a demented, eccentric prick tomo. We are going to hog on all things dead and nice.

 

Where I realise what trampolines and baywatch have in common

And no, its not what you think you dirty pervs.

And no, I am not going to tell you but it definitely is NOT that!

Sick bastards.

……………………………………….

Pretty chuffed with myself today. And I think I should be. Which is good. It is all good.

Don’t really have much to write about actually. Been a long day but I shall end this one with a smile on my face.

There was this wonderful girl that I once knew who had beautiful, straight hair and when she would rest her head against my shoulder I was the happiest boy this planet ever saw.

How odd.

Toodles.

 

Where the music unwinds itself, like a lazy cat stretching itself in the mild, winter sun

That happens sometimes. You just let the music play and slowly you can hear the songs stretch themselves all around your head and lazily dip into your ears and then float away, creating the tiniest of ripples in the air around you.

The more I live, the more I realise that I am sum of other people’s experiences and tastes. My father gave me my love for well-made omlettes and fresh, crusty bread. My mother gave me my taste for besan ki chakki and tayeer sadam and drumsticks drenched in rasam. My mother’s father gave me my love for poha and sev and my dad’s mother gave me my love for gatte ki sabji.

Scoobs introduced me to the wonder that is a pork dumpling and Golu was the one who taught me how one appreciates a chilly chicken and biryani.

There are many more, too many to name. And so I think about them and I wonder what it is that has made me or you or you and I wonder some more. And the smell of a good gin fills my nose and I take a sniff and the spices hit me once again and I twirl the glass in my hand a couple of times before taking the first, delicate sip.

…………………….

I desperately hope that I shall never fail to be fascinated by words. They are all the more interesting when you see them being built right before you. Brick by brick. Its a pretty beautiful sight.

Which reminds me that buildings tend to sneak up on you. One minute, its just an empty lot and then all of a sudden you have this big, gleaming, glassy monster staring back at you. You would think that something so big would find it hard to sneak around but goddamit man, these building chaps have pretty much perfected the art.

………………….

The air is nicer here you know, the nights are more silent. The thoughts can be slowly mulled over, a nice scotch being rolled around in your mouth. Unlike the flaming shots of Bombay which need to be gulped quickly so that you can feel the fire running into your belly.

I suppose we learn who we are one day at a time. There is no point in going too fast, you might miss an entire page.

Dont pull my finger. No really. Alright ok. One last time……ahhhh

My dad’s friend used to do that. Fart on request. It took me quite a while to realise that he would only ask me to pull his finger after a meal.

I met him a couple of weeks ago. They were celebrating 50 years of their friendship or something like that. It was kinda cool.

…………….

You know for all our cynicism, we are pretty gullible bastards. Something made me think about “egg less cake” and I was just wondering how the fuck would anyone know if there was any egg in it? Like all they do is modify the sign and that is all. Its even worse with these “diabetic” versions of mithais. What the fuck man. How the fuck does anyone know.

I think it is some sort of suggestive marketing technique where the customer is told what s/he wants to hear.

Sala sala.

…………………………

In my last two flights, my seat was conveniently grabbed by the better half of a fat bastard. Expectantly looking forward to a window seat to find some random bleddy fucker sitting there. And looking at me like its no big deal. And one fatty in the middle. So if I wanted to rightfully claim my allotted seat, the fatty would have to shift and there would be a whole lot of rustling and hustling.

What the fuck man. Sit in your fucking seat for the love of fuckin heyzoos.

Today’s fatty went to sleep. Snoring sleep. Right next to my ear. And the chutiya in front was shoving the back of his head into my nose. Saala upright your fuckin seat please sir.

And the mandatory baby was crying. And there was air turbulence. A lot of it. It got so bad for some time that I was actually telling myself that I don’t want to die.

I don’t want to die right now. I really don’t.

……………………………

Para para paraaaa dise. Para para paraaaaaa dise.

I wonder what the “graph” part of “paragraph” is supposed to signify.

Toodles.

Where I realise why I was sent here in the first place

You ready?

This is a bit of break through moment for me, you know. So please pardon the dramatics.

I think it is necessary and rather fitting given the magnanimity of the situation involved. It really is. I hope you are holding onto something. Wait, that does not sound right.

Anyway. Are you ready?

Sure?

100% pukka na?

I am here to……

….

balance things out.

