The misery called Life. Not.

Ssup kids?

I take the liberty to call everybody a kid, because, let’s face it, none of us, have actually grown up. In numbers,  yes. So, how miserable is your life? Are you still cribbing about your job that pays you peanuts that you don’t even deserve or have you found a new reason? Isn’t finding new reasons to cry, to whine our favourite hobby? I meet people only to hear them about how our lives suck and how our life isn’t going anywhere and that we’re constantly aging having achieved nothing and how we have no clue what we love or want to do with our lives, but dear readers, will you, will you for the love of god, stop talking about things and start doing something about it? And it’s your life really, you might not want to do anything about it and find peace in cribbing your life away but next time, I hear you cry, I’d gently ask you to shut the fuck up. What one must realise is, they need to fight their own battles, and maybe the room they live in is small, maybe they have to get up 15 minutes early in the morning to catch the rickety bus, maybe their colleagues and bosses are jerks, but you cannot, cry all the fucking time, you need to grow up, help yourself and understand the fact that you cannot have everything your way, you need to live with things, deal with them alone, if you cannot live with them, do something to help yourself instead of whining. I’m sure you’ve had a pathetic past and bumpy relationships and ugly break ups but isn’t that what life is about? Falling and rising up every fucking time, I don’t even care how you deal with your shit but you cannot, talk to people about it, more than anything its so depressing. Everybody have a story, good, bad, ugly. Kids, you grow up when you’re man enough to deal with fuckeries of your life and stop making a big deal out of it. You’ll grow up when you know you did not get into a college because you did not study enough, you cannot get more than what you’ve worked for. It’s fair and that simple , so stop crying and comparing your life with others.  Life happens when you’re busy crying about things and before you know it, you become an epitome of mediocrity and lie cold in some grave, leaving nothing behind. Not even a name.  Stop kidding yourselves, kids.

Ciao,

You know who

Bangalore 2.1

Ssup minions?

I'm updating the blog after eternity now. I dont know why. All these months I've been trying to befriend this city, Bangalore and yet, I'm still a stranger, I still sometimes dont have a clue where I am or where I have to go. I know the ways, the routes, I know whats sold where, I know who lives where, I can now pronounce the names of the places here, just fine, funny but fine. I think I'm just okay now, not sad, not homesick, not depressed, I think Im ok, I can live with this city. But what is that one thing thats missing? What is that thing that still makes me feel like a stranger here? It's not home. Home is always Delhi. The city I grew up in, the city that has helped and abetted, becoming who I am today. Yes, the rape capital of India. To me, its just not home, its my entire life, the way I think, the way I look at things, I’m a reflection of where I was born and nurtured. I still hate Delhi for the people who reside there, the madness, the rush, the non existant civic sense,anyway, you know a funny thing? When I’m home, I wanna run away as far as I can and when I’m not, I just wanna go back, its like an atom trying to complete its octet, trying to gain its stability, you know what I mean? No? Ok. But this isn’t what I wanted to talk about, I wanted to talk about why, why on earth, have I not updated my blog, not that I have a huge readership or anything. So, here it is, all these days, kind gentlemen of the jury, all these days, I was busy cooking stories, trying to figure out plots, blowing sense into characters, but all in vain, I could not, for the life of me, finish any of those stories, none of them, absolutely none. I won’t give up of course but now I know what I need to work on, so not a really bad deal, is it? Ssup with you guys? Long time. 

Bangalore 2.0

Ssup people?

I’m writing this post after eternity, I don’t know why. All these days I was trying my hand at fiction and almost failed. So the new big thing is, I’m in Bangalore again. Yes, last time I was here and wrote a post about it, I offended some of you. It’s sad how nobody gets offended when I crib about Delhi. Anyway, you know the thing about freedom? It comes at a cost.  It’s sour, bitter, sweet and salty, all at the same time. The city hasn’t changed much, the same old trying to accommodate people, The same old rush, people running everywhere to achieve something, that they haven’t figured out yet, trying to make themselves believe that they’re busy, trying to distract themselves, trying to somehow fit in, ignoring the bigger picture, trying to become a rat like everybody else. I, ladies and gentlemen, am one of them. You know, paapi pet etc. In this short stay, I’ve messed up things, lost track of my expenditure, lost my valuables, loved being alone and simultaneously hated it, tried finding places to write, writing, I tell you is a very lonely job.  Despite all this, I’ve learnt very very important life lessons as well, I’m gonna list a few of them, just in case, you’re as hopeless as I am and life demands you to live alone.

