Uncanny resemblances to myself freak me out.
You ever had someone whom you thought were like the exact carbon copy of yourself in some or the other aspect? It is weird. I don’t claim those people are exactly like me in all the senses, but somewhere on some abstract level, they remind you so much of yourself that it does flip your mind out. Like the way they behave in a social gathering. I am never the star speaker, but heck, it always ends up like I would have to drive something around. And when I see someone do exactly the same things I would usually have done in the group meets, I just can’t help feel slightly squirmy. There can’t be two of me, Am trying to come to terms with one inside me, Dammit! (Grin...Have always been and always will be a narcissist to the core!) Someone who shares your love for Steven Erikson and Tolkien – Check. Makes me wonder! Do I sound so nerdy when I start on my favorite brand of books? Someone who goes gaga over my favorite (Oh well current!) sitcom character and tries to behave exactly like him - Check. I go, Duuude, Do I sound as goofy as he is when I get to act like that? Damn! Someone whose music collection and craze exactly mirrors yours – Check. I do not claim I’m a huge buff or the master when it comes to grunge alternate rock or bollywood music. But I like to check what’s the latest on the circuit and would always take an extra effort to go download that. But when I know now that I can second guess someone’s interests in this coz it is the friggin’ same ones, then I know it’s unnerving.
And you wonder, it always takes another one of yourselves to figure oneself out. Now that sounded confusing, the point am trying to drive home is, you never give second thoughts about you appear to others but you have someone else play it up for you, you sit up and take note. And then it is time to take that psychosomatic plunge into the stygian depth of your crazy mind to try and unravel those secrets about yourself. As Robin Scherbatsky asks, Whoooo ARE you?
Lost my mind in the morning? Check.
Friday, November 7, 2008
The Newest Fellowship.
“I make friends very fast, but not fast friends.”
Something that continues to haunt me for a lifetime, now I guess when I look back on the 25 odd years of my life.
Friday Evening, sometime in September.
So it was 10:30, well past in the night and most of the regular ‘mall-rats’ [those wannabe pretty young things wearing gravity-defying skirts and killer stilettos, hanging onto their hunky five-days-a-week-gym boy-toys flaunting their biceps in itsy-bitsy tee-shirts] had all gone home to cuddle up and whisper sweet nothings in their cell phones. The Mall outsides wore a deserted look, the wind was slowly picking up and I watched a plastic cover [that environmental time-bomb] slowly dance a tantalizing tango on the ground, buffed by the chill wind.
“Thank You!”
The voice brought me back to the world. I turned around to face the source of that ‘thank you’.
MK. [Notice how that rhymes with your Dad’s initials...grin] gave me a hesitant uncertain smile. I nodded my head and smiled back.
“You’re welcome”
She immediately flashed her regular mischievous grin and skipped along, falling into step beside me. “Okay!” and that made it sound like the most natural thing for me to be dropping her off home in the nights. I shook my head and smiled at myself, “Yeah Right!”
It has always been tough to make conversations with this group, especially her. Me, the nerd, only interested in comics, fantasy, alternate ‘Angrez’ music and she, dreamy, full of zeal and joie-de-vivre, a movie and sitcom maniac if any and a habit of exploding into maniacal bubbly peals of laughter every five nano-seconds. No way! Not even remotely compatible even in my most optimistic rose-tinted dreams.
(Hypothetical Hi-Five….Niiiiice! Grin)
So here I was, willing to drop this absolutely ‘nice’ [ I need to qualify this nice, because in spite of having spent her formative years in Delhi, gone to an Engineering college and actually stayed over in a hostel – horror of horrors-and then went on to do an MBA – no less- from – OMG- Goa (Of all the places), this girl retained that ‘nice’ tag – which trust me, Is Near-Impossible] girl back home, taking a 3-km detour away from my home at late night, with whom I had absolutely NO chances ever of hitting it off and yet, here I was, doing the very same thing! - Super fluffy-brained moron? Check.
