Everyone needs a Wall. This is mine.

I'm thinking what the hell

noreply@blogger.com (vivek) — Mon, 04 Jun 2012 03:01:00 +0000

By Detective Comics

One fine morning a few days back, I was on my way to the ground, my mind buzzing with the clips from recent RVP video that I'd just seen. Turned a corner on to a long straight and there was this guy coming towards me on a bike, with a tiny kid just curled up on top of the fuel tank. I have this usual manner of ignoring people whom I don't know, so I didn't care for them. Just then, this guy, turns around and goes back to the other end of the straight and stops there. I move along and what I saw didn't make sense at first. Saw a women lying on the floor, whimpering like a child and this guy with his bike was just standing over her, asking her to get back on the bike. Totally fishy if you know what I mean, so I decided to use my brain. I stopped in front of them and asked the most obvious question if ever there was one,"What happened?"

"She just fell from the bike. The stupid gutters",he said, shaking his head.

"Oh."

That's it. That oh was the only response I could think of.

So off I went, merrily singing inside my head and wondering about something. I had travelled quite far when my brain started wheeling and whizzing and whirring. I was wondering what on earth could have caused this when plainly there was no hot water around, when it hit me.

The guy turned around only when he saw me.

So I turned around, and off I went to that you-know-which place.

Ofcourse there wasn't anybody there. Gone. I got down and inspected the scene only to notice that there were no friggin gutters or any shit near the place where that woman had been. And I noticed that he had come quite a distance from the woman before he turned around.

Shit.

I had just missed out on the biggest detective work of my life by being bright as a chihuahua.

PS: What the hell is wrong with the people of this world ?!!

Mindblowing level:Rockstar

noreply@blogger.com (vivek) — Tue, 10 Apr 2012 14:42:00 +0000

Maybe I am Crazy.

One of my favourite ever pictures from films. Get goosebumps when I see this.Every fuckin time.

Well done Imtiaz Ali, well done.
PS: Google tells me that I should post stuff about following my blog.. So here I am, letting my patient readers know that I'd be much grateful if you do follow my blog.
Click here: Be my friend :)

Nearly Perfect

noreply@blogger.com (vivek) — Mon, 09 Apr 2012 01:11:00 +0000

Played football in the morning, for about 2 hours. Just trying to get every little bit of it before I get loaded up like all these older guys that play with me. Still cannot believe I'll be like them too. In a couple of years time. A bigger belly, a stronger will not to run and an even stronger one to sit and sleep at home.
Came back and was at home till the evening (this was the boring part), just waiting for the game to begin. The big guy here (my brother) went shopping and bought home all kinds of things, from shoes to drinks with my mum screaming behind "Never taking him shopping again, it's like he eats money". The shoes look good, black ones with yellow laces and apparently, the laces weren't flashy enough so he had bought orange and green ones too.
And in the evening, had to go out to buy a couple of stuff, and the rain came. No streetlights, heavy wind, old leaves rustling along the road, and me. Felt like an epic scene with me as the ghost-hunter.
And the thing that made it perfect, the Arsenal win. Against City and took us to 3rd with a 2 point lead over the scums.

Arteta with the rocket !

A First World Problem

noreply@blogger.com (vivek) — Sat, 07 Apr 2012 01:46:00 +0000

The day I learnt I was back.

It's been downhill ever since.

One day, I thought I was playing okay, and I've not looked back since. I've been looking down, into the pool of shit that my brain had massed of myself.

I'm sick of this, every time thinking I am past the shitty days only to realize I'm already back in them.
It's amazing how the beautiful game, just like life, drags you back to reality and beats you on the head with it, every time you feel your feet rising off the ground.

PS: I know what you're thinking.

"Maybe you know these people too.."

And I'm like ..

Weekly Predictions

noreply@blogger.com (vivek) — Thu, 05 Apr 2012 05:01:00 +0000

Prediction Number 2:

Soon the sun will be over your side of the hedge and you will look down upon them and smile ..
And they will be like "Oh god why you doing this to us? We had a deal ..."(Courtesy: Joey..Triibbiiaaanii)

PS: This one's for one true friend I just got back.

The Cost Of Being Free.

noreply@blogger.com (vivek) — Wed, 04 Apr 2012 15:43:00 +0000

Bling

It's the last few days of my college life and just when I'm about to start missing a hell of a lot of people that matter in my life, I want to go far far away and live alone.

Call it weird, bizarre, a malfunction, a glitch.My mind is a blur. People whom I can call my family, suddenly seem weirder, stranger. It's freaking me out. I hate how I deal with losing people.

