Overcompensation


There are two kinds of people in this world and I don’t know either of them. But as it happens in every parallel universe, there are certain sets of people who try to overcompensate for the things they don't have or happened to them.

To think about it, every once in a while every other bloke tries to make up for every other irrelevant things missing in their life by doing entirely different and sometimes excess of other things. Overcompensation.

Like, people crying rivers over a paper cut, shouting from their lungs when stuck in a line, pissing their pants being held on a gun point. I mean, now floor’s gotta be cleaned up, bedsheets gotta be washed up. That's so much work, yo!

Let's not forget about those people who lose arguments, shout a lot. Un loved people become promiscuous. Needy people become attention-mongers. Lonely ones tend to smile a lot. And ugly people watch pagli things in incognito mode.

Then there are the hungry ones who can't find the will and legs to get up and get something to gobble but instead they plop their carlsburgh can flat ass on the bed and start writing such eye opening and glorious posts. You read that right.

Now some real famous people have overcompensated enough for everyone and everything on this planet, including all the ninety nine lakh eighty eight thousand seven hundred and fifty four episodes of Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi. Here are few of them:

JOKER:
Did you know the Joker was a failed facebook comedian and had this neurological disorder which made him laugh at inappropriate times in real life interactions? Yes, so this one time, he cut his lips sideways, he was at this emergency ward of a hospital and the doctor asked him, “What happened, did you get tomato sauce all over your face again?” and he was like, “haha haa “ and then doctor left it to be like that saying, “wolf is crying again, huh”. Now the joker got mad. He took a heavy dump and went on murdering people who didn't like his facebook posts. So irrelevant and over compensating for not getting enough likes. I mean, you strangle them, cough them, and tie them in your basement till they like your every fb posts. If you don't have a basement then you get one first. Just like I did. #JeeHaan.

BATMAN:
This guy in his childhood was playing hide and seek with his future girlfriend and fell into a dark dingy well. There he found a whole bunch of evil bats who ganged up all around him and put photos of him in his undies all over the internet. This trauma remained with him forever and he thought everyone is ogling him anywhere he might go. One time he had a similar episode while watching a stupid bollywood movie with his parents. So they left the theatre and walked straight into Gurgaon and BAM! A big drunk jaat guy shot his parents and left him with only one choice: To become a masked vigilante with a heavy thick voice by eating a lot of gutka and tabacoo. Pretty sure all those batman t-shirts have the ruined teeth of Bruce you guys keep wearing.

LORD VOLDEMORT:
Yes he was a creepy, evil kid and stuff, but he always thought he would be crowned as the class monitor in his class because his parents were both Purebloods. But he wasn't elected. Haw. So he went to school library and did some research and found out that his dad was actually a Muggle. Oh he was like so broken. “You let me down, dad. You like totally let me down”. Serious daddy issues. Then crying for fifty seven seconds, he was like, fuck this. He went on killing his dad and then his dad’s dad and every other muggle relative. He made Horcruxes to become immortal. Then he was like I am the ruler of this world and I will kill all Muggles. Personally speaking, I scream at my fishes in the aquarium and let them know who is the boss here. Playing God can be so fun at times.

FRODO BAGGINS:
He has had a good life under the hill. Until his uncle with that ring went nuts. None of us know what kind of things Bilbo was doing with that precious ring. Frodo must have caught him at the wrong moment and now with his eyes burning from that sight, he had to lift that one gram heavy ring all the way to Mordor and burn it. Oh the melodrama of Frodo during the whole trip. “I am carrying the weight of the world", "I keep seeing the eye". Nope that was just uncle frodo doing weird things. If I was Samwise Gimchee I would have left that sorrow ass on his own.

Just how I am going to leave you with this awe and wonder you just have read. Thank you. No need for claps and standing ovation, you guys. Paytm, google pay toh I accept.

PS: Graciously yours.


Dear four or five readers,



In the beginning there was only a single energy, just a point of light. That energy, of course, had some spark to it, some kind of hidden potential. It had the essence of quintessential details of every beautiful and rusty form that could ever occur in this universe. As it would have been expected, the energy began to explore and reach out, to discover what more it could become. So it began to rotate like a sparkling, swirling spiral of dancing diva. It’s said by the great maharishi Hakuna Matata that the energy couldn’t just contain itself. So it disintegrated into two halves leaving one half to pursue the other up to infinity. 

Let’s call one half as the Lord and the other half as the Lady. One had the strength of Mass while the other was strong in Matter. They both became each other’s compliment, each other’s ying-yang polarity, to become whole again only by uniting together with the invisible bond of love. And when they indeed fell in love with each other, they consummated it by making love. 

Lady moaned, her insides felt like lava. The crashing waves overpowered the sounds of this lovemaking. There was no world yet. It was just them. And they were floating in sensual turbulence. They collided just as the ocean pound the rocks today. 