So why was I doing that? ‘coz I realized at this point in my life, I could really use some time hanging around genuinely nice people. And that is what these guys were. Without any hang-ups or pretences. They were plain nice people, a welcome addition to my starved life! [ Ye know am conveniently forgetting all those lovely episodes of 'How I Met Your Mother' sitcoms, the countless movies that I copied from the precious HDD, the innumerable treats at CCD, the Nicknames that still continue to haunt and of course the inevitable fights that break out - but wait, Am jumping the gun here. That calls for another long post!]
And now I am drifting away again. Life’s turns has been so violent, am usually thrown off my rockers skidding uncontrollably. It so happens, I am leaving (In fact, already LEFT) this organization and jumping onto what K. (Now that’s another of the nice people I have befriended!) terms as, “as closest as it can get to a dream job break in marketing and I really hope you rock it here”. So just as I liked this bunch, I have had to call it the quits. Ironic!
There’s also Sh., who’s probably the most simplest and endearing persons I could ever have come across, and fits so effortlessly into the genuinely caring friend role with anyone he meets. Labeled by some, as the ‘bestest in the group’, he unfortunately forms the butt of all jokes. Another long one is due on this chap because there’s no dull moment with him or Mk. around in the group.
Keep your tabs on this coz am coming back to write a longer one on this topic. Peace out and don’t forget to brush those ‘kitaanu’ with the dishum-dishum toothpaste at nights. ( and No, I aint endorsing any brand for Gawd’s sake!)
Something that continues to haunt me for a lifetime, now I guess when I look back on the 25 odd years of my life.
Friday Evening, sometime in September.
So it was 10:30, well past in the night and most of the regular ‘mall-rats’ [those wannabe pretty young things wearing gravity-defying skirts and killer stilettos, hanging onto their hunky five-days-a-week-gym boy-toys flaunting their biceps in itsy-bitsy tee-shirts] had all gone home to cuddle up and whisper sweet nothings in their cell phones. The Mall outsides wore a deserted look, the wind was slowly picking up and I watched a plastic cover [that environmental time-bomb] slowly dance a tantalizing tango on the ground, buffed by the chill wind.
“Thank You!”
The voice brought me back to the world. I turned around to face the source of that ‘thank you’.
MK. [Notice how that rhymes with your Dad’s initials...grin] gave me a hesitant uncertain smile. I nodded my head and smiled back.
“You’re welcome”
She immediately flashed her regular mischievous grin and skipped along, falling into step beside me. “Okay!” and that made it sound like the most natural thing for me to be dropping her off home in the nights. I shook my head and smiled at myself, “Yeah Right!”
It has always been tough to make conversations with this group, especially her. Me, the nerd, only interested in comics, fantasy, alternate ‘Angrez’ music and she, dreamy, full of zeal and joie-de-vivre, a movie and sitcom maniac if any and a habit of exploding into maniacal bubbly peals of laughter every five nano-seconds. No way! Not even remotely compatible even in my most optimistic rose-tinted dreams.
(Hypothetical Hi-Five….Niiiiice! Grin)
So here I was, willing to drop this absolutely ‘nice’ [ I need to qualify this nice, because in spite of having spent her formative years in Delhi, gone to an Engineering college and actually stayed over in a hostel – horror of horrors-and then went on to do an MBA – no less- from – OMG- Goa (Of all the places), this girl retained that ‘nice’ tag – which trust me, Is Near-Impossible] girl back home, taking a 3-km detour away from my home at late night, with whom I had absolutely NO chances ever of hitting it off and yet, here I was, doing the very same thing! - Super fluffy-brained moron? Check.
So why was I doing that? ‘coz I realized at this point in my life, I could really use some time hanging around genuinely nice people. And that is what these guys were. Without any hang-ups or pretences. They were plain nice people, a welcome addition to my starved life! [ Ye know am conveniently forgetting all those lovely episodes of 'How I Met Your Mother' sitcoms, the countless movies that I copied from the precious HDD, the innumerable treats at CCD, the Nicknames that still continue to haunt and of course the inevitable fights that break out - but wait, Am jumping the gun here. That calls for another long post!]
