IN HONOUR of that ol' bearded guy with a red and white costume

PRELUDE- HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO GET HOLD OF THE INTERNET LATELY BCAUSE OF 2 REASONS- 1. I'VE BEEN TOO (OR MAYBE EVEN THREE) BUSY FOR THE PAST WEEK OR SO.. AND 2. I'VE BEEN AT LOGGERHEADS WITH THE WORLD, AND MYSELF IN PARTICULAR CAUSE I'M SOOO FRUSTRATED.... AND THE HOLIDAY SEASON DOSEN'T HELP EITHER CAUSE EVERYBODY'S GOIN HOME AND I'M STUCK HERE ALL ALONE (BOO HOO).

But since it's THAT time of the year again,, i think it's my duty as a big ol' fart to wish u guys on this happy, happy (hah) occasion. So here goes...............

I don't care if i look like a Cow
it dosen't matter if i'm as tall as a dwarf
it's okay if life is a bitch!
cause Jesus was born on this day for you and me
and that's enough reason for me to be happy.

MERRY CHRISTMAS everyone
a very very merry christmas....................hic..hic..hicc...(sometimes,,it's nice to be high..)

Sick nights and soyabean days

I'm not actually sick, in the literal term, but i'm far from feeling OK. Of course, everybody around me in office sniffling and coughing in my face dosen't do me wonders either.

I'm just sick of feeling so uninspired. The phrase 'down and out' keeps ringing in my head. I haven't heard any fat lady singing, so i figure this can't be THE END! But i'm feeling lousy, and i don't need no fat lady to tell me that.
It's just that everybody else seem so enthusiastic about this JOB, but i'm hardly interested by most of what's happening. Everyday, i just wanna finish my time and crawl back home. It looked so exciting before i entered it.....
Late evening shifts don't go down well with my mood either. Here i am, clicking away at the computer while i could be home watching 'Lost' on TV (yea, yea, that's what i call exciting). Sick nights.And i knew my dream date with the canteen wouldn't last. Eating 3rd quality rice with Nutrila, otherwise known as soyabean dosen't humor my stomach anymore (no wonder).

The only bright side is that i can carp all i want about it on my blog and my mood can change pretty quickly ( and it will, especially 'IF' Bill Gates calls me up while he's in India and tells me that he has bequeathed half his fortune-- which is more than i could count -- to me because he thinks i'm cute). Hehehaha.. snicker..i think i'm brightening up already.

JOYRIDES AND LAST RITES ON DELHI ROADS.
(Part Two)

Concluding the joyride series, i'll reveal my favourite bunch of people among the lot who ferry us everyday - The Auto drivers, masters of the sacred art of manic driving.

These honorable men, like ancient secret organizations, live by a secret code, which says that none among them should succumb to the materialistic ways of the world by following transient, man-made laws like traffic rules or human psyche induced ‘morals’. They shamelessly fleece customers (Hey, they also have a family to feed, you know!), run every red light, and make faces at ‘no U-Turn’ signals.

Besides religiously following the “no-following-of-any-rules” mantra, they possess driving skills that would make Michael Schumacher cringe in shame. They can drive with one hand while the other is busy scratching some *&^%$#@ body part, and can squeeze in through the tiniest space between other vehicles. And when there is no space, they create one by inadvertently honking and swearing in abandon. (It has been scientifically proven that an excess of honking and swearing creates a ripple or wobble effect in the fabric of space breaking up the constituent matter particles creating extra space the size of an autorickshaw).

They screech and swerve through traffic with the speed and urgency of a guy running towards the bathroom after holding back a full bladder for four hours in a Seminar. I want to remind you that all this is in the interest of the passengers, whom the Auto driver wants to deliver at the designated place at the earliest- living, dead, or with one arm missing.

With such dedicated professionals at your service, I recommend everyone should travel in Buses or Autos instead of wasting fuel in private cars or wasting money on roller-coaster rides.
Only one advice, please perform your last rites before boarding them.

