This is a piece of humor.
Short cropped hair, and weight just a kilo short of being classified as an overweight, and a rajput style moustache(Took lot of twirls to get it up !), i seemed to be looking as a picture of good living
A nice pair of goggles, (aviator style of course), and clad in jacket (uncharacteristic, but it is kind of chilly in Delhi, these days), I was waiting near Regal, to catch up with a school friend of mine.
Everybody has tied the knot that much I could understand, but she has a kid as well...! Suddenly I felt old, very old...but I was looking forward to meeting her, she was one of the few people who I bumped in BCL sporadically.
She walks in, and immediately recognizes me....for a mother she looks remarkably great...and I said" damm it you look great...very pretty...!!
Your attempt at diplomacy is not really great Srikant...but humor seems to be fine !
I do not need to diplomatic with you...I retorted, with a smile...!!
Chuck coffee (I was in no moods for a royal phatka !)...let’s take a walk around, the weather is good. We made it to the open grassy space on top of Palika, and started reminiscing.
In walks, a punter policeman, a new recruit(just guessing here!), and looks at the couple(us).Immediately adopting the moral policing standard he walks with a gruff and menacing expression on his face...and uses some .........let’s say Delhi words.
Not wanting to pick up a fight I just ignored...but he increased the decibel. Something snapped inside me, I stood up , jutted my chest out and said “Second Lt Srikant Rajan, 12 Rajputana Rifles, OTA Chennai...and that is my fiancée..., then for good measure in Hindi...your name, rank, commanding officer and taluka"
Balle Balle ho gayi...!!
Sorry sir, really sorry.....galti ho gayi...he almost made it to my feet...but I stepped back…… I wasn’t sure if I would be able could contain my laughter...I just said....Dharamveer... aise parehan mat karo ...
Hearing his name, he gave a startled response, but I continued staring at his chest...on his name plate. His eyes caught my gaze, then almost in tears, he said....Sir, strict orders against couples here...there have been some cases here...and hum to bas apna kaam kar rahe they...but you can sit here sir...no problem.
But I had..., if punter got bada officer… the roles of me and punter would be reversed.
Ok, we will leave in a few minutes....ab aap jao yahan se.
Ok sire, bilkul sir…
The lady stared, and thankfully had a neutral expression…… I said in low tones we leave in 5 minutes, she nodded….
30 minutes later …in a CCD… (Pretty far from Palika !), Lady ji remarks…” That was wild ….but it was fun too...!”
If the babu was around the punter….it would have been hilarious…madam…!! And someone else would be having the fun part, I added wryly.
Journey back home, I walked a bit and then took the metro from Barakhamba Road, and adopted a clean shaven look :):)
Monday, September 20, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Fag Time...Not quite :)
It was a ding time, a very ding time indeed.
This happened during my time in Chennai, pretty recently. Most of my team mates, corrections rather the entire office seemed to be surviving on a diet of smokes and coffee. Every hour, damm it, every hour they needed a fix, for good living or for leisure or for habit(or all !!). I on the other hand had earned the nickname of Biscuit man (quite an improvement over banana, I think).
Anyways, I had never smoked ever. I had drunk like a fish and retched horribly, and snorted straight through the nose...but no smoke, ever.
Chalo yeh kasar bhi poori kar deten hain, as krishna would have told, try it once gurudev.
In enter a post lunch walkathon from Sangeeta to my room. I stopped by the Pan shop.
A Wills light I said the …….first thing that came to my mind.
The panwadi gave me a stick, I smelled it, and then reached for the matches, keeping a mask of good living on my face.
Darn my fingers started trembling; the guy gave me a curious look, but did not say anything.I balled my fingers into a fist to steady myself, and made to reach for a light ....then,I started shaking pretty bad, almost shivering.
Darn it Rajan Steady……. you can do it, and you can leave it too!!
