Impressionable Indians!

Living abroad always gives us a different perspective on a lot of things. We suddenly become more aware of our surroundings than when we are at home. We begin to notice trivial aspects in a new surrounding. We either appreciate things or we loathe them. More often than not, we criticise things that we cannot identify with. We don’t accept what we cannot relate to. We are blind to opinions, tastes, preferences of the native people. We assume that we have a right to our way wherever we go!
We take immense trouble to impress people who aren’t from the same place as we are. At the same time, we neglect, intentionally, about our fellow countrymen. We are strongly bound to our insecurities. We have our fists clenched tight. We are scared stiff that if we share something to someone, we would be left behind. That we would lose everything if we share something. Even just a little bit. We are just a bunch of scaredy cats. Sure, familiarity breeds contempt. But then why is it so hard to accept the other person for who he is? Why is it so hard to just live and let live? About 2 years ago when I lived in England as a student, I had faced very similar situations. Things haven’t changed one bit even now. Only the country has changed. The people I am living with are different. But their behaviour is very much the same.It’s the same what I had experienced in a different country with different people. It’s a sad situation. I wish I was very insecure too. I wish I held on to my fears.

For those who support “anti corruption” rallies and those who celebrate Independence day, ask yourself some questions. Are you free from your own insecurities? Are you really independent? Are you honest to yourself? Don’t be afraid to make mistakes. Make mistakes and learn from them. Laugh at your mistakes. Don’t be afraid to try something new. Let go of your insecurities. Your hate. Your selfishness. Your ego. Be the change you want to see. How hard can it be?

Tag?

Finally. Fuck. I mean fin-fucking-ally I managed to blog after god alone knows how long! I do sound like a pro-ketpan.wordpress.com

Anyway, Ketan had sent an email several weeks ago about tagging me on his blog. For a moment I really thought he'd lost his marbles for doing that. I mean seriously. Why would someone tag me or mention my stupid blog to the world. I, for one, don't give a damn about my own bloody blog. I mean not that I hate it. I was on a roll at one point in time. I could bring myself to write some sensible stuff. But not now.

Ketan was one fellow who encouraged me to blog. Despite knowing the fact that my "work" was not meaningful or insightful to say the least. I guess he got some kick out of that! But unfortunately it didn't work very well on me. Having become a full time procrastinatist-Oh yeah baby! I just made that shit up, I found it nearly impossible to write on my stupid blog! All his sincere efforts to persuade me to blog didn't bear any fruit. Sorry about that Homie!

Anyway, here goes. Thanks a ton for tagging me and making me look like a fucking fool! Lol. Shit I am funny. Hope this goes down well with you and your readers. I seem to provoke random people very easily! Lol!

Seriously, I really admire Ketan for his passion for blogging! I'm pretty sure one day, perhaps RGV or KJo or Sanjay Leela Bansali will come up with a Hindi version of 'The social network' which will be based on Ketan's blog! Then we all will get a free ticket and popcorn to watch a fucked up Hindi movie! I'm sure it won't be very romantic with Ketan dry humping some ugly ass fucking size zero kapoor female! For all you know it might be a size zero laptop on which Ketan writes his blog! Lol. Do I say too much?

Now about the 15 honest things about myself..ummm..Let me see.

1) I hate liars. Both men and women. I just fucking hate liars.

I won't elaborate on each point because I don't think I need to justify everything. My way or no way! Hahaha

2) When I care for someone, I really do. I swear I do. I might become a little sexual about it but then its part of the game I guess! Sigh.

3) I went streaking in the middle of the night in England when the temperature outside was -2 degrees. Of course there was a Greek chick with me! And yes she streaked with me! And yes it felt good.

4) I have a weakness for curly haired women. So all you curlies babes, whatcha waitin' fo! :P

5) Ok fine I'll be honest, I also have a weakness for natural boobs-size doesn't matter, lovely lips, nice voice, nice waxed hands and legs, intelligence, black eyes, nice smile, oh yeah a hot ass too!

6) I love scale models of cars. Especially 1:18 models by AutoArt.

7) Shit I can't think of any more honest things.

8) Ummm..next!

9) Ummm...

10) Ok I swear I can't think of any more honest things. Sigh.

11) Oh and I love independent women. I have the greatest admiration and respect for women who work. Be it a Doctor, Engineer, Nurse etc.

Now I do not know any other bloggers to write about them or mention their blogs so I'll let this pass.

Why?

Dear Mister Top Cop,

I don't know where to start from. But let me try. I have recently revived my dead social life, thanks to some lovely friends. And these days, I've been regularly hanging out at lounges, discos, clubs, pubs and the likes. I hope you know what people do at these places. People, mostly youth, come there to enjoy the music and dance away like its nobody's business. Its good fun, Sir. Mark my words. You should try it too. You will love it. Along with your very beautiful wife. Perhaps, you might lose your pot belly and look fit and fine. But sadly, you don't have a social life. All thanks to your hard work in keeping crooks and rowdies off the street [no pun intended]. You are busy taking rude auto rickshaw drivers to task who charge a little too much all the time. Sadly, you are not successful in doing that either. But we appreciate your sincere effort in doing so. You are busy cracking down on piracy also. Instead of arresting the kingpin[s],you arrest poor fellows on the footpath who stack bundles of pirated DVDs of all types of movies and sell them for dirt cheap prices. I have never bought a movie from one of them, but I hear the quality of the print isn't great. So I'd recommend you to download movies and music via uTorrent. Its faster and better also. I've been doing that for years now and I have a very good collection. Anyway, I was just wondering, why don't think a bit differently. I mean, think like a modern human being. Why are you so insecure about us dancing all night long? Why do you want us to go home at 11:30PM sharp? Why not 11:25PM? Why don't you focus your energy on more important things, such as crime rate, illegal activities, atrocities on women in slum areas? Why not do something which will win our hearts? Why do you want us to stop dancing at 11:30PM? Do you know something sir, life starts at 11:30PM in most part of the world and usually doesn't end for the next 12 hours or so. Why are you so ancient in your outlook, sir? I remember watching an episode on a news channel and you spoke like a complete retard. When the journalist asked, what is wrong in shaking a leg, your reply made me throw up for the next 3 hours or so. You said, " Shake your leg while sitting at the dining table". I mean, are you sure you are not suffering from any mental disorder? Or do you know what shaking a leg means?