JOYRIDES AND LAST RITES ON DELHI ROADS.
(Part One)

Every Great city in the world worth its name has their own trademark transport system with which they are identified with. San Francisco has its Trams, New York its fabled Cabs (and drivers), London has the 'Tube', Tokyo its sleek Bullet trains and Even Mumbai has its overcrowded Local Train Network. (I’m just making them all up, of course)

Now Delhi, i am proud to report, has not one, but a series of transport systems which can truly be associated only with Delhi, on the nature of the adrenaline packed sagas surrounding them. Let’s take a look at the one of the more famous ones - STA Buses.

The buses may not be air conditioned, but they condition the air with a sense of unflagging excitement. You never get bored riding them. One minute you’re drowsily sitting in the seat, then the Bus suddenly accelerates and you find yourself part of a Formula 1 race between two buses where one is trying to get ahead of the other in the clogged Delhi roads, all in the interest of the ‘people’ who are eagerly waiting for transport at the Bus stands; and not; I repeat, not because of their greed for grabbing more passengers than their rivals.


Even while holding on to your dear life by grabbing the seat rails, you can't help but marvel at the driver's skills and his self confidence, considering that the lives of a 101 people in the bus are in his hands.


With the number of people who get hit by these buses each year, one also gets the impression that perhaps they are playing a year round game in which they get points for every person they hit (Hey Kumar, i just got another one. That makes it 21 this year. Do i get a bonus point? ).


It's like riding a roller-coaster ride with the added excitement of the actual possibility of getting hurt. Plus they drop you off where you want to go. Nothing defines the essence of the city more than this service - fast paced, rugged and exciting (did i add smelling)

EXSQUEEZE ME PLEASE !
(Travails of a chicken in a overcrowded coop)

Hear me out and bear my sloppy writing till the end of the post. I predict that you’ll come out of it fully in favour of birth control, no matter how conservative you may be. Here’s why –
One fine day, i was returning from a seminar and decided to take the economical route, which translates into a royal ride in an RTV Van. At first it looked quite promising.It’s small, quick, and hopefully it wouldn’t stop at every Bus stand. Turns out I wasn’t very good in predicting the future.
The conductor started stuffing passengers inside the van like we were farm chickens, tossing in one guy after another till the van started bulging outward. Seeing this, the altruistic conductor thought it was enough; so he pushed in ONLY five more people to fill up the spaces which might be there between our entangled bodies and feet.
I could feel my eyeballs ready to pop out of their socket due to all the squeezing. We were like a bunch of siamese twins packed together in a confined space for a Fevicol ad.
The hot topics of discussion were like- can you tilt your head, I need to blink! Or, can you move your chin up and down, I need you to scratch my itchy back! And when there was a whiff of air, we selfishly gulped it down before the other person had a chance.
Through all the silent cursings about why there were so many ‘other’ people in the world, we fought for every nano-microscopic pockets of air; and rejoiced and gave each other mental ‘high fives’ whenever a person got down and created temporary space before another got on.
But even empty spaces are filled with danger. Its when an inconsiderate bozo takes advantage of the available space and, instead of taking in air, decides to give out air. The sound (if any) of the public display of flatulence is the only warning that one gets before the deadly gas-byproduct of all the food ingested invades the nostrils and proceeds to interfere with your body’s vital functions.
I’ve never been a victim of a nerve gas attack, by I think I can safely assume what it feels like. Its at this exact point in space and time, when all your senses become numbed, that you drift off into nothingness- instant Nirvana.
When I finally reached my stop, I managed to somehow crawl through a mess of shoes, bellies and even faces to the exit. Ah, freedom! Next time, I’d rather take my chances with a kamikaze pilot; or even worse, a Delhi auto driver.

Prelude: The editor is not legally responsible for this story as it was taken from a news agency and we can't vouch for its accuracy. Besides, it's suppose to be funny, not factually correct. And oh, we're big fans of Sir McCartney.