And now I am drifting away again. Life’s turns has been so violent, am usually thrown off my rockers skidding uncontrollably. It so happens, I am leaving (In fact, already LEFT) this organization and jumping onto what K. (Now that’s another of the nice people I have befriended!) terms as, “as closest as it can get to a dream job break in marketing and I really hope you rock it here”. So just as I liked this bunch, I have had to call it the quits. Ironic!
There’s also Sh., who’s probably the most simplest and endearing persons I could ever have come across, and fits so effortlessly into the genuinely caring friend role with anyone he meets. Labeled by some, as the ‘bestest in the group’, he unfortunately forms the butt of all jokes. Another long one is due on this chap because there’s no dull moment with him or Mk. around in the group.
Keep your tabs on this coz am coming back to write a longer one on this topic. Peace out and don’t forget to brush those ‘kitaanu’ with the dishum-dishum toothpaste at nights. ( and No, I aint endorsing any brand for Gawd’s sake!)
Day 2. Blood Feud
Pre-script: I wrote this during those ten days of blood bath that followed at office when I announced my decision to quit. It's not quite old news but this happened a week before I could post. Any references or resemblances to persons living (or dead, how I wish!) is purely intentional with a lot of spite added. And I am not apologetic. But heck, I had a lot of fun writing this and I truly hope you guys do too. Plunge headlong - picture this, its day 2 of the amazing blood feud and am truly inspired to go more rounds.
The Consequences I live with.
It has been a bloody day at battle today. Both sides going strong, battered bloody and bruised and yet, no giving any inch of the ground. It has been an exhilarating experience to spar with someone who wields power far greater than me and yet, be winning points against them. Today is round 3, when we go at it again, hammer and tongs.
Morning has been such a whirlwind of experiences. I did not realize that in such a professional corporate environment too, people can take things personally and declare a vendetta against me. Meet R., a hugely deprived soul, hungry for attention of any kinds, a social retard of the worst order, with looks that on an average remind of you a demented marsupial kept in hunger captivity for a week. My batch-mates argue that he reminds you of an arachnid (spider) about to spring the web and looking around hungrily for the prey all the time, with a weird blue tooth device that sticks up like the antennae with funny lights. Armed with charming manners that would probably put even George of the Jungle on his first visit to civilization, to shame, he sticks out like a sore thumb in any social gathering. A person who probably still gets nightmares about his exploited childhood (“Mandir Ka Ghanta” Snigger!!) he has taken my decision to heart and nurses hatred and poison. I think, today morning, Mount Fuji kind of erupted. He makes a pretence of being cool and wants to have a ‘discussion’ with me. Enter meeting room. Close door. The mask is ripped off and out come the fangs. I was very amused for the first 5 minutes of the diatribe. How can this guy have survived EIGHT frigging years in a corporate? But then I mused. He has been the lackey for ever since and so has led a sheltered protected life. He even admitted that he is taking this personally and there is bad blood to my face. He accuses me of conspiring and planning this out for the past four months I sniggered, so much for having a ‘reasonable’ discussion and resigned myself, telling him that if he is so convinced, there is nothing in my human prowess that can convince him otherwise. (Frigging Bull Headed Mofa! I screamed inside my head) He goes on a rant about how this has been his baby and I probably am doing this to snub him (Yeah bring the fuckin baby in front of me, I shall personally chop it up, Anyways I think the baby was doomed as soon as it knew it was yours pal!) I told him to his face, that this interaction with him has been fascinating and he has really been an experience in himself, been a great learning experience and I so wish there is no more such learning experiences for ANY one else around in any organization. Fumes the color of rainbow kept passing over his face during this interaction and I loved to see him squirm. I sometimes picture him as a nasty looking huge cockroach and me pinning him down by the throat and smile watching him squirm and struggle. One day. Soon baby. Bide your time. Till then, Aragorn, son of Arathorn keeps me inspired –
“I see in your eyes, the same fear that would take the heart of me. The day may come when the courage of Man fails; When we forsake our bonds and break all bonds of friendship; but it is NOT THIS DAY.
