The Jinxability Blog

Then Again, 2011 Wasn't That Bad!

2011-12-27T17:15:00.000+05:30

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It's funny what 12 months can do to you, isn't it? Last year, this time, I was home. I was drunk. I was depressed. And I was writing this.

Looking back, yes, those were the dark times. And though no more posts followed, it didn't significantly improve. For the next three months. It got worse. And then worse some more. And then you get to the point where you start giving up. (This is about where you're going to realize that this is not one of the usual humour posts I write here. Sorry about that.)

If I were to pick one moment that changed it all. It'd be this:

In Agumbe, there I was, standing at the edge of a waterfall and peering down. (Did I mention I was afraid of heights?) And then the wind picked up, knocked me off balance for a split-second. That tiny fragment of time, when you're pretty sure that you're going to fall a 20 storey-height to a very painful death can give you a lot of perspective.

And it did. Actually, life can be awesome fun, if you let it be.

So. I did.

- I did get that passport.
- I went to Australia and Austria. (Antartica next, maybe.)
- I traveled WAY WAY more than the 10, 000 kilometers that I wanted to travel.
- Actually, I traveled more than 1500 kilometers on a cycle. (Did I mention that I might sell off my bike?)
- Got inked.
- Quit a job where I wasn't growing anymore. (And starting another job in the New Year.)
- Moving to a city that I love. Full of people that I can relate with.
- Had less number of people call me scary.
- Made a substantial difference to the lives of at least 4 people.
- Still can't put up with my relatives. I rather doubt that this one will ever be possible. But hey, it's a New Year after all.

Ultimately. 2011 taught me one VERY important lesson:

Doesn't matter where you are. Doesn't matter what you are. Doesn't matter who you're with. Doesn't matter if you're not invited. Doesn't matter if people don't care. Doesn't matter if you're disappointed.

If you want something, you fight for it. With everything you have. (How's that for cheesy?)

And right now, I want an awesome 2012. So bring it on!

Happy New Year, my only reader. (And anybody else.)
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The Man who will Martyrize my Inner-Wear

2011-08-23T00:53:00.000+05:30

I'm a very disappointed citizen of the Indian Union. What liberty does a citizen have when his very integrity is taken for a ride? What is the purpose of me voting for a new Government, or a new representative if they can't protect my freedom?

It all happened last Wednesday. My off day. The day I use to take care of my chores. And I did. Dutifully. Like any good citizen. I spent TWO long-drawn hours washing my clothes. And then another fifteen minutes, hanging them on the terrace of my apartment complex. Satisfied with my effort, I came back downstairs and had me a couple of beers.

How was I to know that a heinous crime was being committed that very same night while I was happily drunk?

For on Thursday morning, I was in for quite the shock. Up on the terrace, I surveyed the scene. 3 shirts: check. 2 Jeans: Check. 4 pair socks: Check. 4 pair underwear: Wait, what?

ONLY THREE?? Who would do such a thing? And of all the colours the bastard could have chosen to steal, he stole the blue one! My favourite!

The police force doesn't care, of course. "Saar, enna saar?" they ask me quizzically. Yeah you bastard, you won't know how painful it is until you have yours stolen.

My landlord is not interested either. "I don't wear any," he said casually, thus absolving himself from the crime and distancing himself from a possible solution. Ah, can't blame the guy. It's not like I pay rent on time anyhow.

Are you laughing? I can almost hear your amusement as I type one long word after the other. How dare you? I'm the victim here.

(In picture: What was lost. Item itself can't be seen because of kurta and jeans. But this picture comes closest.)

Disappointed and depressed, I mop around, until a friend says: "This is Indian my friend. Only one person can put your mind at ease."

Apparently, only one man can get things done in India, and that too, by means of blackmail terrorism. Some man by the name of Anna is the supreme exponent, says all the TV channels that I don't watch. And all the newspapers that I don't read.

Men with strange names like Arnab and Rajdeep keep shouting the name over and over. On air. They keep cutting people off mid-sentence. Oh wait, I guess that was always there.