This made swirls in that spiral dance of energy like ripples in a pond. These became the suns, the stars, the moons, and the planets. And thus the sea hammered the earth, and night lights twinkled at the distance. 

Finally they coupled, they kissed and life made a rotation. That first kiss was as delicate and soft as the petals of a beautiful rose. It was a kiss that asked questions that neither of them had answers for yet. It was there, the heaven and hell were created too. For the destiny had entirely different plan in its store!

The lady grew pregnant with love, with a new form of energy. Energy created by the force of their love. She gave birth to oodles of spirits raining bright down upon the world. Some took the form of the Lord; some took the form of the Lady. But the ratio of Matter and Mass were not equally distributed. And that’s how every person is different and yet same.

Now when they came of age, when they were full of bright light! They began searching for their counterpart, their soul mate, regardless of the sex they'd been born in. Then more life was created. So came the universe and so came forth life, out of love. The end? No! Now was the beginning. 

You see, I have kind of an empirical philosophy that shapes my outlook derived from experiments and observations rather than just simple plain theory. It involves my willingness to let life carry me along in its wake like a toad flowing under the current of a river. But often now and every then, I would contemplate these thoughts on this white paper just like this lazy Friday evening, tucked inside my quilt, to dream in this infinite mystery. Plus, I drink; I smoke and I take a lot of short naps.

But I am no Casanova or a love guru to lecture you over soul mates, and love, and all that truck load of shit which comes with it. To be very frank with you, I haven't exactly been successful in love. It's like I’ve got JavaScript installed in my soul and women are still programming with HTML-5. Every women I like, has either a boyfriend, or a husband, or a girlfriend, or you know, standards. They all like a guy like barfi; kind, funny and smart but none of them would take him home in the end. No. Never. Not. Full stop. 

But… 

But as dillogical by heart and stupid with calculations and facts, you gotta believe that the moment, you, as energy, were created in this world, something else was also born too. Your one exact reflection of your soul in this entire universe and beyond ‘who’ vibrates and oscillates at the same frequency of light that you do, do exist! This is really quite a liberating thought, if you think about it. Right? Huh! However, the story is a bit more twisted and “involved” rather than this much simplification of the explanation.

So back to the story; you take a form of life, and your only, begins a journey towards you too. It might be slow, but it never stops. Wherever, whatever way you go, it will follow – may be faster, may be slower, but always floating towards you. You will run, it will walk. You will rest, it will not. Yes, sometimes it happens that you meet them and recognize them instantly behind the eyes of each other. The eyes, as they say are "the windows of the soul." 

They also say and I quote: “Even their voices are familiar to each other's ears, like a remembered chord of music. These are two who immediately sense the unalterable fact that they have been--are--and must always be One; even though they might have fought against their fate for centuries and struggled in vain to escape their linked destiny.”

But one fine day, you will hang around in the same place too long - you will sit too still, too tired maybe or asleep too deep. And then, too late, you will wake up to go, and right there you will notice a second pair of feet next to yours. Your life will then take a new route.

As they say and I quote somewhat in my words, “When you will find your soul mate, it would be like that feeling you get after the first big snowfall of the year in December or November. It can be October too, by the way. Anyways, you will stroll outside to go sledding, skipping and you will go to the top of the steepest hill you can find, and there, you know, your heart will start racing and you will get all sweaty, even though all your boogers are frozen over, and... the next thing you know, you are smiling down in Ishq- Street, laughing and crying all at the same time, and you will never want it to end. And that's what real love will feel like.” 

So in short, no one should settle with anything less or anybody else. It would be terrible. But that’s not what happens. Reality whispers in the midst of the story under my ears, “Mind if I come in”. 

* sigh *

I guess, this is the idea that for everyone in the world, there is ONE soul mate ‘who’ is perfect for them. They say, “You don't have to look like your soul mate, act like them, be the same age as them; heck, you don't even have to like them at first, but from the moment you meet them, or arranged for you maybe, you'll never be completely happy without them. Everyone experiences it differently, because everyone is different, even your soul mate.” 

So the best way to describe it is a strong connection that feels almost like a gravitational pull. Every soul has its own gravitational pull. Don’t confuse a little attraction and infatuation with love. Lust and love are evil twins. Remember Hell and heaven! All these imaginary aspects are real on some ground. 

They again say and I again quote, “Some soul mates can sense when their other half is in danger or in pain, while others can communicate with each other telepathically. Once soul mates discover each other, they will never be completely happy without the other by their side. No matter how much distance they put between each other, they will always end up back together again by fate. Soul mates could be best friends, perfect strangers, or even mortal enemies; the Soul mate Principle does not discriminate.”

I don’t know who these “they” are but they seem to have got it all right. I haven’t got it right yet. So I keep on driving my car. I really should focus on the road. They say, “Writing while driving is illegal”.