This DAY WE FIGHT!
By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I BID YOU STAND”
There is lot I hold dear on this good earth. So stand my ground I shall. And Fight I will.
The Consequences I live with.
It has been a bloody day at battle today. Both sides going strong, battered bloody and bruised and yet, no giving any inch of the ground. It has been an exhilarating experience to spar with someone who wields power far greater than me and yet, be winning points against them. Today is round 3, when we go at it again, hammer and tongs.
Morning has been such a whirlwind of experiences. I did not realize that in such a professional corporate environment too, people can take things personally and declare a vendetta against me. Meet R., a hugely deprived soul, hungry for attention of any kinds, a social retard of the worst order, with looks that on an average remind of you a demented marsupial kept in hunger captivity for a week. My batch-mates argue that he reminds you of an arachnid (spider) about to spring the web and looking around hungrily for the prey all the time, with a weird blue tooth device that sticks up like the antennae with funny lights. Armed with charming manners that would probably put even George of the Jungle on his first visit to civilization, to shame, he sticks out like a sore thumb in any social gathering. A person who probably still gets nightmares about his exploited childhood (“Mandir Ka Ghanta” Snigger!!) he has taken my decision to heart and nurses hatred and poison. I think, today morning, Mount Fuji kind of erupted. He makes a pretence of being cool and wants to have a ‘discussion’ with me. Enter meeting room. Close door. The mask is ripped off and out come the fangs. I was very amused for the first 5 minutes of the diatribe. How can this guy have survived EIGHT frigging years in a corporate? But then I mused. He has been the lackey for ever since and so has led a sheltered protected life. He even admitted that he is taking this personally and there is bad blood to my face. He accuses me of conspiring and planning this out for the past four months I sniggered, so much for having a ‘reasonable’ discussion and resigned myself, telling him that if he is so convinced, there is nothing in my human prowess that can convince him otherwise. (Frigging Bull Headed Mofa! I screamed inside my head) He goes on a rant about how this has been his baby and I probably am doing this to snub him (Yeah bring the fuckin baby in front of me, I shall personally chop it up, Anyways I think the baby was doomed as soon as it knew it was yours pal!) I told him to his face, that this interaction with him has been fascinating and he has really been an experience in himself, been a great learning experience and I so wish there is no more such learning experiences for ANY one else around in any organization. Fumes the color of rainbow kept passing over his face during this interaction and I loved to see him squirm. I sometimes picture him as a nasty looking huge cockroach and me pinning him down by the throat and smile watching him squirm and struggle. One day. Soon baby. Bide your time. Till then, Aragorn, son of Arathorn keeps me inspired –
“I see in your eyes, the same fear that would take the heart of me. The day may come when the courage of Man fails; When we forsake our bonds and break all bonds of friendship; but it is NOT THIS DAY.
This DAY WE FIGHT!
By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I BID YOU STAND”
There is lot I hold dear on this good earth. So stand my ground I shall. And Fight I will.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Gelf Experiences
Rainy Tuesday night on a crowded train from Kerala to Bangalore. Sweltering hot. Raised voices that makes you want to take a swan-dive off the next bridge.
While I was musing on how best to spend my time, this cloud burst of an inspiration struck me: Study of human subjects. Specifically, my neighbors on the train in the next bay. Made an amazing case study – this motley crew just returned from the ‘Gelf’ J
Dig this: How do you ascertain if that chatty family is immigrant from Kerala who found their calling in the Middle East?
Lemme give you some infallible tips after my wonderful experience with this family in that ten-hour long train journey.
Point One: The first indication is the whiff of perfume. Expensive Davidoff Coolwater, fragrances of rose-water ‘attar’, mixed with a lot of exotic heady ladies cologne. And while you wonder where on earth is such heavenly fragrance wafting from, a cacophony of noises drown out any reaction that you would have wanted to make. A family of about nine (for want of not offending any body’s puritan senses, I am restricting the family size to nine which is actually quite a modest number) huffs and puffs through the narrow passage way of the sleeper-class compartment in the train. Lugging luggage (American Tourister and Samsonite no less!) the size of mini golf-carts piled sky high one on top of another.