Paul McCartney "sings" in CIA custody

Unknown location (California), Nov 13 (NN) - Singer Paul McCartney yesterday reportedly broke down under intense interrogation by the CIA and confessed about a plot to kill astronauts in the International Space Station by beaming his concert "live" into space.
McCartney's assumption was that the space explorers would not be able to sustain their sanity after hearing McCartney sing for hours on end with nothing else to watch on TV and they would eventually blow up the space station to regain peace.
NASA astronaut Bill McArthur and Russian cosmonaut Valery Tokarev were treated to a live wake-up call by the former Beatle with renditions of his worst songs (which he considers masterpieces). But luckily, a sudden heaven-sent space dust storm disrupted the satellite feed, thereby ending the transmission.
The astronauts, after regaining their senses, immediately contacted mission control at Houston and related the incident to their superiors. The CBI put together two and two (thereby getting seven) and took the singer in for interrogation at a secret location (Langley). Nobody knew about the incident (except the Chinese, of course) until a mole in the department (a real live mole, which could talk because of a mutation caused by unregulated experiments conducted near it's burrow by the US Government) leaked it to 'NN' news agency (Ninja News).
The CBI, suspecting a conspiracy, made McCartney "sing" by using his own medicine. They threatened to subject him to a whole day of speech by President Bush if he did not talk. The strategy worked and McCartney revealed the whole plot, saying that he was forced by terrorist group Al-Karaoke to blow up the space station as an act of revenge against the west for allowing only millionaires to become space tourists.
On Earth, former Beatle Sir Paul McCartney performed the song, "English Tea," on Saturday before inmates in Guantanamo prison as a punishment for going on a hunger strike.
And at the same time, in space, McArthur and Tokarev bobbed up and down, sipped from squeeze pouches, pulled their hairs out, peed on their pants until the dust storm destroyed the live music feed.
McArthur, who did hundreds of zero-gravity flips in a second, noted McCartney's shagging chin line and his left-handedness. "I never knew he was left handed," McArthur said. "The guy was forced into doing what he did, so we won't sue."
"If we do decide to sue, it would probably be against a cigarette company or a drug manufacturer. This is because juries really hate them, so it will be easy to get a few billion dollars from them, even though they had nothing to do with the incident."
Al-Karaoke came up with the idea after learning that NASA's Mission Control used "Good Day Sunshine" to wake up the Space Shuttle Discovery astronauts in August with word that conditions were favorable to return to Earth.
They then threatened the singer to do the dirty work after hearing him sing at a concert, noting his potential. They said if he did not co-operate, they would release a videotape to Al Jazeera claiming he was one of them, and would dare Bush to bomb his house.
President Bush has decided to pardon McCartney and said he will only subject him to a five-hour lecture. Paul has pleaded to be shot before that happens.

Paul, we still love you.

Booger in slumber

I've been
i've seen
i've felt
i've tasted

i've appreciated
i've been emancipated
i've been dragged down
i've been confused

And right now, i'm completely wasted, har har
booger is in slumber
don't have no inspiration
i need a bridge over troubled waters of boredom
when will i have the come back......

Bush rolls in yet again: Help or infiltration?

The trucks have started rolling in, the choppers are flying overhead, and the ubiquitous Americans, who are in the process of getting permanent citizenship in Afghanistan, Iraq and the entire middle-east because they love the place so much and just don't wanna leave, are getting ready for another round of adrenaline packed action. No no, it's not another military invasion, although looking at Bush's fetish for sticking his nose in other country's affairs, it would seem plausible.

NATO, which is the acronym for "The empire of the United States" has offered it's services to Pakistan in wake of the south-east Asia earthquake. This has rattled quite a few people in Pakistan, who say that it could compromise their national security. They can be forgiven to think so; even American columnist Molly Evans wrote a bit about America using the tsunami disaster to its military advantage. Augh.

