Mr. Lovely

Calcutta, Present Day.



"Ayi Shomo, where are you leaving for?", Enquired Mastermoni. Shome took out his gunnysack and easel and walked for the door as Mastermoni, his highly interesting teacher and psuedo-landord finished his cup of green tea. He didn't mind the often unwarranted queries by the old man since he not only got the good fortune to work under him, but also got to stay in his palatial house right in the middle of the city.

Little known by his original name of Diponkar Mukherji, Mastermoni during his heydays was a radical painter. Starting out as a petty graffiti boy for the communists when he was given free reign to paint the walls of Kolkata with propaganda art; he came to be one of the finest artists who was profusely patronised amongst the Tollygunge elite, and respected immensely among the junta at the India Coffee House. So much was his legacy that the street that passed through his house was known as Mukherji Para, the avenue of the Mukherji's.

As Shome put in his chappals at the door, he replied, "I'll go to the National Library, read for a while and then maybe finish the chobbi I'm working on."

"Even Picasso would have stayed home on a lovely day like this..", Mastermoni quipped as he lit his pipe and looked out of the french window to a rain drenched Kolkata on a lazy saturday.


A Couple of Minutes Later.

Amidst the shouts of market vendors, bells of the Kalighat temple and a surprisingly cool wind in the air, he walked up to the main road and then took the stairway to the metro station underneath. It is even cooler here, he thought as he passed the gates and boarded a train that was just about to leave.
As he stood with one arm clinging to the handrail, he noticed a very gorgeous and demure lady sitting right in front of him. In the next few minutes, their eyes met once or twice and she used to shy away. At least he thought so. From the top to bottom, he checked her out and he so was enamoured by her beauty, one could tell by the look on his face. Artists tend to fall in love easily.

A little later, a station came and the girl hurriedly got down. As he devoured the jasmine scent of her body when she passed by him to the door, he also felt a strange sensation around his hips. Somebody has just pinched him. Thanks to the crowd, he couldn't know who.

As he looked little further inside the compartment, he saw another man constantly staring at him. Shome looked at this stranger for a while and made a few points on his mind. He was being checked by a person who was not straight, Shome could tell. He noticed the Kajal in his eyes, the tight jeans, shaved underarms and all that. And the stranger was gradually taking steps towards the place he was standing. As he started feeling extremely uncomfortable, his station was about to arrive much to his relief.

"Poroborti Station Rabindra Sadan", the phony announcer quipped.

He used the crowd in the station to his advantage and made a dash towards the escalator, as the stranger was already hooting at him by now.

"Aiee Roxy, Tumi Aashbo na??", the stranger was shouting shamelessly with a effeminate touch to his voice.

As he touched the escalator, he looked back to confirm. He had lost Mr. not-straight. Relief.
He walked up and his eyes feel upon an inscription at the station's plaque that had a couplet from a poem of Tagore's. It read like this,

Through the silent night
I hear the knockings at my heart,
of the morning's vagrant hopes,
Sadly coming back.

Now he knew what the girl must have felt.

Conversations

the_g@l_i_just_met:
hmmm pensive..
it wnt do justice if i search for it
u shld search for it
wld be better
wld feel personal then


balls_of_steel:
I din't ask you to search for it.
Just in case, you come across such a picture.
By any chance.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
hau hela re baba (alright mate)


balls_of_steel:
I'm sorry. I think i'm being kinda difficult.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
nopes
i m good wid difficult ppl


balls_of_steel:
Diplomatic answer.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
no
i really am good wid difficult ppl
especially guys
was wid one for sever yrs u see


balls_of_steel:
Shut up. Not something you'd just joke about.
To a stranger like me.
You see.
He was ur guy re.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
m nt joking
he was a difficult guy
i mean very difficult to understand
n i loved that
i like difficult guys


balls_of_steel:
I think its better we not talk about this.
Like i said, you can nver really trust me.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
wat wld u do?
i mean wid this topic/


balls_of_steel:
I don't know.
Maybe i'm simply freaking out.
But i'm really sorry, if you find me odd at the moment.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
freak out?
why?
i mean
i dnt get it
why wld u freak out?


balls_of_steel:
Something just happened.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
wat happened?


balls_of_steel:
Will talk sometime about it. When i am saner.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
saner?
i thought u wr sane a few mins ago


balls_of_steel:
Few minutes seems to be a hell lot of a time, when you conversing on the phone with a gurl you used to date and talking simultaneously to another good frend on Facebook.
*used to date once


the_g@l_i_just_met:
oh
u wr on the phone?
wid ur ex?


balls_of_steel:
Ex, note xactly.
But ex's are bitches. Bigtime.
A confession.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
nt true
nt always
cmon


balls_of_steel:
I can't think much now.
My mind is jammed.
Its a long bad story re.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
kya hua re?
what she talk about?


balls_of_steel:
nothing. All bullcrap.
maybe, some guy dumped her of late.
And what am i.?
Spare wheel.?