• Unpack your stuff, fold it and put it in a wardrobe. Seriously. That’ll sort so much for you.

• Don’t wash whites and non-whites together, you’d end up wearing your favourite white shirt with a pink stain. Trust me, it’s not a pleasant feeling.

•  Stop being cool and listen to your mom.

• Wake up early on Sundays to get free space for drying clothes. So uncool, right? I know.

• No, things didn’t get expensive overnight right after you started earning, stop freaking out, put back that chocolate spread and take a jam instead, it’ll work just fine too.

• Stop whiling away time, do something that you like, something that overcompensates you being a rat. Something that’ll give you a good night’s sleep.

• Don’t skip meals, nobody cares if you don’t eat, you, on the other hand will be shit hungry in the middle of the night.

• Girls, don’t keep your ATM pins in your wallet, it’s stupid.

• You’ll be tempted to go home on a weekend,  you’d end up spending a bomb on the tickets and for the next one month or so, you’d have to cut down on your junk and settle for the free sambar rice, ok, I’m talking about myself. For the records, I hate sambar rice. You can outrage.

• Stop being cool and ask your folks’ sizes for the clothes you’re buying for them, it’s your hard earned money.

• Be flexible. People won’t take your shit unlike your folks. It’s a lonely world outside home, make space for yourself and stop believing you’re the centre of the earth. Nobody said it was gonna be easy.

• Stop kidding yourself, find a rich husband.

That’s all I guess.  There’s a long way to go. Until then, watch Kyuki Saas bhi kabhi bahu thi or try getting a life.

Ciao.

Of Aunties

Dear intelligent readers, oh, did I offend anybody?  Dolly Bindra? Anyway, I write this because I know aunties are an integral part of our fucked up culture and epitomise hypocrisy. It’ll be unfair to their community if we just ignore their huge bodies, pink lip colours and golden dupattas, I mean, don’t be so mean you, gaiz. An aunty is an evitable end to a girl’s existence, I mean, come to think of it, from the moment you realise you are a girl, you’re abjectly stereotyped, “oh, a woman? Can’t drive, I bet.” “Look, a woman, lets tell her shameless husband-wife jokes and how wives harass their husbands”, it’s funny? Ya? Maybe in 5BC, get over it already, you jerk.  “Woman? Oh, I can never understand them, they’re like the open books with white pages, there’s so much to them and nothing at all” fuck you man, cut the crap, there’s nothing so effing deep about women, they’re normal human beings. Finding hard to digest it? Take your time. Normal. Human. Beings. Yes. “When girls mean x, they mean y”, for the records, I mean “ok” when I say “ok”.  Then there are those mind numbing, suicidal 5 days every month when every girl wants to smack any and everybody in the range of 50 miles, there’s this fucking paroxysm of harmones, messing every part of her, do not, DO NOT mess with a woman for those 5 days, she’ll be like a naked wire, ready to burn you down alive. And do not tell me to calm the fuck down, I’ll cut you in two halves and show you what bleeding means. Yeah. So coming back, we, girls grow up with all of this shit and one day, despite being normal all our lives, we give in to society and their definition of a woman. Illogical, irrational and turn into hairy obese orange aunties. That, my friends, is an inevitable end.  I do not generalize as a rule, there are types, let’s see what all. Types of aunties.

Beta kaamwali aayi? Dude, what century are you living in? Even, Draupadi would know kaamwali aayi ya nahi. I mean, use the goddamn phone. The phone. The telephone. Yeah, the same device that you use to suck the life outta your husband and leak breaking news from a neighbour’s house to another. Call her. I have no fucking clue, kaamwali aayi ya nahi. Ok?

