Meanderers' Musings

She: This ‘fuckery’ called life; I had grasped its nature long before you did.

He:    Are you sure? And what’s sooner or later for that matter?

She:  The only way to kill this eternity is to believe in those small things like they really do matter.           

He: I envy you not for your intellect but for your patience.

She:  But it’s not about patience neither intellect, you ability (or lack of it) to feign interest in people is your only survival kit.

He: ‘Man is a social animal’! Fuck that! Can’t it be just animal?

She: Can’t a Secular Democratic Republic do what it’s meant to do; i.e. provide equal opportunity irrespective? Stop kidding idiot.

He:  It’s not your ‘know it all’ attitude that irks me; it’s your near perfect observations that upset me.

She: And it’s not your delusions, it’s your child like belief in your hopes that amazes me.

He:   For a guy with no weekend schedule, for a grown up with no retirement plans, from a rational idealist to absurdity’s flag bearer, doesn’t my range impress you?

She:  This ‘lookhagiri’ is worth to die for but for my inability to give a damn ;)

He:  Alas! This could be limited to you only and not be all pervasive.

She: Lols! This loser like lamenting, doesn’t it demean you?

He: But mocks also that portrayal of some vague idealist.

Here a worry, there a fury

Is it worth to make it large
You pause and you ask

If only there was nether 
Alas a benchmark

When useless is the glory
And fake all this bark

You turn to passion
And you want to surpass

But myth is a bitch
But history is a farce

This need to belong
It never makes you strong

This urge to flaunt
It always plays truant

When skill is a sham
When idols go ham 

Via a hero you escape
And a hero you blame

You hide being weak
You never admit bleak

But you love to exploit
And you love being coyed 

But love is a trade
A trade man made

When circular is your doom
You work out your boom

You search it in scriptures 
You pretend being holy

You go on exchange
And you form a chain

You go on prey and you hunt in pack
You overlook the man and you honour the slack 

It’s all but a jamboree 
Here a worry and there a fury.

She

Warning: The following short story is a work of fiction and any resemblence to any person/thing living or dead is deliberate and purely intentional. *blinks*

The world outside the window was at its usual pace. It was not often that he would walk down the memory lane at this hour of the day. But today he got reminded of her and the world she would portray. Gurls are emotionally stable and she made no exception, except that her intellect would set her apart. ‘Honor and purpose go together until you choose humiliation as your destiny.’ she once remarked off handedly. Sillier with the silly and nicer with the brilliant, she always was. Simple and benign thoughts she would use for the commoners and her insights she would use sparingly. Chirpy and vivacious on the exterior, she was quite the thoughtful in her personal space. Only few can enjoy the crowd and the solitude with equal elan that she often would. Simple to be with she was quite the enormous in her ambitions and in her expressions.

‘Be the change you want to see, you jerks. Don’t ruin yourself in the wastful.’ she once addressed. From the time immemorial she had a firm grip on the functioning of the world. She knew the audacity it requires to live on one’s own terms. Not that being different was a fad to her, it’s just that nothing else would entice her. ‘Half measures and you are done. You can either be a cocksucker or a total rebel. You can’t be a cocksucker rebel.’ she declared often. Not many people are adept at believing in their beliefs and doubting their doubts. You are either blessed or you are not. She was fortunate to be endowed innate.

‘But your life, my dear, is The Myth of Sisyphus. And until you start enjoying fiddling with the stone, it’ll keep coming and haunt you.’ she once told me. Not that I was ignorant about it, but coming from her in so crisp and clear a way, it stays in the mind till date. No wonder after years of incommunicado, I still think of her. No guess her world view and her understanding of philosophy of life still spurs me in parts. ‘Fight, Arjun, fight. Fight for the sake of fighting. No reason can be grand as that.’ she would often proclaim while steering the wheel of life. Spreading the message of the God, her life itself had become the message.

Inanely Incurable

Me1:Now what?
Me2:The void.
Me1:Self imposed?
Me2:Of course.
Me1:Any wayout?
Me2:Yes, the exile.
Me1:Any chance of uniformity?
Me2:In hell, may be.
Me1:The more you think, the ugly you think.Right?
Me2:The mind is designed that way.
Me1:But why vent out?
Me2:Else, the mind may explode.
Me1:And you once said liquor, smoke, sex could do to calm?
Me2:They don't.
Me1: Why you are the way you are?
Me2: I am doomed to be a spoilsport.
Me1: And you think blabbering on social network could help.
Me2: But neither does silence.
Me1: It's always the darkest, before the dawn.
Me2: You jerk, it's only pitchblack from there.
Me1: If your 'dilusion of grandeur' is incurable try to put it to some use.
Me2: It won't be a delusion then.
Me1: The more you wander the jocular you become.
Me2: The quiter I become, the sooner I choke.
Me1: You are a thankless creature.
Me2: In more ways I am.
Me1: Gratitude, is immense by the way.
Me2: Only to invite humiliation.
Me1: Half a decade is still a long time to learn lessons that aren't taught in B-schools.
Me2: I have maufacturing defects.

Rand-dom

She: So new year, new beginning-aaye haaye marr zaava.
Me: Bitch, try if you can be even more caustic.
She:But doesn't it work with you that way?
Me: And sometimes I need compassion as well.
She:I am incapable of to be compassionate--to you.*winks*
Me: If I didn't see Dominique in you, i wudda tataoed you long back.
She: The longer you stay in Rand-dom the longer shall your misery be.
Me: I am over that witch by the way, to a large extent except where it connects me to you.
She: 'My King of Romance' I am flattered. *Blushes*
Me: And there, there you hurt me Bitch-the most.
She: And there, there I hang off. CIAO.