To be continued..

The graveyard

The year was 2000.I was in the 10th grade. Every Sunday morning I would wake up early and get ready for the tuition classes at 12pm. And I used to go to Venky’s tuitions back in school. I still shudder when I recall those days. On one Sunday morning, as usual I woke up early got ready and revised the lessons so to avoid getting whacked by His [un]Holiness for not being able to answer his questions. The day was bright. I felt good. I had studied well. I felt he couldn’t whack me for answering the questions. So I got ready and I took the usual route to the bus stop. I walked through a now nonexistent graveyard so as to reach the main road quickly. I had done this for years. That particular morning while I was passing through the graveyard, I noticed a skull and a few bones of some dead human being lying around. The bones were probably lying there for a few days. Or weeks. I don’t know. I panicked. It looked so gory back then. Something told me a partial skeleton lying in this fashion was not right. I felt there could have been a murder a few days ago and the body decomposed and all that remained was the skull and the few bones. Back in high school I was in love with Forensic science. I was crazy about it. I knew something was wrong. I had to go to the police station which was a good 3 km away. Back then I didn’t have a cell phone. So I couldn’t call anyone for help. And the bus that I usually take to tuition passed right in front of the police station. So I took the bus which arrived just seconds after I managed to reach the stop. I was puffing and panting. I had to act fast. I kept thinking I had discovered a crime and I was going to help the police crack the murder. I did act fast. I was still puffing and panting even when the disgruntled bus conductor asked me where I wanted to go. I told him police station. He nodded and asked for 3 rupees. I pulled out a 50 rupee note and thrust it in his hands. He flatly refused to give me change. I could barely conjure words to explain I didn’t have change. I kept pleading him. And he just ignored me. Luckily one middle aged gentleman asked me if I wanted change. I managed to say yes and he paid for the ticket. I couldn’t thank him enough for the help. He asked me if I was alright. By now I could breathe a bit more easily so I explained that a murder had taken place a few days ago and that the bones were scattered around. The gentleman panicked and said not to worry and go call the police. The bus screeched to a halt in front of the police station. I thanked him and jumped off the bus and ran straight into the reception where I was greeted by a stern looking constable. He asked me nonchalantly what the matter was. I was very nervous because I’d never uttered the words “dead body”, “murder”, and “skeleton” in a serious tone. I mustered courage and told him that a murder had taken place close to my place and that there were a few bones scattered around. It was then that I managed to capture his attention. He immediately pulled out a register and started asking me questions. I obliged and when I was asked which class I was studying in and who my class teacher was, I felt that was way too much detail one could be asked for. I thought how does it matter who my class teacher was or which section I belonged to. I felt that was unnecessary and a waste of time. But I had no more courage left to protest at that. So I sheepishly gave all the unnecessary details he was worming out of me. Then a fat policeman came toward me and asked me even more details. I gave him the most accurate description of the “crime scene”! He asked me if the body was male or female. I had told him it was just bones and there was no way of finding out the gender. I told him there was no skin, hair, teeth etc. It was just bones and that’s it. I was irritated when the cop asked me if the body was male or female. I raised my voice and told him the same thing again. He somehow understood. I felt relieved I was not going to get arrested for shouting at a cop. He then went in and a few minutes later he asked me to show him the “crime scene”. I hoped onto his rusty police scooter and directed him to the exact spot. We arrived at the spot and even before he’d stopped his scooter, I jumped off and ran pointing toward the bones. He parked his scooter, unclipped his helmet and started scanning the “crime scene”. At the same moment my neighbour’s driver happened to pass by the same spot and he recognized me and asked me what was going on. I was in no mood to speak to him and the cop suddenly started yelling at me. Before I knew it the driver joined in chorus and stated that those bones were dug up by some dogs and that he’d seen them lying around for several weeks! The cop was controllably furious at me for wasting his time!
The driver added fuel to the fire and laughed when I told him it was a murder. The policeman was mighty pissed off at that point! I just could not believe I was so silly and I imagined that there was a murder all thanks to my passion I had for forensic science! I just wanted to crawl under a rock and die! I had nowhere to hide my face! And all this happened in about an hour.
I usually left home 2 hours before the start of the classes as Venky was just waiting for one of us to come late so that he could satiate his carnal desire of whacking us for coming late. So I never took any chance and used to leave home early. Luckily after all this drama I still had an hour to go and the bus journey to the class was about 30 minutes and another 5 minute walk from the bus stop to the class. Luckily I managed to reach the class with 20 odd minutes to spare and I joined my friends who were busy mugging formulae and what not while I was still red with embarrassment and I gulped a bottle of water and felt like I wish I could drown in the water instead of embarrassment!

