Thursday, December 13, 2012

The Last Call !!!

BACKHOE (Pictorial Representation) aka ME
CR – Abhi
Global consultant & Neetu – Sridhar
Dementia – My second track
Kaput – my good side


Void ab initio – deemed invalid since begining

बस आखिरी कॉल!  फिर नहीं ! It is difficult to finish a never ending conversation.  A tsunami might have hit 10 meters away, a lightning thunder must have roasted Neetu, and finally I could see CR shutting his mouth up with asphyxiation. I might have been hallucinating, though I wished for a moment it was true at least for CR; night seemed to be colder than before in Jampot and a claustrophobic feel entrenched me beneath an open sky.

My fear was staring at me; “In your face Bro!”; harder was to allay the thought of not calling her tomorrow. No more of colossal bills, no more of SMS recharge packages, would Bharti Airtel go bankrupt (the demented MBAian spoke again), even smoke rings looked like sore arses.

A pause, “tomorrow, I’m getting married “. I was taken down by shrillness of Abhi’s voice, “साले QUIZ का टाइम हो रहा है दोनों साले कहाँ @#$@# रहे हो!!“Fuck you CR, another word you utter and I would get a crane, pick you with your balls…..” for the first time I felt like a Backhoe (the mean crane machine). CR could well sense the gravity of the situation and left blabbering for some other location.

“You there?” yeah very much, but not in totality, a part me had been sucked into void.  The night seemed to grow darker, colder, emptier and blunt.  I felt this vicious week was at fault, all Indian were at fault, how whole of India can get married in November. “सबको शादी करने की पड़ी है, ##$^%^ ! शादी न हो गयी चरस हो गयी बो दो सबकी २३@#@#$” (Dementia speaks!)

The noises in background subdued, I couldn’t utter a word, she was leaving me, I recollected myself, swallowed the lump which grew heavy with each second, I said those three magical words, “all the best !”.  ( Crash ! Seriously dude, after a courtship period of 6 years all she gets to hear is “ALL THE BEST!”, and what is so magical about it.) The three words can fit in any situation (Dementia speaks!) ;   I tried, tried and tried, all I could utter were words which seemed utter sham, we exchanged few rounds of warmth, few more rounds of conversations, few more…... It lasted for an hour.

She said: “Good Bye! I’ll see you soon.” That’s it I suppose. ”What did she mean by see you soon?” I stood there in the corridor all alone staring into the void, She dropped off, why me? Why her, why us, why the fuck am I in Jampot (Dude you have paid 15 lakhs for your MBA- yours sincerely Kaput), hence this question is void ab initio.

My cologne had stopped working, all of a sudden I could feel a stubble on my face ( but I did shave this morning), my sweatshirt seemed sulky, my shoes seemed torn, In the mirror nearby I could see the other side of me smiling.

अबे बिशु दा के ढाबे चलो BACKHOE, QUIZ के तो पकोड़े लग गए, global consultant पता नहीं कहाँ loafing कर रहा है! CR was back, he smiled jovially, but it failed to elate me. We walked slowly out of the alley; CR’s chatter box was still on, all of a sudden it struck me, I had left my watch back in the library, CR promptly said अमा तो ले आते हैं, घडी ही तो है घोडा थोड़ी ना भाग जायेगी जो?”

I smiled for a moment, “she gave me that as a gift let it is. Not needed anymore.”

बिशु दा, 3 चाय और 1 सुट्टा देना

The smoke within admonished me, I smiled and said “Perhaps I will take that wrist watch tomorrow morning!!”

Giving Up !!!!

This part, right here is a void; I can’t face myself in the mirror. After initial hysteria that died, the euphoric tunes seem to have turned into cacophonous noises. All that is left a void, a chasm which I find hard to fill in.

This part right here is called GIVING UP!

I was done with my salary negotiations which didn't go as expected. I think I couldn't get my share because I was weak, I couldn't hard sell. Even an ostrich could have bargained better than me. It hurts you more when people around you were able to fetch more than you. Damn….

Then Rahul says, “Dude, it seems you got nervous” poor me, spot on, bingo, yeah you got it right Rahul, and here is your million dollar cheque. To cash it you got to sign – ARSE!
I still feel more than anything that hurts me is that I failed yet again to take a stand, the feeling is immense, dis-aggregated I feel an inertia surmounting, sucking me back to a chasm. In short I feel like crying. Meanwhile somewhere deep down, dementia speaks, “Crocodile tears don’t fetch you money. You Jackass!!!”
Yeah, it’s silly, I can’t ask god why me because I know. I’m the ONE! The only ONE! The only CHOSEN ONE – MORON DONKEY.