Chemical Locha

Charlie Kaufman: [voiceover] Do I have an original thought in my head? My bald head. Maybe if I were happier, my hair wouldn’t be falling out. Life is short. I need to make the most of it. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I’m a walking cliché. I really need to go to the doctor and have my leg checked. There’s something wrong. A bump. The dentist called again. I’m way overdue. If I stop putting things off, I would be happier. All I do is sit on my fat ass. If my ass wasn’t fat I would be happier. I wouldn’t have to wear these shirts with the tails out all the time. Like that’s fooling anyone. Fat ass. I should start jogging again. Five miles a day. Really do it this time. Maybe rock climbing. I need to turn my life around. What do I need to do? I need to fall in love. I need to have a girlfriend. I need to read more, improve myself. What if I learned Russian or something? Or took up an instrument? I could speak Chinese. I’d be the screenwriter who speaks Chinese and plays the oboe. That would be cool. I should get my hair cut short. Stop trying to fool myself and everyone else into thinking I have a full head of hair. How pathetic is that? Just be real. Confident. Isn’t that what women are attracted to? Men don’t have to be attractive. But that’s not true. Especially these days. Almost as much pressure on men as there is on women these days. Why should I be made to feel I have to apologize for my existence? Maybe it’s my brain chemistry. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me. Bad chemistry. All my problems and anxiety can be reduced to a chemical imbalance or some kind of misfiring synapses. I need to get help for that. But I’ll still be ugly though. Nothing’s gonna change that.

Creative Crap

That day A & J discussed practicality and feasibility. It had been a couple of months for their creative ideas gone directionless. The room was full of smoke, with a psycho gone on a rampage in the background. Both liked the extremist in its full color but they were also arguing over something.

They thought and they fought
They fought but they wrote.
Cut To:
INT. Room—Night
J(puffing)
Just a little fine-tuning and mark
my words “It will rock-It will rock, man”

A
But can’t we still work on something
unique, never done before stuff?
This thing we just talked, its been shown all over.

J(mocking)
Unique! Unique (huh)
Listen man, there’s got no taker
for your unique idea. Be practical. Give
the fuckers what they want and we got
an entire life to explore uniqueness

A
But that’s not how I work.
I am not here to be just another attention
hungry parasite. I left everything so that
I could give something meaningful

J
Its too difficult to make you understand, man.
Masala! Give them masala. And we can experiment
if only we got something behind us.

The temperature of the room had gone higher. The psycho had hung himself but not before claiming his final victim. There was uneasiness but it wasn’t uncommon. Both had this show-down on a daily basis.

A
If this story has to work
all of them got to die.

J
But why death? Its so easy to kill than
to make an impact keeping something alive.
Death is the first resort of creative impotents.

A
Happy ending never happens in real life and
this reality you calling impotence, has to be shown
as it is. This story will only look meaningful only if all of
them die. As such they die piecemeal, every fucking day


J
By the way nobody gives a fuck even to story.
The availability and date of the star is the key.
And since us being new, fucking producer will put
a limit to the budget. Nobody risks money on a newbie
unless you are well plugged and has sucked their ball for
too long.

They had smoked away their cigarettes and they badly needed tea. It was 3.30 in the morning and they knew Lokhandwala circle was calling.

EXT. Road Night
While on the road they kept arguing the story, they kept fighting on the whats and hows of the industry they were in.
J
You start writing this and this will
be our ticket to the big thing.
Bloody, we got something none other has.

A
Everyone around has got something J,
but the real thing is how you present it and how
you execute it. If we start with something like we
just discussed, we will be labeled and I
don’t want that to happen.

J
The world doesn’t run on what you want
and what you don’t. There’s been defined
a procedure for everything. And these rebels look good
only after they have success, it’s so killing in real life.

A
It’s not about being rebel, it’s about being you.

They finally get to the pan-shop and order 2 cutting special and chaiwala hands them over their respective brand of cigarettes.

EXT. Pan Shop Night
A
How many do you think consider
art as art and not as business. So few J, so
very few and this is where lies our chance

J
I understand what you are trying to say but still
it has to have something that confirms to their
thinking. If you take a sensational subject, something
they have never heard before, it will be difficult for them
to digest. That’s why saying just do this project first and we
can only negotiate after we’ve delivered something

A
It all boils down to choice J and if we fail to choose
this time, I am afraid all life we’ll have to compromise.

J
Just cut the crap, we are going to show all of them
in a hospital fighting for life and you are writing the
entire body now. Just finish this stuff and I’ll show you
the way where our choice shall matter.

They finish the tea and take a walk back home. As usual somewhat unfinished but mostly charged. They write, they write and in next few hours finish what they had been arguing. Finally they both had agreed on the overall flow of the work. They both are happy and know that their work has the might to stand the test of time. But how far it goes only future will tell.






..

'Khap'istan

“A born metropolitan from the countryside” the moment I read it (six years back) in Rushdie’s Fury, I knew he wrote to for me, or to say, for guys like me; people with rustic roots and metropolitan boots. But little did I know this seemingly glamorous tagline would implant a permanent duality in my psyche. The everyday dichotomy that was fun to begin with, has turned into an existential and metaphysical dilemma. The only consolation in this hurricane called CHANGE aka GLOBALIZATION, is the fact that I am not the only one. Ghettos surrounding the capital continue to churn out millions like me, millions metropolitans from the millions hinterlands.

The roots I am bound by, like me, are going through a thorough track change. An agriculture based civilization that prided itself in producing grains and protecting borders, is finding itself in total limbo in the face of gory globalization. The community that is known, over the years, as the ANNDAATA (bread-giver), is being forced not only to adjust to the changing global India but is also being compelled to restructure its culture and rituals. “Change is the only constant”. Agreed. BUT CHANGE BY WHOM AND CHANGE WHAT?