I’ve just reached the office and it was freezing riding a bike in the dead of the night. Makes you wonder what the quake victims, who are without even a shred of shelter in frozen POK, are going through.
Guess it’s better to take the risk of compromising security than compromising the lives of so many innocent victims.
Let’s pray for them. And oh, also pray that "god" does not communicate with Bush in the future to ask him to bomb other people’s backyards, kitchen and living room.Amen

Tales from midnight your momma never told you about

ZZZZZZZZ.......snore....Bump..Thud...(ME)-ouch...what..who..huh....oh..Man, i really gotta learn how to snooze off without falling off the friggin chair every half an hour...#$%^*&##@.....o well, back to business... Yawnnn..mumble ..mumble...ZZZZZZZ.....
.
(SHE)-hey, wake up, hehe..you're time's up..it's daybreak..you were sleeping again, weren't you? hehe..
wake up...
(Shake..shake)

....(ME)-huh..who, what,,where...help..halp..mommy....oh, it's you..haw..haw..i must have dosed off for a few minutes..very unlike me.
hmm,, must be working too hard..

(HER) What's that bump on your head?

(ME) O this,,ummmmm.. i rescued a lady last night from some roadside lotharios..got it while fighting them..

(HER)-O...Wow...you know, it almost looks like you got it from falling off the chair and bumping your head on the cement floor..well, anyway, your very brave.

(ME)-Aw, sucks..i always do these things. i really don't consider myself as brave. Any sincere,,gentleman would do the same thing.. ..Is my shift over??

(HER)-Yes Mr. Dependable..you can go home and....well,,sleep, i guess

(ME)-Well, another night another dollar..er..rupee. Gotta go. see ya

Just another typical night at the GRAVEYARD SHIFT.

Uneasy serenity: O to be Picasso for just a single day…….

As I sat there staring the computer with no work in hand, the noise from every corner bounced off the contours of my outer ear ridges, deflecting off the curves and transported into the inner drums where they reverberate to be perceived as meaningless, inconsequential sounds. The constant din made the room extremely quiet. I was left to my own brooding devices.

And I drearily looked up to discover the painting of a forest with a serene lake right in front of my eyes (by a Asher B Durand). There is something shoothing to the eyes hanging around in the office after all, besides the hot babe in one of the Bureau, of course. Paintings never cease to amaze me.

A painting always brings a sense of awe as I wonder what the artiste feels when he is in the midst of his work. What inspires him, what prompts him and what kind of emotions he goes through in the process.
And i wondered what would come out if i could put all my emotions on a canvas-channeling my feelings onto the tip of a brush. Would it turn out as elegantly expressive as a da vinci, as gloomy as a van gogh, or as abstract as a Picasso- would it be a masterpiece ?

I can't paint, so let me try to express in abstract words the moody, frustrated inexplicable emotions that envelops my thoughts as i try to envision them being represented as Oil on Canvas, although the 'Tempera' technique always gets my vote.

It could turn out quite scary, to be honest, because (let me begin) this whole world, viewed under the gaze of a psychedelic temperance makes it look like the oeuvre of an abstract artist's impression of deep voodoo-smeared ritualistic landscape.

Heavens look darker, shapes are more distorted, lives and lines are blurred; the only entity that maintains its form and focus is the vision that remains in the inner recess of the consciousness.

And as i cringe at one corner feeling that- paraphrasing Gabriel Marcia Marquez- time goes in circles, I think i almost know how Vincent Van Gogh felt when he painted his portraits, when he cut his own ears and eventually died with no one who understood him; although the diagnosis I can come to of my own state of affairs is still not as serious as to be considered as manic depression -i'm just having a bad day.

What i want to incorporate on my canvas- A mosaic of hues and colours interwoven and mixed that beguiles the vision - spread over the canvas-floor and circling each other, one on top of another, each on the side of the other, to give a stirred porridge look that circles in to a point in the centre where a hallow glow emanates.

Dead vegetation, rotting in the humid and damp floor of the forest where no light ever reaches. The stuffy air with the decaying smell of putrid fruits making it a torment to take every breath to fill one's lungs with what little breathable air is left in this swampy realm....Hold on, i think i'm drifting off into images of a mixture of Garcia's imaginary Macondo and Edgar Rice's Jungles of dark Africa.