I was seeing the movie 'Rockstar' a few days back, and it struck me how mindlessly we live, how numb we are, how blindly we move on. How stuck we are to the society, the stabbing and the pain, the pushing and the screaming. It's amazing how few have actually broken the shackles, how few have quit the rat race. I'm running too, and not because I want to, but because that's the only way to survive, or so I'm told. I've heard the only way you can live is by doing what people have done successfully for the last billion years. The only way that you can be happy is by watching it in the future, locking it for the present and leaving it behind in the past. Everyone wants to be different, to carve their own path of success, but everyone ultimately ends up doing the same as the next one. It's scary, and it takes a hell of a lot of courage to break free.

My mind races ahead of what my hand can type in and I'm lost for words. I fucking hate being born here, where people have learnt to look within the box, and find happiness and success inside it. Where people have forgotten how to look for food, because they have gotten used to the notion that it needs to be there in front of them to survive. Where people have forgotten what it was to be wild and free, without drugs and other shit, but have learnt to call themselves the same even when they live within the cages of the written.

I'm part of all that. I'm a runner in the race too and one who's shit scared of losing it. I run learning things, grabbing every baggage that comes in my way, disillusioning myself of being successful because I have a heavier package or a degree that's a few letters longer. I run knowing that the next man is running harder than me, and that I cannot stop to think. Because it's a life when a moment within yourself is a shot in your knee.

“Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up. It knows it must outrun the fastest lion or it will be killed. Every morning, a lion wakes up. It knows it must run faster than the slowest gazelle, or it will starve to death. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a lion or gazelle - when the sun comes up, you’d better be running.”

Weekly Predictions

noreply@blogger.com (vivek) — Tue, 27 Sep 2011 10:44:00 +0000

The Bulb.

This is my new plan, to make a life.
I'm going to come in here and put in predictions every week (not a prediction, so I will not claim any credit if that does happen) about how certain things may pan out in the future based on the decisions I take now.

I'm starting with,

Prediction Number 1:

These will be like super cool to read after some 20 years if I do have the money to own a computer by then.

PS: I'm not big enough to make predictions about the End of the World, so if that does happen in 2012, I guess these won't be very cool.

The Big Fat World Cup! And the Big Fat England!

noreply@blogger.com (vivek) — Mon, 28 Jun 2010 01:31:00 +0000

The post that waited forever, like we wait for an England victory in a quarterfinal.

This is the post that I couldn't post like, for several months, because I slept a lot which made me incapable of doing any kind of work during the rest of the day.

'Single handedly changing the story of a nation' - G(r)eenie Voodoo

The Jinx is Dealt With.

Four years of waiting and some hope shattering team selections by the suddenly-gone-nuts managers, and the greatest celebration of them all, the Football World Cup, finally arrived.

Those had been quite a watch, the pre-tournament days. The bizarre team selections and the injuries, certainly had their share in making us wonder," How fucking dumb would this World Cup turn out to be?".But as it was ,Diego got a few calls right, Domenech and Lippi didn't, which was probably the reason they were back home faster than Real Madrid changes coaches.
But this page, is about how England easily put away all the talk of a supposed Quarter-Final Jinx that made them lose every quarterfinal they played in, by losing in the pre-quarters .

The Talisman Injury and The Frenzy which didn't happen.

In 2002, it was the Beckham effect which we visualized. He got injured just before the tournament, and there was this whole lot of big noise, about whether he will be fit in time for the tournament or not. There were newspapers reporting his every big meal, every walking step, every shit in his back yard, hell even his pets got on the news whenever they decided to take a poop near his fractured leg. And finally, he did play, against Argentina, getting that 'revenge' goal, in a penalty, to win the game for the 3 Lions. But what happened there after, is the stuff of the legends now. England spectacularly crashed out of the tournament in the quarterfinals, marking the beginning of the so called 'quarterfinal jinx'.

In 2006, it was the same saga which we were put through, only this time it was Rooney, England's hottest talent since a certain Pauly departed. The jinx worked fine, England eliminated themselves in the quarters again with the help of some nice work by a certain Cristiano.

Oh and in between, they got themselves another quarter-final exit in Euro 2004 in penalties, with the dead-ball wizard with the golden right foot (read Beckham) tumbling, slipping and sending his into the crowd.

2010. The 3 Lions are hunted down by the German Battle Tanks.

How we waited for the mouth watering prospect of red hot Steven Gerrard and Frank Lampard playing behind Wayne Rooney in the form of his life, and how we are discussing who was the worst, Stevie, Frankie or Wane .
I guess there is nothing more to be said about England's flaws and why they were blasted off the World Cup by the fluid Germans, but I just cannot stop thinking about the let down I felt, during the match. A team, which was out of sorts, with their ex-captain sleeping with his ex-team mate's ex-girfriend and having a striker in Emile Heskey, who'd buy an entire continent a drink if he can get even a shot on target, was practically never going to progress , no matter how big their other stars were. And when the other stars in the team fell to the "England have more talent than everyone else , always" illusion, and performed so badly that even Sep Blatter understood they played bad, one can imagine how pitiful England really was. There was a goal disallowed, that Karma shit catching up with England, that is, what goes around, comes back and kicks you in the ass. They got a possibly suspicious goal in 1966, ironically against the Germans , and they get a goal disallowed, in 2010. They might have made a huge thing out of it, only the Germans saw to it that they couldn't. Not now anyway. After looking like The 3 Monkeys when they were supposedly The 3 Lions.
Alas, we now have only one question to ask .
Where the fuck was that quarterfinal jinx when we needed one?!