the_g@l_i_just_met:
cmon
maybe she was just depressed
wanted smone she can trust to talk to
so she called you


balls_of_steel:
Tell you what.? For the record, She is not a nice lady.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
ok maybe i shldt comment whn i dnt knw her


balls_of_steel:
Or maybe i just hate her, unconditionally.
But to be honest
~ before she happened to me, Ex-Gfs used to be so much fun.
But not anymore.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
lolz
wats that supposed to mean


balls_of_steel:
I said na, bahut lamba story.
I'll tell you over coffee kal, maybe.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
hau (alright)
muh sunibi (I'm all ears)
How's your mood now?


balls_of_steel:
Yes. Metallicca helps.


the_g@l_i_just_met:
hmmm
sun i gtg offline
muh moh frnd lappy ru online thli (Been online from a friend's notebook)
i ll try to cm online
so unless i cm online again,
nite nite
sd
n peace to you.


balls_of_steel:
yes. I like peace.
good nite


--the_g@l_i_just_met has logged out. When the fuck will you? And oh, you can send an off-liner given that you are such a prick and such a dummy like the_g@l_i_used_to_date had told you, in the face. Yes, that bitch. Or so you assume. Now just try suppressing the involuntary frustration you have in you and stop stalking good girls under my nose. Please get a life you ass, for your own good. Your's truly, Chat Engine--

Random Memoirs #2

Those blood-shot eyes screamed heart-break all over, yet again.

He took a glance at his wrist and grinned wickedly, almost like a kid.

The swiss knife did a pretty nice and neat job, he thought.

The pain had begun to slacken, as he slowly went off his senses and moved towards dreamscape.

Even though, his reddened eyes screamed vengeance, he could do nothing about it.

The doctors tried, and the nurses chanted silent prayers.

That's it, he said. and then he arised. He tore the ventilator pipes off his system.

When he reached the door of the cabin, he felt like turning back. And so he did.

They were busy zipping him up and the mortuary guys were pulling the strecher in.

He smiled at his flesh. He had never felt this way. this better.

Random Memoirs

And Life takes a perfect circle. Now, i very much believe in the fact that What goes around, comes back around. You do good to people, better things happen to you. You do bad with them, shit happens to you in the same way and style you made it happen to them. Either ways, in the end it comes back to you. Its feels good, this big lesson of life has been learnt.

Random Musings- Chapter One.

Okay. I know that I've been an asshole all this time. Period.

Not that i'm proclaiming or complaining. Its just something i seldom do, ie. speaking my heart out.

Things have been not so good to me of late. Its really complicated to elaborate, but i'd try to do so.

Someone had once explained to me, people never tend to change, they stay as they are. Its the circumstances that change and shift phases in levels and multitudes.

And that was precisely what happened, in my case. Drastically, things that i once used to hate started culminating within me and cunningly attached them to my existence, piece by piece. Things that were *not so me*, bit by bit. I always thought that i was a happy person. Not exactly somebody, who would lock himself up in his room two days straight, whose mom would secure all loose electrical points and connections in his room just in case a self-gratifying thought of *you know what* comes across his otherwise sane mind. Worst case, she'd even take away all the things that'd make you bleed. Namely safety razor, the heart-shaped pencil sharpener, nail clippers, the Ganesha that was chiseled out of a single block of glass, et al just because he has listening to Lamb Of God a lot, lately.

No wonder of why i used to sport a weird beard back then.

"People don't change baby, circumstances do.", that was the direct quote. 

:x

The feeling of betraying somebody and feeling of being betrayed are bad in their own levels. 

*deep shit* in my lingo.

But what if, you put yourself in such an arrangement, that you'd feel both at the same time.?

Is there any manner by which you could do justice to yourself in such a position?

Could you forgive somebody and seek forgiveness,both at once?

Tell you what. Been there, done that.

But anyways, that was then.

And today i realize that I was born free. And it were the circumstances that chained me. 

And this very moment, i Break it away.

But then, don't you think that sometimes its safer to be in chains, than to be free?

Thoughts still keep on fighting within my mind as i get on to fight my mood swings. 

Tell you what, they are real bad.

Of Raavan, Love and Periods

October the 17th, 2010 | 2100hrs.

"Cmon dude, accept it. My smoke is denser.", Abhi proclaimed with an audacious authority as he made circles of nicotine laced smoke from his mouth, courtesy the Milds, his tenth in the day.

"Grow up bitch. Stop acting like a Montessorri wannabe.," UC replied him  and they fought over whose smoke was  whatever-it-was. Duh.! In the midst of all this, i looked up the sky where the smoke from our fags wrestled along with the smoke from the burnt crackers that had a few moments back had taken the form of an impressive display of fireworks.

These very fireworks for a moment's time had painted the Bhubaneswar sky in such a exotic manner that it would have inspired Renoir or Picasso to pick the brush and hit the canvas. That beautiful is was. Or so i believed.

My eyes glanced upon one particular type of the fireworks, the 'chakri' (read: the spinning fire wheel). It at first started glowing and began to spin. When it was at its climax, it was shimmering like some swarovski crystal at its lordly best and then, it began to dim and flickered away like a light bulb on a low voltage power source. And darkness prevailed then onwards. I still don't get it of why this thing caught my attention, but i could pretty much relate this to the elements of  Love and Sex alike.