Pehchaana? Hum tab mile the jab tum apni maa ke pet mei thi “Oh, yeah, totally. I remember, we hit it off so well then, how  are you doing?” Seriously? Do you hear yourself talk? You might need a shrink, if you do.  Are you the fucking Prime Minister  the hot guy from the daily soap that I’ll bother to remember you? I don’t remember shit that happened yesterday. Also, you might wanna change your questions maybe? They’re all clichéd. Also, you must know, there is no obligation for a  small talk whatsoever, I’m totally cool if there’s nothing worth talking about. Are we on the same page?

Kitni badi hogayi ho Yah, I noticed that recently too, cool no? I mean I’m totally defying all the laws of nature. How on earth am I growing up?  Must be gods, I’m telling you.

Result aaya?  Then there are aunties who’ll only see you when they want spice in their lives. So, should I cook up a spicy story for you so you can direct speech it to Mrs Sharma or would you do it yourself? I’m sure you can.

The orange aunty She’s my favourite, I mean you can die of too much bling but if you can survive that, nothing like it. She’s an entertainment package, you’ll see her wrapped in orange something, with maroon lipstick and golden heels matched with a golden sequenced bag. She’s hell bent on defying her age. Her clothes can be used to teach optics to kids, you know refraction etcetera.

The obese, hairy aunty If you can manage to get her to wax, our mother earth can get rid of 200 pounds, if you know what I mean.  They’re the innocuous kinds, most often than not, they do not suck the life outta you.

Beta shaadi karlo Oh yeah? Your concern overwhelms me, seriously it does, I kid you not. But you know what? Mind. Your. Own. Fucking. Business.

Beta ghar aaya karo There! You said it, thank you for making my life miserable. Now my mother will be after my life to make me visit you. I mean stop pretending that you care about my existence, you just wana gossip with my mom while I sit there, hopelessly staring at the fan, trying to calculate the rotations per minute, because that’s more interesting than why-Mrs Sharma-didn’t-come-for-the-evening-stroll. Lets just ignore each others’existance? Shall we? Till the time of course I become one of you. Sigh.

That’s about it I think, can’t think of any more.  I’m sure there are more varieties. Of all shapes, sizes and colors. Let me know if you come across one.

Disclaimer: This post does not refer to any specific person, dead or living.  

Something wrong?

Definitely, yes. Something somewhere is wrong, very wrong, of course with me. If you know me, you'd know what I'm talking about. Past few days (maybe months) I feel like a cold corpse. As they say, there's no fire in my heart and clarity in my mind, there's nothing that makes me happy, nothing that I want to die for, I cannot crack my jokes. I cannot do not tweet and make shit attempts to sound cool, I cannot make  people friends laugh, or even strike a conversation. There's nothing I want to talk about, I've always struggled with small talk but I've seem to lost the ability to talk even with the best of my friends, who claim they understand my silence, do they? I don't. This, this helplessness is unacceptable. I need to figure it out, is it about moving to Bangalore, I dont think so. Is it because I keep unwell very often? Maybe. Is it because I havent been able to write of late? I've realized writing is about pushing your limits, of course you can write, give it your 200 percent, if you need to, writer's block is a farce. If writing defines your individuality, this is a small price to pay. Also, write what amuses you, not what amuses the readers, write for yourself. Coming back, I cant seem to remember words, events, memories, good or bad.I seem to be falling in an abyss, waiting to hit the land and start attempting to climb up again, at my own pace. Is it because I dont have a clue where my life is headed? Yes. I donno how to earn shit loads of money and spend it, without a second thought, on silly things, things that'll affect my life in no way, I'd buy them for no reason, I want that kind of money! I love nobody, or maybe I do, who cares. Sau baaton ki ek baat, next time you ask me to meet, please be informed that I cannot talk, its beyond me, I write because thats my karma, don't care shit about the world. Maybe its just another phase, maybe of course it'll pass, the question is when. I'm ready to hit the bottom, to climb up again. Till then, please bear with me. Like they say, This too shall pass.

