THAT WEIRD KID



So there I was, mind-numbingly scrolling down through my timeline or as GRE folks would like to say, ‘staring into the abyss’, when I stumbled across her status update. Man! She can write some crappy status and still manage to entice 390,408,532,064 ‘likes’ in a flick of her hair. Now wait, this post isn’t about my ‘growling-under-the-nose’ for this unfairness and the stupid sycophancy but it’s about that weird kid who had this major-raanjhana crush on her.

The kid! He was a normal teenager. And by normal, I mean below average. Replete with the oiled and immaculately combed hair, he looked an exemplary model of those dweeb-ish students who raised their hands to answer every question of the teacher. But this kid was no Chatur-Ramalingam (3 idiots) even, coz he sucked at studies. On top of that he was short too. So short that during assembly he had to stand at 2nd or 3rd in line, which he obviously hated because that girl used to stand at the end of her line. He was frail, debilitated and may be even thinner than that Sméagol (Lord of the Rings). Okay I know I’m turning this into a full-blown cliché of a high school loser reminiscent of American Pie-esque movies. But he was all those things. He sucked at sports or you name any other activity. So in a nutshell, yes you said it right, he was a LOSER.

But the kid was a dreamer. Not that John-Lennon’s-imagine-song kind of dreamer. No he had dreams and imagination running wild like a dog swirling round and round to bite his tail. From love stories, to adventures, to glorious tales, to dirty wet dreams, to death wishes. The Kid had ’em all. He would imagine himself as the famous Harry potter, playing Quidditch, fighting the three-headed dog, saving the stone from Voldemort, and I might add winning over the witty little thing, that was Hermione. So all he desperately craved for was that wand and the owl, with his joining letter from Hogwarts.

Okay, I agree, he was a bit loony. I mean normal kids would think about, why apple drops down from the tree or why sky is blue in the day and dark at night. But our kid! Oh, he would smile like an idiot with one finger in his nose and ponder all day about weird stuffs. Like, like he would ask elders about the guy, who first discovered milk from the cow, what was he doing there in the first place? And you should read his poem about how great it feels to pee after holding it for hours. Yup crazy!

But above all he was crazy about her. Every night, he would sleep himself to stories of adventure and deadly foes and monsters. And of course, every fantasy would feature her as the damsel in distress. He would jump in front of fires for her, drown for her and protect her from that evil fat kid in school. He would do anything to watch her smile. Oh yes, those were the simpler times when it used to be all about her smile only.

The smile, which could redefine sweetness. Smile that could dampen the din of melancholy. Smile which was the most updated version of Life! Everything was a cliché compared to her smile. For him, she was the most beautiful girl in the face of earth. Beautiful in that 5am songbird way, slicing the air with the first call of daily life while everyone goes on to sleep. Beautiful in that hazel-eyed way; Beautiful in those rose-lips way; in that spicy chilli way that make boys blow out forceful huffs of breath and make tunes that follow the curves of her body. I don’t know whether to call it love or just some hormones going crazy but clearly he was smitten.

She would pass by him chit-chatting with her friend, unaware of his physical existence but that didn't matter to him, because those fleeting two seconds would be the highlight of his day. In those moments when she would cross him, he could hear his own heart echoing from his ears to his tips of fingers. The little torpedoes in his chest would almost give him a cardiac arrest. He never wanted anything more than a single sight of her. All he cared about was how he wanted to drown forever in the vast ocean of unfathomable emotions that he felt for her.

But one fine day, somewhere above on those clouds, that cupid in his undies with his diabolical plan and that wicked smile, thought to meddle in this perfect unrequited love-story. Before the kid could fathom what hit him; out of nowhere, she came up to him to talk about something-something.

His respiration was rendered. Senses momentarily disabled and legs refused to stand. His every part, every fibre of the body was involuntarily falling apart, piece by piece. He couldn't even squelch a sound or much for a word except for once in a while the awkward nodding. I think even Mr Bean would have uttered something after a while.

But alas! What could have been the best opportunity knocking at his door, turned out to be a beautiful angel with electric shock, leaving him all sweaty and setting his heart into arrhythmia. And as once said by the great wise man, Eminem, “You don’t get another chance, life is no Nintendo game”, after that episode, opportunity never knocked at his door, not even a window.

Now you see life is not a theme-park-movie where some way-way-out-of-league-kinda-hot-girl would fall for a weird-mediocre guy like our kid. No sir. Nice-hot girls fall for assholes, who turn them into cold hearted bitches, who nice guys fall for, till they turn into assholes. That’s the cycle of life, my friend. But the guys like our kid are always the one wandering far away from this cycle. They are always the fourth person in every triangular love story.