At first, love blossoms when the sparks fly, literally.Then, the sun is at its highest peak, like the lovers say which is in turn followed by a phase of Darkness with the cold dark moon for company. Well, this is what happens, generally.

I'd choose not to elaborate the same with Sex.

*grins*

Love is like a firecracker. Love is over-rated. This was one view, the three of us shared today. By this time, the conversation over hot pakodas had also shifted to this very topic." There are other things in life that are beautiful and as much inspiring as love is. But still, why is love the only thing cellular companies, Coffee-shops and the likes cash on.eh?", UC stated. "Look at Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin. Most of their lyrics are so intriguing and addicting, yet those lines got nothing to do with love.", he continued."Totally a point.Why the fuck can't Pankaj Udhas and his ass think the same way.? He is depressing me, officially", Abhi said as some typical emotionally-wrenching ghazal played from the loudspeakers. Me and UC looked at Abhi and had a laugh over it.

"Life is way too dramatic you see. If we mortals could afford to cut most of the drama in our respective scenes and strive to live in a more practical manner, life could could be so easy, so beautiful", i don't know who said this as i was busy gazing the fireworks but this line hit me home. I actually got this feeling that God was speaking himself, totally. Maybe it was Abhi, or UC.

"Jeez man!! The fire ain't getting up its crotch. Its stuck in its skirt. I think we must leave. Its late as well.", Abhi Complained.

"Maybe, our ten-headed guy is having his periods today. So he won't burn, i guess.", That was me.

"Now, How the eff do you guess that.?", UC gave me a dirty look with this.

"Oh, Cmon, he's wearing a giant pleated paper skirt with what seems to me like black Polka dots on pink. Don't you see that, macha.?", i replied.

"Bastardos, lets go home before god gets angry on this one.", this was Abhi who was ever complaining about reaching late at home.

Broken. Part #3/3

This post is the second part of a Three-piece story. For those who wish to read it, Its highly recommended you through the first part of the story. Click here and the second part, click here. And the ones who have already done it, Please proceed. For your kind consideration - 


7 Hours later, a Park near Brigade road, Bangalore /6:28PM :


He tried hard to beat sleep. Maybe this time he succeeded. Three sleeping pills at a shot ain't any joke. Kurt Cobain had succumbed to an overdose of four pills. Marilyn Monroe, just two.
He sat on the park bench, chronicling the events of the day. Of how he managed to fly down from BBSR to BLURU, passed two security checks, changed two buses here with his backpack still on his shoulders, all when he was half asleep through the time.
Nidhi always used to talk about this place. She lived nearby and used to frequent here whenever she was in town. It was even more beautiful than what Nidhi used to talk about. Reminded him of Notting Hill, Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts on a park bench.
Yes, this place has beautiful parks and beautiful girls too. Beautiful enough to kill you, nearly kill you.


"Hay-lou!!", a dusky feminine voice said as Suresh sat with his eyes half closed, lost in thoughts of the one who was standing in front of him and had just said him 'Hi'.
He found it hard to stand up.
"Sit down. was jus' thinking of you. Sau Saal jeeyegi tu."
She said nothing but smiled. Their eyes met for a moment until she glanced away out of utter shyness the next moment.


S: "Guess what? i just nearly killed myself to get to you. Hope it does something good."
N: " Why you sayin' that to me? I'm least bothered."


And they kissed passionately.
And when the next moment they hugged, something scarlet dripped down from Suresh's nostrils and stained Nidhi's Ashen white jacket near her right shoulder.
Blood.


"Everything got into place, just in time", he thought.


AFTER FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE FOR 34 HOURS IN A BANGALORE HOSPITAL, THE DOCTORS ANNOUNCED SURESH DEAD.
ACCORDING TO THE AUTOPSY REPORTS, THE REASON OF HIS DEATH WAS STATED TO BE "OVERDOSE OF DRUGS LEADING TO A CONSEQUENT CARDIAC ARREST DUE TO A LOW BLOOD PRESSURE."