Has, all the advancement in technology and manufacturing, reduced human miserly by any shot?
Has, the gap between haves and have not’s, reduced in West dominated world?
Has the world become more peaceful following the CHANGE left, right and center?

That is not to say that change is undesirable. But how much to is to change, change by whom and change to what extent?

We, the rustics from Haryana, we don’t boast of a great renaissance nor of great education heritage. An age old system of Khaps is maintained to ensure the smooth flow of cultural and ritual norms. Khaps, for once, were started to oil the traditional machinery wherein dispute settlement and movement against a contentious issue figured primarily. There would be Khaps based “Kushti”(wrestling) and other healthier physical competitions. Khaps are autocratic. Yes, they are, but not overnight, and certainly not on its own. These have been empowered by its clan to look in to matter extra-ordinaire since inception. But does that mean Talibanization and Honor killing are matters of celebration? No they are not. But if Honor Killing is despicable so is killing the very notion of Honor. It’s been established within the clan that the same gotra female would be treated as sister/aunt and its an honor, duty and privilege to protect, support and facilitate them in anyway a clanster can. The big outcry against Honor Killing is understandable but what is missing is above board acceptability of same gotra marriage. In the new, global and changed India it might sound normal as well but not to those villagers. It’s a clear attack on their aesthetics. No wonder we have Taliban like dictates against every such matter and from within the most advanced and prosperous states of the country.

Now what am I trying to say?
All I want to maintain is a plain plea, an SOS call to all intellectuals and media think tank of the nation:

“Please, for the sake of all your comforts, decry and denounce every act of Honor Killing. But since you are the opinion makers of the nation and since you are shouldering the burden of nation all on your thin shoulders, please also suggest how can these poor villagers save their honor?”

Drowning of a Dream

With every setback arises a new challenge, begets a new dream. With every loss a dream is shattered, with every defeat a new dream afloats. He could have been better its the dream who did him in. He's been a loser yet its the dream that strengthens him. Life is a dream-full of dreams-good dreams, silly dreams, short dreams, not so hot dreams.

The amusing thing about dreams is, even while dreaming one is unsure of its attainability-one's own ability, its susceptibility-one's own vulnerability. One just goes on dreaming and dreaming. Even at the hindsight, there may be ifs and buts but there is never a single entity to blame-neither the dreamer nor those part of the dream nor even the dream. All his life he dreamed sweet dreams, pure dreams, long dreams but the ones that required inclusion of others-be it for sanction, be it for celebration. The more he tried the more he failed.

"Should one, then, dream within the boundary of reason and means only?" he is pondering.

A things that reasons itself out with immediate surrounding, he doesn't consider a dream. Its a settlement, an adjustment. a process oriented approach that may keep one busy but not a dream. A dream is dream first, reasoning later-limitless, borderless, adamant yet afresh, helpless yet uplifting, hurt but full of heart, dying yet flying-that's what a dream is to him.

It was neither rational nor in his means when he dreamed his dream but such insisting was his dream, it made him adamant. He would reason with situations, argue with people but always in favor of his dream. Some would relent, some would appreciate, most would harp, most would discourage. He cared for none, neither relations nor career, just his dream. After all, that was what a dream to him.

The ordeal had started much before he took his dream train yet he boarded it with aplomb. There was shine in his eyes, there was unyielding will to cross the final frontier and he never thought for a moment of failure and options thereafter. So naive was him, so unrelenting this world. And so deeply was he absorbed in his space, neither comfort nor majority mattered to him.

But as it happens mostly, just when he was almost there, just when he progenated his first prototype, demons of past would haunt him. Just when he was so close, he was overwhelmed. It was usual of him-his unpreparedness to accept the eternal longing whenever it knocked on his door. Whether it was love, whether his dream-he would get chocked in the final moments. The dream he had drowned in the same ocean he fought all life, the sea of circumstances, social norms, oddity. He knew all along he would have to reason-with people, with means, with fate, with system-everything that would give the final acknowledgement to his being. And he readied himself hard, too, but just when it was the time, just when his nerves needed to be held-he backed out. A stream of vague idealism had engulfed him-it was lying dormant all along but just when was required for it to sleep one more night, it roared furiously. It decimated everything that came its way but there came nothing except the infantile dream.

Is he hurt then? Yes but not for him, for his dream. After all, it was the dream that gave him the time of his life. There is never a failed dream nor a failed dreamer, there is mixed past and there is a missed tomorrow. He had betrayed his past and he killed his tomorrow. But such is ,usually, the fate of a wild chase.

It's been months now since the fiasco and he's wondering at the entire episode. An epic that was to be and that took six long and most important years in the making, had ended in a thunderous disaster. All these while he is trying to curb every urge to look ahead so close, after all, was his dream to him. With every 'what next?' there is a 'but why?' and 'for whom?'.

Those dreams are all drowned

Those eyebrows are all frowned,

He ,too, would've been crowned,

But the naivety would surround

From 'within' always came a sound

But it never yielded a penny forget about pound

He aimed for the sky that was not to be found

And he fought and lost all along the ground

Hearts break, dreams drown, people fail, men die, people try but such is life none bothers.

Way Forward

Now that he's back to square zero its time to reflect, to ponder, to project his surroundings-the world around him-the world around him as it is, the world that can be the world that wont be. Having seen the world close to three decades, there were not always outbursts-there were hopes, dreams, aspirations, challenges in between but he was always prepared to take them on-thanks to that thing called Rush of young blood. But standing on this day there is left nothing-no desire to prove, no greed to take something back-only the Big O-Nothingness with out no end.