On Relationships

Hello girls,

Wadup? How are your nails doing today? I’ve been quiet for a very very long time, because I believe in shutting the fuck up if I have nothing substantial to talk about of course, people don’t work that way, look around, got it? Anyway, coming back, are you flirting enough to get your quota of free drinks? Oh, and how are your guys doing? Petting them well? Cool. If your answer is a ‘No’, read along, others can navigate away or switch to the other tab, I fucking know what you’re watching. Girl, a survey revealed more than 87% guys and girls in our country spend most of their time in either chasing the girl or the guy or they’re busy fucking each other’s happiness. It’s a sad figure and a very sad state. Fuckers, get laid, fuck emotions and get busy in doing something that’ll make you proud, not your parents, not your dumbfuck relatives, make yourself proud (sidenote: Never do things for wrong reasons) when you nail that, you wouldn’t need anybody else to massage your ego.  There’s a very very important lesson that they probably forgot to teach in the schools, love yourself, fuck others. Even if you love the other person like Mayawati loves her fuckass dressing sense, draw a line.  You don’t want anybody to tell you what to wear and what not, not even your god.  You don’t want anybody to tell you who you can talk to, let no fucker tell you how to live your life, you are nobody’s property.  I know he says you’re-my-princess, but we all know he just wants to get laid, and its only fair and natural, please do not compromise your individuality for anybody. Please fight less, have sex more and do things what your heart says, without weighing them and for fuck’s sake, stop crying as if you just watched Rahul Mahajan embarrassing himself on a National Television coupled with a desperate attempt at humor with an ease with which Sherlyn Chopra posts her nude pictures. Do not pity yourself, you either repair the damage or end the relationship.  Respect yourself and the world will respect you. Don’t let your relationship be a blackhole, the one that sucks light outta your lives. Also, there’s nothing that can replace your peace of mind, let no Tom Dick or Harry play with it. Next time I see you crying, I’ll throw you in the women’s coach of Delhi Metro at 7pm on a Monday. You’ll be scarred for life, yes.

And fuckers, get laid.

Yours,

Lady Bla Bla 

On Writing

There are times in life when everything fails, when everything seems to fall out of place, when your peace of mind is fucked, in times like these, writing comes to rescue. I’ve been meaning to write since eternity now but couldn’t, it’s the most frustrating thing on earth. Today as I write this, I feel I’m born to write, I’d like to believe that my life demands me to write, there’s nothing else that gives that pleasure, nothing else that I look forward to, there’s nothing else that validates my existence. Writing purifies me from within, it lets me open up, it lets me communicate, it relieves me of all the fuckeries of life, it cleanses my soul. Writing helps me get rid of the layers of pretence, it’s everything that I’ve ever wanted. I need no validation from people, I do not write to make you happy or sad, laugh or cry, I do not write to massage your ego or offend you, I write because I ought to. I write because it makes me dynamic, it makes me alive. As I write this, I’ve switched off my phone, right now I do not care how directionless my career is right now, I haven’t sent that customary text to that special someone, right now I cannot even take Richard Feynman’s phone call (or maybe I can), everything is secondary right now. When I cry, my words cry with me, when I’m happy, they dance. When I’m lonely, they comfort me.  As I write this I feel alive, I feel real, after a long long time.

Jack London's Credo

A friend shared Jack London's Credo today with me, saying, "I wish I could write like that. I wish I could live like that". Couldn't agree more. 

Happy Valentine's

She woke up from sleep to silence. She’d lost track of space and time. Her heart beats were racing as if to catch that one last breath. She couldn’t even feel the pain, she wanted to, to feel alive. Her arms and legs were badly bruised, she had no clue what had happened to her. She gathered all her strength to collect herself and rise up from the bed that was covered with her blood all over. As she elevated her left leg, an impulse stream of pain ran down her spine and she collapsed on the floor like a deplorable old house, she grabbed the edge of her bed with both hands and made her way to the bath. It took her 15 minutes of toil to finally reach there. She faced the mirror and couldn’t face herself, smudged kajal, rashes on the face, clothes, as if burnt in the scorching heat. She was surprised to see herself without a clue about the previous night, was it an act of decadence that casted such wounds on her? She wondered in fear. She made her way back to the bedroom which seemed to be a mile away now. The bed was cold, so was her body. She couldn’t feel her heart beats, now, all that was left of her was pain, everywhere. She stared at the ceiling, white and void, like her soul, for a couple of minutes when her phone rang, a male voice on the other side uttered, “Hope you enjoyed the night, Happy Valentine’s”