Them Bastards

Once upon a time in the suburbs of a beautiful city called Bhubaneswar, lived a bunch of kids who called themselves the 'Mafia on Cycles'. Their targets included 'petty Ice-cream Wallahs', the uncles who sold Balloons - The heart shaped ones. Or the 'Bhaina' at the game parlor where they had a time of their lives playing the likes of Mortal Kombat and Re-coil. Those petty fights after the school they used to get in, for Pokemon tazos or those wrestling trump cards now seemed so childish and immature to them, but each one of them very well knew that this was the seed to something great and lovable, the undying friendship that would follow. They used to return their homes with bruised arms and knees and broken cycles, but on the contrary, the bond they developed between themselves had been deemed un-breakable. Together, they used to shout together those dirty slangs they had picked up at school in the summer evenings after a game of Cricket not caring about those colony uncles who would hear them. As time passed by, the cycles gave way to the Peps, the Dios and co. By this time, apart from the slangs, thick fog of smoke came out from their mouths that smelled tobacco. The tiny rascals had become big boys indeed. Period.
Words like Love, crush meant a whole new meaning for them now. Despite the fact that each of them wore different brands of underwear ranging from the stupid sounding 'Rupa' to the chic 'Puma undies', they had one thing, one fucking thing in common- At some point or the other they had felt for a girl. One of them was a born player, in formal words, they'd call him Casanova. He never fell in love with every girl around, it was the other way round. Sick fucktard, made me jealous at times. Gradually with the passage of time, some of em had break-ups, the Casanova did what he was best at, some just let go for they were bored, two of them were still stuck and were having a tough time on moving on and a last single bastard, the glorious and the most creative of the lot was simply confused of what he wanted. He assessed the girls in his life like stock options, where to invest, where to not. Errr sorry, 'whom to invest upon....' :P
Career wise and academically, most of them had a tough time in finishing school, the 12th grade. A few managed it and passed coolly, one of them failed badly. But the other bastards still stood by him, kept his spirits high and a year later, this tiger fought back and cleared his thing perfectly. The fact that they were now in different colleges and instis` was not a problem. They still kicked ass in town, together.
Cutting to the present, they made new friends and relationships and carefully chose the ones that they knew would last forever, probably. These bastards are indeed proud of what they are now and what they stand for. A poet, a semi-poet, a writer (probably), two photographers, a date doctor, two awe-frig-gin-some Joe Satriani-esque guitarists, a gifted foot-baller, one responsible guy ( he's the Man Friday most of the times when we end up screwing ourselves) and the perfect angry young man. Now that's what quite a many people would call a talented bunch o' individuals.
Love them, hate them, envy them. They won't give a give shit to it.
For they Love all and Rock all. Them Bastards.
Care for more, eh?

Daddy.

"Almost any man can be a Father.It takes Someone Extremely Special to be a Dad"

Hey Papa,

remember the last time when you hit me? Probably, you won't. It was during my sixth grade. For I had chewed a slice of your tobacco roll back then.

Now every time i take in a smoke, i'm not reminded of the slap on my palm, but of your words of solace after you caned me.

when i failed in my public exams, i could clearly make out that out of all you were the one who was hurt the most, though you didn't show it and put up a plain-face. You just silently supported me all this way.

Now when i fought back and cleared the papers well, why don't you let me follow my dreams? Why am i being pressed to believe that majoring in English is a bad option and that commerce is my forte when you very well know of how good i suck at numbers.

I still remember the day when you taught me the art of spinning a cricket ball. I was inspired and used to practice it all the time, whenever wherever i could. But then came a day, when the opener of the other colony's team hit a six sixes in my over. It was when i was dejected the most, and frustrated too.

That's when you without losing your cool inspired me to convert this aggression of mine into a positive energy. Probably, these were the lines you said - "Remember that failure is an event, not a person".

Every time when me or my buncho' friends during a game used to break a window pane of an irritating Aunty or some retard uncle, It was you who would bail us out.
There was a time when mobile phones didn't exist and International calls used to cost as much as a Jockey Undies cost today. You were overseas for months together and used to call up once in a few days. Though i was a kiddo back then, i could clearly make out that Amma was worried and tensed about you, so was i. She still gets worried when your cell's not reachable, though its you who would hardly charge its battery once a week. She loves you so much and cares a lot that even its been an inspiration for me. When it comes to these small things, try being a bit more responsible. Like charging up your cell and all, not forgetting the keys in the car which you do most often, over-heating the dishes in case Amma is not around.


Maybe i will stop it here for if i were writing this on a paper, it would have been wet by now already.


Bye papa. take care.


Gunnu.

Broken. Part #2/3

This post is the second part of a Three-piece story. For those who wish to read it, Its highly recommended you through the first part of the story. Click here. And the ones who have already done it, Please proceed. For your kind consideration - 




"Everything's gonna be in place. Just in time." He still thought.


Separation.


TWO MONTHS LATER...


"Life's all Screwed Up."
              This was the 34th time he was tweeting the same message since he came home after his college had finished. He switched to the next tab of his browser which had a Wikipedia article on 'CLOZE'.


'CLOZE' was an anti-depressant.Technically speaking it is a grade II tranquilizer which in Clinical terms is known as 'Sleeping Pills'.
Suresh's father was one of the most respected persons in the city's business scene. His interests lied in Real estate, scrap iron trade. But his biggest business was the distribution of pharmaceutical drugs and medicines. He was a giant in this particular domain and almost all pharmacists and Doctors of the city, directly or indirectly dealt with him. 
No wonder, why Suresh had to check the dosages on the internet instead of seeing a doc and fetching the pills through an acquaintance instead of buying it himself, Over the counter.
He reached for his drawer, took out a tablet from the strip of six, swallowed it in a moment and gulped down water in another. It tasted sweet. "So does Poison..", he thought.
A heavy stupor drove him to a state of sub-consciousness. The tab was kicking in and so did all those sweet bitter memories.
He re-counted their first meeting. Around three years ago.

 EXAM HALL- 31 / INTERNALS START IN 5 MINUTES -> The first encounter

  Suresh and Nidhi happen to be seat-mates.

S: " Guess what? Had 7 cups of coffee last night, and a peg o' Vodka this morning. The perfect solution to the perfect combo of Nocturnal studies and early morning exam blues."