He now remember those sweats bled in the field to hone that pull shot to match Dravids & Pontings, those Words by hearted to take on the convent brigade, those push ups to maintain lean skelton, and lately those movies seen with utmost fervor to make one of his own.

But has it happened overnight? No. Has it taken just one failure for the courage and ambition to die down so easily? No. Nothing happens overnight-neither success nor giving up. It takes effort in both the cases-for to grab and to let loose .

But weren't there were warnings ? Yes, there were always. There was warning not to take Arts-he yielded. There was warning in taking up willow-he yielded. There was warning against Management education-he didn't. There was warning for upholding Roark-he stood up. There were warnings against frequent job changes-he never cared. There were warning against taking up film writing-he laughed.

So is there any one reason? Money and survival obviously are major factors but there is never a single reason for giving up. There are always permutations and combinations. Money he never cared-neither as a mean nor as an end. Its about belief, values, about man as he thought of-man that was never there. man that shall hardly ever be.

So who is to be blamed? None-not he neither all around him or probably all.

The world as it is: The world around him the moron, is ruled and governed by bigger morons. Be it public or private enterprise, media or politics, arts, sports or education, trade or entrepreneurship-the only way to succeed is by teaming up, forming cartels, giving up values, getting corrupted, sucking balls-plugging up with jerks. Honesty and Integrity were just another words for him as well. But the more he was denied his due the more he believed in them-the more he failed and the more he suffered. So its neither the fault of that man the moron held in highest esteem for his vision and values which were later to be given up for higher greed nor of that man who held Arts sacrosanct but later went on to build his own cartel. The fault doesn't all lie with the moron too-after all he believed what he visualized and could make of the world around him. The world at the end was found to be just another stage and having seen the drama from close quarters there was not a single actor that would inspire him to move on. The world what it has to offer coupled with his own follies and blunders was a difficult proposition to digest. The only place a Hero can be found is in crematory and doubts are so abound that he thinks if those too were made up stories or what. Yes nobody is perfect and none ever will be but still there should be a semblance of an Ideal once in a while.

The world that could be

Megalomaniac Manyfestation-II

• If believing in human potential more than believing in God makes me an atheist and thus always a subject of scorn-Yes, I am and prepared for the consequences.

• If trusting my own intelligence more than anything else and with out any hint of regret makes me haughty, arrogant and overtly estimated-Yes, I have a superiority complex.

• If my troubled childhood and horrific blunders committed out of ignorance, temptation and in the spur of the moment fills me with chronic guilt-Yes, I am inferiority complexed.

• If believing people too soon and get cheated in exchange is a habit I can’t get rid of and turns me into a practical joke-Yes, I am a witless clown.

• If believing, pinnacle is the only option, ensures I am in an eternal reverie-Yes, I am autistic.

• If being happy in the company of people but happier in my own space makes me inconsistent-Yes, I vary.

• If hating my own people much as loving them scorches me endlessly- Yes, I am always in a deriding dichotomy.

• If running away from acquaints just because I feel suffocated with them and in the name of personal calling shows I am indecisive, thankless and selfish-Yes, I am irresponsible, coward and heartless.

• If not giving a damn to anything irrespective of reputation just because all sincere attempts were mocked and snubbed, labels me an indecent, rude rash and unacceptable bastard-Yes, I am an awkward brat.

• If proclaiming myself a protagonist just because all my peers are professionally much better placed announces I am a jealous-Yes, I am evil.

• If commonplace and abundant mediocrity have made me a doubter-Yes, I am skeptic.

• If my emotional errings, idealistic idiocy and financial fiascos have trimmed my life cycle to an extent-----------------------------------dunno what next?

*Ends prematurely* (I guess)


P.S. This is my forth attempt in last 40 days to post here. The last three lasted from compose to saved draft stage for a week each before being aborted in the womb. So, if this one, you think, is weird, trust me I have saved you the horror.

The World

"The world is a better place. It's worth fighting for."

Ernst Hemingway

"The world is a better place. It's worth fighting for." Agreed but only with the latter.

Detective Somerset in Se7en

"The world is a better place. It's worth fighting for." WTF! World- the fuckking fuck!.

I-Me-Myself

P.S. Mr. Hemingway, you really HEMM me.

MCQ

It's beautiful.

It's torturous.

It hurts.

It strengthens.

It questions.

It answers.

So what exactly am I talking about? And your options are:

a)Love

b)Whim

c)Delusion

d)All of the above

e)None of the above

f)I am Insane

Hurry up and send your SMS to 6969 and three lucky winners will get a chance to participate in the Insanity Workshop to be announced soon.

The Cult of Appam

Not that he’s some writing sensation or the hype that surrounds him that is prompting me to write this piece. But when an historical metaphor emerges from some one who is fake, it makes an interesting story. The fake has given the world a hope-

A hope that steadies the ship when in storm.
A dope that brings trance when life’s in form.
A loser’s dream, a winner’s cream
Imagine all in chorus, imagine all in scream…..
APPAM- APPAM-APPAM- APPAM-APPAM-APPAM

People this post is about Appam. Confused? Ok here’s a background story. Appam-ly err apparently, Appam is a member of our national cricket team and he is a fast bowler and a saint from God’s own country. I know, we all know who I am talking about so let’s stop it here.

The efforts put into create Appam, the hard work, the fake behind Appam’s fate everything is here. However, for your convenience and my philoaophical interpretation and explaination I am pasting underneath the entire Appam manuscript. Enjoy it and see how Appam’s new found celebrity status lands him in Bollywood and in History.