Dear Lord,

Kindly give me the courage,
The strength,
The power
To pick up the shards
Of my broken heart
And move on.
I ask you,
With humility
And surrender
My existence
Unto you.
I pray,
I shed a tear
Every moment
Of my life.
Give me the courage,
And the wisdom.
I seek forgiveness,
For my misdeeds,
For my foolishness,
For my naivety,
For losing the love that I was once filled with.
My heart,
Barren,
Lonely,
And hurt,
Cannot suffer anymore.
Not anymore.
What I have lost,
Is irreplaceable.
Precious,
Rare,
And cherished.
Will I ever be blessed,
To experience,
What you once blessed me with.
I cannot let go,
Of what I once had,
Supreme love.
Oh dear lord,
Dear creator,
Accept this humble flower,
I place upon your sacred feet.
I kneel on my fragile knees,
In silent prayer,
Longing to be pardoned.
I pray.
I pray.

Gandhigiri

Ok I've been continuously ill for like nearly 15 days. And I was nearly on my death bed until a few days ago. I'll try to recount the exact sequence of events that happened which led to me being severely ill. A week before I came back here, I was down with dust allergy. I kept sneezing even while flying and I was worried if I would be caught by the mean Airport officers and shooed back to India. How I wish they actually did. But that didn't happen. I landed in London and stayed put at my friend's place for a day before setting off to my place which is like 200 miles away. For all you dumb asses that is 200*1.6=320KM. So I reached home the next evening and was totally taken aback at what I was seeing. Right before my eyes was a coffin for a bedroom. Both my fellow esteemed room mates had gladly chosen the bigger, cleaner, airer rooms for themselves and left the coffin for a bedroom for me. I could barely take three steps before reaching the boundary of the coffin. I took a while to let the dust settle in my mind. And in this case, in my "bedroom" as well. Tired from a 5 hour bus journey I decided to relax for a bit and then unpack my stuff. Relax I tried but a few minutes later my nostrils warned me that this coffin was indeed a very dusty place and had to be cleaned immediately. So I acted promptly and got the vacuum cleaner to clean up the coffin. Clean up I did. It was dinner time, ordered pizza. Cursed the guy who made it. And the owner of the house. And finally retired to my coffin. My nostrils warned me again. I told myself you've just recovered from common cold, so you won't fall ill again. I kept tossing and turning the whole night through while my fellow esteemed room mates were busying jacking off watching porn before snoring away to glory. I had decided to not protest my way. My way being bringing the roof down. Which I'm not very proud off once the roof is actually down. So I decided to tolerate it and tried to adjust. But then my body didn't agree. The coughing persisted. The sneezing multiplied. Sometimes I sneezed so fast you would need a ultra high speed camera to see the coughing in slo-mo. My fellow esteemed roomies failed to see this. Obviously they were ignoring. Why? Because the narrow minded regionalist cunts that they are. I had to finally break the silence and tell them look dude this place is a fucking mess. I need help to clean this shit hole. One of them agrees to help me out. But that didn't turn into action. Until two days later.

That night after a night out, I came back at 6 in the morning and slept the remaining hours before I had to hit work. So I finish work in the evening and came back home. I was dead tired. The coffin still pretty dusty by my nostrils' standards. I had to put up with it. The coughing had worsened by now. I knew something was wrong. I knew it was because of sleeping in that dingy coffin. There was no air circulation because it had just one window which, if you open, a lot of dust and cold air comes in, and if you don't, the air doesn't circulate. Both do no good for anyone. My immunity had gone for a holiday. My fellow esteemed smart roomies still don't believe me I'm actually sick.

Ladies and gentlemen, please allow me to introduce the best part of the whole story.

I couldn't take it anymore. I was cold. I had fever, cough, headache, body ache, lost my appetite. And I foolishly slept again in the same place. The next morning I was just a bag of bones. Then finally it dawned on one of them roomies that I was actually ill! I decided to protest in a different way. Not that I consciously thought of not creating a scene, which I usually do if I don't see any justice. I managed to drag the bed down the stairs and flung it across the hall. And tripped. I looked like a newly born calf with unsteady limbs. I was mighty fucking pissed. So I decided you know what fuck you bastards I will sleep here for the next six motherfucking months because I'm tired of this! There was no way of me going back to that coffin even after I recovered. By body wouldn't magically become Arnold's once I recovered!