N: " Why you saying that to me? I'm least bothered. don't you see?"

S: "Ummm..I thought, You might just be interested."

N: "stop dreaming, Drunko! And yes, Coffee/Vodka won't do any good to your paper. Cramming some formulae at this eleventh hour might just help..H= I²RT, H_rms=0.637I²R…...."

'Beep beep..Ghrrr..Beep beep', his phone buzzed to some stupid tele-marketing text, frustrating enough to wake him up from sleep.
He checked the time.
Fuck! It was 2AM and he had been asleep for nearly 13 hours.
He Pee-ed and then came back to the drawer. this time, he wanted more, a double dose maybe. Yes, he hated being awake, being in sense. He tried his best but couldn't accept things as they were.In short, he detested reality and gulped down two, sorry three pills at a time.
He was killing himself and he very well knew that, but wish he could help it.
This time, in his state of trance he did something he hadn't done before. He wanted to peek into it once before he could incinerate it, or himself.
He reached for the drawer and took out the cream colored card-board envelope which read,

||  शुभ विवाह ||

This card was something different, he marked. A killer in disguise. He opened the envelope and slowl, gently pulled out the card, he gazed into it for five minutes and said to himself, "this ain't reality. 'am on a high and am stoned. nd this isn't happening..."

He slept off..... 
He woke up all of a sudden.Despite the pills, he couldn't get a proper sleep. This time however, he woke up in his senses.The first thing he did was to reach for the invite.
This card was something different, like he had marked. Yes, the names of the groom and the bride were missing on the envelope.


He opened the card and read:

OM SHRI........Our Daughter

Nidhi

Weds

_________________

...........................

.........RSVP.........

  ...................

There were two more paper sheets in the envelope he had skipped and now wanted to see.

The first one read ->

"FILL IN THE BLANKS DUFFR.

DIY."

"MUAAH! KISSES! HUGS!

AND APOLOGIES. IN CASE ITS NECESSARY."

"In case its necessary!!", he grinned as he read and went on the the second sheet which read something like this ->

"MARRY ME? PLIJJJ? :P

PS: ON GETTING THIS DO NOT BOTHER CALLING

ME UP. MEET ME AT THE HALFWAY, YOU KNOW WHERE.

6:30PM.

I'LL BE WAITING, BYE."

He knew where.

(contd.)

Miss ME?

He knew that he would miss it all. All those small things that he had taken for granted all this time came in front of his eyes. He remembered the last time when all of them MoFos boozed together..

Group studies that turned into Booze sessions and ultimately turning Al's bathroom into a Puke-dump.

The sight of Annie also flashed before him. Those Stupid movie dates at his living room which eventually ended up in Cuddling and Kissing each other.

Those thriller football games in the evenings which ended up in dirty fights, Killer ones actually.

Dev reminisced each of those small events. His iPod played the song "Kaise Mujhe tu mil gayi..". Maybe this song aggravated his emotions and a drop of a tear which seemed like a Honey Dew on a fresh morning Dahlia ran down his cheek. 

A failed attempt to wipe the tears off his heart, not just his eyes and a few seconds later, He paused his player and started moving to the Sky walk as the announcer enlightened him about  his flight.

Two months of the summer break that he was taking, now seemed to him as Twenty light years. Yes, he was a perfect stranger ready to make a connection when he landed here a year back to pursue his Masters in the varsity. 

The sly smile on his face when his eyes fell on the return ticket consoled him. Yes it did.

Petrified...

"Come down to my place, u'll like it here."

"but, then don't you think its a bit late?"

Deb checked his watch. It was 8pm. In a place called Bbsr, 8pm was considered late. Nope i ain't kiddin, it actually was.

"No, mom won't have a problem. Tum chale aana. See yu.", Jia cut the phone.

As per Deb's words, they were semi-dating. Really dunno what that's meant to mean. They were yet to know and understand each other. After all, Deb shifted to Bbsr just a week ago and joined the Varsity. No they weren't classmates. Jia was friend of Deb's hostel mate's girlfriend. Sparks flew off at a Fresher's party when they met each other and Deb kept telling himself that she was one. He made sure, they were in contact. After all, he was not a dude, He was THE dude. Yes she was beautiful. To him, she was the Most. Her voice, her childish accent was just enough. Forget the looks. She had cut marks on her wrists, maybe courtesy a failed relationship, Deb thought . From whatever Deb had heard from Vijan, his roomie she had never been with a guy all her life. And by some good fortune, Deb was to be the first, Almost.

"Maybe this girl's got a death wish", Deb thought as he reached Jia's door. Her maid asked him to wait and went in to call Jia.

"Hieeee!!", it was Jia.

Deb-"This is for you".

He had got a Bournville for it was too early to get her a Bourbon, Jack Daniels :P.

J- "thank youu..Dinner kar diya btw? I know, the mess food is al crap, ryt?"

D- "Yep it is, but i just had a chai before coming down. So."

J- "okay, koi fite nahin. We'll have it later. Mom ne aaj Raajma banaya. Curry specialist yu know."

"why on the Earth is this girl chanting on her mom at every other chance?", Deb thought.