But something told me that this time it won’t be that easy, I kept the cigarette down on the counter and stared into the open space for some time. Now the panwadi was staring at me intently, or rather for some curious reason my fingernails.
I returned his gaze and ……..
He shook his head, as I reached for the smoke again, he snatched it and said in Tamil, I won’t give it sir, please go from here"
That firmness……. That ignition…… That anger…… of that guy seemed to stir something in me. He has no stake in my welfare, none indeed.
The moment passed by..........the crack in the wall resealed itself; the demon is still in the cage,
Dong !!
But yeah the cookies remain ......anyone for cookies? Ding dong indeeed :)
This happened during my time in Chennai, pretty recently. Most of my team mates, corrections rather the entire office seemed to be surviving on a diet of smokes and coffee. Every hour, damm it, every hour they needed a fix, for good living or for leisure or for habit(or all !!). I on the other hand had earned the nickname of Biscuit man (quite an improvement over banana, I think).
Anyways, I had never smoked ever. I had drunk like a fish and retched horribly, and snorted straight through the nose...but no smoke, ever.
Chalo yeh kasar bhi poori kar deten hain, as krishna would have told, try it once gurudev.
In enter a post lunch walkathon from Sangeeta to my room. I stopped by the Pan shop.
A Wills light I said the …….first thing that came to my mind.
The panwadi gave me a stick, I smelled it, and then reached for the matches, keeping a mask of good living on my face.
Darn my fingers started trembling; the guy gave me a curious look, but did not say anything.I balled my fingers into a fist to steady myself, and made to reach for a light ....then,I started shaking pretty bad, almost shivering.
Darn it Rajan Steady……. you can do it, and you can leave it too!!
But something told me that this time it won’t be that easy, I kept the cigarette down on the counter and stared into the open space for some time. Now the panwadi was staring at me intently, or rather for some curious reason my fingernails.
I returned his gaze and ……..
He shook his head, as I reached for the smoke again, he snatched it and said in Tamil, I won’t give it sir, please go from here"
That firmness……. That ignition…… That anger…… of that guy seemed to stir something in me. He has no stake in my welfare, none indeed.
The moment passed by..........the crack in the wall resealed itself; the demon is still in the cage,
Dong !!
But yeah the cookies remain ......anyone for cookies? Ding dong indeeed :)
Friday, September 10, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Just How Messed Up Can Someone Be ?
A software guy called me today from the land of whites, a land with no morals. He is one of the smartest and intelligent guys I have ever known and one of the very level headed people.
The conversation lasted for close to an hour, he had a recent bad experience with a female, and unlike other people who have been jilted, he spoke very calmly but in rage.
I was scared, there is not telling how these people reacts, there is no outlet, tears, or anything. I asked him to write his experience and send it to me. It is a catharsis of pain, I told him. He seemed hesitant, being a software guy all he had was Google skills or rather he was a google monkey and he was candid to admit it.
But, I was insistent, I told him to write a single word and send it to me.
“A single word, how do I get that”, he asked kind of with attention.
It seems to have got him hooked. I racked my brains for some tricks to convince him after this. I told him to take fragments of conversations with the female and write one word after each sentence, then build up all those words and make a story.
Being a cricket junkie, I gave him an analog, each ball bowled is long or short, fast or slow from the perfect delivery, and there is always a flaw. Just look at the bad part of the conversation which you had with her and assiduously build on that to wrest out a single emotion.
A long silence .
Sitting in some god forsaken state in the US, I had no contact with him.
I will mail you, and ……….click.
True to his word, there landed a mail, and it is …………..very intense.
I am taking the liberty of sharing it; there are no names, no places, no identifiers at all, only the emotion remains!! and darn it just seems like a nice piece of fiction straight from a M&B
The conversation lasted for close to an hour, he had a recent bad experience with a female, and unlike other people who have been jilted, he spoke very calmly but in rage.