But all said and done, I think a true love story never ends and never starts. The kid, now in his twenties, stuck in the complacent cobweb called life, refuses to grow-up. Every now and then he goes through her Facebook profile. He doesn’t know why he does that. May be to keep that ‘Princess-Fabulosa’ in his life or may be to just re-live his crush. Unflinchingly, every year he remembers her birthday without any Facebook or mobile reminder. But even now he can’t muster the courage to wish her directly or utter a word in front of her.

Epilogue:

The kid is still that crazy dimwit dweeb, always lost in his fantasy world. He is still waiting for his owl with the letter from Hogwarts. He says this is his lucky year. 


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Shame story, Different Place: 'Mumbai Gang Rape'


If your knee-jerk reaction to “Mumbai-Gang-Rape” did not involve you violently thrusting your fist on the table, yelling "Bhencho!-Ye-Ho-Kya-Raha-Hai, Is-Desh-Mein!!", checking yourself for yelling like a crazy person and possibly waking up the neighbours in the middle of the night, dabbing your damp eyes, engaging in some quiet introspection, and then back to the violent fist-pumps, then you'd better have a chromosomal analysis done, because you clearly aren't human. If your reaction was, "Gang-rape? Where/When?", then I really, really need to be worrying about the readership base my blog attracts.
I’ve been thinking about this unfortunate incident for the whole day and after all the mind-scorching, teeth grinding and loud-out-swearing to those bastards, as a man, I felt really ashamed of my own species. May be, as Indians, we have brown skin because our society is so full of shit. We declare ourselves so proudly in front of the whole world, as the most traditional and cultured people in the face of the earth. But the facts, with the violent expressions, seem to be screaming otherwise. I think, we are the most hypocritical, condescending, obnoxious horse’s ass of people in the whole world. We Indians will walk long miles, make ourselves suffer to extreme conditions to get a glimpse of a stone idol, but will not ever lift a finger to help a victim of public sexual molestation. Somewhere a big fat irony must be laughing her ass-off and then looking down, with the disgusted stare, at us. 

Anyways, this isn't the first time that the land neath our feet seems to shake violently. It's yet another Gang rape leading to yet another intellectual masturbation on national TV. All talk and no action. Bark bark. No example is set so far even after that horrific Delhi gang rape.These rape cases, honor killings and adulation of rape-convicted Baba’s, seems rhetorical in our nation. Basically in India you can study hard, slog your ass in the office for long hours OR  you can be illiterate, become a baba and have followers who'll defend you even when you rape children. 

Dear God! Where the fuck is India heading? I don’t know! I think that the problem is not the lust of men. The problem is that this lust is considered BAD and looked down as if it’s the greatest sin a human being can commit and in this nonsensical  nonsense, what we don’t anticipate is that, at the end of this long frustrating day, eventually it comes out in the perverted destructive ways.

But before we point out our fingers to the culprits of these rape scandals, we must inquire ourselves that aren't we to be equally blame for their actions. We as a society prohibit or think of it as a heinous act if two people are having pre-marital sex. We belong to a society where swapping partners is a taboo. We belong to society where if you do love marriage outside your cast, you’ll be killed by your own relatives and on top of that it’s considered HONORABLE. 

Moreover, we belong to a society where a young teen, which is going through some hormonal changes, is trashed if he is caught watching porn. We belong to a society where the phallic stage or talking about the genital organs is considered as “ill behavior . So tell me, can you still play the blame game?

I am not trying to justify their actions or such. Nothing will ever justify their actions. But here, I am just merely trying to fathom the reasons behind such devilish actions. 

Anyways,
I am just a pessimist with views and questions. I cannot do anything else, except than to just point out some faulty points in our 'so-called-PERFECT' culture. So instead I scribble down shit online coz, you know, venting out frustration on my Laptop sounds a better idea than going out & murdering people like 'DEXTER'.



At the end, I just pray for the victims and their families: “May God provide them with the enough strength to move on.” And hope that someday this vicious world will be a better place to live………. PERHAPS someday!


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Bollywood? Nahiiiiiiiiiiiiin !





A great visionary and Film-maker, Satyajit Ray, once said, "There will come a time when Hollywood won't need to advertise their movies in India because Bollywood is doing a fine job of making crappy-shitty movies to automatically divert people to them." 
Okay! okay! He probably didn't say that, but I am pretty sure, with the pace Indian movies are inclining in an audience's graph from "What-the hell-was-that" to "I-lost-three-hours-of-my-life", he probably must be doing somersaults in his grave right now.