Twitter trends, facebook pages, text messages. Anna, Anna, Anna. Who is this guy anyway? Can he do what nobody can?? Can he make sure that nobody else has to suffer the pain that I have suffered? Can he restore my lost honour??

And then I read up on it. Turns out, YES HE CAN!! This is a man who fights against the evil forces of corruption. The very force that was responsible for my current plight.

How you may ask? Well, every problem in India, as we all know, arises from corruption and 'em politicians. Silly little bastards. Yes, they're to blame. I'm sure you agree.

This man wants to put in place another system. The Lokpal system which, they say, is incorruptible. If they say so, I will believe it. I'm an aam aadmi after all. What do I know of such things?

So I will stand with this man. I will go to the rallies they organize in his name. I will fast along with him, for a few hours at least. I will shamelessly blackmail the very people that I elected to represent me.

Why? Fuck you! Why not? As long as I have someone to blame, somebody to support, some rally to go to to find more meaning in my own life, why SHOULD'NT I do it?

When this man succeeds (everyone tells me he will), I will proudly stand along with him and be very happy with myself. And, by being part of this crusade, I would've made safe the future of the millions of underwear owners across the country.

How, you ask? Of course you did. You ask too many fucking questions I say!!

And then.. Then, there is Project Completion

2011-06-28T12:31:00.000+05:30

** Disclaimer: This post will in all possibility contain random outbursts of anger, offensive language and indecent references. If you are a minor under adult supervision, read and use as you see fit. **

FUCK YOU!

Ha! Felt good to start with that one. :) You see, when this month started, all I had was a challenge and a new cycle.

This month ends with a less-new cycle, valuable lessons about myself learned, a target achieved and the satisfaction of spitting in the faces of you nay-sayers.

If you're reading this, you know what this is all about. My project for the month of June. 1ooo kilometers.

It gives me quite a lot of pleasure to tell you that the target has been met. Two days before the close of the month. (In 23 days, to be more precise)

As for you fuckers who said that I'd vanish into thin air, or that I'd go into the 2D mode of existence, or that I wouldn't get past 500, or that it was a stupid pursuit: Well, the longest of my fingers stands straight in defiance to your quirks and pessimism. The opening two words of this post was JUST FOR YOU! Enjaay!

It wasn't easy. It was raining at times. Sweltering hot otherwise. But, to be frank, more than the people who were supporting me, it was you, the people who weren't and the people who were saying I couldn't do it, that drove me on most of the time. So yeah, do need to thank you as well.

Anyhow, find the figures here.

Oh, and to the folks who were supporting me! THANK YOU! The support kilometers I had to do for you was the best part of the month! Felt good doing it! :D

Meanwhile, Zen and the Art of Bicycle Perseverance continues right here on this blog.. Come back and visit to find out more about what to do when some fucking moron runs you off the road..

Until then, ride hard, don't take shit from anyone, and complete your projects. Jr out!

The Ides of June.. Well, Not Really, But..

2011-06-14T18:34:00.001+05:30

June has just been cut short for me. What was to be a 30-day project involving 1000 kms, just turned into a 28-day project, with a wee bit over 1000 kilometers.

Rains, roads and dumass motorists haven't been kind.

But hills have been climbed, Zen has been practiced, abuses have been hurled and gears have been changed.

Today being the half-day mark, it was time to assess oneself in true Zen tradition.

So. Here are the facts:

1. Kilometers covered: 530.62
2. Time taken: 1 day and half an hour.

More such unnecessary figures can be found here.

In conclusion:
Am I on track for 1000 kms: Yes.
Am I on track for more than 1000 kms: Possibly.
Am I going to stick onto the project: Yes. Been laughed at by too many people to give up now.

Tips from "Zen and the Art of Bicycle Perserverance":
--> For every hill you pedal up, there's always going to be a downhill you can coast on.

--> Distances never get smaller. Your ability to lie to yourself gets better.

--> When the World runs out of petrol and diesel, cyclists can have the sadistic pleasure of honking at the now-carless Motorist bastards. Or, more simply put: Patience IS virtue!