The Facebook Generation

 

If you don’t know what I’m talking about then you must’ve been born in the era when Babur was busy banging his 20 wives. Coming back, this morning I was enjoying my shallow purposeless existence and had stepped out for a stroll, when a kid half my age who couldn’t even spell what he was uttering, attempted to eve tease me, I couldn’t ignore it, this time. And yes, it was Bangalore. You can take offense. My stability was stirred within and the same old restlessness covered with hopelessness took over my mind. So, if you have kids and reading this post (the probability of which is equal to the collective IQ of my readers, you can do the math) then don’t pay attention to their math grades, give them life lessons, you owe something to this country, pay it back by nurturing its future, showing them the fucking right path, can we? Anyway, I know in this country parenting is more ignored than the national hockey team but this post isn’t about that, it’s about facebook, naam toh suna hi hoga?

So, here’s why I hate facebook. Primarily, because I hate people, in all forms.

You might argue back because of your joblessness and a need to sound intelligent on the social media and get your smart ass comment liked, saying “you’re online here every time” ,I don’t feel a need to explain. Yes, I’m a hypocrite.

Other secondary and tertiary reasons are as follows:

Status Messages: I know it’s your fundamental right to utter any shit on any platform but some of you are just raping that right, I mean updates like “why is life so unfair?” and when somebody, to spice up his/her fucked life, comments “what happened, dear”, you reply “Please don’t ask”, wtf is wrong with you? Then there are other fucks who’d “like” this status others who’d post “aww” and other mushy modifications of the same. Get a life, can you? Also, half of the shit you copy paste from brainyquotes.com, I can swear on my life, you don’t understand what shit it means.

Flirting: Its cute how people still think, flirting, liking random status updates, photos etc on facebook can get them laid, it’s cute, isn’t it?  People ping you “Hey long time”, long time? Dude I’ve never talked to you ever in real life, get to the fucking point already. I know in our country there’s no straight path to getting laid, you at least have to date the person for 15 days and pretend you give a fuck about their likes/dislikes and existence but, what needs to be done, needs to be done. We need to carry the responsibility of hypocrisy that our elders have bestowed upon us. No?

KeWlesT nIgHt eVEr: If you type like this, please die. It’s certainly not cool to be Kewl. Don’t you pity the one’s who read it all? It’s like our politicians reading their speeches. But again, nobody cares, do they? If your kids write like this, as a punishment make them read Chetan Bhagat’s novels and the one where he thinks he knows what this country’s youth wants.

Mindless applications: So if you think a facebook application will tell you, who your best friend is, god save you. Yes, the one who doesn’t exist.  The maximum I can do is hide those posts on my timeline to keep my cool. Also, what my eye colour tells me about my personality was an eye opener. What colour my friends resemble was the coolest thing I’ve ever read. Trust me.

Stolen tweets, facebook status messages: Do you actually feel good and awesome about yourself copy pasting tweets and getting 100 likes or so on facebook? Is that an achievement? This, for an ego boost? I’m so sorry for you.

Kids: Kids, in order to gain more attention and look cool behave like dumb fucks as compared to what they normally are. I see kids as small as 12 years old, flirting on these websites, and my heart aches. Is it cool? Maybe. I’ve lost track of words and their meanings and what they mean to different generations. It’s plain sad.

Quizzes/polls: “Are you proud to be a woman?” “Which city rocks, Delhi Bombay or Bangalore?” “Men or women??” A misspelt poll is a cherry on the cake. Why don’t you shut the fuck up and try giving meaning to your life? Watching Jugal Hansraj’s movie is more productive than this, for fuck’s sake.