When fake sees Appam in a party-
Appam Chutiya was also there. I don't know what he is doing in SA coz he aint fit to play at all. Apparently, he is their main cheerleader. If so, I don't see him dancing around in mini skirts at the boundary line. But he sure was dancing here. Doing his stupid, ill-rhythmed break dance steps on club beats. He stood in one corner as if he doesn't want to get mobbed. But dude, nobody here cares a fuck for who you are. To them you are just a duffus with colored hair, glasses and strange dance steps. I went to the bar counter to get myself a drink. I overheard 2 girls talking. One of them seemed to be of Indian origin. They were talking about Appam Chutiya. One of them said that "he doesn't have a nose. He has 2 large holes instead of a nose".

Fake’s take on Appam’s slap-gate
Apparently, Appam Chutiya wasn't slapped by Meera Bhai aka turbulator during last yr's tournament. He was crying because his team owner Babli hugged everyone after the match other than him. The Prince of Patiala aka yuhin saw an opportunity to take Meera Bhai out of the equation and accused him of slapping Appam. I think Appam is still waiting for that hug.

Appam’s claim to fame-
Appam Chutiya's name is now cast in stone as his own players are also calling him that

Appam unperturbed by success-
And Appam was as usual busy making a fool of himself. He almost got his ass kicked last night. Appam has this uncanny ability to piss off anyone who's unfortunate enough to come within 2 kms of him. Even God must have been really pissed with him to make him look like this. And he got too close for comfort to Peter Ka Beta. The Prince had to pull him away and was heard.

Appam as King maker-
But look at the Bubblies. They have played a master stroke. They have Appam Chutiya in the squad only to piss the opposition off. Imagine, you are all pumped up for the match, have worked out your strategies, and are looking forward to taking on the opposition. You reach the ground and the first sight is that of Appam Chutiya doing some strange break dance steps at the touch line. That's enough to make every gut in your body cringe with revolt, enough to make every vein in your body burst open, and every muscle in your body react to the extreme pungency. And right then and there, you have lost the match without even a ball being bowled. SUperb! Superb!

Appam’s surprise act-
Appam Chutiya has started bowling in the nets and seems to be getting to match fitness. I think he may be back soon. So, all the best guys. Surprisingly though, he was quite well behaved, hardly ever acted himself at the nets. It's amazing how each IPL season Appam seems to leapfrog a few stages of the evolution cycle. Last year, with just one tight slap he suddenly evolved from being an Ape to a Neanderthal. And the run-in with Re-Peter seems to have magically brought him to the Cave Man stage. If someone were to meet him for the first time today, he could almost mistake Appam to be a normal human being.

Appam and humanity-
So, if I have not seen or heard about Appam Chutiya, I will refrain from writing about him. Talking about Appam Chutiya, the single-biggest contribution of this blog to humanity has been the reformation of Appam Chutiya. For the last week or so, he has been at his best behaviour since the time he was punished in school for pissing on the plants. My congratulations to all those who've made his name such a cult. In the last match, even the crowd in SA was calling him Appam. I would assume a Nobel Peace Prize for such service to humanity may not be too far fetched, would it?

Appam’s Class
Finally, as they say in English, "Form is temporary, class is permanent". Or, as they say in Hindi "Appam ka Samay aur Chutiya hamesha kat-ta hai". Appam's done it again. First, he messes with a guy twice his size who has just belted him for sixes & fours, and then he goes to Cool Dude asking about his chances of making it to the T20 WC team if the main bowler doesn't recover in time. Cool Dude just laughed it off saying that he doesn't plan on visiting the match referee during the T20 WC.

Appam and Prince-
The Prince is quite pissed with Appam. He's been trying to tell Appam to reduce his attitude and improve his bowling. I have heard that nothing pisses off Appam more these days than someone calling him by his new name - Appam. Apparently, Big Mac had called him just that during change of overs the other day. And Cool Dude, who was batting with Mac at the time, had a huge grin on his face when he heard him say so. Prince hit him exactly where it hurts by saying, "Attitude toh poora masala dosa ka deta hai, aur bowling Appam jaisa karta hai". When the boss cracks a joke, you got to roll on the floor with laughter. The whole team was in splits after that comment, although Appam wasn't quite amused. Probably he doesn't like people calling him only by his first name.

That was Appam’s character sketch and evolution and I know you are excited. But even Bollywood is singing Appam-anthem these days. Anurag Kashyap recently approached Appam for Gulaal’s sequal. Refer original promo here

This is Appam’s introduction in Gulaal-2

APPAM
Haan hun appam,
Ganda dance karta hun,
Pant bhi gandi karta hun
Bowling usse bhi gandi karta hun,
Field mein 6Ke khatta hun
Field ke bahar appam katvata hun
His highness APPAM-jay naam hai mera


Forget Vijay in Deewar, Forget Ransa in Gulaal just cherish Appam in Gullal-2

APPAM
Sleevless daal ke aata hai!
Mere se jyada 6ke khata hai !
Bubli se hug bhi leta hai !
Silicon hai uske pass !
.
.
.
.
Mere pass hole hain hole (points to his nose err his holes)

Voice Over- Silicon is temporary, holes are permanent….

Gulaal -2 Theme-
Iss Mulak ne harr saksh ko jo kaam tha sopa
Iss Mulak ne harr saksh ko jo kaam tha sopa
.
.
.
Uss saksh ne uss kaam ka APPAM bana ke kata

But the buck doesn’t stop here. Apparently Dil-Don, the King himself is making Knight Rider’s Kaante. It will show how rider’s shot each other on their way to gutter. Appam’s is in special appearance doing the role of Mahesh Manjarekar. Here’s the teaser

Prince: Attitude toh poora masala dosa ka deta hai, aur bowling Appam jaisa karta hai

Appam: Hun appam, hun saala appam, to kya?
.
.
Naak ki gazhai 2 hole dekhe kahin------------ -hun saala appam to kya?
School mein kabhi pant mein piss kiya? …….…..hun saala appam to kya ?