I'd better stop. I've just realised there's no originality in this world anymore, even while trying to emote our very own conciousness. O to be Picasso for just a single day. What i would give....

Boogy all the way
Ten reasons why you need to know what a booger is
(Caution: Grossness involved. You are warned)

One of the comments recieved asked what a 'booger' means, so here's a lowdown on what actually is a booger and why it plays such an important role in our everyday life and in sustaining the human species.

The defn in the dictonary: BOOGERS- Dried nasal mucus.

Physical characteristics- It is a partly dried up paste of water, dirt and other oily excretions with a yellowish or brownish colour. It could be light or dark depending on the pollution level of the city you live in.
For example, people living in Delhi have dark yellow to blackish ones but the introduction of CNG has greatly decolourised it. Who would have ever thought Shiela Deepshit would be responsible for the colour of our mucus...har har

Now here's the latest info about this under-hyped and un-sung component of the human body.
The National Centre for studies of unconventional foodstuff and semi-edible stuffs have conducted an extensive research to determine the usefulness of the human booger and have come up with some startling findings. Extracts from the report filed by the research team (10 points about Boogers)-

1. Studies have shown that (meaning spying on people) boogers are an integral part of the human diet, especially for children, who fish them out of their nose with nimble, dexterous fingers and pop them into their mouth.
Theorists have propounded that it must be a survival instinct handed down from our ancestors, for whome food was scarce and nothing was wasted and almost everything excreted by the body was ingested back, including ear wax.

2. Boogers provide the nasal cavity with some much needed recreation or club house. It traps dust and millions of microscopic organisms, meaning it creates a happening spot where bacteria and virusus with spiky hair styles congregate and party all day and night (24 hrs of happy hours) in a warm and moist ambience with nasal hairs poviding the decoration.

3. Interviewed workers in the adhesive industry have revealed that boogers are a very good replacement when you run out of conventional glue.

4. Many respondents have admitted that they make good playmates when you get bored listening to lectures. People usually pry them out of their nose and roll them into a little ball and play with it with ther fingers while blankly staring into space.

5. The rounded boogy balls make good pellets to throw people with, especially if you aim for the mouth.

Points 6 to 10 have been left out because they were considered too gross and might cause public outrage.

Q. If there was a burger or a sandwitch with nasal mucus as an ingredient, what would it be called?
A. Sticky Joe.

Billions of blue buck-tooth blistering barnacles, banned Bombay bar girls, eunuchs and sea urchins!

In short, Goddammit !!

I’ve been going in the reverse gear for far too long now. It’s about bloody time I hit the brakes and change gears- full speed ahead.
I gotta re-introspect the introspections, ruminate on the remnants of my sanity and kick the ‘poetic lamentations’ full in its bottom so that Dr Hyde kicks the bucket. It’s time for Dr Jekyll to grin and bare all his 37 teeth (or is it 39?).
I was so wrapped up in my emotions, I guess I lost my friggin way. I viewed my blog and realized that my posts were getting more and more moodier (or murkier…….scarier???). So let’s try to get a little bit of bad humour back into these spaces; though, I think the ‘serious’ stuffs I posted were wacky enough for more ‘normal’ people.

But the good thing about manic depression is that your body is so closed and wrapped up that your muscles are always clenched so that you’re physiologically tuned to refrain from inadvertently farting, which means you don’t embarrass yourself in public, although it means the elated feeling one encounters when secretly releasing a volume of silent gas is absent.

And oh! Thanks to all da peepul for some really thought provoking comments.
It’s a really good way of filling up all the empty spaces inside my head. And I also want to replace all the cow dung that’s stacked up there.

To end it, here’s a trivia-
First prize for guessing—A big wet smooch from Cindy, the local Zoo Gorilla.
What’s the meaning of - PODA PATTI ?
(Hint- ask any mallu guy. U’ll find them in every nook and corner of the world, probably even inside your closet).