My dear readers, (which I guess are not more than four), this is as hard for me to concur, as it was for Frodo to carry that evil ring, but Bollywood has now finally developed itself into an epitome of "Wastage of time, energy and of course money".

A lot of people get inexplicably chauvinistic when it comes to defending Bollywood. But let me just put my case on the table first. 

A HANDFUL of movies go on to receive critical acclaim, I agree, but go back and read out aloud the first two words of this sentence. 
What we often choose to ignore is the fact that hundreds of movies made each year, are just plain craptastic crap that can creep the creepth out of even a creepy guy (who might have come to the cinema hall with the sole intention of ogling couples making out in such movies).

Okay, I got a little carried off there for a moment but let's come back to our glamorous, plastic world of Bollywood. As I said earlier, Bollywood has now become a crapster country and directors like 'Rohit Shetty' surely are the Mayors of it's towns. I have literally tried to kill myself by succumbing into the pillow after watching one if his movies. Yes, he started off nicely with the Golmaal-I and Dhamaal-I but then I don't know what happened to him on the way, may be he hit his head with a pole while fantasizing about flying cars or something, but he has ventured himself on making movies which are utter disgrace to human intelligence. I am not even talking about the cheap comedy in his movies but Mr. Shetty can you please explain me how can someone make other person fly or flip two-three rounds just by punching him once in stomach. Such stunts have made me to come to this realization that what Rahul Gandhi jokes are to twitter, Rohit Shetty movies are to Bollywood. Nothing new or funny in them anymore but will surely be a hit.

I don't know from where our creative Bollywood directors get these ideas but Dabang-2, Rowdy Rathore, Son of Sardaar, Yamla Pagla Deewana ... all these and many more seem to follow the same trend. The Wachowski brothers must be pretty amazed now that every Bollywood movie is just Matrix with lots of jeeps, trucks and no story line. Moreover, it doesn't matter what accents, tones, speaking disability a character has in Bollywood movies, but while singing they always have perfect voice. 

Speaking of singing, now if it isn't an action oriented scene then there are the songs in our movies where our actor-actress (or I should say "Hero-Heroine") are dancing like there's no tomorrow in the middle of the road or in some mall with random white people as extras. But that's not it, just wait for it and out of no where, Voila! sylphlike foreign chicks fancied up in skimpy, sparkly outfits and sometimes tight T-shirts clung to their best assets, towering a minimum of half an inch above our hero APPEARS, *clicks fingers* just like that. 

I don't know when it happened but there is a worm cradling in our Indian brains which is to emulate Western culture in every possible way we can. Yes, I do understand the rationale behind globalization or whatever! But that is no excuse for Bollywood's incompetent attempts at aping Hollywood. 

Movies which strive to be artsy and erudite like 'My Name Is Khan' is apparently a mash-up between 'Forrest Gump' and 'I am Sam' . 
'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest' which beautifully brought the novel of the same name to life whereas 'Kyon Ki', it's remake version of Bollywood, is more about mad people doing funny things all the time. 
Nolan's Memento was turned into the mediocre sap-fest that is Gajini. 
A few years ago, Ram Gopal Verma made a movie "inspired by Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita", turned out to be a blatant plagiarism of American Beauty. 
And 'Zinda' the complete xerox copy of Korean movie 'Old-boy'. While the original movie is about a guy who is kept in captivity for 15 years and then was given 5 days to figure out why he was kidnapped. Imitating the plot, Bollywood churned out 'Zinda' where the man (Sanjay Dutt) was kept in captivity for 14 years and given 4 days to figure out why he was kidnapped. Big deal of a change, huh? *Slow claps* 

But why I am ranting about Bollywood, you ask. Well, I can not just fathom the fact that how can an industry that practically thrives on plagiarism be so popular? How can these people, so called "Hit-Directors", comfortably make complete crap-fests trailing behind Hollywood like a stray puppy behind scraps of food or like 'Gollum' after loosing the Ring and still be awarded with so many accolades. Seriously sometimes in the middle of night after watching such movies, I lay awake on my bed and try to make sense out of these movies but invariably I fail. I mean do they really think of their audience so stupid or dumb that they can show like anything or is it the vice-versa. 

Now, I am all okay with the people of negligible intelligence plopping their jumbo cans on plush couches and making huge amount of bucks. But what worries me is that these actors after their acting careers come to a dead end, join politics and then comment that "Rs 5-12 is enough for a common man meal". The future of our country or at the very least many important decisions may be in their hands. I'm scared.


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