HAQ ke liye nahi maine HUG ke liye thappad khaya. phir bhi, phir bhi hug nahi mila. mili to kya tarikh, tarikh pe tarikh tarikh pe ---hun saala appam to kya?

tu- tu saale 6 maar ke bhi match harvata hai..Shakal dikha ke, sirf shakal dikha ke match jeetata hun.. hun saala appam, to kya?

Haan lekin ek baat yaad rakh APPAM ka Samay aur Appam, hamesha kat-te aaya hain..aur yeh yun hi kat-ta rahega…………………hun saala appam, to kya?

Yes, friends the day is not far when the cult of Appam will reach it’s critical mass. There will be Appam T-shirts, Appam handbags, Appam vibrators, Appam key rings. And everywhere you will find people talking--

Appam, movie thi, yaar?

Appam, lagta hai shakal se saala.

Khush mat ho Appam kaat rahi hai tera.

Appam job hai yaar, kya kaaren?

Appam saale, to cheez hai cheez.

Kya Appam-appa hai yaar?


If Don Quixote redefined idealism, if Catch-22 galvinized chicken-egg puzzle, Appam will go down in the annuls of history as the single most Indian contribution to literature in revolutionizing CHUTIYAPPA. (AMEN, AMEN, AMEN)

When I Screamed

Today I went to an ATM to get some money to pay for the rent. The landlord had run out with his patience after a long wait of one week. I went there on a borrowed bike, parked it outside the kiosk, on the road and went straight in. Little did I know thulla-logg(cops) do have special plans for such locations. In the space of two minutes they towed the bike and shunned me. Fucktards, they know outside an ATM one can't even pretend not to have money.

I pleaded, they puked.

I paid and they moved.

Cut To:
Flashback. 4 years ago.

EXT. Road-- Evening
ME, DOGGY and SPORTY are riding on my bike. Awesome threesome. We are just out of the premiere of Zinda. Sporty is an allrounder-great shuttler,athlete and a brilliant cricketer. Add to that fattu also. Doggy is doggy just because he is doggy and has 'I dont know whats going around' written on his face. One of the happiest men I met. IGNORANCE IS BLISS not for nothing after all.

We have no helmet, licence, RC- nothing.

SPORTY

What a movie, yaar?

DOGGY

Korean film ka remake hai.

This was the only thing he knew and kept repeating right before we entered till next Friday. I dont respond. Just happy being with them, happy being with life, happy riding the bike.

Sporty-the fattu, suuddenly sees one thulla on a bike.

SPORTY

Bhagga isko banchod, maamu peeche hai.

Even the mammu who was lost in his world notices it.

THULLA(Shouting)
Side lo.

Side lo isko.

Not that we have no money but we hate to pay thullas. My evil mind has other plans and I pretend to slow down the bike.

ME

Sporty, get down and run in that street.

SPORTY

What?

ME(Shouting)

Get down and run in that street,

I am gonna run.

Thulla gets the hint before Sporty and brings his bike closer to mine. He stretches his hand to take the key. Sporty is down by now.Thulla is alomst at us, I grab his hands and pushes him with his bike. He meets mother earth, mouth faced. I am ecstatic and ridding between 90-100.

DOGGY

Maashiode (thats MF in Hyderabadi)

Maashiode, what the fuck do you

think you have done?

ME

Just keep quite, lemme drive.

DOGGY

He had wireless with him.

We are gonna be ' Over & Out'

ME

Shut up. We are close to Necklace Road.

5 mins and we are on Road # 10.

DOGGY

Khairatabad, they will be there in Khairatebad.

And believe me you will come to know

what it takes messing around thullas.

He knew it really was not a film shoot.
It was an act that would land us in soup.

ME(trembling)

Ok we will go via Lakdi Ka Pool then.

But dont scare the balls out of me.

Be cool, it ll be ok.

Cut To:

EXT. Kiosk-- Day

We are at Rehman's sutta joint, Sporty is addressing a group of 10 odd budding, lunatic managers -the misers who feel alive just because they have ciggarette in their hand. Hes narrating them my daredevilery not knowing nothing would trigger those losers.

SPORTY

Thullae ko!

banchod thulle ko!

Hes crazy. I had to run in the street I never entered.

Thanks for that cyber cafe or I would have gone.

Hes psycho, never sit behind him.

Those listening, some are amused but most disapprove. It was at this moment that I learnt people never care who I am, they never will. I had pulled the stunt of my life and they didn't even move.

I shrugg and puff and don't utter.

CUT TO:
EXT. ATM-- Day(Present)

When I never paid heed I did succeed,

I try to be decent and I am left to bleed.

Life keeps playing slut that is her only gleam.

I just lost 200 bucks and I want to scream.

P.S. Koi lauta de mere bite hue din

Don't Ever

“I don’t understand this strategic break in a T20 game? Its got nothing to do with strategy, its all about Ad revenues.” What’s your take on it?
But do you really think IPL has got something to do with cricket? Its all about money. You interviewing me is also about money, everything is about money.

Why there is no movie in multiplexes? Why they are on strike?
Multiplex wallas want 33 percent reservation in parliament. They say they serve public more than anybody. Moreover when Dabba wallas can go to Harvard they at least deserve to be in parliament. They have promised to run parliament debates on their screens. What else do you want?

Who is fake IPL player?
The only real thing in this fake world.

Why the congress didn’t give ticket to Arjun Singh’s daughter?
Congress told him “but my dear, you didn’t pass the reservation bill for it.”