I was scared, there is not telling how these people reacts, there is no outlet, tears, or anything. I asked him to write his experience and send it to me. It is a catharsis of pain, I told him. He seemed hesitant, being a software guy all he had was Google skills or rather he was a google monkey and he was candid to admit it.
But, I was insistent, I told him to write a single word and send it to me.
“A single word, how do I get that”, he asked kind of with attention.
It seems to have got him hooked. I racked my brains for some tricks to convince him after this. I told him to take fragments of conversations with the female and write one word after each sentence, then build up all those words and make a story.
Being a cricket junkie, I gave him an analog, each ball bowled is long or short, fast or slow from the perfect delivery, and there is always a flaw. Just look at the bad part of the conversation which you had with her and assiduously build on that to wrest out a single emotion.
A long silence .
Sitting in some god forsaken state in the US, I had no contact with him.
I will mail you, and ……….click.
True to his word, there landed a mail, and it is …………..very intense.
I am taking the liberty of sharing it; there are no names, no places, no identifiers at all, only the emotion remains!! and darn it just seems like a nice piece of fiction straight from a M&B
Just How Messed Up Can Someone Be
You cannot handle emotions, they scare you.
Your parents bore you so you ran away from home. You choose to sit at the campus hostel for a week all alone without any strings attached because you are selfish. You never know the joy of giving for you have always taken.
Your parents bore you so you ran away from home. You choose to sit at the campus hostel for a week all alone without any strings attached because you are selfish. You never know the joy of giving for you have always taken.
I always thought there was a child, a golden child, within you, the way you spoke, the way you laughed and way you lapsed into a rare silence. Alas, it was not the child, it was the mean devil, for every action of yours is for your own benefit.
When you have extracted your pound of flesh, you just throw it away. The lowliest level of existence is you. Even the hooker on the road gives her body for money, but you abuse mind ....and discard it when it seeks reciprocation.
You choose to hide behind the veil of modesty, but you ride cross country hugging a stranger on a bike. When I asked you to come and meet me for an instant, you throw the gauntlet of modesty, and morality, can anyone get hypocritical than this?
From the hole at the top to the two in your bottom; there is nothing, just a big zero Your existence does not deserve to be acknowledged................ and I gave you.......... respect
And as is the case with daaru....it got to your head.
I am going away from this place for ever. Your presence in life has bought only misery, and it will to all around you, good living and you are negatively correlated. I thought you were the best thing to happen in my life, Alas, how mistaken I was.
The creative visual of a dick sticking below a beer gut........on top of your face has become so sharp that I can even see the tear drop glistening on your eyes and the bald spot on your forehead meshed with your hair, wet with sweat and tears , and the crinkle on your nose which I loved so much , frozen in disgust.
A mind is a terrible thing to waste, to throw. If a hooker acts up you hit her physically...but you are one off case of slut.....you abuse the mind so the hurt has to be at the level of the mind……..at the soul.....
So I will resort to words…because they hurt...they do....and prayer helps...words and prayer... no man no machine can stop it.
The Testament says that every prayer is heard the Saints and the Sinners. There is no doubt in my mind who I what here, and I guess you know it too.
I am going away from this place for ever. Your presence in life has bought only misery, and it will to all around you, good living and you are negatively correlated. I thought you were the best thing to happen in my life, Alas, how mistaken I was.
The creative visual of a dick sticking below a beer gut........on top of your face has become so sharp that I can even see the tear drop glistening on your eyes and the bald spot on your forehead meshed with your hair, wet with sweat and tears , and the crinkle on your nose which I loved so much , frozen in disgust.
A mind is a terrible thing to waste, to throw. If a hooker acts up you hit her physically...but you are one off case of slut.....you abuse the mind so the hurt has to be at the level of the mind……..at the soul.....
So I will resort to words…because they hurt...they do....and prayer helps...words and prayer... no man no machine can stop it.
The Testament says that every prayer is heard the Saints and the Sinners. There is no doubt in my mind who I what here, and I guess you know it too.
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