(Image courtesy: webwarriortools.com)

Project 1000 June K

2011-06-01T07:32:00.000+05:30

Dear Reader (s?),

This is not one of those posts where I say something stupid, you read it, think to yourself 'weirdo!' and then we all go on with our merry lives.

No my friend, we're in deeper shit now.

So. Did you know that I recently bought a bicycle? Well I did. I bought the Schwinn Searcher 2011. Google it, and you'll get this image:

Awesome right? Well, in reality, mine looks like this:

No less awesome mind you. If you sniggered, fuck you! Moving on..

Getting to the point. This friend (ah well sort of) of mine, who has a Bianchi Camaleonte and likes showing it off took it one step too far yesterday. He challenged me. The nerve of the short bastard, I say!

What was the challenge? To do a 1000 kilometers on the bike during the month of June. As I stood there stunned and shocked, it occurred to me what I should do.

As any responsible person who has Barney has his role model would do, I shouted out: "Challenge accepted."

So. This morning at 4.30 a.m. I put on my lucky, erm, shoes, listened to an AC/DC track and hit the road.

17 kms in, I had the realization.

As any number of ex-girlfriends, ex-roomies and ex-friends will tell you, I have MAJOR trust-issues. Didn't help that all of them were from the canine family, but anyhow, I don't trust anybody!

Point being, I don't trust MYSELF on this. If it's just between me and Mr. Bianchi(cken), I'm pretty sure I'll drop out, come down with a fever, develop arthritis, fake a heart condition or something after a few days.

But not if you know too. For putting up with all my weirdo shit, I owe you that much. :D

So here is the deal. Keep me to my word. For every person who calls, pings or comments and encourages me to do this, I'll do an extra 5 kilometers!

And how are you going to know what distances I did? You can find it right here.

So let's go! Bring on Day 2 I say!

Them Sheep!

2011-05-23T08:44:00.001+05:30

It happened in December. Suddenly, I couldn't sleep. I was an insomniac.

Such a chronic one that it started scaring my friends. Some asked me to count sheep, others asked me see a doctor. One advised me to get drunk and pass out.

The last one, actually, was the only plan that worked for me.

I blamed it on my job. The hours. The lack of hours. The timings. The lack of timing, rather.

It went on for three months. The constant tiredness. Nodding off in the bus, five minutes before the stop where I would have to get down. Then the long and painful nights, some of whom were used for constructive purposes; but mostly whittled away wondering what was wrong with me and how to fix it.

Then suddenly, towards the end of April, it all went back to normal. Eight hours a day. And everyday at that.

The results: Fell behind on my reading, fell behind on my to-watch list, couldn't run in the mornings anymore, got increasingly more bored in office, started waking up early, started getting to office early, bus rides became longer, train rides became insufferable, sounds were clearer and more deafening etc etc.

Today. I haven't slept yet.

The results: Went for a walk, started reading again (Girl with the Dragon Tattoo), sat up and thought about writing about this, sat up and wrote about this, made myself breakfast, read the paper, didn't count sheep, finished watching a series that I had wanted to watch. Oh I don't know.

If those sheep and doctors had done any permanent damage to me, I wouldn't be writing this.

I can complain I guess. And I probably will also. But have to admit, being an insomniac is probably one of the best things that can happen to somebody. Imagine all the extra hours you get!

(Image courtesy: http://bioweb.uwlax.edu)

So THAT is Australia!

2011-05-21T23:44:00.000+05:30

Yes. I work at a good enough place. Good enough for them to send me to Australia for three days.

Now. I've never been to Australia before, or anywhere else outside India for that matter. Hell, I just got my passport a couple of months back as part of my ground-breaking Project MMXI.

So it was that one fine night, I got to Brisbane airport.

First impression: Looks like a nice place. (Day 1, 2031 hrs, Location: Airport/On road to Caloundra)

Why? People smile at you. The roads are clean. There is this strange silence that I've never experienced before. What IS that? Then it hits me! Nobody here honks!

Yes goddammit! You heard me, people there don't honk. They put on their indicators, stick to their lanes and let other people pass by. Fucking brilliant I say!