The Aftermath.

The 3 Lions brilliantly hung on to the Coach who almost single-handedly broke their quarter-final jinx and got them an exit in the second round. The pundits are all excited again about the next golden generation of English Football (probably the hundredth since the turn of the millennium) with Young, Adam Johnson, WIlshere, Lennon and Rodwell all coming of age this year.
But even after being shown time and again that the only bet we can safely place on England is for them to lose in or before the quarters, come the next Euro, we the fans will proclaim with pride,
" England with THAT midfield will just stroll to the cup. "

The More You Live, The More You Laugh.

noreply@blogger.com (vivek) — Fri, 04 Jun 2010 10:49:00 +0000

Yes, I know the title seems a little messy, if you have noticed it that is, considering it's been always said "The More You Laugh , The More You Live" .

I am no fucking story teller, as I very well know, but I will tell you a story anyway.
There is a smart little guy that lives in my house, who sleeps on my bed, eats my food, breaks my stuff, and screws my life up. Since the said sentence would be too long to be mentioned as a name, let's call him my brother.
He has been a funny guy all his life, pretty much because he hasnt grown up yet. He's just twelve, that wonderful age that everyone will want to go back to, at some point in their life. I was telling him about an incident that happened when he was much younger, about two or three. It's his reaction that has prompted me to write this piece of shit, that has made no sense to me yet, and probably never will, to you.

The Story - Part I

This is the beginning. The story that I told my brother.
At first it was just a small weep. It was when it became a siren that we were forced to notice. He was there, all alone in the TV room , crying " ole tholeva ".Apart from the fact that he wanted something very badly, and wanted it fast, we did not understand a word. Of the two. My mum and dad, naturally, ran to him, and started trying to figure out what he wanted, amidst all the noise. The noise steadily stepped up its volume, louder and louder it went, until it became so so loud that it forced even me to abandon my computer game and say " What the fuck does he want ?! " .
They both tried for ages, my dear parents. When they accepted defeat after much exclamations and question marks, I came to the room. As usual, I was no better. Mum and Dad wanted to give their son what he wanted but as for me, it was more out of the perfectly natural human desire to have a silent air and a painless ear, than out of the love to help my brother out.
It took us about two hours, not to find what we were looking for, but to calm the kid down. No we could not find it, inexplicably.
Days went by, and nothing of the sort repeated, until one day, I saw my brother, in front of the TV set, screaming "ole tholeva". I looked at the screen, and it played a song "hurray, it's a holiday ".
I, having read all the Sherlock Holmes stories by then, had acquired what I would call the "Sharpness of a Detective's Mind" and so pieced two and two together, and came up with an intelligent guess that it was this song that he meant, by screaming "ole tholeva". After I figured this thing out, I was so astonished by my own intelligence, that I was unable to utter another clever word for nearly three days.
Anyway, the point in my eyes is, I was telling this story to my brother some days ago, and he laughed harder than ever, more at his stupidity in crying for a song and his inability to say words, than at the story.

The Story - Part II

This is the part which you probably won't understand completely, because even I have no idea what it's about. Yes, It's my thoughts.

He cried that day, wanting so badly to hear that song, and nothing else 'probably' mattered to him that day. I say probably, because I have no way of knowing whether anything else mattered to him that day. But what I am sure of is, nothing else mattered to me the days I cried when in, for want of of a better word, "Tight Spots". All that I did when in those spots , pumping my eyes, the shutting-myself-in-a-room, the screaming, made perfect sense to me then. But I have noticed myself laughing days later, at my own stupidity, for being so naive, so purposeless, so wasted. Honestly, my own stupid actions during the crunch situations make up a good portion of "The Hilarious Moments in My Life", create moments that make me laugh harder than any. I guess many would have had this experience, of having this feeling of all grown up and thinking "how silly was I back then !", when they think about their past "Tight Spot" experiences.
I was thinking along these lines when it hit me.
Most of the things that we worry about, we lose our sleep over, are actually worthless and insignificant. Or rather, Time makes them so. To say clearly, things we have nightmares about now are the things we shouldn't give a fuck about. What we think, what we repent, during these Tight Spots, are probably as important in our lives as Roger Federer shifting his house two blocks down the street. The more fucked up situations we are in , the harder we will laugh about them later.
So I now have this seemingly simple brilliant plan. When I'm in the so called fucked up situation, I try and think about how good a laugh will this be, say after five years. This might not help me pull myself out of the marsh, but it will for sure bring a smile to my face when I'm back on my hard ground.