That’s your first brush with these characters.
Point Two: Do you spot that one male, who is probably the size of a beached whale resting on the Miami Beach, hair colored a weird shade of orange and graying at the sides and definitely on the receding end of things, at the centre of everything, controlling things? He’s probably sweating bullets and sports a huge clean white kerchief, mopping his brows and now splotched dark with sweat stains. (This is like the hundredth time he is coming back to his motherland, and yet, having been used to the air-conditioning in the middle of Gobi desert, he’s yet to adjust back to the humid air of Kerala!) That’s the patriarch. The buck stops here. The rock around which others rally. Our man is leading the whole family back into their native land – Good old Kerala from Gelf.
Point three: The Patriarch is by default surrounded by at least three to four ladies, lending voice to the chaos in high pitched falsettos. Against conventional beliefs, these ladies usually are given to brazenly uncovering their hair and only have a dupatta casually draped around their shoulders, stand tall in their Jimmy Choos bought at the last Dubai Shopping Extravaganza and smell of a thousand other fragrances which would send your nose into a tizzy just trying to unravel. Mostly on the healthier side, these ladies would be cradling at least one to two toddlers who would be bawling their lungs out for attention.
Point four: The Rich Spoilt Brats. Boy: Young, Natty, clad in expensive Puma/Adidas footballer tees, and shorts, sporting very large gaudy Casio sports-watches on their wrists and always with a video-game in hand that looks like it will cost you at least 2 months salary. The older ones (mind you, when I say old, I mean like nine or ten) always have the Nokia N-series which they casually flip around in their hands.
Girl: Very young, usually looks like the DOLL. Very pretty, completely dolled up in the latest western outfit, hair cut in the latest French fringe style and wearing five-inch heels ( beat that!). Slightly older girls fare no better, with the complete doll outfits, and hair let loose without a dupatta covering it up. Always with that frosty-nosed stare, eyes made up, and nose stuck-up in a richie-rich snob look and dresses that glimmer and shine in the dark.
That makes up most of the nine-member family from Gelf who are out for a summer vacation back at the ancestral home in Kerala. You can’t go wrong with these pointers; All Gelf Returnees! Hail “Mallu-land Dufaaaii”!
While I was musing on how best to spend my time, this cloud burst of an inspiration struck me: Study of human subjects. Specifically, my neighbors on the train in the next bay. Made an amazing case study – this motley crew just returned from the ‘Gelf’ J
Dig this: How do you ascertain if that chatty family is immigrant from Kerala who found their calling in the Middle East?
Lemme give you some infallible tips after my wonderful experience with this family in that ten-hour long train journey.
Point One: The first indication is the whiff of perfume. Expensive Davidoff Coolwater, fragrances of rose-water ‘attar’, mixed with a lot of exotic heady ladies cologne. And while you wonder where on earth is such heavenly fragrance wafting from, a cacophony of noises drown out any reaction that you would have wanted to make. A family of about nine (for want of not offending any body’s puritan senses, I am restricting the family size to nine which is actually quite a modest number) huffs and puffs through the narrow passage way of the sleeper-class compartment in the train. Lugging luggage (American Tourister and Samsonite no less!) the size of mini golf-carts piled sky high one on top of another.
That’s your first brush with these characters.
Point Two: Do you spot that one male, who is probably the size of a beached whale resting on the Miami Beach, hair colored a weird shade of orange and graying at the sides and definitely on the receding end of things, at the centre of everything, controlling things? He’s probably sweating bullets and sports a huge clean white kerchief, mopping his brows and now splotched dark with sweat stains. (This is like the hundredth time he is coming back to his motherland, and yet, having been used to the air-conditioning in the middle of Gobi desert, he’s yet to adjust back to the humid air of Kerala!) That’s the patriarch. The buck stops here. The rock around which others rally. Our man is leading the whole family back into their native land – Good old Kerala from Gelf.