Now I know you, you as in four or five regular readers of my blog posts which I write once in every century, yes you, might be whispering under your nose:

— “Does it get any easier?”
And I would quote someone again:
—“Oh, God, no. But... the human mind is a wonderful thing. It forgets pain, so you can go out and get some more.”

Seriously, who are these people who quote so much and write so much? I mean can you believe the amount of pure shit-stuffs people just keep on piling on their blog posts, words by word, and pages per page. I would never do that. I never lie. But never trust me. Seriously!

PS: By the way, the real reason behind this lengthy blog post was, what I am going to say now... amm which I am about to say any second now... ammmm vis a vis.... ammm the following ... 
Let me try again, I actually wanted to apologize every soul I have ever hurt along the way, intentionally or unintentionally. Sp with this thought, I will now give rest to my fingers and backbone because I will have to do a backbone surgery tomorrow for sure. Okay with at most respect from my heart and with utmost sincerity, I will say this one time only and that too only in one word:

“I’m sorry” 

Actually I am sorry again. Those were like three words camouflaged in two. You see the pattern. I should stop, comma, full stop.



Of broken dreams and ashen hopes



Of broken dreams and ashen hopes, they were living a rented life of prisoners without a prison. He was stuck on the same road of sadness which went through inferiority complex and she… well, she was the pretty damsel in distress found inside the captivity of her boudoir.

But a disruptive heart finds solace in the most un-convenient and prohibited places only. He found her special. He saw the silhouette of a hausfrau, alone, behind the shady window curtains of a high walled villa.  She moved with the lightest of motion, swaying to the symphony of the evening breeze, the allegro of falling leaves, the concerto of birds chirping simultaneously. It was as if she was made of waves and oscillations. Her one piece dress tuned perfectly with her body curves to form a sinusoidal wave. So swift, soft and supple, that even physics took a break to watch her walk and move her lips.

But as much as I (writer) would like to write this story with this delicacy of hand-picked chosen words, this post really isn’t about a love story. It’s about the pain and frustration we all have gone through at some point of time in our life:
Do you remember that horrible morning, when you had to bid Good-bye to your parents on your first school day. I know, I cried like a six year old baby. Well to be fair, I was a six year old baby. That was the first time, I felt the dagger of separation plunged into my heart. Or remember when your best friend in the 5th class got transferred to another city. Or to make it simple, when you lost your cricket ball in bushes or broke your favorite toy or anything. You got the idea, right? 

Now as you grow up, your attachment toward things and people around you increases manifold. And it hurts like a bitch when you lose them. But above all, when you lose that soul in this world which is made up of same electrons, protons or equal matter and space as your soul, the separation becomes unbearable. It’s like anal-sex but only opposite. Go figure.

Anyways, my point is you can always go ahead and buy another cricket ball which exactly looks like the lost one or make other friends who are special in their own unique ways. In fact, if you have an honest heart and transparent feelings you can even find the next right person for you. 

But here’s the real deal. The break-ups are tough. No… no… actually break-ups are easy. It’s the aftermath which is a sour pill to swallow. An ocean of expired memories which holds the abrupt volcanoes and tornadoes of quivering emotions and then the quietness of silent, stoic resignation into the dark of night. What do you do then?

How do you cope up with the fact that you have lost a partner to her narcissism. That the person finds you no more interesting or intriguing. How do you deal with those innocent emotions now, which are left bereft of their grace because of getting used and raped, again and again, just to quench their loneliness? What do you do at the moment when you are crying out loud from your lungs and the person just hangs up on you and blocks you on every social media platform. How do you behave when they straight forwardly tells you that they are happy with someone else now? How do you react when you can see that they just can’t wait for this chapter to end? You were just another adventure trip in their life?

May be there’s no remedy or yoga for this fucked up feeling churning inside your stomach. Maybe it is just a phase you have to go through. Maybe it’ll get better with time. Maybe if I beg enough, she’ll come back. Maybe I should text her now. Whoa! That escalated quickly.

You see, that person is happy with someone else and you have to deal with this fact now. To put things in perspective and looking at it with the angle of logic; You see, a person… a living human is not your property or your dog that you can tie ’em up in your basement till they finally start loving you again. 

Nope that’s not the way. I mean.. yeah sure… it’s entirely different when you objectify ‘em while having sex. You know, those role playing things. “You-are-my-property, You-are-my-slave”. Treating them like an animal or like actually tying them up on bed in the morning while she is asleep just before leaving for office and only to come back home to find her turned into a hot-red-faced-angry-tigress ready to devour you and ‘yours-only’ as whole. That is entirely different.

You stick to the basics: “If you love someone, you let them go.”