My room is in a mess, so is my brain – brain dead. People around are happy , they demand treats, they demand alcohol, they demand YO YO HONEY SINGH, after all I’m about to become GLOBAL LEADER. An oxymoron donkey still feels better than Global Leader – True Story.
To add to the broth, I feel cheated, I feel hell. Congrats dude for creating one damn awesome BROTHELL!!!

I don’t know which clothes to fold, which papers to put to basket, where to search for my wallet, even that damn itch guard is missing. If there was an award for philanthropy, congrats you just won an award. Best Saving caused to your company, errrrrr….. Future company.  What I always had cherished for doesn't seem lucrative enough…..

This part right here is called GIVING UP!

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Diaries of a Back Bencher

क्या क्या चलता है इस दिमाग में, ऐ ग़ालिब
कहीं फितुरियां उमड़ रही होती है, तो कहीं कसक बुनी जाती है

बेबाक तथ्यों से होकर गुज़रे थे, देखा की गलियां इतनी सूनी क्यूँ हैं
पास मुहल्ले में ईदगाह है वही पर होंगे सब के सब.
कमबख्त क्या मालूम, पास में स्कूल भी लगा करता है
आजकल वहीँ आराम फरमा लेते हैं

Monday, April 2, 2012

A dream worth dying for.....

Everyday, I start afresh
take a hit, I don't mind,
scars on soul remind me of times
take a shot, I can't whine

everyday, I start to run
to tear the chaos, to cut loose from the wind
a slying chrome defines my world
an elusive dream outta my clutch

the times I was struck, at times I'm  broke
at times when the jeer, at times when the shout
I would take a shot, and run for a mile.
I would take a jibe on myself, 
Put on my trendy clothes, 
no matter I have a 1 rupee coin
would go out and run for a mile

Saturday, March 31, 2012

India : Paunch in the Genes

Disclaimer: This post carries adult content, though in no ways intended to insult anyone. No Alpha males were harmed during the observations made. 

Travelling by metro on an early saturday morning towards Delhi, my moron cells made an important discovery.
I usually prefer travelling at the cusp of bogies, conjoining reserved women's compartment with the potpourri (that includes me). This lot primarily consist   of men who love being touched and touching others (to the point of fulfilling their carnal desires). Few love sleeping over you. 
The objective to position myself in such a place (trust me lucky few get this place) solve my two point agenda:
a. you don't have to smell "smelly-bushy" armpits of Indian Alpha male (NO matter how many ads portray desires fulfilled, bhabhis giving you lap dances and  AXING of libidos (A Pisces love exaggeration), we aka WE don't believe in applying DEODORANTS.  PERIOD!!! ). The fragrance from the other side is mesmerizing. The awry alpha male on the other side always look to this side wanting and panting for more. An unreachable territory  which for many out is desirable, intrigued eyes left wanting for more. Especially if you are around INA, jorbagh and Saket stations loads of pretty faces can be found, an eye candy. (Delhites call them totta)
Few who are brave and overenthusiastic try crossing the tormented line only to be ridiculed and sent back. The raucous aunties have their pound of flesh (You would always find one around in metro and trust me they won't get up and dance). These libidos then return with a clumsy smile. I guess that was the closest they ever got to a girl.
In the back ground someone mobiles rings "Ooh lala ooh lala, tuh hai meri fantasy !!! na na na..". Aptly said it describes the state of the men standing near that exclusive spot. The B-spot (aka BOGUS)

b. You are left amused with very interesting conversations from both ends. samples:
    "तू मुझे बहुत डांटेगी, पर मैंने ना उससे Break up कर लिया. yaar he was two timing me. कितनी परेशान हूँ मैं  !!!"
    "अरे हम कह रहे हैं ना बस पहुचते हैं , चरस बो दिए है आप  तोह!!" (and then he recites in a poetic tone, remembering mothers and sisters of our motherland)
"ओ जी, बच्चे  को सु सु  (toilet the no 1 types) लगी है ना, यही दरवाज़े पर करा दो ! gents लोगों  के लिए ही problem होती है . बच्चों के  लिए नहीं ."(I almost had a cardiac arrest after hearing this)

TRIVIA: *चरस : poppies. A kind of crude drug used by druggist across globe. 
*बो : sown. 
I can't really tell you the intricacies of where the man in question sowing these poppies. 