Point three: The Patriarch is by default surrounded by at least three to four ladies, lending voice to the chaos in high pitched falsettos. Against conventional beliefs, these ladies usually are given to brazenly uncovering their hair and only have a dupatta casually draped around their shoulders, stand tall in their Jimmy Choos bought at the last Dubai Shopping Extravaganza and smell of a thousand other fragrances which would send your nose into a tizzy just trying to unravel. Mostly on the healthier side, these ladies would be cradling at least one to two toddlers who would be bawling their lungs out for attention.
Point four: The Rich Spoilt Brats. Boy: Young, Natty, clad in expensive Puma/Adidas footballer tees, and shorts, sporting very large gaudy Casio sports-watches on their wrists and always with a video-game in hand that looks like it will cost you at least 2 months salary. The older ones (mind you, when I say old, I mean like nine or ten) always have the Nokia N-series which they casually flip around in their hands.
Girl: Very young, usually looks like the DOLL. Very pretty, completely dolled up in the latest western outfit, hair cut in the latest French fringe style and wearing five-inch heels ( beat that!). Slightly older girls fare no better, with the complete doll outfits, and hair let loose without a dupatta covering it up. Always with that frosty-nosed stare, eyes made up, and nose stuck-up in a richie-rich snob look and dresses that glimmer and shine in the dark.
That makes up most of the nine-member family from Gelf who are out for a summer vacation back at the ancestral home in Kerala. You can’t go wrong with these pointers; All Gelf Returnees! Hail “Mallu-land Dufaaaii”!
Monday, October 20, 2008
Dropping the Bomb!
I finally heard the penny drop. The sound of Click! Ah sweet mother in heaven. Finally killed those countless ghosts which had filled up the depths of my mind. Yesterday night, I was pondering how they must have felt, before they dropped the bombs little man and fat boy over Hiroshima, Nagasaki. I don’t know how they felt, but I seriously felt queasy. Sick to the stomach. But now that the deed’s done, I am feeling better. What the heck! I dropped the bomb and now it is only left how to fend off the blood feud. I don’t quite look forward to this but, what should happen, will happen. Amen.
The Eternal Questions in Life
Some days are foggy. When reason fails to cut through the clutter.
And I question the purpose of existence. For a larger picture, that someone above is languidly painting on my black and white canvas of a life. I keep wondering when He is going to dip his brush into that pot of bright poster colors (kept open and drying fast beside Him) and splash across my canvas. To bring it alive in an explosion of multi colored hues and shades. And to this day, I keep waiting.
As usual, am in the middle of a transition period in life. And as usual, faced with ponderous life-threatening decisions to make, I am indeed confused. As would any youngling in his impressionable twenties trying to tie down the loose ends of his life, would rightfully be. And Lord, lend me strength to make that right decision.
Today was yet another blotch on my existence. When the guilt that I have not been productive and not contributed to the well being of the other six-billion creatures who walk this earth with me, is slowly threatening to swallow my soul.
I pass time by trying to draft that perfect “separation” notice letter to my employer, praying this does not end in another of those blood baths. (too much blood have I been witness to) I am happy, I am gonna be doing something I love. The lure of greenbacks is hard to resist again. Which doesn’t hurt of course.
And what gnaws at the back of my mind? That I would displease someone whom I really don’t give a rat’s backside about? Somebody pin down that black shadow of a doubt and execute it for me please. I cannot bear to think straight with that hooded assassin (of reason? of logic?) lurking in the back of my mind. Help!
From flames to dust,
Lovers to Friends,
Why do all good things come to an end?
And I question the purpose of existence. For a larger picture, that someone above is languidly painting on my black and white canvas of a life. I keep wondering when He is going to dip his brush into that pot of bright poster colors (kept open and drying fast beside Him) and splash across my canvas. To bring it alive in an explosion of multi colored hues and shades. And to this day, I keep waiting.