Second impression: I could live here. (Day 2, 0843 hrs, Location: Breakfast buffet @ Oasis Rdyges Hotel, Caloundra.)

What more could you ask for? The people are nice, the weather is nice, there is a beach nearby, and the beach has benches where you can sit and forget everything!

And the food. Steak and bacon and hash browns and (sigh)... Here, I might actually put on some weight for once!

A dream come true for any lazy ass.

Third impression: They'll kill me if I stay here too long (Day 2, mid-morning to late night, Location: In and around Caloundra.)

Ah, you don't know what it is like when you hear it on TV, or watch in that movie. Being in the moment while you're being racially abused, well, is.. you know, funny!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT take pride in being an Indian, or being brown skinned, or being born a Hindu etc. I also DO NOT aspire to or want to be like an Aussie, American, Espanyolish Amigo or haughty Englishman.

Hence, I really do not get racism.

I found it funny that these people were so quick to judge me, shout at me, wave their fingers (read finger) at me and stare at me without even giving me a chance. I mean, who's the bigger man here? Me, and I never would've thought that I would have the privilege! So there!

Fourth impression: No place is perfect I suppose. (Day 3 + Day 3 and 1/2, Location: Caloundra/Brisbane.)

Look at us in India. We can barely put up with each other. We have stereotypes about language, tradition and all that nonsense.

Now. You take the same people, put them in a different continent, and have them give shit to the local population. What do you get? Racism of course. Aussie people, I do understand how you feel about my brethren.

It's just sad that you thought I was one of the multitudes. You can obviously tell from my aura of awesomeness that I'm different. Then why?!

But. In the end, I suppose you're never comfortable with any place. There are assholes everywhere. Question you've to ask is whether you're willing to put up with all of them just to be there.

Is the bacon and steak really worth it? Is the lack of sound pollution worth it? Are the pretty women worth it?

Questions, confounding questions.

Super-Cool Shit They Should Have Invented: Part 1

2011-03-24T00:56:00.000+05:30

I'm no scientist.. Yes, there was a time when I thought I was that smart. But my maths teacher and those repeated exams laid that theory to rest..

But sometimes I wish I was smart.. Coz these dumasses that parade around as smart don't invent cool shit anymore.. I mean, OK, Ipod is great. Move on! Don't come out with ten versions of it!

(Sigh) All the things cool people like you and I could've invented if we were smart.. (Yes, my reader, you're cool because you're reading this now, and you're definitely not smart since, well, you're reading this)

There is one thing I'd desperately like to invent:

Eye camera

I'm sure there is a conspiracy behind this one. Them photographers will be out of a job if this technology was ever invented.

I mean, how many times did you see that sunset while on the road, or a bird's silhouette against the evening sky and wish you could have captured that forever? And them photographers are never around when you need them either. They're busy shooting cars from different angles. Yeah, we've seen them a thousand times buddy! Get a life!

Anyhow, getting to the point. What if you could actually convert your eyesight into an image file and remember it forever? That would be one awesome kick-ass invention. I can also think of several ways how it can be misused, but hey, we're human beings, that's how we roll.

But hey, for every time I stood somewhere, saw something great, took a deep breath, and wished I had a camera, or that I could remember it exactly the way it was forever, or show it to someone else, I'm willing to take that risk..

So smart people. Where you at?

(Image Courtesy: howstuffworks.com)

My Time Machine To-Do List

2011-03-12T20:28:00.000+05:30

I don't understand Hollywood. All those movies with time machines in them, and nobody could manage to do something interesting with them.

Michael J. Fox made out with his Mom, Guy Pearce tried to bring his wife back from the dead, John Cusack and co. took another chance at their miserable childhood, Ben Affleck bought himself a lottery ticket, oh the list is endless AND frustrating.

For all that intellectual depth and Save-The-World nonsense that they so flamboyantly showed in other movies, they did not do one single thing worth noting.. But hey, can't blame them. Poor bastards were probably caught unprepared.

But not me. No sir! I shall endeavour to put together a Time-Machine To-Do list, just in case I happen to come across/use/fall-into/get-sucked-into one...