I am here to balance things out in the universe. For every immaculately dressed, three piece- wearing Greek god, I am HERE. With my finger up my nose and left hand adjusting the chaddie.

I am HERE. With egg-caked breath and sweaty pits.

I am HERE. With my ability to trip on air and lash wildly with my arms as I fall, more often than not grabbing things which ought not be grabbed.

I am HERE. With an ass that decides that it does want to stand up when the rest of me decidedly does.

I am HERE. With the ability to say the most incorrect things possible in as public a forum as possible.

I am HERE. With my spazoidal facial muscles making sure that I reflect the almost-exact opposite of what I am actually feeling.

I am HERE. With my (presumably) endearing ability to repeatedly go to people and say “Oh I remember you. I met you at…..” and keep on going, completely ignoring their blank look of “WHO THE FUCK” in their eyes.

In short, I am HERE so that you can go on living your perfect little lives where no one sweats, hardly anyone farts and the only inconvenience you ever face is that brief moment of sun while you walk from the Prada showroom into the back of your leather-seated beemer.

I am HERE so that you can take a glance at your handsome face as you walk into the hall of the manors and mansions and feel the admiring glances fall all over you.

I think.

……………………..

I finally went for the litfest in Jaipur and it was totally worth it. I mean I wish it was less crowded but some of the lesser-visited events were these intimate conversations where you could hear some really interesting people talk it out. I also got the feeling that a lot of people were simply there to be seen and for no other purpose whatsoever. Which is fine most of the times but when you are hogging a seat while BBM-ing away to glory while I have to stand and strain the neck in all directions….well then it gets a bit annoying.

Still. It was worth it cause I was surrounded by books (I did not buy a single one though) and it was nice and chilly and it was so different from anything I have ever done. I think that is what is the most important thing: you simply have to keep doing something which you do not normally do.

………………………………..

My personal guru has shifted to bombay which is an awesome thing cause she gives me honest (brutally honest) advice.

Today she told me “If you don’t become more tolerant, you are going to die alone.”

She might have something there.

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How to be annoying #4008234: Whenever anyone uses the word “man” after a sentence, for example “That is so far. Maaaan.”, you should respond by saying “Sofar Man, sofar man” and sing it to the tune of “spider man, spider man……”.

It gets really annoying really quickly.

………………………….

Another reason why I am going to miss the old Fiat cabs of bombay: they are probably the only ones who drive like the heroes of the ’70s. The steering wheel swinging all over the place even as the fake background only shows an arrow straight road.

…

 

Where I relive the memories and wonder whether it will always be so easy

I have forgotten so many things in the last six months. How cold the winters can be. How there is an undeniable high in being all north-indian macho. How rules can be disregarded with massive dollops of impunity. How it feels to be high and in the backseat of a car as it wriggles and jiggles its way through the middle of the night. Music blaring and neon lights shining off the roof of the car.

I find it odd that I have forgotten so much so easily. And I find it even odder just how easily it all comes back.

…………..

I saw a group of kids/men break into a fight last night. One chap grabbed a pint and smashed the bottle on another chap’s head. The glass splattering onto the floor along with the blood. The punches were fairly ill-aimed but that bottle-smashing move was absolutely spot-on.

…………………

Last night I received what could be called a validation of a few, stressed-out hours of hard work. It felt good and I realised that I had forgotten what that felt like as well. How odd.

…………………………

I wish I would receive normal injuries like everyone else. The only fracture I had was when I hit a wall and the chickenpox evaded me. Measles came and went and I don’t think I have  ever suffered from jaundice. The only scar I have is due to my moronic abilities involving a horse-whip, a horse and further dollops of my moronic ability.

Which brings me to the half-marathon that I ran at the SCMM last week. This time there were no bleeding nipples (only cracked ones, equally painful but less obvious) but there was a new addition to my fucked up injury list.

You see when people of my girth walk/jog for long periods of time, their thighs rub against each other. Given enough rubbing, the skin will rub itself off, revealing freshly-pink flesh. This will eventually turn into scabs which will keep falling off every time you walk. Also, every “normal” step is painful since the exposed flesh is now rubbed some more.

The only option to avoid this pain is to keep walking “like a retard” (the term used by my extremely learned friend) making sure that Left Thigh and Right Thigh don’t really get to know each other too well.

I have been walking like a retard for quite some time now.