I know. It’s not that easy said and done. You cling on. You beg. You cry. You drink and dial. You say mean things. Things that you never meant to say. There’s drama and melancholy. You violently masturbate to a few “happy” memories. You break down under the shower and cry yourself to sleep on the wet bathroom floor.

But trust me. It all ends. One fateful afternoon (or morning if you get up early) you will wake up and realize that the horrible person, who left you, was indeed right to leave you. You are in fact a pathetic little piece of shit. I mean, it took hundred million years of human evolution to produce a loser like you? Come on man. You have been tirelessly fighting a war, that you’ve long lost. Do you feel that void settling in? It is gone mate. It is time to pull your shit together and look in other direction.

So no more stalking their profile. Delete all those text messages. No more texting them on a lonely night when you’re very hormonal and sad. No more calling them when you’re drunk. And the khatarnaak level: No more masturbating to old memories just because you can’t sleep.

Of course you trip several times through this process. You go back to being that pathetic loser again. But ultimately, I promise the nightly sadness and longing trims down to a monthly affair and finally turns into something that you used to do.

Things do get better with time, my friend. May be months or years if you are a sticky one. But eventually every kind of feeling subsides. Everything is equal to zero in the end. No. There is no happily ever after, where you get back together. Stop day dreaming. But yes, there isn’t any hate left there either. You will forever remember her like a docile cloud over your rooftop of house after a rainy night. You will see that smile forming in that cloud which is fading away slowly to the sunlight. But it never really fades away.



*woof woof*


Once upon a time there was a puppy. Little, caged and lonely, puppy often spent days and nights barking, howling, snarling and bellowing. Scared of that boundary wall .. of life ... of unknown.
One day came along a beautiful heart. it smiled and asked mischievously, 'wanna play?'
And then everything changed.
But the heart which lightened everyone else's was itself heavy. Perhaps in need of innocence and hope.
First it was awkward. But slowly they grew into each other. Days were now spent jumping, rolling, frolicking, dancing. And nights spent in atrocious waiting for the dawn, for the heart to come back.
Yet, they didn't know, if they were meant for each other. Only that, puppy was in complete awe of the pumping kennel.
So puppy tried every now and then to frisk away from the cage. But the cage echoed loud cries of emptiness. Puppy had to settle back and stay put. Puppy was afraid.
Then one fine morning, the cute little puppy asked the heart, 'can you take me away somewhere far?'
Heart started to bleed in happiness just like people shed tears of joy. That's what heart wanted after all.

From that day onward, the puppy is staying in the cardiac kennel.
It's small, but it's cozy. It stinks, but it's bright. It's quiet but it's lively. It beats hard, but it's rhythmic. It bleeds a lot because it feels everything, perhaps because that's how life in heart is happy.
And so is that cute little puppy too .... :)


Dear Caesar



If you had any idea how many times I’ve tried to write this letter for over two months, you’d wonder why I wasted so many mournful moments banging fingers on this poor keyboard and didn’t spend that time doing something more productive – like napping on the bed with legs hanging in the air or bark from the balcony for whatever reason or hoovering a radius around someone whose eating something .... like ANYTHING. After all, that’s what you’d have done.
But I’m a dufus human. And supposedly as an intellectual human being full of corrupted virtues and feelings, I have this soul wrenching need to put my thoughts and feelings on paper in form of the words to emit out to the universe. I guess, barking non-stop for straight two hours could have done the magic but neither I can match the anxiety you feel on separation nor my fellow humans would like it, at all.
So here I am. Saying a proper goodbye. It's not forever. It shouldn't be. Nor, do I want it to be:
You know, I have always wondered, what good things I might have done in my previous life to have you as a blessing in this one. As I go on to wake up alone and spend days without you, I’ve been trying real hard to learn more lessons about “happy-go-jolly-living” from more evolved creatures, like you guyz (dogs). Mostly from the streets now.
Do you remember that first time, when I picked you up in my arms like you are some sort of fragile wax form and brought you home on the back of the bike. You melted right into me like you knew it’s where you belonged or I guess you were just scared and hungry, I don't know. But, of course, you were. Gloomy-eyed, dumb founded and paralyzed with fear. You knew nothing of the world except life in a cage.
Remember those first months after we met? You learned that some of us (especially ones with food) aren't really all that bad. The way you slept some early nights, hiding your head, trying to be smaller than you already were. The way you finally figured out that the whole flat belongs to you too, but only after pissing on my bed for like oodles of time. (BTW I am sorry for snapping at you like that in those moments. I told you, I am a stupid stupid human.)
Slowly, I have watched you blossom into the dog you were meant to be – taking just a few more steps outside your comfort zone, becoming more confident and curious, tail just a little higher, Oh, and of course – that ridiculous tongue flapping all the time.
I got to see your first (of countless) moments of true happiness: biting, slurping and licking my fingers! Always in that sequence.
Among many things, I have learned from you is that joy is a full-body expression! The way your entire body spin like a teetotum when you are happy – which is like every-fcukin-single-day!
You have been a forever happy, forever kind, forever gentle dog. Except that one time when a peacock flew into our flat, and you were like barking, "ONLY IF I COULD FLY". I knew that look! I understood, man. I understood.
*Sighs*
I miss you, seezy !
I miss the way you bow every time, I put my head near yours. I miss your furious interactions with other dogs, especially bitches. (Remember that encounter with Apple. I guess we are brothers in that department, huh! Just don't know how to behave with 'em)
What more can I say. I miss your familiar jagged little sigh in the darkness at bedtime, your compulsive obsession (or as I like to call it, deep appreciation) with food:
"What is this, pedigree? Awwwwwesome! What is this, Egg-sses? AWESOME! What is this, grass? AMAZINGGG!"
Pikachu (that's what I wanted to name you first), my heart squeezes to the idea of you not being in my life anymore. But to trade the tears for never having experienced these things at all? Not a chance. We had some good adventures in our time, didn’t we?
And today, as I saw you after two whole months, I couldn't help my eyes going wet and throat a little dry, as you recognized me from a distance. But you made me laugh with all your slurping and canoodling. You are the funniest dog I have ever met. And saying that speaks a lot, coz before you I was terrified, petrified and ignorant to your specie.
I hope someday my reluctant specie will realize just how lucky we are to share the same planet with you all.
PS: And your last meal with me. I poured some some extra eggs in your bowel. It will be our little secret, dont bark and tell Prashant, Abijit.
PPS: I specifically remember this coz I told you, I have been stuck at this for last two months. And I still feel its ....