As usual, am in the middle of a transition period in life. And as usual, faced with ponderous life-threatening decisions to make, I am indeed confused. As would any youngling in his impressionable twenties trying to tie down the loose ends of his life, would rightfully be. And Lord, lend me strength to make that right decision.
Today was yet another blotch on my existence. When the guilt that I have not been productive and not contributed to the well being of the other six-billion creatures who walk this earth with me, is slowly threatening to swallow my soul.
I pass time by trying to draft that perfect “separation” notice letter to my employer, praying this does not end in another of those blood baths. (too much blood have I been witness to) I am happy, I am gonna be doing something I love. The lure of greenbacks is hard to resist again. Which doesn’t hurt of course.
And what gnaws at the back of my mind? That I would displease someone whom I really don’t give a rat’s backside about? Somebody pin down that black shadow of a doubt and execute it for me please. I cannot bear to think straight with that hooded assassin (of reason? of logic?) lurking in the back of my mind. Help!
From flames to dust,
Lovers to Friends,
Why do all good things come to an end?
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Blues or Bliss?
Weekend Blues
I know, it’s like a misnomer! I mean, who the fuck gets blues on a weekend pal?
Sadly, I do.
Lets face it, Life Rocks – reads one of my friends’ wall on facebook. Hmmm...lets see –
Friday night-out at the movies, [in between I got a phone-call that could change my life!], Saturday lunch-out with a close friend with whom I can rant about everything that is wrong in my life, Evening spent on splurging in buying my favorite books, Night spent at home eating YUM butter chicken masala and watching ‘Black Dahlia’ [Which I rank as Josh Hartnett’s best movie ever beating Lucky Number Slevin], Sunday lazed at home watching re-runs on the telly, catching up with friends in Mumbai [this was very nice], spoke to a NYU Grad who wants to shoot a film la-RDB-ishtyle for her thesis on Indian Call-centre [Correct, am auditioning and I’m hoping she’s as nice looking as Suu aka Gulabbo], now lazing in my bean-bag typing away [ in between I got chided for having slept through the afternoon, I disappointed this really nice girl coz I did not take a huge hint for having coffee with her, Loser that I am!], with Phillip Pullman’s Golden Compass lying next to me.
Good weekend in most senses. Lazy self-indulgent, completely on my terms. I guess in that ways, I’m an extreme existentialist and hate it when someone tells me what to do with my life. I like the Blues. I like the mess. I like the hazy uncertainties that swarm around and engulf me most of the times. Because I like my life, on my own terms. And am glad.
I know, it’s like a misnomer! I mean, who the fuck gets blues on a weekend pal?
Sadly, I do.
Lets face it, Life Rocks – reads one of my friends’ wall on facebook. Hmmm...lets see –
Friday night-out at the movies, [in between I got a phone-call that could change my life!], Saturday lunch-out with a close friend with whom I can rant about everything that is wrong in my life, Evening spent on splurging in buying my favorite books, Night spent at home eating YUM butter chicken masala and watching ‘Black Dahlia’ [Which I rank as Josh Hartnett’s best movie ever beating Lucky Number Slevin], Sunday lazed at home watching re-runs on the telly, catching up with friends in Mumbai [this was very nice], spoke to a NYU Grad who wants to shoot a film la-RDB-ishtyle for her thesis on Indian Call-centre [Correct, am auditioning and I’m hoping she’s as nice looking as Suu aka Gulabbo], now lazing in my bean-bag typing away [ in between I got chided for having slept through the afternoon, I disappointed this really nice girl coz I did not take a huge hint for having coffee with her, Loser that I am!], with Phillip Pullman’s Golden Compass lying next to me.
Good weekend in most senses. Lazy self-indulgent, completely on my terms. I guess in that ways, I’m an extreme existentialist and hate it when someone tells me what to do with my life. I like the Blues. I like the mess. I like the hazy uncertainties that swarm around and engulf me most of the times. Because I like my life, on my own terms. And am glad.
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