Hold a tick! Chew on this…

If rock's got no reason, and rock got no rhyme
Does life drift in the same line?
Are we dancing to the rhythm of a pointless beat?

Are we, fleeting creatures of chance and opportunities that we are made to be,
just a speck of an insignificant race of beings that have no bearings on the way the vast expanse of the universe is heading?
Are we a part of this doomed brigade, destined to be wiped off, evolved to eventually die off, programmed to fail and to eventually fade into oblivion as time wears on and stars burn out their light……..

Is there no larger plan-why we should strive to become ‘proper’individuals?
And our thinking process - consciousness …is it just a matter of nerve impulses and neural transmissions- hormones and chemicals deciding our moods, our decisions-presiding over our conscience --how we respond to the invitation of providence a matter of neural electrical transmissions; impulses as information flowing along the pathways of our system-polarization and depolarization of our nervous membrane by charged, soulless ions all having a consequence on the polarization of our ideas and beliefs……….

Or do we blank out all of these possibilities and give an alternative explanation with a single word; discard them as blasphemous ignorance and cite one word as our answer- Religion ?

Reconciled to the Past

Catholics confess, little girls write in their diaries, and friends confide in each other. I guess it's therapeutic to reveal your secrets or experiences.

So here's a poem about a brief period of my life a couple of years back. Its a longish one because it describes almost in detail about a phase of my life where i went through the most complicated relationship i've ever had. Friendship, love and heartbreak- i had them all.

Cramped up in Delhi, where noise, dust and concrete blocks out all the natural night environment, I've reconciled to the past. But nostalgia woun't leave me. My hometown, where you can still look up in the night sky and see a bright full moon and take a romantic walk along quiet roads illuminated by the night sky. It can play havoc with your emotions, especially if you're with the right companion. Here's my story-

Those nights with you under the velvet sky;
When the moon shined, or when clouds gathered.
No matter what the night bought with it,
We had so much to laugh about,
So much to say and so much to cherish.

The way we talked; the way you talked.
The way you smiled, the abandonment in your laugh
Always wakes my senses, and stirs me inside.

The times we shared, going to places;
Or just walking together along the road
Under the gazing eyes of the moonlight..

Remember those times? Many a night we sat down
And told each other stories.
Sharing laughs in all our follies.
Listening to each other as we told tales
of our deeds and our glories.

We were good friends, we were real friends
We were good together
And the amount of time we spent together shows.

No matter what the night bought with it-
Hot weather, cold winds,
Dark nights, or rain drenched weeks
We were together
And that was all that mattered.

But we didn’t take it to the next level
We couldn’t afford to
The whole world was against us
All the odds staked up like a wall between us.

They were not ready for us,
Maybe we were not ready ourselves.
Two souls so close yet which could not fuse
Too scared, too confused, too true to the world and the system

But underneath it all
The hearts charted their own paths
Pushing their way
Through mazes of awkward emotions


Coming close together. So close, that
There were moments when time stood still;
When everything else in the world blurred into oblivion.

Only two souls existed, two hearts beating
And at these times
The feeling was so clear
So clear that nothing else mattered
Not the criticism of other people,
Not places, nor the system we were living in.

And when the rest of the world surfaced again in me
I became lost in my confusion;
I was lost to the world.

But during those flashes of moments
When you were all that I could see
All that I could think about
And all that I could feel
I had found my place in You.

I wanna get my ass kicked by..................

Haven't posted anything for quite a few days now. Besides the usual work, i've been kinda moody lately.
It's one of those phases where u feel everything about life sucks and you're frustrated with whatever you do.
It feels like the whole world is out there but you're cooked up in this shell and you don't have the energy, the skills, the talent, the vivacity to get out and live the way you're supposed to.

I've been trying to get back to reading when i get the time. But i've just been too lazy to stimulate my mind. Whenever i am free, i just slouch on the bed and watch TV (it's the easiest way to escape from responsibilities and the rest of the world). I saw a couple of romantic movies yesterday and that got me all the more moody. What can i say, i'm a hopeless romantic (not a very macho thing to say, i know. I mean, i love watching Hugh Grant movies... auckhhh. It's a disease).