J-"Acha, did Vijan say you about the culturals? We, the Economics dept people are doing it. Need some suggestion rey."

D-" Vijan, all he talks about is Weed, weed and weed. Dhatt! Imma thinking of changing rooms. "

J-"Ooooo..mai Babeee hates Weed....I bet it, Mom's surely gonna love you."

D-"(smiles...), by the way, Do you dope, i mean do you like weed and al?"

J- "Vijan can be genereous at times. Me, Archie(Vijan's girl) and Vijan at my terrace. Weed, some booze and Pink Floyd. Heaven."

D-"Hmmm, my mom warned me to stay away from girls like you. They get you wasted.(grins)."

J-"Nautanki!!aarrrgh, my throat...feels like somebody's stabbing me. Deb, i'll be back huh, need to use the washroom."

D-"yup."

Deb then got up and went from the dining table to the living room. He had heard from Archana that Jia was quite good a photographer. "Yu shud see her living room dude", Archie had once told him. She was refering to Jia's pictures.

Deb looked up the wall opposite him. Like, archie said, they were beautiful....

And most of the pics were of a same woman.

" Who-ever she is, She's pretty, Though she looks a bit aged, She's pretty, no doubt.", Deb thought.

All of a sudden, he was distracted by a 'Nahheeeeen' sound which sounded from that of a Tv soap. Heck!, the maid was watching Tv on the other end of the room.

Deb-"Bai, yeh kaun hai? ", he asked the maid about the woman in the photographs.

Maid-"yeh to baby-ji k mummy-jii hain."

Deb- "Bahaut khub-soorat hain.."

Maid- " Thi, ab woh nahin rahe. Do saal pehle woh ek accident main guzar gaye..."

the maid then said a silent prayer....maybe in the memory of the Departed.

"Lets have dinner? M hungry re. Can't wait anymore. I'll just go and fetch the dishes.", Jia said as she emerged from her room and headed towards the kitchen.

And Deb stood. Petrified.

eMoTiOnAL AtTYacHAaRR...

"Faala(read-Saala:P)...aaji eve ta poora barbaad hei gala!!(buddy...dis evening was a waste)"...Patel said as he lit up another Davidoff.The strobe lasers behind the DJ's deck were flashing on our corner and the smoke from his cig reddened up which would have resembled blood if it ever had a gaseous state :P.Yes we were at Ten Downing Street....

A much awaited rock gig of the town had got delayed and this pissed us off, actually dissappointed us.Yes,a pretty known B-School of the country-XIM,had dissappointed us, ditched us officially. Who on the earth would like to watch a gig if you start the sound-check at 9:30pm,that too with two of the performing bands backing-off at the eleventh hour?OK,enough of the Journo stuff,coming to the point we were in no mood to wait.So we left ASAP.

Finally the five moody emotional bastards-Raan,Patel,Ahmed,Casanova,Moi headed towards TDS,that too on a friday-night which meant not a weekend,a bit cheap booze,shit music,no crowd...so eventually no legs and thighs as Raan lamented :(. As we entered the pub,we seemed like Gorrillas in Antartica. There 'actually' were no partying people out there.All i could see were a band of waiters who seemed unemployed, for the night.They were busy watching some stupid soap on a silver-bordered flat panel.Somebody should teach this people to not watch such stuff atleast on a TV like this,else i would send a few ninjas to shove off these people's as*#$, would love to actually. We chose a table and parked our asses. A group of who seemed like corporate people complete in their suit-boots sat on a far-end.They seemed pretty unstable,emotionally.All of them were actually crying in a sync(BOOZE WORKS WONDERS!!!). Imagine such people who run companies and stuff, whom other people envy and perceive as emotionally-challenged individuals were actually weeping.To me,it seemed like a the group of those senior-citizen uncles who sat at my neighbourbood park in the evenings talking about what new tantrums their daughters-in-law threw in,how their scheming sons used to cunningly sneak out their pension-books and draw out money,how soon would their medicines get over and stuff before breaking into a melancholy.

So where was I? yes TDS.Such sights worsened our moods.Being honest,the thought of these senior citizens aggravated mine.I was in my all time low maybe.Somebody among us started crying,don't rememeber who.I didn't care.(NO!!..of course,it wasn't me!!)

"Dude...whatever respect i had for XIM,i just lost it an hour ago.",Casanova said Patel as he took a sip of his Lemon-soda."Point...","So toh hai..", Me and Ahmed replied in reflex.Nobody had booze that night because we were not in a mood to.

Something needed to rescue us.....SOMETHING,SOMEBODY.

Then played a track called "Right Round->Flo-Rida|OST-The Hangover".All of us jumped off our chairs and headed towards the floor,our lemon soda glasses in our hands intact.It was just five of us there,yes we were the 'crowd' tonight, everyone's 'entertainment' tonight.The DJ had RESCUED us.A guy with his son,a 4-5 year old kid joined us.This kid a few minutes ago had snatched his dad's vodka peg and when denied,he started crying.It took his mother's all emotional strength(emotions again!!) to calm him down.Kids you know.