The bottomline is, from a society that seeked entertainment in peeping into the neighbour’s house to striping naked their personal lives in public and reading every shit about everyone’s lives, we haven’t evolved much, only the technology has. It’s just making it easy for us. As I celebrate somebody else’s miserable life reading their comments on facebook, sipping my cup of coffee, you should log off and try getting a life. Nothing personal though.

Cheers!

To Shri Asaram Bapu

Ssup Asaram Bapu dude,

Please take your statement back and apologize in the public because my life depends on that. I pay attention to every shit you say and give a fuck to all your philosophies. I am the common man citizen of India. I’ve been unemployed for an year now and at home my wife makes my life miserable, there’s nothing really exciting in my life so outraging about everything you say, entertains me and gives meaning to my life, purpose is the right word. I wasted some days of my life trying to get into the Rashtrapati Bhavan, followed by outraging about Mr Mukherjee’s statement, I don’t really know what he said but as an aware citizen of modern India, I stood up for my rights and asked him to resign. I am the same person who got offended on behalf of doctors for one Satyamev Jayate’s episode, I was too jobless that time and this seemed to be the right thing to do. I am the same guy who blames the government for everything and comes with creative ideas about how to run the country with 1.2 billion masses. I suggested castration for the rapists, but who listens to me? Iss desh ka kuch nahi ho sakta. I am really hurt and my heart aches, having heard your offensive remarks. My intolerance, hypocrisy and joblessness are the assets that I’d value for life. I will listen to every Tom Dick and Harry and what they have to say about everything under the sun and outrage accordingly because lets face it, my wife ain’t hot, job sucks and I’m outta porn. Also, to bring to your notice, if I can be stupid enough to follow you, I can be idiot enough to pay heed to your shit philosophy.  But you know what, at the end of the day I’m happy because atleast I’m not Mamta Kulkarni’s career. I am an aam aadmi who wants to contribute his bit to the nation but is more than clueless how to go about it and hence find peace in mindless protests and outrages. I will continue to refute you because I cannot take whatever shit is happening to my country, I want them to hang the rapists, this is my countr…o look the new Priyanka Chopra’s ad, so hot she is!

Yours sincerely,

A responsible citizen

A happy new year, indeed!

Hello cool people, what’s up?  Managed to break in to the Rashtrapati Bhavan, yet? No? Sad.  I prayed the lord that you could, because that’d have solved a lot of problems but anyway, moving on because that’s what we’re best at, what are your plans for the new year’s eve?  So probably on the first day of the new year, you wouldn’t remember where you passed out the last night, so cool. I laughed at Mr Mukherjee’s comments and laughed a little harder when I heard people/women are offended, some demanded his resignation, I couldn’t care less. I see people outraging about a certain x and then another lot outraging about why we aren’t outraging about a certain y. Then I see another class of men, who are offended by the whole blame-the-men thing and yet another, a large majority blaming the government, boiling their bloods for the PM’s aberrant silence. We are all very sad and very angry at we don’t know who, we just don’t know how to vent it out. I was ashamed to see people who claimed that they are ashamed to be Indians, I don’t know what to tell them, the problem is us, ain’t it? Anyway, I don’t care, I have had enough, I’ve read and seen enough. I’m sure you’re exhausted too. There’s nothing that can bring her back or can reduce the pain. Also, I read something about boycotting the republic day? Exactly what, the part where we get up late and ask, is it the independence or the republic day? Or the part where we just don’t care at all, after all it’s just another freaking holiday. I’m not sure how are we going about boycotting this thing, help, maybe? I know how we don’t caste votes and boycott the whole election thing saying, it’s all futile, everybody is the same, so on and so forth but not sure how to boycott the republic day. We all have our solutions, don’t we and so comfortably we fool ourselves that it’s the right one but sit back, chill the fuck up and respect the nation that raised you, respect the land you live on. It’s too easy to outrage and be angry at any and everything, we all share the same pain, same agony, all of us have suffered a loss, of faith, of humanity. I know even the death of rapists will not bring peace to her soul or her family’s, it may quench our souls to switch our attention to the next big thing, but the tear will remain on the face of eternity. Again, what were your new year plans? A happy new year, indeed.