And it shall follow:

1. Tell Jesus what his priests are upto 2000 years later..
2. Tell Buddha that there are two branches of Buddhism these days..
3. Find out if any of that shit in the Mahabharatha is actually true..
4. Go to 1938 and tell Adolf Hitler how the war will end..
5. Go meet Anne Frank..
6. Stay in Harappa for two months and learn the local language...
7. See Egypt under Cleopatra... (Find out how they managed to build them pyramids also..)
8. Watch how Alexander managed to talk to the Indians..
9. Go see a mammoth / T-Rex...
10. Witness Berlin Wall destruction...
11. Tell them Indian kings what the British will be up to the moment they set up base.. (Not that it'd make too much of a difference!)

I'm pretty sure there were more. Periodical writer's block, what can I say! To be updated as and when inspiration strikes..

(Image courtesy: Vistawallpaper.org)

The Common Man's Guide on How to be an Idiot: Part 1

2011-01-22T06:49:00.000+05:30

Truth be told, I wish I was not the person who was destined to write this series. But, after all the shit that this friend of mine gets into, I can no longer sit by idly and not write about it.

The Common Man's Guide on How to be an Idiot: Part 1: How to screw up while buying electronics!

We all buy electronics. If you're a common man though, you make sure you get the best deal out of it. If you are too bored of that; if you want more excitement in your lives; if you need funny stories to tell your friends while you're drinking because you're too boring to think of other interesting conversation topics, read on:

Screw-Up #1: Being the economical one:

If all electronics were built to last until they were deemed unworthy, then they would all be like Tom Cruise's sunglasses in Mission Impossible 2. They will self-destruct in 5 seconds.

Hence, if you really wanna look like an idiot, be stingy. Buy the cheapest thing available, from the nearest store possible. To put some effort into it would be a crime!

Case in Point: This, uh, friend of mine wanted a laptop. So he went to Dell's website which allows you to customize as much as you want.

Now it is fun when you put all the high-end stuff while customizing and end up with a bill that roughly comes up to how much you make a year.

Ok. Let's be fair here. We common men have limitations. But, what's NOT advisable is going for the cheapest stuff that Dell offers (I'm sure even they're embarrassed that they put that stuff on their site now)...

Result: In roughly a couple of months, no program will work on your lappy. It will hang so much that you'll find yourself going to office just so that you don't have to stare at that blank screen anymore..

Screw-Up #2: Jumping the Gun:

NEVER ever buy something without trying it out, and making sure that it is indeed what you want.

This same friend that I was talking about once went to buy headphones.

Now, for the uninitiated in headphones, the best ear-plugs out there is probably Creative's EP-630. It looks like this:

Now, what do you do if the vendor says he doesn't have EP-630, but has EP-830 (which btw is also more expensive)?

Well, usually people would ask to see it and try it out. But not me. Er, I mean, not that friend of mine. He went ahead and bought it.

Result: Turns out the one that he bought is half the length of the EP-630 and doesn't reach from his ears to his jeans pocket. I mean, this guy is 6 feet 4. (Weird huh? So am I!) Those headphones now have a good time sitting on his shelf.

They're also occasionally used to hang bananas from the hook on the roof.

Screw-Up # 3: 'I trust ALL cheap stuff'

Alright, I'll let you all in on a secret. Cheap stuff are cheap because of a very obvious reason. Apparently, they're not made to last..

Even worse, some of them are not even built to work at all.. They just sit there inside their pretty casings just waiting.. Waiting for a colossal idiot to walk by..

And on your lucky day, it could just be this friend of mine.. Case in point: An mp3 player this guy bought..

Guy: This thing is cheap. It does work right?

Vendor: *grunt*

Guy: Awesome. You're awesome! I love Ritchie Street!

24 hours later:

Guy: Dude, this shit don't work!

Vendor: *grunt* = I'm not taking it back if it doesn't work fuck-wit. Ha ha ha!

So there. Now you have a better idea how to make an idiot out of yourself. Keep reading for more interesting fields to fuck up in.. So long now!