Why Prakash Karat won’t be a PM?
Because the only beautiful thing left with the Left is his wife and she is no where in the promo of this PM movie. Lalu, Paswan, Amar Singh, Sharad Pawar wont mind lending a supporting hand provided She asks for it. Don't think otherwise, I only mean they will do it for the sheer respect for Bhartiya Nari. May be in the second half we could see some twist.

CAT, from now on will be conducted by foreign agency. Can you explain?
Honey, we are a generous nation. We love to give away our best things. Nonetheless we will take it back in future via some auction like the Gandhi stuff we got recently. We love to give fortune for peanuts and then spend forunte to get some peanuts back.

“I will give Mayawati a jhappi and also a pappi.” Would you like to comment on what Sanju said?
It just goes on to show his taste.

What’s your take on recession?
It has receded in my ass and I have moved on.

Australia isn’t be sending their Davis Cup squad in India. Won’t it affect India’s image?
This was bound to happen. What else do you expect when you dictate Sania to play in a Saari?
Sania’s strength is her backhand, I mean back end. When you will hide it in a Saari there will be no audience, no opponents. She just won a mixed double tournament after four years. Thanks to her back end she could distract.

Indian cinema is changing. There is a new wave with exciting talent, new ideas, new content. Who would you like to attribute it to?
The fact that casting couch has got acceptance in media as well with general public, it reflects in the work. When everyone concerned is happy and satisfied it shows on screen.

“Cast your vote.” “This isn’t the end but this at least is the beginning.” “You can bring the change.” “Be the change you want to be”
Everywhere on TV, all stars are chanting these words. Will it really be able to inspire youth?
Everyone one knows they are shooting from their ass. None of them knows what they are really talking about. As for change it will only reaffirm the belief of the youth in the uselessness of it all. And they will prefer to enjoy the boring IPL matches after this. Good for them good for IPL.

Advaniji says “Manmohan Singh is the weakest Prime Minister ever.”
Probably he is telling form his experience.

Ms Swaraj and surprisingly Ms Bharti also proclaim Advaniji is a “Majboot Neta”
They must be sharing their experience. But at this age I wonder.

Interview is over. Journo thanks him and leaves. After five minutes he gets a call. Ohh, its journo again.

He

Hi journo. Forgot something?

Journo

Forgot my fuck. So you think you

are funny. You scum. You know what-

In just half an hour, in bloody half

An hour my balls got

chocked with water in them.

You think you are funny.

It takes balls and it takes

Brains to be funny.

He

Journo?

Journo

No, its not recession,

Its your brain that is

Inside your rotten ass

And your balls got busted

In that couch you wanted to be

cast in. You think you are funny.

You want to have fun.

He

Calm down journo.

You don’t know what

Are ya sayin?

Journo

I bet you I know.

This fuckin job of mine.

Every time, everywhere I get to deal

with People like you.

Today waana tell you I

Wont take it anymore.

Motherfucker you think

You are funny. Don’t

Ever try to be funny again.

Someone will stick it up ur ass

And your brain will be in trouble then

You Asshole. You want to be funny.

.

.

.

.

Don’t ever.

When honor turned into a horror

How honor operates in a man? I wish it was just another line or to elaborate just another line-to me. It’s from Fountainhead and its Gail discussing it with Dominique. Though every word in the book is special in its own right, this line stands out- to me. Having read that line numerously, I often contemplate about this horror genre. I juxtapose my mistakes and my so called high points and try to find how honored or horror-ed I feel at them. Expectedly, I find myself in an endless stream of guilt and with a slight ray of hope that one day I would be able to turn myself around.

I am detailing out one incident when my honor was mocked, raped and was turned into a horrific horror. It was during my stint with an Architectural Firm. I was in the Business Development and my job was to sell the firm to prospective clients. I had used big jargons during the interview and so expectations were commensurate. A few months into the job, I hadn’t done anything substantial to justify my salary. My boss (He is a certain Chopra and yes very much like Prem and also Pret Chopra to be specific) had given me constant reminders to raise my level of competence. I mean competence in designing glossy presentations and articulately deliver them. It wasn’t that I didn’t try but my best effort was still not good enough. So, one day the death bell finally rang. He asked me to look for another job and gave me three months for it. Since the beginning he had been ruthless, unsupportive, inhuman and aloof. But at that moment he was all of them together and much more.

On one side I wanted to shout-Did you ever sit with me? Did you, for once, help me learn the craft? I am just a fresher and I needed some guidance. But why- was on another side.
I knew he was devil only to me and not to his work. He was always apt at it- be in decorating power point templates or delivering the same to Sarkari Babus as well to big developers. He was just good at it.

I was in dilemma; I wanted to kick his balls and also wanted badly to learn some of the art from him. So, to save my so called honor-I followed the escape route and threw my resignation at his table within next five minutes. He tried to stop but washroom was calling. I bolted the door from inside. No, I didn’t jerk, I cried loudly- at my helplessness and at his dexterity, at my willingness to learn and at his inhumanness. It was -he was logical but still not consistent and I was bad but not bad enough kind of situation.

By evening, I was with my room mate who tried to console me with sweeteners and exhortations like- Yaar- you are not that bad, uttha lein salle ko (he had been a college time goon and so did I) , to hell with that job et al. I gave up and we drank and everything was normal by morning.

I am fascinated towards big words, don’t know since when-but I am. I pick them up, try to follow them and then the practicality of life ensues and I curse not me but those words-why they were invented at all. Thus honor is still an unsolved mystery and I never feel dignified. Thanks to my early life bad company, I still commit grossest of the things and then try to play with the words (I am doing it now) to delude myself.