Dear Future Wife



I don’t know if you are ever going to read this blog entry but still here I am sitting at the edge of my bed while humping my fingers on this old detritus keyboard, hoping you would… someday.

I am not a perfect person. In fact, I am shoddier than you think. I am not a fun filled Saturday night or a chilly Sunday sunset. I am a Wednesday 2 am. I am gunshots muffled in pillows. I am that torn rug in January which always fell short at the ankles. Leaving your feet naked and cold. My moods crack on a nightly basis and I am always hemmed in this awkward sadness which seems to be longer than a 21st December night. Often now and every then it collides my approval of having people around me. Because more than often I feel I don’t belong to conversations, that I belong to the full stop at the end of every sentence. There is this light and darkness mixed under my skin that now has become a storm which is brewing inside me. You don't see the lightning but often you can hear the echoes of thunder.

So basically, yeah I am crazy. Go save yourself and RUN. 
Run till you reach the shore.



PS: If you haven’t run away till now and you are still reading then I guess- I will make myself sleep on the couch tonight. No need to throw stuffs at me.

 Obediently Yours !



There and back again ....



There and back again ..... As the half burnt cigarette in my fingers is turning hopes and dreams into ashes, I am trying my way best not to turn cold to my feelings at this midnight epoch.

“You need a break.”

That’s what I told myself when I decided to go on a trip to Lahaul-Spiti. Okay let me just fast forward in 8x speed so I can reach up to the main part.

Enter the valley of Lahaul-Spiti and you won’t find any welcoming lush green alpine vegetation or a soothing road ride. No. It was a stimulating bungee jumping ride all along the way where my emotions were playing seesaw between ecstatic excitement and anxiety, bordering at times on panic and craziness. I am not kidding. At times on the hair-pin turns of the road when I could feel the adrenaline rush on my finger-tips and cheeks because of the depth I could see from the window, I thought to myself, this is it, time to die, it’s been a pleasure world; oh and please tell my parents I love them. Not that I showed, I was in any discomfort of course, this was an all-male establishment, any girly screech noises were strictly forbidden.
But somehow the caravan kept on going. As it always!

Staring at contours of a far more complex nature, while clicking mental pictures of endless layers of powdery maroon and glowing ochre slopes loomed in the distance, with the beautiful River Chandra drawing patterns in the lap of an ever-widening basin! The road and the mood was ON. With its steep jungle clad hill sides, gargantuan, sheer rock faces and a great company of six hobbits, the experience in all made me feel incredibly relaxed and glad to be far away from the hee-haw madness and chaos of the city.
It’s really a fascination for me to think how these roads were build. The workers must have one of the most difficult, dangerous and least desirable jobs in the world, especially at higher altitudes where the temperature drops to below freezing.  I hope they got paid well, although I suspect they did not. Life is unfortunately very cheap in India.

Past the few and far between milestones of Rohtang, Gramphu and Chhatru lies the wind-swept Batal. Our first night stay.