That didn't go down well with one of the cunts. He is this fat lazy son of a bitch who is so fucking bent on playing his motherfuckingsonofabitch video games all day long! It so happened that his big LCD fucking TV and all his gaming fucking shit was in the hall and I had been in bed for an entire day without food, Oh which reminds me of another thing but I'll come to it soon, no food not enough water nothing. So it kind of made him uncomfortable because he at least had the common sense he couldn't play his motherfuckingsonofabitch games because I was in the same hall. Ok before I forget, let me mention what I wanted to talk about. Food. These cunts prepared yummy hot food for themselves and they serve me cold rice with colder scrambled eggs. Oh and before and after that I didn't even get that. Fuck it now. So the next day when I was in bed again it made him extremely restless because he hadn't jacked off the night with his fucking video games. The following night when I was staring at the roof blankly our game fucking freak comes slyly and whisks away his junk to his room! I felt relieved. Only for a bit though. What followed was nightmare again. The low pitched bass emanating from the fucking speakers was actually giving me a real headache! I mean literally! I tried taking tablets thinking I had a headache because of the fever and all that. But then no amount of tablets cured my problem. Then finally I just casually asked the cunt funk to tone down the bass because I could so clearly make out the deep humming sound. He agrees. What happened next was a miracle from heaven! The headache actually disappeared a few minutes later! I just couldn't believe my eyes/ears! I cursed him that much more for making me suffer the whole day! And I told him dude your speakers were giving me a headache! To which our fat mo-fo says " I can't help it!" I just deleted that message and turned in feeling light headed! The next day I somehow managed to drag myself to my first day at class. Unfortunately we had an entire day dedicated to learning. I came back home at around 7pm and was shocked again to see my stuff back in the coffin and not in the hall! The fat mo-fo had moved his junk down and cleaned up the coffin for me! I was like, Awwwwwwwwwww you sweet lil cunningsonofabitch! He couldn't stay without his junk just for a day! And I knew there was no going back to that coffin. So I stayed up till late and then dragged the mattress down again and slept the night coughing. But I felt slightly stronger. I could prepare my own breakfast. Oh and I hadn't had breakfast in like nearly 4 days! Never mind. Yeah so I woke up went to University and out of the blue I get a call! It was the most important call of my life. The call was from none other than the fat mo-fo! I answered the call and I never expected to hear what I heard! The fat mo-fo says will you shift to my room and let me occupy the hall! I was like what the fuck!!!!!!!! I see this as Gandhi-giri, even though I never actually intended to do any sort of Gandhi-giri! I just didn't want to give a fuck that's it! But look it worked! It really worked! Gandhi-giri actually works people! Yipeeeeeeeeee!

Yawn

I had many things on my mind that I wanted to blog about in the last one-month or so. However, I was swinging between sober days and pissed drunken nights regularly. Therefore, I hardly had any time to pull myself together and blog. But on the days and nights when I wasn’t [too] drunk I was too involved taking pictures of wild life and domestic life and life with no life and that sort of thing. The last one month has been a crazy wild time for me. Caught between everything I just did not know what to do. Therefore, to decide what to do, I had to turn to alcohol. However, that did not help either. Nevertheless, I do not regret that at all. I had one of the best times in the recent past. Now the time has come for me to go back to the shit hole in less than four days. So I thought this is the best time for me to pull myself together and blog about all the things that I had on my mind before I go back to the shit hole. It is pouring right now in Bangalore and I totally love the weather. However, the internet is acting like a psycho bitch again so I am not able to access the internet. Nevertheless, I see that as a good thing because if the internet were not acting like a psycho bitch then I would have a reason to not blog and post pone my blog until god alone knows when. Therefore, I seized the opportunity with both my hands, switched off the modem, opened this Microsoft Office Word document, took a deep breath, and began punching the keyboard. I am already beginning to feel good about what I have done. Anyway, I have realized I am frustrated in life already. I am just in my mid 20s if you must know. If you find that hot, and if you are a woman with in your mid 30s then kindly send me an email if you are interested in a one-night stand. Oh and I am a virgin. So I do not have enough [s]experience. However, you do not have to worry I can handle your extreme, multiple orgasms. Ok let us not get into all that. Please pardon the profanities that will soon follow. If you think it is unwarranted, unnecessary then please scroll your mouse across your monitor and you will find a tiny “X” symbol at the top right corner of this webpage. When you successfully find the symbol, please click on it and get the fuck out of my blog. Thank you for your kind cooperation.


So the latest news is that yet another bunch of Indians are “racially attacked” in Australia. Why can’t us Indians just come back to our shit land instead of getting fucked racially all the time in Shitstralia..oh shit sorry I mean Australia. Anyway, as usual we will never learn anything from our mistakes or from anyone’s mistakes for that matter. Go India! Jai ho!


Mayawati spends crores of the taxpayers’ dough on life-less statues all over her poverty-stricken state. In a way, you can think of it as a good way to keep the sculptors in the state occupied in the times like these. Again, once the statues are completed I do not think anyone will benefit from looking at them. Only the sculptors will make good money. Of course, it will inflate our Maya-ji’s big fat Dalit ego. However, the Supreme Court knocked some sense into her and said, “You bitch you better stop hoodwinking us and put an end to the fucking shit that you are doing with your fucked up statues”. Moreover, our Maya-ji said “Theek hain Saab we will stop but I’m fucking warning you if anyone demolishes the parks and memorials I swear I’ll fuck all of you until the President says enough is enough”.

Supreme Court response awaited.


For decades, our beloved Netas and babus travelled the whole world in First class/ Business class as the case maybe even to the most remote part of the world. However, out of the blue our Sonia “firang” Gandhi says [in a heavy Italian turned fake Indian accent obviously] “Arre hum bhi Economy class main chalta hain”! And poof! Her son and all the other Bakhras follow sari..oops sorry I mean suit!
I was wondering, why the fuck was the bitch travelling in First/business class all these years? Poor Sonia-ji. Must be running out of public money to spend on herself. Tsk tsk.
And the best part is, no one seems to fucking realize we are still treated like dumb fucks and live in a made to order..I mean made to believe society filled with such rotten shit. Sigh. My heart sinks in misery when I realize my return ticket says “Economy class”. Sigh. How I wish I could upgrade to First or Business class.

If you wish to make a donation to help me travel in comfort for once, kindly send me your bank details. Nevertheless, do not send your money to Nigerians. They will only empty your bank balance without saying thanks. I will say Thank you so much dude in return. Choice is yours.