What the fuck are benchmarks for?
Why are you born when you know you can never be perfect?
Why did I do that?
Why I still do that?
Why carnal pleasures (sex, cigarette) can never be overpowered?

(It’s a senseless post of mine but I had to write it and please, don’t suggest yoga and spirituality and self help books. It’s a psychological issue and I am on my way to become a psycho to overcome it.)

Discard

I want to have cars,
I want to flaunt love through that beautiful babe;
And I want attention,
But nothing matches the charm of being a discard.

My Joy De Vivre

Too much of Mumbai-Seize, I can’t write about it especially when I know oodles of typing would still be too less and after next couple of days I would be just another common man praying it’s not me the next one and that’s all. There is no point in being superficially concerned when the only thing I can do is to curse politicians and hail our commandoes who I have already forgotten.

Today, I am writing about my newest fascination i.e. the joy I find in the quotes by big and successful ones. I know it’s kind of ridiculous and heinous to share your joy de vivre in an hour of national mourning but after much deliberation my conclusion is ‘I shall still be normal, no matter what’.

So here are some that amuse me:

“If you don't have a competitive advantage, don't compete.”Jack Welch
And thanks to Mr. Welch that I am jealously lazy and profoundly laidback. But deep down, it itches me to have one of my own.

“The best way to get approval is not to need it.” Hugh Macloid
It’s somewhat Rand-ish but nevertheless enticing. My recent anti social approach is its immediate fall out.

“With people of limited ability modesty is merely honesty. But with those who possess great talent it is hypocrisy.” Arthur Schopenhauer
That I am not hypocrite says I may have some talent left. But I agree with him how you can be modest when you know the person you are facing is a luul and all he expects from you is humility and not the grandeur that might scare him.

"Ah, women. They make the highs higher and the lows more frequent.” Freidrich Nietzsche
Don’t they?

“It is my ambition to say in ten sentences what others say in a whole book.” Freidrich Nietzsche
And mine is to say none at all. Is it abnormal if one wants to keep quite?

“The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.” Freidrich Nietzsche
That I am lonely and frightened makes me feel that it’s the whole world I am fighting against. (right blink, left blink, both wink)

“If there is something to pardon in everything, there is also something to condemn.” Freidrich Nietzsche
But I personally feel there is more to condemn and less to pardon.

“The noble soul has reverence for itself.” Freidrich Nietzsche
Good panacea for complexed ones like me.

“Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.” Aristotle
Don’t know much about poetry but my ever lurking hatred for history seems to have some backing.

“Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination” James R. Jarmusch.
Here is the exhortation of plagiarism but still it sounds honest.

“All great deeds and all great thoughts have a ridiculous beginning.” Albert Camus
That my present situation is ridiculous means there is a greatness in making so what if greatness of absurdity but still a greatness…..OK…hmm.

“Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal.” Albert Camus
Believe me, no one does or the hard work I have done over the years to stay normal would have been recognized.

“Those who lack the courage will always find a philosophy to justify it.” Albert Camus
The fact that I am trying to camouflage my mediocrity and cowardice proves it.

" Creativity involves breaking out of established patterns in order to look at things in a different way. Edward de Bono"
Yes and I have started to take note of a great body from a 90* altered head.

“Words are loaded pistols.” Jean Paul Sartre
To be honest they are.

“Most executives, many scientists, and almost all business school graduates believe that if you analyze data, this will give you new ideas. Unfortunately, this belief is totally wrong. The mind can only see what it is prepared to see.”Edward de Bono
Exactly and that’s the reason I have stopped reviewing quarterly reports, business research journals and those excel loads in office. Instead, I prefer daily soaps and believe me I wonder at the abilities of these great creative writers to be able to delude so called thinking audiences.

“Most of the mistakes in thinking are inadequacies of perception rather than mistakes of logic.” Edward De Bono
This one makes up for my lack of logical quotient.

“Maybe if people think they have this terrific quality, then they'll forget about the calories and the fat.” Jack Trout
My increasing waistline proves that I have forgotten about fat and calories but where is that fucking, terrific and terrible quality?

“Adversity makes men, and prosperity makes monsters.” Victor Hugo
Believe me these well to do and prosperous seem like monsters.

“The learned man knows that he is ignorant.” Victor Hugo
Deductive reasoning says those who are ignorant still have a chance to be in the category of learned ones.

“Creative writers are always greater than the causes that they represent.” E. M Forester
Yet to arrive at any conclusion on it but somewhat pessimistic.

“What is wonderful about great literature is that it transforms the man who reads it towards the condition of the man who wrote.” E. M Forester
I would say it only deludes and so more fataltastic(fatal+fantastic) even more than those classroom sermons that say it’s a nice world.

“If man makes himself a worm he must not complain when he is trodden on. –Kant”
That I am still a complainant shows I am yet to be a proven worm though trodden.

“Some people aren't used to an environment where excellence is expected.” Steve Jobs
I would say most. Excellence is such a loathsome trait.

“I wasn't satisfied just to earn a good living. I was looking to make a statement.” Donald Trump
To be honest it’s ambitious, it’s glamorous and it’s enticing. It’s so adventurous when at the end all you want is just to make a statement.

“To succeed in the world it is not enough to be stupid, you must also be well-mannered.” Voltaire
I just missed in mannerism or you would have been reading these insights from a successful man not from some lamenting looser.

“Our lives improve only when we take chances - and the first and most difficult risk we can take is to be honest with ourselves.” Walter Anderson
No, it doesn’t. It’s been almost two years now since I accepted that I am a good for nothing being. Forget improvement, my life has only worsened.

Hmm ... So I tried to be funny but I am still disturbed and impatient. Don’t know the exact cause whether it’s my job, my whims or my anger fits but still disturbed.....