Maybe that's what's been missing in my life lately- someone who inspires me enough to enable me to face head-on whatever comes my way.
I need to be dragged out of this self-made hole i'm in. I wanna be shocked, shaken, amazed, excited, confounded, dumbfounded, dumbstrucked, mesmerised, fascinated, again. Yeah, yeah, I'm talking about falling in love (yet again, hehe).

That feeling you get when you're infatuated with someone, is just SOOOO amazing. It is so illogical. You get butterflies in your stomach, smiling at odd hours and places when you realise how silly it really is...it takes over your mind, makes you give up your pride. And sometimes, it's pure agony, but you don't want it to end. I think that's the kind of agonising stimulation i need right now.
I WANNA get the shit kicked out of me by LOVE. (O shit, i can't believe i'm really writing this!!!!!!!!)

A glimpse into the unknown

It doesn't really matter if you're a deranged, psychotic, harebrained, moronic (running out of adjectives) nutball who can't think beyond Jenna Jameson or what's for dinner. It doesn't matter if you can't tell the difference between a lavatory and a lamp post to answer the call of nature. There are moments when circumstances compels you to wonder deeply about life, how transient it can be, and the perenially debated question of 'what lies beyond'?
After an eventful day of shocks and jolts of high voltage, i was left nursing a sore arm and calf muscle. After almost being electrocuted in the bathroom (Apparently, there was some fault with the earth connection, we were later told), I'm sitting here wondering what might have happened if my brother had not turned off the switches when i shouted at him???What might have happened had the current flowed through my body for a few more minutes?? The other side of life beckoned me there for a brief moment, and i almost stretched out my hand and said yes..
The whole thing wasn't long, maybe about 10 seconds, but i'm telling you, a lot goes through your mind while the volts of moving electrons saps the living fluid out of you. And you end up realising, yet again, how fleeting life really is and how,despite all your plans, unpredictable it can be. Makes you feel really insignificant in the face of fate.
So u'll have to bear with me if i am a bit somber and philoshophical for the next few days.

Prologue- Due to pressure from some very influential people in the media including Ted Turner, Rajdeep Sardsai, Prannoy Roy, Monica lewinsky(hehe), and Hemant, i am compelled to use a smaller font for my blogs (well, at least for now).
Chapter 1: As if early morning shifts were not bad enough, the high and mighty have put me in the extra night shift for four days. It should be called the early-early morning shift bcause it starts at 2 am in the morning.

Of course, i'm not really working bcause i'm 90 per cent asleep most of the time. I can't even remember the stories i've editedzzzzzzzzz. But i've discovered a few plus points in working in a deserted office.

1. No Big bosses to boss you around.
2. No pressure.
3. Very little work.
4. You can visit the ladies room without fear of being seen.
5. You can use the internet to write your stupid blogs.

I'm too sleepy to write anymore. So goodnite. i mean, .. good morning (it's almost 3 am)

A nosy affair

Holy Mary! Those were the only two words I could think of at that inexplicable moment.
No no, I wasn't seeing an apparition of the Virgin mother. The object of my amazement was a man who jumped on the DTC bus as we were passing through South Avenue en route to CP a couple of days back.

The guy had a huge nose protruding outward from his face which i can only describe as scary. If he was an animal, experts would probably give it some fancy terminology like a Proboscis; or in case of a fish, an undulating, flagellating rudder organ with which he rows his whole body with. It would also likely be luminescent (come to think of it, i think it was already glowing at that time).

It looked like the beak of some giant exotic hornbill except that it had two circular holes filled with splinter-like hairs. If Mumbai had drainage pipes the size of those holes, I 'm certain the city would never have been flooded.

Of course, I’m not inferring that he’s ugly or anything; I’d be the first one to admit that he is still far more pleasing to the eye than ME. I mean, I’ve been looking at myself in the mirror daily for two decades and I still can’t forgive my parents. But that nose…...