(Images courtesy: volksdepot.co.uk, snpi.dell.com)

Happy New.... Oh fuck that shit!

2010-12-31T23:13:00.001+05:30

Enough! Enough with the messages. The pings. The mails.

Enough with the hand-shakes and the cakes. Booze is exempted. Not that anybody is bringing me any.

Let's face it. This year is going to suck just as bad as the last one. It has to. The last time people said 'Happy' to me so many times, I ended up having 12 shitty months..

My resolutions evaporated in less than 10 days I think. So no. Not again.

Better idea. No more resolutions. I shall have projects. Realistic. Not generic. And doable. Yes. Totally doable!

Project list for 2011:

1. Get passport

1.1. Travel abroad someplace. Anyplace.

2. Get tattoo on biceps

2.0. Get biceps to put tattoo on

3. Travel more than 10,000 kilometres

4. Buy camera

5. Grow beard, and sport sanyasi look for a week at least

6. Get invited to at least some 2012 New Year Party so that I won't be sitting at home writing shit again

7. Put on atleast 10 kilos so that the sanyasin look won't scare people

8. Drink at least 4 times a month

9. Find a better place to live

10. Find some people to drink with on a regular basis

11. Think of more stuff to do.

12. Update this list throughout the course of the year.

So there! Take that 2011. Fuck you too!

Things you learn from a North Indian Wedding

2010-12-14T20:54:00.000+05:30

Thank you my brother. Thanks to you, I have learned some valuable lessons on life, weddings and life during weddings recently.

Now. I don't like weddings. We Mallus have five minute weddings. As in, if you're not the groom or bride, the wedding basically is a five minute affair. Show up, smile at some people, go eat, and then go home.

I hate going to those! I hate all those relatives who come up to you, pinch your cheek and say: "Do you remember me?" I usually say: "No I don't." which is met with condescending looks from all around. It would eventually turn out that they last met me when I was a five month old baby in diapers.

North Indian weddings, my friends, are sadly not that easy. The lessons I've learnt at the one I was at recently?

1. Be safe than very sorry
Never EVER get married to a North Indian girl. If you unfortunately happen to fall for one, make sure that she is not one of those who always dream of having a big wedding.

2. Don't play Who's Boss?
Don't tell your parents that you're getting married, until after you're already hitched. Unless of course, you willingly want to spend your time listening to, and being party to, the myriad efforts trying to out-do the other side.

"They are coming in Volkswagen for the wedding, we'll hire BMW." "They bought new shoes from Bata? We'll atleast have to buy Luis Vutton!" Yes, you will feel like killing yourself after a couple of days of this.

3. Beware of 'em relative folk
Do not force people into coming if they really are not up to it. Asking them to dress up and take part in customs they do not understand or endorse is only going to start a crib-match. Which you do not want to listen to. If you're related to them or not.

At the reception, somebody said: "When you get hitched, don't go for somebody outside our fold. Going through all these customs is very difficult for us" I answered: "Even if I do or don't, you are not invited. There! Problem solved!"

4. Horses don't dance
Sadly, people are expected to. Northies have this Baaraat thing where the groom (who got the rest of us into the mess) sits on a horse and his relatives are supposed to dance him from some kilometre or so away up till the wedding venue.

Baaraat: Needed: Young relatives who have no shame.
What we had: 40+ relatives who hadn't moved their upper body since 1974.
Recipe for disaster.
What is worse than being the only guy in a young age bracket and having to do the honours of writhing uncontrollably to shitty music? Having to watch your older relatives try to follow suit. Trust me. Painful. Very.

5. The law of Exchanges
Which, sadly, do not apply in the case of such weddings. Why do I propose this? Because of the needless amounts spent on things that go to waste or are not appreciated enough.

For example, at this wedding, both the sides were expected to give each other kilos upon kilos of dry fruits. Nobody eats them (well perhaps maybe me. But I do have limits you know!) and they didn't seem to serve much of a purpose.

Instead, why couldn't they just have called it even, and said: "OK. Let's just not buy any!"

The sides were also expected to give each other apparel. I caught disapproving looks on stage many a time as the gifts were given and received. Can't blame them. Can't blame myself actually. Pink really is NOT my colour. I mean, come on! Seriously?