Rakhi Sawant is in the news again. I hope her next show is called Rakhi ka Suhaag raat. More than wanting to see a naked Rakhi, I want to see that dumb fuck’s face when he is inside that silicone scumbag. He sure must have balls made of wrought [rot] iron and a missing brain and eyes to marry such a gorgeous item girl. Way to go mister CanadianBusinessmanwillingtosettledowninaamchimumbaijusttohumpaitemwhore. We are awaiting torrent links to your leaked sex tapes. Ooops sorry sex tv shows.

Pakistan continues to deny the involvement of its own citizens in the 26/11 attacks. Because they are having a blast all the time! :P I hope you got the drift.

I hope you also realize this blog lacks direction that most other blogs have. I have to blame it on the unpredictable nature of life. I do not have anything meaningful in my mind right now to share with you. At least I’m being honest. Kindly appreciate that at least.

More meaningless news will soon be updated.

An angel led astray.

How she wished
She could stop this,
This madness.
The tears swell
And stream down her feminine jaws.
Anger.
Hate.
Fill her tender cherubic heart.
The words slash
His weak heart.
With no regret
Shown on her tender face.
He cried.
Begged for mercy.
The demon in her
Stifles the love
Out of her.
His love for her
Offered no shield.
Against the evil
In her.
Her eyes fill
With rage.
Hate
And anger.
Her inner sanctum
Destroyed
By the demon
She couldn't avoid.
The lover's heart
Beat one last time.
The life slipped away
From his gripped palms
He held in prayer.

Swineyamvar?

Rakhi Ka Svayamvar? I mean. Just what the ****. Forget it. Next what? Rakhi Ka Suhag raat?

Shutter bug

Ok for a few years I'd been very interested in photography. Only I was too lazy to take the next step. But finally this year I bought myself a Canon 40D DSLR camera after a lot research, confusion and deliberation. I'm totally in love with the camera. No complaints so far about the camera. I've been travelling a bit as well lately. Now I really think I should take it up a bit more seriously and invest some more money, ok fine lots of money into buy good useful equipment. I hope I get the dividends so enough. I prefer dividends in cash :P I will soon be updating all the pictures I've taken so far. Oh and this is the new photoblog:

http://shutterspeedingdemon.blogspot.com/

Not so Down Under

Ok this is more like a sequel to the original post "Down Under". In the original post I had spoken about the issues faced by Indians living abroad, and the friction between goras and boras[Us Indians]. But I felt I had to come up with this post because after what happened last night. Ok I wasn't brutally attacked or racially abused by goras but was sort of racially attacked by boras at home! Yes you read it right! One of them said if you've got the balls then talk in *****. Oh and he said that in the same language he wanted me to talk in! Ok I've censored the language mentioned by the attacker to make it less obvious just in case one of them stumbles upon my blog! I was quite taken aback when I heard him say this! It was like a trivial issue and one of them got a bit serious and said this! I was enjoying the mild buzz that Guinness beer gives and suddenly I felt a yank by what he said and I came right back into my senses! I suppressed the surge of laughter that filled my already beer logged stomach and made a face as if my bladder was about to explode and bit my lips to avoid saying anything in retaliation and I managed to draw a blank stare until the insinuating mumbling faded away. I stood there motionless with the beer can in my right hand and my left hand in my pocket leaning against the kitchen counter but deep within I was rolling all over the place. Finally when the mumbling faded away, I managed to make sense of what he had just said! I quitely ate my share of dinner, retreated into my bedroom and retired for the day. I began to feel funny as how do people manage to come up with such thoughts! I mean will a person grow balls just because he/she can speak a particular language! Sometimes I wish I was as ethnocentric as these guys are. That way I won't have to be the odd one out amongst the hundreds of such blokes who initially come here to pursue higher education but end up working part time like 24/7 which is quite contradictory to the term "part time"! I do feel sad for such people because they don't receive the exposure back home. They hold on to their insecurities as if they would die if they didn't! I feel so sad. So sad they can't take off their blinkers. This is just the tip of the ice berg. A massive make over is urgently required for us Indians. Language is the biggest cause of our divided nature. In fact, language could be our greatest strength if our thoughts are channelized well. Our problems are deep seated. Fear is another cause for our problems. Fear of being in a new place. Fear of not having family/friends for months together. Fear of not doing routine activities. Fear of not being able to understand the thick British/American accent. Fear of nothing being able to speak intelligible English. Fear of accepting the fact that not everyone abroad is a racist. Fear of losing the herd mentality. Fear of accepting fellow countrymen from different parts of India. We let fear control us. We let fear and insecurity decide our pattern of thoughts. Change is required at the grass root level. Home is the best place for change to take place. We are far behind not just economically, but mentally as well. Meanwhile, I'm praying to god this will happen soon enough.

Manipulative minds

Numb
Cruel
The blood doesn't flow to my head.
An Eerie silence deafens me.
The tears have dried up.
Empty words.
No more strange thoughts in my head.
Fate sealed.

Down Under!