Nose and knees, knees and nose. I was reminded of Salman Rushdie’s Midnight children; although I wasn’t sure if his nose had been gifted with special powers. But I’m sure he could smell freshly extruded turd miles away.

And with Rushdie came thoughts of Padma Lakshmi. O yes, that sweet purring baby. Here again, I’m not referring to Mr. R’s girlfriend, but my good friend Hemant’s Bike, which was christened Padma Lakshmi. Streamlined, heavy and totally YELLOW in colour. Hemant, dude, if you wanted to get noticed, there are more discrete ways than to ride a yellow bike in Delhi or on the Noida highway. Haha.

Anyway, coming back to Mr. nosy, I felt a little guilty starring at him with my jaws open, but he seemed the least bit disconcerted by his 'thing'. In fact, he was confidently surveying the bus, ostensibly for an empty seat. Either that or he was sniffing the air for smelly armpits to, maybe, threaten people to take a bath before boarding a bus or else ‘I’ll stuff your head inside my nose’ kinda threat.
Then he argued with the conductor on the price of the ticket - he said ‘do ka’, but the conductor said five. The bus suddenly screeched to a halt, and he lurched forward stumbling. He obviously could not smell danger. I got down and silently wished him good day. I've had 'had' enough of him. The whole thing was too nosy for me-literally.

Succour in the arms of Caffeine

I had my first early morning shift at the Office. As with everything new with me- it turned into a serious test of my mental strength, spirit, and my desire to overcome life's trials and tribulations. My only saviour was, as usual, caffeine. But i had to wait a long time for salvation, literally.
I had to be at the desk at 8 AM, so i had to ACTUALLY WAKE UP when my alarm rang. So, I crawled out of bed in the middle of the night ( i.e. 6 AM) and went straight to my favourite room (the toilet).
It was like sleepwalking - i still don't know how i got on the Bus ( or how i put my pants on). I spent the whole morning going through the motions in a daze as i couldn't wake myself up. This is because it was so early that the canteen wasn't open, so i couldn't get Tea.
And as anyone who 'medically' need tea knows, we are no better off than Zombies until we've had our fix of caffeine.
After about two hazy hours (feels more like eternity) spent mostly dreaming about bed (no thoughts about a perverted bed-wrestling here, just the plain BED) , the Chai walla finally showed up. About time( I had almost succumbed to the torture by then).
It almost felt like a betrayal by a friend, like the song 'you left me just when i needed you most'.
If i didn't need it so much, i would have thrown the cup to the floor and stick my tongue out. But better sense prevailed and i forgave and drank up. AAhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...i was finally ready to take on the world again.

Interpreting the Interpreter
(An obviously crappy attempt to review the film 'The Interpreter')

Maybe it was because i arrived late at the theatre, maybe it was because i sat in the wrong seat for the first few minutes, maybe it was because i spilled popcorn all over my belly and crotch, maybe it was because the big. bulky dude sitting next to me was kinda stinky,or smelly, undeodorised, or whichever way u wanna put it. Or maybe it was the accumulation of all these unfortunate events; or maybe it was just because the film just didn't have enough substance and emotion- the Interpreter was a Big disappointment.

It wasn't advertised as an action flick, so i wasn't expecting anything along those lines.But it was suppossed to be engrossing, full of suspense, and of course, two oscar winners as the leading pair.The emotional content just wasn't enough. And u can't really picture Nicole kidman as a former guerrilla fighter in the jungles of Africa. And i guess the script JUST didn't have enough heart-wrenching dialouges to really set your emotions rolling.

And i could already predict the ending halfway through the film (And to think i don't believe in psychic powers).And to top that, not even one lousy kissing scene, or one small glimpse of Nicole's thighs, har har.

Then again....... maybe it was because i was with a girl and was too busy to actually see the film....Now if only somebody would be kind enough to tell me what the ending of the movie was actuall like.....