I imagine it’s the sort of place where Satan’s staff stay when travelling between hell and purgatory. My heart did drop a little when I first glimpsed our small, dark, smelly windowless room with no solid cover on top. The quilts were dirty like they haven’t been washed since their “invention”. The mattress on which we were supposed to sleep had sand particles sprinkled on it. In short, it just felt like I am back in my room in Gurgaon except the fuckin freezing cold part. But to my surprise none of the damsels uttered any anguish or the sad smiley towards the condition of that room.

It was a very uncomfortable night. None of us could sleep well. The time literally froze in that room with us. And I can’t remember the last time, when I so impatiently waited for the morning. Turning sides in every two seconds. Kicking the person who’s sharing quilt with me. Asking for water. Not getting any response. Searching for water bottle in dark with naked hands. Stumbling on a dog who had managed to crawl inside during night. Taking him back to my side. Sleeping with that dog.
Hell of a night. We all got to know each other a little more now. I learned a lot of things about my company and they learned that I snore like a bear.

The next morning finally came with the promise that the worst is behind us. This is as bad as it can get.

From Batal to Chandertal lake to Kaza (World’s highest retail outlet) to Key Monastery and to Kibber (World’s highest motorable village) …. the time flew by, our level of ecstasy and eyebrows increasing exponentially on each sight and on the last day it snowed. I couldn’t have asked for any better ending except if any girl would’ve fallen in love with me. Well that didn’t happen but all in all it was an awesome trip.

Among many great things about this country side, one particular thing that clicked me is the way these hilly people live. In quiet, peace and comfortably slow life. After 7pm you won’t find a single shop open. The lights are out by 830pm and the whole town is in deep slumber by 9pm. During daytime, in the streets you can always find two people chit chatting little things while by passing each other. I am pretty sure they all know each other. And that ever welcoming glowing smile on their faces (especially monks), it just makes you wonder if, we the city people with metro speed life, cars, grandeur malls and buildings have got it all wrong. 
I really wonder.….. 


The Complicated Relationship



If it’s not the most taboo subject in the modern India, it is most certainly frowned upon and considered as an utterly uncomfortable and useless topic to talk about. So for the sake of creating a new fuss and bombarding my boredness with a fresh set of puns, here goes my yet another irrelevant and censored blog post about:

Problems men have from ‘untimely erections’ or as you might have heard ‘man wood’ or ‘involuntary standing ovation’ by your honour Mr. John Pee-Pee.

Now the way we go about sex education in this country is appalling. I mean, until about I was 13, I was convinced that my ‘garden of good and evil’ (balls) is used to store pee. You can imagine what kind of other impending issues I might have with Mr Pee-Pee.

I mean, this has to be the most complicated relationship a guy will ever have. You might have heard them saying …. “oh… I have a very “complicated” relationship with her/him”. Well obviously, they haven’t tried peeing with an erection.

Talking about sex education and women always yelping about their period problems, well I surveyed 100 women and asked them what kind of problems they face while peeing and you won’t eberrr believe, 98 of them said: "How the hell did you get in here?"

Anyways let’s keep this discussion about men problems only.

So what’s with it showing ‘up’ for work, without invitation, every-single-morning when you wake up, huh! I mean you haven’t activated any launch sequence and yet the rocket is ready to burst into flames trying to come out of the ‘Pajama-Hemisphere’. And I think I don’t even need to tell you how awkward and un-comfortable it is to hold on to your thing for 5 minutes (or more) on the bed, before you can take a piss, doing all kinds of breathing exercise to get the blood flow out of it.

I tell you, this one time, the bad-ass-stubborn I am, I tried to pee regardless of how colossus this Goliath-Python was looking ‘above’ from the ginormous hippie bush I have supported, at me angrily ‘all-red’. But I showed him no mercy, I went into the bathroom, stood above the iron throne, looked down and I peed so freakin hard. But, as you might imagine, evidently, that upward-parabolic-stream short-circuited the bulb hanging above in the bathroom. Go figure.

So next time if you're having trouble making the ‘wee-wacky’ because of the ‘woo-hoo’, just stay put and admire this behemoth creature and give him his due respect, that he obviously so desperately craves for.

*rolls eyes*
Aghhh !


PS: If tying a Nimbu Mirchi helps ward off evil. I think men should never have to suffer from any evil. I am jusst saying.


Religion - The pain in the wrong place




I hate festivals. There….. I said it. And now I can imagine you all giving me that infamous ‘saas-bahu-serial-SHOCKED-wala-reaction’. You know where a particular shocking expression of some hausfrau is repeated like 100 times from all the 360 angles with Taabad-tod music score in the background. But… but before you go all sanctimonious-judgy on me, just hear me out!

It all starts with “The Religion”. When one man does stupid things, its called stupidity; when millions do stupid things, its called religion. Yup stupdity. I tell you, religion’s a huge throbbing pain in the wrong place. I mean even if you choose to ignore all the hatred, the riots and going bat-crap crazy to blow up innocent humans. Every time people gather to celebrate some old-ass tradition or some hula-hoops festival, every other thing gets messed up.