"When in Rome, do as the Romans do" So goes the saying. Every year Indians go to every nook and cranny of the globe to pursue that dream MBA or an MS. It’s imperative, though not an academic or legal requirement, to learn about the culture and understand how life abroad is, before one sets off. As an Indian student studying in England myself, I'm shocked and appalled to see most of my fellow Indians here can hardly form a simple sentence consisting of say 10 words without committing heinous grammatical errors. Having said this, it doesn't mean that I look down on them. My sincere condolences to the poor bloke who was attacked Down Under. Maybe he wasn't at fault. Anyway, we must not tar the Australians as Racists. Racism exists wherever you go. In fact I've faced more racist attacks from my own fellow countrymen than by the "goras" for a simple fact that I can speak English and they [ my countrymen that is ] can't and I can't speak their language and they can! We must collectively take the blame for the recent shocking events in Australia. Over the years, millions of Indians have gone abroad to pursue higher education. Each and every person has left an indelible mark on the Americans' or Australians' psyche as the case maybe. We are equally responsible for our acts. We should take the blame for the poor image we project of our Nation. It’s not entirely Aussies’ or the Brits’ fault, as the case maybe. The best defence is to blend in with the environment. That makes them native people feel less threatened. Instead, we provoke them by ignoring the fact that we are in a different country altogether. Ignorance is not always bliss. Trying to form your own 'desi' communities or groups and continuing our Indian lifestyle even abroad makes the native people feel insecure since the size of the communities or groups is quite large and they see that happen far too often. When the insecurity creeps in, the natives think we are not 'fit' to live in their country. Having said that, it doesn't mean that once you go abroad you HAVE to become all westernised and shed your old skin. By finding a right balance between blending in and yet not forget our roots is very important. This ensures that we project ourselves as more approachable and friendly. Its not only the Indians who are attacked abroad, going back a few years ago, several foreign tourists were raped and murdered in our country. Now this doesn’t paint a pretty picture of our country now does it? India is a country with a lot of problems. But we are a nation with a lot of potential. There is a staggering imbalance between people from modern cities and those from smaller or less modern towns. As a result when students from smaller towns or cities go abroad, the “culture shock” takes its toll on them. So they naturally tend to socialize or meet people from their home town. Over a period of time they become well acquainted and team up and live in groups of 10 and live under a roof meant for 5! Again, this enrages the native people living around them. This unhealthy behaviour should stop. There are many positive outcomes to changing ourselves. So its time we change ourselves. Its time we turn things around.

The lost angel

My dearest angel, I flounder alone through life
Mustering courage to take the next step
There is a void that surrounds me
There is a place in my heart where you once filled me joy
I gaze at the distant stars that look down upon me
Deep inside my heart you reign supreme
I look back at those days
Wondering will I be fortunate enough
To tread that path again
I wait and wait turning pale and spurned
Destiny played out its painful intent
Leaving me benumbed
In time you attain yonder side
That emptiness lands a fatal blow
Onto my fragile heart
The seven seas stand between
My path to reach your heavenly abode
Withal I fight the battle
With the scant courage
I live another day
Without you.

Bitter sweet symphony

The air outside is cold. I'm torn. Cornered. Caged. Life is tough. I'm in a place with noone I love anywhere near me. I'm far away from what I always wanted. I've lost things I had and always dreamt of. How I wish I could just go back in time and change things I wish never happened. I feel morose and sullen sometimes. Its hard to live away from someone you love with the whole of your heart. Its harder to never be loved in return. Its hardest to lose that one person you love the most. But Life sure is beautiful despite all the pain and agony one has to go through. The world we see is bigger in our heart than on google maps. You can find out the distance between two places on earth. But you can never measure the love you have for someone. Its bigger than anything. Living far away, inching close to your dream, feeling closer to your loved ones a million miles away is an experience of a life time. Sometimes it just dampens your spirit. And sometimes it makes you do wonders. Love. Love is a strong drug. In my heart, deep down, I truly am grateful to everything life has offered and taken away and will hold secret. Its overwhelming. In the end, you just have to move on. That's the sad bit. The sadder bit is never being able to do so. You surrender yourself to destiny. Hoping to find happiness somewhere, somehow. I do wish every soul on earth, finds his match.

John Lucas

John Lucas was an average bloke with dreams and aspirations of becoming an architect. Architecture had always fascinated young John. John’s school projects usually were on unique and differently shaped buildings made by hand out of paper or cardboard or both. John had a knack of stacking up empty match boxes to form a recognizable house or a multi-storied building or a school complex. As a child, John was gifted with the art of drawing too. The outlines of the buildings and bridges he drew were very crisp and visually appealing. He would intensely read architecture based magazines that were kept on tables in a waiting lounge of a hotel or at a friend’s place. At school, he was an average student with grades that were almost consistently average throughout the year. Except for drawing or art classes where he inevitably stood first. Much to the chagrin of the class topper who usually came last in the drawing class. A few of the girls liked John for his ability to draw neatly. The rest flirted with John just to have a cube drawn to perfection though he wasn’t exactly an eye candy. A shy John would nonchalantly agree without responding to their flirtatious behaviour. Sara, a quite and beautiful girl, wasn’t one of them. Among the top five students in class, Sara was slightly better than most girls at drawing. Hence she never saw the need to flirt with John just to have a drawing complete. Sara and John rarely spoke to each other. Both were nervous to start a conversation. Even if one of them did, the conversation would last just two seconds with both exchanging just Hi and Bye. At the high school prom, John spotted Sara in a stunning dress. Their eyes met. Sara waved nervously at John. He began to quiver when she started walking toward him. “Hey Sara, you look wonderful! “ John managed to utter the words without collapsing under pressure. “John thanks so much for saying that! And you look very handsome for once!” John burst out laughing. Sara’s mild sarcasm boosted his self-confidence somehow. There was a moment of awkward silence after that. “Sara..uh..I..wo..would..would you..like to d..da..dance with me?” John asked, feeling a massive lump in his throat. “Sure I’d love to John!” replied Sara. His head began to swell with her fragrant perfume when he held her hand not knowing the correct way. “Oh John not that way! Your right hand should be on my waist and your left hand holding my right hand! Haven’t you danced before?” Sara said in a mildly mocking tone. “Of course I have! “ He lied. “I’m just in a state of shock”.
“May I ask why!” asked Sara. “Ok fine I lied, I’ve never danced before and I’ve never seen a girl more beautiful than you” John shot back and wondered how those words came out. Sara was stunned by what she just heard. She had never heard anything more wonderful than his words. After high school John and his mother Celina moved to a different city. Sara never heard from John after that night.