Anyhow, going to one is enough to put one off marriages for the rest of his life. I still can't understand why we're struggling with a population problem!

(Images Courtesy: Talash.com, Indycarriage.com)

The On-Day and the Off-Day

2010-10-09T00:43:00.001+05:30

I have two kinds of days. No matter how much I try, it is always either one or the other.
It is either an On-Day, or it is an Off-Day

4:00 a.m.
What else do I do now? C'mon think of something. Get off your ass! Jeez!
Why am I even up at this time?

9:00 a.m.
Oh I'm up early. Have to get things done.
I hate you sunlight. Fish you God!

11:30 a.m.
This and that and that is done. I feel happy about myself.
*Drools* Say what?

1.00 p.m.
Now I will have lunch!
I should probably brush my teeth.

3:00 p.m.
Get on train, go for work. Awesome!
I should probably get out of bed now. #fml!

5:00 p.m.
Work is awesome! They'll probably promote me if I work this hard!
What's the point? I'll die an old man doing the same job. Why God, why?

9:00 p.m.
I belong here don't I? I could work like this without taking an off for days at end.
I need a vacation. I need a camera. I need a car. When is the pay-day again?

10:30 p.m.
Time to leave already? But, but, there is nothing to do at home!
Gawd! I thought this would never end. Home sweet home. Well not quite, but atleast it's quiet.

11:30 p.m.
This movie, that movie. Book. This one, that one. I'm hungry. What restaurant will be open now?
What movie have I seen, does not require me to think, and is fun? Damn, I'm hungry.

2:00 a.m.
I should go to sleep shouldn't I? Will wake up early and have another awesome day tomorrow.
What's the point. No sunlight. Awesome time to be up. Yayy!

4:00 a.m.
What's the point? Why am I even up at this time?
Alright enough! Get up off your ass NOW!

(Image Courtesy: antonylowe.wordpress.com)

Overcoming Blogger's Block

2010-10-07T01:59:00.000+05:30

And then, there are those days. Days without one word being written!

Or weeks. Or months.

Steps to overcoming the dreaded disease that all Bloggers face one time or the other:

Step 1: Denying Denial

Tell yourself that you ARE actually blocked and can't write even a few scant words.

Stop telling yourself that you're not writing because

a) There is not a good enough topic;

b) You don't have time;

c) The keyboard isn't good enough.

Step 2: Think of an Action Plan

Come to the realisation that all awesome things happen because of action plans. Figure out how you might possible go about getting around the block.

OR. If you're NOT an anal freak, skip to step 3.

Step 3: Get off your Ass

Come to the realisation that your endless procrastination skills are not constructive. To anything.

Give yourself a date. A deadline. Try and figure out a topic. Or don't. Just decide to go with the flow.

Step 4: Fight the fear

Refrain from asking yourself questions such as:

- But what if it isn't interesting enough?

- What will all my thousand readers thinnk?

- What if nobody comments?

Step 5: Truth Time

Tell yourself the truth that you keep buried deep, deep inside:

- Your posts are never interesting.

- You don't have a thousand readers. In fact, you might not have more than two.

- Nobody usually comments anyhow. Besides you, yourself.

Step 6: Final realisation

Come to the painful but beautiful conclusion that you primarily write for yourself. So who gives a shit anyhow?

Step 7: D-Day

After a further procrastination of a few days, and just type what comes to mind.

Hit 'Publish' and keep your fingers crossed for all the critical acclaim, tons of comments and showers of love from subscribers.

(Image Courtesy: storesonlinepro.com)

He said, so I said.

2010-08-27T13:11:00.000+05:30

This post had been in the making for quite some time. First lack of time, then lack of sleep, and then lack of a laptop put me off from writing it.

Until I was heartbroken to see that somebody else had already written on it. My good friend Jonva, over at These Days, wrote this post to commemorate the Independence Day. Oddly enough, staunch and proud Indian I was, I couldn't but agree with what he was saying.