Allow me to explain.

Let’s start with the “Kaanwar Yatra”, shall we? So where should I start? Okay let me tell you a bit about this Yatra. Apparently it is some sort of a build up for MahaShivratri where people in Fanta-colored clothes with decorative stuffs walk by in ants-formation to get the ganga-water. Now in one year of my pathetic existence back in Haridwar, I once got stuck in a traffic jam for over 3 hours because of this. I tell you the road was traffucked worse than that chakka-jam scene from ‘Nayak’. Now I don’t have anything against celebrating and doing stuff like walking 387654321 miles out of devotion for a bowl full of water. But man, three hours of traffic cluster-fuck was slower and frustrating than the IRCTC website on Vodafone 3G. Really, DaFaq man!

Let me not even get started with JAGRATAS. People in my neighborhood get all cranky if I play ‘Pink-Floyd’ a bit loud coz apparently it is not “music” and apparently there are some “old people on ventilators” who will just stop breathing with a single extra decibel sound. And yet they don’t blink their eyes twice before organizing a DJ Jagrata in the middle of the road blocking all kind of traffic. And then on top of it they go on playing all kind of crappy Mata remix of chutiya Bollywood songs aaaaall-night-looooong. You want to cross the road? Well boo-hoo! You can’t! Coz ugly-bald uncles and fat aunties are busy SCREAMING songs in falsetto with their lungs out. I mean, Mata-Rani is not deaf, you know. She will hear you even if you whisper the songs.

Now you might think that you know all about Holi, that there is to know about. But let me give you a news flash, my brada. It’s not what you think it is. I have read this somewhere in Vedas annotated by ‘Maharishi Makuna Hatata’ that Holi is originally derived from a Sanskrit word named ‘Asshole’ which means “Yoooo-Hooooo-I’ma-gonna-put-gulaal-in-your-mouth-Yo!,-Rip-off-your-shirt-Yo!-and-guess-what?-put-hideous-Terminator-wala-silver-paint-on-your-body-Yo!.-Now-quit-whining-like-a-baby-about-allergies,-and-be-SPARTAAAA!”. Yup, Holi is the most playful form of molestation and sexual assault, found in India. Holi somehow also means getting hit by eggs and water balloons and gobar by random drunk guys in cars and bikes that proclaim their OBC affiliation.

And at last but not the least, the king of all festivals. Nothing brings out the terrorist-aspirations in children and adults alike, like Diwali. You need to watch where you walk because you might just step into a Nazi bomb. Or you might get surprise-buttseksed by a random-ass rocket. And by the end of the evening if you still haven’t gone deaf, it will be taken care of by more Jagratas and Mata remixes.

So if you have read till here, I would like you to thank you for not bursting into a firecracker. But if you are one of those who insist on scaring the neighborhood dog just to impress the girl next door, I have one advice for you. Light one rocket up your behind and see the city with clouds from above. I am pretty sure you will find that it looks pretty without all the smoke and noise.

PS: Maybe religion is Gods typo.
PPS: I don’t know who this ‘Maharishi Makuna Hatata’ is but I’ve heard he is like awesome and intelligent and other things.


Harry Potter in a Parallel World


Once upon a time there was a little boy. His name was Harry. He lived at ‘number four of Privet Drive’ with his parents, James and Lily. The boy was small and skinny for his age. He had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses and looked like a normal kid. But he was not. To be very frank, he was a bit peculiar. Always lost in his colorful world of dreams and imagination.

Harry did not like the other kids. Mainly because he could not mingle with them and the fact, that they bullied him. You see, he had hard time speaking properly. He would with great difficulty string together words. Mostly though, he let out low rasps, was a desperate attempt to talk. So the other kids made fun of him. They called his raspy voice ‘The Snake Language’. Harry did not like the other kids at all.

So instead of playing with other kids, he would spend his time looking for ‘hidden doors and secret passages’ in old walls or chimney. And when he was not busy being Sherlock Holmes, he would sit by the window of his room observing a ‘tabby cat on the brick wall’. As time flew by, he grew lonelier and lonelier. Often he used to escape his room and hide ‘under the stairs’. He liked the compact dark place.

“He is special in his own ways”.

That’s what his parents would tell everybody. But deep down they were worried about him. And a horrific episode made things worse.

One night it was raining and thundering. A thief infiltrated their home. The masked thief got down to his business straight away. Little did he anticipate that Harry would see his silhouette on the wall! Out of the fear of monster, Harry started crying out loud. The masked thief didn't know what to do. And in the chaos he hit him hard with his torch. But James and Lily had already heard the cry. They rushed into Harry’s room and witnessed the horror. James did not need a moment’s hesitation to get on with the masked man to save his family. It was a gory tussle. Guns got out, there was blood everywhere and then it was silence. Finally ‘you know who’ was dead.