Celina, John’s single mother, loved and cared a lot for her only child. Celina worked as a Nurse at the Government hospital. Her income was just about enough to give John his annual Christmas present. John cheerfully accepted without putting up a fuss. Celina loved him that much more. As a child, John would make a nice house made of match sticks and cardboard and presented it to his mother and affectionately said “Mommy one day I’ll build you a house like that!” Celina was teary eyed at her only child’s love and affection. She kissed him on the forehead and held him tightly in her arms.

Once out of high school, John was very keen on pursuing his Bachelor’s Degree from a reputed University. Since his overall grades were just above average, he was finding it difficult to get an admission in his choice of University. He rejected offers from the local community colleges. “Son, I think you should take up this offer from the community college since they’re waiving almost half the tuition fee.” Celina spoke softly.
“Mommy I don’t want to join the community college though they’re waiving the tuition fee. I know it would make your life a lot better if you didn’t have to spend half your money on my tuition fee. But then, I’d rather not join the community college. I hope you understand mommy” John explained innocently. “Johnny darling you don’t worry about me. I’ll try to save up as much as possible for your tuition fee. It’s just that I’m getting old and the hospital isn’t such a nice place to work after all.” Celina replied. “Fine mommy, I’ll get in touch with Aunt Betty in Chicago. She knows a place I can work during the summer holidays. They pay well for people who can assist architects with technical drawings.” said John. It would be three years since he started working at the firm.


“Hi John, here’s a courier from University of Chicago” Said the pretty girl at the reception of Mayflower Apartments. “Oh really, thank you so much!” John replied.
“I hope they haven’t rejected my application” muttered John.
John took the elevator and reached his modest one bedroom apartment on the 4th floor. He flung his tote bag on the desk and eagerly opened the courier, barely able to breath with the increasing anxiety. The next moment would be his most happiest after he had dumped his bossy girlfriend a year ago. The letter of acceptance from his dream University was in his right hand. “At last “, he said to himself. Feeling relieved. Feeling very relieved. His knees began to weaken. He took a deep breath and crashed on his bed. “Boy am I dreaming this!” trembled John. He pinched his skinny right forearm to make sure he wasn’t really dreaming. His brown eyes were beginning to moisten. The chaos and agony had finally come to an end. John could barely come to terms with the good news. Finally John got a grip on reality a while later. John rang up his mother to tell her the good news. “Hey mommy, guess where I’m going this Fall!” exclaimed John.
“Son, son what happened please tell me quickly I can’t handle these things! Please tell me what happened to my Johnny!” cried Celina. “Well Chicago here I come!” screamed an overtly excited John. “Oh my good lord I am so happy Johnny! I..I just cannot believe my ears!” his mother screamed. Both became deliriously happy. Soon things fell into place and it was the first day at University of Chicago for John. His joy knew no bounds. There he was, facing the portals of learning, the place he had always dreamt of all his life. He felt his life had just begun. He entered the campus with his head held high. Laughing at his bossy ex-girlfriend, who was probably dumped again by some guy. He felt far superior to her. He quickly focused his attention to the more important things at hand, and closed her case for good. He began looking around at the astonishing buildings and perfectly manicured gardens with dozens of students spread all over the campus engaging in several activities. He found his way to the modern and sophisticated Sir William Bernard building which housed the architecture department. He followed the directions and arrived into a large classroom with about a hundred students or even more. He scanned the room for an empty seat; feeling intimidated by the size of the classroom, and found one in the very first row. Still nervous and excited, he barely noticed anyone around him. The class was yet to begin. A sense of happiness and pride filled the air in the room. It was the smell of sweet success. It was something John would give up almost anything in order to have it.
However, John was still nervous to look around and began the mountainous task of settling down when a voice next to him said, “Hi John, Remember me!” John turned and looked straight into Sara’s eyes.

WTF!

HDK Vs BSY

Ok before I set about expressing my views on the above topic, I’ve a confession to make [since I wanted to be on the safer side so that my blog “readers” {read judges!!} won’t have the opportunity to say ‘ dude this guy is just trying to be Karan Thappar!!]