And all that it took to lift our spirits was this track.All the 5 of us love this track in particular and i guess i don't need to say anything about the movie.Ahmed has watched the movie a good 39 times.Still if i sound nuts to you people, please take the pain of you-tubing "The Hangover-Theaterical Trailer".One of my fav movies ever.Watch the teaser if you haven't yet...its worth every mb downloaded.

More emotions??Anyone??

A Society Of Errors

The boring physics classes had got over. I jostled through the weekend night city traffic to reach my residence located in the suburbs of Bhubaneswar. On reaching home, without saying a word to anyone i shot off to my room and closed the door. i didn't bother to switch on the cd player and turned the radio on instead. The local FM station played the track "alvida" as the chill of the water of the shower hit my bare back. I felt nothing as i was all numb. Saurav had slept off while studying. I went downstairs on mom's call for dinner. Roti and Paalak paneer never tasted so bad.
Mom got worried on seeing this side of me. She asked me what was the problem. I said her all...

I was waiting for buddy Sohail. We used to go to the same tutions and he used to pick me up and we use to go together. He start complaining about the assignments that were due to be submitted that day. As we rode chatting, we saw crowd on the midst of the road. It seemed like some bloody serious accident might have occured. As we neared to the spot i saw a bicycle totally bended from the frame as if it was crushed by some monster truck shit. A closer look revealed that the cycle resembled the one that my sibling saurav had. A cold shiver went through my spine. I ran towards the crowd and made my way through it. A kid lay there with his head rested on the divider of the road which was by now painted red with the blood from his wound. People had gathered around him. He wore a school bag which was now tattered and was on his way to his tutions i presumed. His legs were badly bruised. He lay there motionless. People were talking that it was a hit and run case. Some DiI was waiting for buddy Sohail. We used to go to the same tutions and he used to pick me up and we use to go together. He start complaining about the assignments that were due to be submitted that day. As we rode chatting, we saw crowd on the midst of the road. It seemed like some bloody serious accident might have occured. As we neared to the spot i saw a bicycle totally bended from the frame as if it was crushed by some monster truck shit. A closer look revealed that the cycle resembled the one that my sibling saurav had. A cold shiver went through my spine. I ran towards the crowd and made my way through it. A kid lay there with his head rested on the divider of the road which was by now painted red with the blood from his wound. People had gathered around him. He wore a school bag which was now tattered and was on his way to his tutions i presumed. His legs were badly bruised. He lay there motionless. People were talking that it was a hit and run case. Some Di$&heads talked about this being a deliberate murder. Nobody knew what had happened.They just talked and they talked bullshit.Many cars drove by, but nobody even bothered to stop and help the guy. I was totally scared at that moment. Sohail advised me that we go to the nearest police station and report the case. I made frantic calls to the PCR to no avail. They said they would take thirty minutes to reach the spot. The cops of Bhubaneswar really suck. They are no good when it comes to emergencies like this. They spend most of the day collecting fines( and bribes). The kid was almost dead when they reached. The police then started to clear the area. They were pretty reluctant to take the body to the hospital as they said he was already dead. The public present started venting its anger against the cops by pelting stones at them. By then a van arrived which seemed to be from a local tv channel. A very pretty lady emerged out of the vehicle and started talking the nonsense that she's was being paid for.
amp;heads talked about this being a deliberate murder. Nobody knew what had happened.They just talked and they talked bullshit.Many cars drove by, but nobody even bothered to stop and help the guy. I was totally scared at that moment. Sohail advised me that we go to the nearest police station and report the case. I made frantic calls to the PCR to no avail. They said they would take thirty minutes to reach the spot. The cops of Bhubaneswar really suck. They are no good when it comes to emergencies like this. They spend most of the day collecting fines( and bribes). The kid was almost dead when they reached. The police then started to clear the area. They were pretty reluctant to take the body to the hospital as they said he was already dead. The public present started venting its anger against the cops by pelting stones at them. By then a van arrived which seemed to be from a local tv channel. A very pretty lady emerged out of the vehicle and started talking the nonsense that she's was being paid for.
Sohail and I finally managed to get out of the scene. I was worried about what had happened to the boy. Was he still alive or not?? questions popped up. Hell no answers were found. Sohail stopped the bike a few kilometres away from the spot near a Paan-shop.Both lit a fag each which was pretty much required to calm us down. We debated whether to go to the classes or not. Though we were late we still went to the tutions. Sir gave us dirty looks. I was feelig like pelting a stone on his face.
After telling this story to mom, i slept off.

I woke up at 5 am next morning. Never before i waited for the newsapers in this manner. From the terrace i saw Mr. Mishra ,my immediate neighbour instructing his servant who was in our garden for flowers. Yes i really hate this habit of the oriya people always having their eyes on other's possessions. This is the same Mishra who had won the award three years in a row for the best house garden of the colony. I really hate him. The papers arrived but i found nothing about the yesterday's incident. The next day happened to be 14th november ie. children's day. I found out that the boy who met with the accident had died and this was put up in the obituary columns of the daily that day.
Now guess what the headlines of that day read???

" Australian doctor arrested in Puri on charges of sexual abuse to orphanage children"

This is the society and the system where we exist.