They were all safe now but the little boy was not same after that incident. Harry had a severe head injury and it had left him with ‘a scar on his forehead’. The trauma of his worst nightmare coming true, leading to all the gun-shots and the blood, caused him to loose his mind and a memory lapse. Inside his head, he had killed the ‘nose-less monster’ (masked man) but lost his parents in all the firing and blood. The last memory of him about that incident was ‘a blinding flash of green light (torch) and a burning pain on his forehead.’
Although James and Lily did everything they could, to make him remember back his memory. But he didn’t remember anything at all.

“Who are these people?” he would often wonder.

They loved him with all their heart. They bought him all sorts of toys and games. But he thought these toys were probably for their other son.
He was their only child.

He grew lonelier and stranger day by day. To encounter all the loneliness, his mind started imagining things which were not there. He was even violent now. He started throwing things at others. And hurt the neighborhood kids who bullied him earlier. Harry didn't know this though. He would see these things happening on their own. Almost like magic.

James and Lily were sad. Their efforts were failing. First, gently they tried talking Harry into not doing all these things. But when he wouldn't stop, they had to ground him and punish him for his misdeeds. They never wanted any of this. James and Lily were very sad.

But how could Harry make them understand that he is not the one doing all these things. No one understood him. He missed his dead parents now more than ever. He hated living with these distant relatives now. He wanted to run away. He felt suffocating. And the more he felt suffocating, the more things started to get out of control.

James and Lily started getting a lot of complaints now. Almost in every mail letter, issues about Harry were addressed. James tried to hide all the complaint letters from the Harry. 

They didn't want him to get more upset. But when the letters wouldn't stop coming, they finally thought best to go out for a vacation. Somewhere far-far away in some ‘blah island’.

But they knew this wasn't a permanent solution. So they consulted Dr. Albus, a famous psychiatrist, about his behavior. Dr. Albus, in his wisdom, then advised them to admit him to the ‘Hogwarts Institute for the Mentally Challenged’, so that he can be treated.

It was a very hard decision for them. Lily was devastated. But it had to be done. They celebrated his 10th birthday. And the next day institute’s Mr. Hagrid came to pick him up. Hagrid empathized with the poor couple and he was very kind to Harry.

“Come on Harry, it’s time to go.” said Hagrid with warmth in his eyes.

Harry was finally going to escape this place. He was going to a Magic school. That’s what the huge man told him. He was a wizard. Harry couldn't have been happier.





Growing Up!


"
Growing up! I think growing-up has been the stupidest idea ever. Don’t you think? Now don’t get me confused with getting older. Because you can’t really help getting older. Its not an option. But growing up is. One day there you are with one hand dipped in the ice cream-cup and watching “Popeye-the Sailor Man” and the next day you are flipping through channels to find like, anything. That innocence and simplicity you had is gone! Whoosh! And with that your happiness takes the route to wonderland. I mean, I don’t wanna bum you out or something by saying out this aloud but I think a man’s happiness peaks at the age of four. Yup! We are all messed up now. Too much going on in our minds. With couple of footballs knocking up into a pair of breasts.... to .... worries and planning and all the troubles in the world. It’s a shitty-crappy-palace, our mind, I tell you.

So I liked it when I was a kid. I wish I was a little kid again... skinned knees are easier to fix than broken hearts. I remember, I used to come out of the bath and it used to be a great tussle for my mom to get me into the clothes. I used to run naked the whole house and the street with the towel tied to my neck like a superman or something. You can’t do that now! I mean, you can try. But man o man are you gonna get the looks in the market. And let’s not even speak about being tasered.

 Yeah, it was fun being a kid. 

 You know, just this other day, I was sitting in the back of our car with my little cousin. And he was all smiling and staring outside the window constantly for 15 minutes. There was nothing outside there, so I asked him, “hey there cubby, what ya thinking?” And he replied with a big smiley face, “Candy!”

Candy! Can you believe it? A kid is happy with just that thought. Tell me, when was the last time you thought about candy for 15 minutes? Huh! You can try but I promise, you won’t get far enough. Yeah let’s try it, shall we?

“Hmmm Candy … Candy …. Oh Cavity … Cavity? … Oh Doctor … No money …. Oh where am I …. Who am I ….. AM I GAY?”

And it always ends with that question. But then you see a hot girl coming across the street. You walk into a pole while staring at her and there you go. You are as straight as that pole.

Anyways, you know what else comes with growing up? Living-with-your-parents become your purgatory. Yup! Living with your parents is like Police work. It’s the long-long hours of boredom interrupted by moments of unbelievable horror in the form of yelling and screaming.

So pay heed to my unnecessarily lengthy blog post and DON'T grow-up. It’s a trap.
"


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