I do not follow politics closely, be it state-level or national level or college-level! Anyway being a citizen of Namma Bengaluru, I was thinking why not pen my thoughts in my [Full-time] free time about certain events happening in and around my beloved city. Just yesterday, the BSY government celebrated its 100^th day of governance! What’s wrong in that, one may ponder. Now I’d like to clarify, I am neither a supporter of BSY nor a skeptic of the HDK government. Frankly, it makes no difference to an average [above or below as the case may be] Joe like me. Yesterday I was going through the newspaper and in the very second [and the following] page, was a picture of our beloved BSY clad in crisp white shirt and white pants [which made him look like a retired cab driver!] proudly grinning and claiming the achievements of his 100 day old baby [read government]. As if to bring the reader back to stark reality after reading the astonishing[!] achievements of the BSY baby, in the very next page was a picture of a million mindless heads led our mindless former chief minister, son of even more mindless Devegowda, HDK staging a protest against the failures of the present government somewhere in the middle of city which inevitably put commuters to severe hardship. As I was reading the report, I began to wonder if our HDK ever gave a thought to the people who went through the, as it is, never ending traffic problems? Did his protests improve the city? Why couldn’t he give an interview on TV9 [!] or go on Radio City and spread his message across the city? It’s appalling that our politicians resort to such senseless tactics to defame the opposition party. It’s even more disgusting that an inefficient and corrupt former CM points a finger at his whether-or-not-corrupt opponent. HDK’s one achievement, by far, has to be the simple luncheon at a humble farmer’s place in a remote village! Now forget about what present or past government has achieved. Put all the facts and figures aside because ,we citizens, for a fact know that we won’t see any improvement in most aspects of the city any time soon. If we just put our thinking caps on, we’ll realize that it’s not the failure on part of the system. But rather it’s the failure on part of the people who run the system. Even in the year 2008, when most cities abroad contemplate on some major issues such as hosting Formula One street races or hosting the next Olympics, we’re still greeted by the ubiquitous pot holes in any part of the city’s roads. Something which is rarely seen or never heard of by citizens in other parts of the world. Here, people’s homes get flooded during the monsoon. Notorious cab drivers play havoc on road with their lack of any traffic sense. We lack the basic infrastructure for a city the size of Bangalore. The list is never ending. To add to our woes, our politicians contemplate on banning drinking and smoking in public places [Not that I have a problem with that!] and how can I forget, a ban on night life! Sigh!!

Now I may be the millionth person to complain about the shortfalls of our city. But that will do no good anyway. Anyway we bengaloorians must adopt the American motto,” In god we trust” hoping at least god will make our city a better place to live in or stick to our good old “ Swolpa adjust madi saar!”

Disclaimer!

I am shocked and amazed at some people's insecurities! Some people have actually taken what's written on my, what I consider unimportant, blog seriously! I had no idea my "blog" would be so scornfully and critically reviewed and be [mis]judged! Oh and one more thing, I'm no Heath Ledger nor am I Kurt Cobain! Its only jerks who have come to conclusions about my blogs!!I hereby would like to caution my blog readers [judges] not to take any of the posts seriously and I certainly am not interested in your criticism or words of appreciation [ I hope I don't sound snobbish in saying the latter!!] The fact of the matter remains that I'm just trying my hand at writing!! Seems like I've provoked more unpleasant reactions than Salman Rushie or Taslima Nasreen have over their long and eventful career as authors! So go ahead and read my blog if you have fully understood the terms and conditions! Else, piss off!

Journey of life

I’ve no clue where to start or how to start. But I’ll try anyway. The journey so far has been eventful. Although it has never been an easy one. That’s the beauty of it all. Looking back at things that have happened, it seems like it was destined to happen.

The outcome hasn’t been what was expected. In fact quite far from it I must confess. And yet there is this frisson to it all. We’re human beings. The most complex living beings ever to walk the face of the earth. The more we try to understand the person we love the most, the more bewildered we become. And when we try hard and fail to come to a conclusion, we begin to face problems. Mostly emotional problems. This is because we have a sense of attachment to the ones we love. When we don’t succeed in establishing a tangible name to the sense of attachment the problems become grave. I’ve tried real hard to understand the ones that I love with the whole of my heart but with not much success. There are times when we spend some of the most memorable times of our lives. And as expected, we also go through some of the worst times of our lives, whatever the reason maybe. Sometimes the pain of losing a person is so excruciating that we cry. We shed tears because the pain cannot be taken away by anyone. The absence of a person makes us realize how much we really need their presence in our lives. But life is a bottomless pit until we die. And in this pit in which we are constantly being pulled toward death, we find people who steal our hearts. We find people who love us and are loved. We find people who become our source of strength and a pillar of support. We find people who inspire us. People who mean so much to us. Life is like a Rubik's cube. Most of us barely manage to restore the composite faces of the cube to a single color in time. The people we come across in our lives are like the composite faces of the cube. Rarely of the same kind. The goal is to restore each face to a single color. That never happens in our lives. People go their own ways. The force that unites and binds us is susceptible to weaken. Who’s to be blamed? It’s nobody’s fault. You love a person for what they are. You love a person because you see yourself in that person. That inevitably brings joy and happiness. That brings out the best in us. A lot of people talk about love. Only a few know what love truly is. Love is a journey through time and space. Perhaps the greatest emotion occurs when you love a person and are loved in return. On the contrary the most painful emotion occurs when your love is unrequited. It’s that simple. Sometimes the best thing one can do is just let change take charge of our lives. Sometimes not doing anything is also a solution. In the end, in my quest for the meaning of life, I have failed to distill the meaning of life and love. But that hasn’t really stopped me from searching. It never will.

Nostalgia

I miss the breath taking moments..
I miss the warm words..
I miss the silly fights..
I miss the mischievous lines..
I miss the laughter..
I miss the infectious smile..
I miss the chaos and mood swings..
I miss the passionate kisses..
I miss the black curly hair..
I miss the big black eyes..
I miss the gossip..
I miss the anxiety and the nervousness..
I miss the hushed secrets..
I miss the chirpy conversations..
I miss the tense moments..
I miss the pep talk..
I miss the best part of my life..
I will miss everything..
Maybe another life..maybe another place.