Movies & Me

After a loooong time...itz me again back to blogging....exams really suck people...but whatever...now i'm back to business...this post is dedicated to something i've been a fan since i was a kid....say hi to movies/films/pikture/philum...watever u call them...upto you...

My dad was a total movie freak...he was a connoisseur of a wide genre of movies ranging from French classics to those kickass hong kong films. He after his daily routine before retiring to bed, he used to watch movies like any Akira kurosawa flick or our very own Agneepath. His obsession with movies is evident from the fact that he possessed a large collection of movies in form of VHS tapes(nobody knew about the DVD then). So i would say that i grew up in an environment which encouraged me to take movies as an interest.

I have drawn a lot of inspiration from movies in different phases of my life. I remember that when i was a kid i watched this Frank Sinatra Hollywood cult movie where the hero is a cassanova who goes on wooing women with a red English rose uttering dialogues like "date tonight??", "dance with me??". Such dialogues i agree may sound stupid nowadays but in those days they were in vogue when Hollywood flicks were getting accepted by the indian youth. Though i don't remember the name of the movie, i do remember the dialogues.They come handy when when u need to impress a girl and trust me it even works in this age.

Cut to 2006. After watching the movie Rang De Basanti(first day, first show!!!...in black..hehehe..)..i was inspired by on of its dialogues which translates to English like this-

" there are two ways of living our lives..one is bear everything good or shit going on.....or take the initiative to change it.."

I was pretty moved by this dialogue and went to the extent of enrolling myself as the candidate for the office bearer elections at school. It may be another story that i garnered votes that numbered to a mere single digit ;-)... but i felt happy about the fact that i had taken a initiative.

The movie called Dark Knight is one of my favorites. The ear-candy dialogues of the antagonist joker played by the late Heath Ledger were fantastic. i loved a selected few of those
like "why so serious??" and "ladies and gentlemen..we r 2nite's entertainment..". i always fail to match the way in which he delivers the lines every time i make a try.

On a creative mode movies like RockOn inspired me to take up guitar lessons.

Lately, after watching the teaser of the movie Ghajini, i was pretty impressed by Aamir's hairdo and i did the same for which i trimmed my hairs to half a inch with the iconic grooves in their place.

And now i would like to present my debut movie..ya it is...
#i shot it with a cellphone camera.
#special thanks to my bro for being a part of it.
#to my bro- no offence intended..this is just for light humor. Thank u 4 ur co-operation.
#sound and image effects on final cut pro.
click here to check it out

Memories With a Chair

The chair you see in this picture is no ordinary one. I don't mean to say that it possesses extraordinary supernatural powers or something of that kinda shit, but those who assume it to be, please go and tighten your nuts.Then we will talk. By stating its non-ordinary i wish to say that this uncommon object which you see in the photo is a part of my life which was noticed lately. otherwise who the hell on this planet would spend such time blogging on nothing but a plastic chair. This thing stands witness to a numerous events and tales in my life and my family.

October of 1986- my dad was pursuing his B.Com at the Ravenshaw Unitary University,cuttack and he had shifted to a newly constructed hostel block in the campus which was a privilege at that time. privilege meant it had 24-hrs. electricity supply(at that peiod of time) , regular water supply and its proximity to the campus girls hostel which was a stone's throw away from this block. rest all was ok but the rooms didn't have chairs while they had study tables( how strange??). The warden had instructed all students to get their own chairs. Now it was a nightmare for my dad who used to blow most of his money on evening movies at the theatre nearby. On the top of that he could not do without a chair as he was accustomed to it. Hell he could'nt afford a wooden chair as they were pretty costly. one Friday evening while returning from his usual cinema outing from the theatre with friends he saw this 7450 model cello plastic chair which was new to the market. He made up his mind to buy it at once. This is how this chair was bought into our family.

july of 1992- i was a few months old by now and dad had found a job in the capital which meant we had to shift from cuttack. So when we shifted; me, my mom came here with my grandma.Later my mom said that dad tied the chair to the pillion of his bike and rode all the way to Bhubaneswar as it was impossible to get it in the car which was already loaded with a family of four plus their belongings.

sometime in 1997- i was around 5 or 6 then when i had a loads of toys around me.one day due to some mischief of mine, mom put my favourite toy car on the top of the fridge which was impossible to reach with my height. Hence i searched for something with the help of which i could reach to the fridge top and retrieve my toy. i scanned the room and found the CHAIR. I got it beside the fridge, climbed on it and was just a few inches from my toy when i lost my blance and fell...DHADAAAAMMM!!!!. I had broken my ankle. LOL

december of 2006- my 10th boards were a few months away and preparations were heating up. I had shifted to a new room in the house and an astrologer had advised me to study on a chair and a table for better concentration. Now how stupid is that?? well my dad insisted and i agreed. Then came a chair...and it was the same chair which my dad had used during his early years. After a few years of exile in the family store room it again got back to business. To me it was like something emerging from nowhere!!

october 2008- its dushera time and the whole house had to be cleaned spanning from the toilets to the patio to the storeroom. while me and my cousins were doing the store room cleaning task, i came across this chair. those nostalgic moments linked to it were again refreshed in my mind.