Unlike tube/metros around the globe you would rarely find people reading. READING !!! "man its like he is intellectual types". "Not that he is a loner but he wants to read". "inko dekho metro mein padhai kar rahe hain." To add to his travesty, people along with him start reading too. They don't read his book but read his expressions. "BHaiya ji padhai kar rahe hain!!!"

The metro stops at Saket, enters our GEN-X. O benc$@#s !! The colors subliming into one, pump up shoes from Palika bazar, the well spiked gelled harido (as a baldy I'm jealous) and a 'YO' attitude on their shoulders. I could well see scores of Mr. Kohli's,  few enter with their girlfriends. 
In our times, I would have sung "yehi hai right choice baby, aha !!"
First thoughts the alpha male first stares-glares (बाय गौड आँखों से दरिन्दिगी टपक रही है.) and then thinks - "sahi totta hai !!". There is heartburn in the air, few are left bloating and and few have been stuck with acidity only to relieve gases at an appropriate time. (The time bomb timer has been set).
Few uncles think aloud, ladies compartment toh aagey fir......!!

Midst all this lovely crow-d, I was about to discover something....
Lighting had struck me, and I saw them kissing, paunch of men kissing other paunches !!! Holy cow !!! Eureka !! I had witnessed an epiphany.
Verdict: We Indians are best suited for Jeans. Our body - made up of fat, proteins, minerals, muscles, tissues and GAS (tick tick tick!!) is physically the best place for the jeans to reside on.

Dear Jeans, its in our genes,
to imbibe thy flair,
to put you on, to test thy stitching
thy strongest cloth would hold my derriere,
my paunch would rest on thy top,
thy completes my attire,
Thy complete my attitude

O' thou and I look so good together
O'Jeans you are in my genes.

(this verbatim is a piece of literature I follow - PROFANITY)

Jeans in rugged for decades, few unwashed for years, faded, crisscrossed, few inviting (showing the most illustrious and most sensuous part of alpha male)  bum cleavages, jeans tore from the ends, few which not only cover the curves but also our very own customized bellies (soft and hard, three tier architectures etc.). 
Apart from the ones available in the market such as Boot cuts, straight cut, low waists, low bums, skinny. There is an elite design one which even covers you chest - yes these are our very own two in one.
The genes are symbolic for us, the anonymous hero which never lets you down, you take it to places (you booze, flush, fight, abuse, rest etc) and it bears everything. More over it bears the weight of your paunch sometimes by making it rest over it and  sometimes covering it. It goes in handy. If your jeans fails to cover you roundness, you can always open its button before lunch and yet it would hang in there as fateful (faithful) partner, it transpires and becomes low waist (some time low bum too). Yet it never has and perhaps never would find a mention in the books. I salute to the unsung hero. 
I dedicate thou the Haywards anthem: Hausla ho buland !!
On the other hand, the GENX has made the girl laugh and the witnesses are about to diffuse their time bombs(tick tick tick !!!).

You have kissed  paunch every thing and trust me "tu mera hero".

the tsunami of thoughts took a jerk. Our very own Shammi Narang (the voice of the metor announcer, a veteran from Doordarshan days) breaks into.
"अगला स्टेशन पटेल चौक! दरवाज़े दायीं तरफ खुलेंगे. कृपया दरवाजों से चिपक कर खड़े हों." (its not चिपक, though it goes better with the phrase, actually its हट )
My station had arrived and the silent time bomb has just been exploded. I had to get out. GO GO GO !!!
This time I saved my genes. 

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Vertigo !

I poured in 4 cups of Americano,
a dangling modifier misplaced my vision
it feels I'm in a vertigo
it cuts me out to the core 
oh no, how should I tell you...
yeah, it feels I'm in a vertigo

painted zigzag on the canvas,
ranted thoughts in diary,
staring walls of my room...
yes, it feels I'm in a vertigo
pulled out my rugged jeans, 
got omelette and a beer
It seems few meteorites just hit my head,
it feels I'm in a vertigo

got to nearest subway,
boarded a train to an unknown station,
my thoughts are still in a tizzy,
yeah I'm in a vertigo.....