Bottomline: Me, philosophy and psychology are not the three best friends ever. And I should never even think, let alone attempt writing, things that even remotely appeal to the commonest of senses. If I do so, they are going to end up as trash just like the above piece of crap.

The Emptiness.

noreply@blogger.com (vivek) — Mon, 10 May 2010 06:10:00 +0000

Writing this seems too fucking hard.

Having the eternal human wish to cling on to the past. And never let go.

I'll miss him forever.

You'll be in our hearts as long as we live. Everyone's Best Friend.

Love you, Rasi. :'(

It is a woman. It is always a woman!

noreply@blogger.com (vivek) — Sun, 02 May 2010 04:09:00 +0000

Only a few days before, I was reading Russia's and Arsenal's footballing star Andrey Arshavin's comments about, well, something that might touch quite a few nerves here and there. It went something like this ...

"I would never give driving lessons to women. We need to build new roads for them. Why? Because you never know what to expect from a woman on the road. If you see a car behaving weirdly, swerving and doing strange things, before you see the driver you know it is a woman. It is always a woman."

Pooof !! Quite funny , but there it was ! He had just said something which ranks among the all time leading things not to say in public . I decided the man must be out of his mind . He might have marvellous feet , but he seemed to have lost both his footing and his marbles the day he said that. But I guess I should have seen something like this coming . After all , this was the man who saw his side, Arsenal, go shellshocked and get humiliated on being at the receiving end of Barcelona's magical footballing night, and then came out and announced that his dream, his ultimate goal, was to play for Barcelona ! So I thought, the man must indeed be assumed lost and be forgiven.

I believe it must have been then that God decided, to play-act his little joke. He gave me what I would like to be called, a little reminder. Of the natural charm in women, for a "weird drive".

I was on my dad's kinetic, old and rusty but still a smooth ride. It had recently stopped showing one of it's marvellous powers, the high mileage, so I was taking it for a check up. I passed many, some on their bikes, some inside their cars, and A Woman. On her Scooty Pep. Maybe I noticed her because her indicator was forever signalling left, when the road was straight, or because her tail light was broken, hanging down. Or maybe it was just because her Pep was a big fat bright PINK Pep. Anyway, though I noticed her, I never realised it. The lurking danger in overtaking a woman. On a PINK Pep .
I surged ahead, unfortunately to be slowed down, as usual, by India's exclusive, the road gutter. I could see it from miles out. They had dug it out, possibly for putting some cable or something (why do they keep changing the cables every time a new road is laid !). So as one sane person, I slowed down, for protecting my dad's loved kinetic suspension.
I was guessing I had not slowed down enough, for there was this little jerk of the kinetic . But the jerk soon made me realise the misunderstanding, for I was jumped out from the kinetic. Only a soft Ah ! escaped my lips because I had no time to yell, before I hit the floor. There I was, lying on the road, thinking it must have been either a very big truck or The Godzilla that hit, only to look back and see HER.
Yes. On her Bright Pink Pep.
She was screaming "I'm sorry ! I'm sorry ! The brakes din't work properly ! I'm so so sorry ! "
I got up, said it's ok, picked up the kinetic from my leg, stretched a few threads, and was up and running. The gutter was huge, even I saw it from miles out, the PINK pep was new, so the brakes weren't bad, and it was a down slope, so no one would accelerate to that high a speed ... All these jumbled across my confused mind, rotating themselves in and out of the frame, before the brain entered the fray, and everything went into a still, my memory echoing a wise man's words, making everything else irrelevant .

"It is a woman. It is always a woman . "

Way to go, Andrey !

This is a Difference. This is Colossally Confusing.

noreply@blogger.com (vivek) — Sat, 01 May 2010 06:10:00 +0000

You know, it's weird that someone who is just a kid like me,with a relatively limited knowledge and power that really isnt upto revolutionising the World yet, is even allowed to post something in the humongous world of Internet.
This blog might contain the most adult-rated guys only stuff, or might contain the Dont-laugh-at-me-after-you've-read-this-stuff ...
All I am saying is, this is my stuff, weirdest things that pass through my mind, things that I cant say straight to people's face because i might not meet them in life, things that I may plan in my dreams, about love, immaturity, boredom, my screw-ups and mostly about things that will appeal neither to yours nor my intelligence.
So thats your warning. Right there. Straight up your nose.
Enter at risk. You might need a Psychiatrist soon.