First off, this is the first Independence Day that I've seen quite a few of my friends actually saying that they did not quite enjoy celebrating it all that much. Possibilities:
1. I made a lot of friends this year.
2. I made a few friends this year, but they were all 'rebels'.
3. Independence Day fell on a Sunday this year; hence people actually started thinking about it, rather than thank it for a merciful holiday.

Whatever the case maybe, they are right. We're all pseudo-patriots. We take pride in our country because everybody else does. Not because we understand, give two-hoots about, or because we know what it stands for.

Our national pride and sentiment are restricted to the days when our nation comes to the rescue in the form of a national holiday. Now that is the case with most of us. I'm not quite sure where to put the army-men, freedom fighters and their kind. They seem to be fighting for the country, with the staunch belief that they're doing some good.

Though, I wonder, won't a soldier in Pakistan think the same thing? Will he, for instance, wake up one day and say: "Oh damn, Musharraf is such a dick!" I suppose not. What makes him better or worse than one of our own soldiers?

Our forefathers. And their brave actions that gave us freedom from the fat and boring English (of course, they did not have the EPL then). Why? Why did we need it so bad? What good did they think they were doing?

Fact of the matter is, we need those army-men and politicians. Though I agree with every word Jonva said in his post, I don't think he sees the point.

You see, in an ideal world, there are no hypocrites. In an ideal world, there are no politicians. No hunger, no poverty. No richer man. And no poorer man. In an ideal world, there is no money. There are no differences.

Unfortunately, we don't live in the ideal world. We probably never will. I keep thinking it will take a nuclear war for the ideal world to emerge. Still might not at the same time. We're too damaged to think as one now.

There is no answer. Just. Hope.

(Image Courtesy: human3rror.com)

Them Trucks Need Condoms! #justsaying

2010-08-05T04:32:00.000+05:30

She had her eyes trained on me. All eight of them. For a moment, I was lost.

Do I let go off my bike handle bars, swat the damn thing away; or do I keep on riding, stop somewhere safe and then make sure that I don't become as big a pathetic loser as that Spiderman freak.

Option 1, sounded better. SWAT! Spider gone. I'm safe.

With new found confidence, there rose an anger. I looked toward the source from which this not-so-radioactive arachnid sprang hence. A garbage truck. As it braked, and then accelerated, and then braked again in the noon traffic on Sardar Patel Road, bits and pieces were showered on those unfortunate enough to be riding anywhere close to it.

Which took me back to another incident a week or so back. Riding back from office late at night, I ended up behind a truck that was carrying rubble of some sort. Concrete that was dug up from somewhere. Presumably a good-looking road.

As I came up behind, the flap was lifted off by the wind, and I was showered with debris. The bike started wobbling after it went over a few stones that were being sprayed onto the road. Weirdly, it reminded me of an action sequence from some Will Smith movie. Bad Boyz I think. Dunno.

Anyhow, point is, half the stuff that these idiots carry end up on the road. Another reason why our roads aren't so great. I mean, in a way, it makes sense. If you're carrying things that people don't really WANT, such as garbage or rubble, who cares if it reaches the end-point or not right?

Well, I care you fucking morons. You fuck up my eyes, you screwed up my tyres, you almost made me into fucking Spiderman!

I think the folks that pass all those unnecessary laws should enforce some rule enforcing condoms on the back of trucks. Desired results:

1. Less number of freaks running around in tights,
2. Road safety;
3. Something to do for those damn traffic cops, other than terrorizing little-to-blame sane riders.

Just saying.

If Rupee can, Why not Sarcasm?

2010-08-03T16:15:00.002+05:30

I was reading an interesting article the other day, about how the two slashes (//) (as in http://www.iamdumb.com) in web addresses was a mistake and how actually there should have been only one.

Now, imagine how many keystrokes would have been saved if it hadn't been for that one error. It's weird.

Yesterday, I had that same feeling once again. I was tweeting, and I shared a link, and added a sarcastic comment to it: It went something like:

Now, you read it as sarcastic coz I already told you it was going to be sarcastic. But, I kinda figured some people hadn't got that message when the link was retweeted five minutes later:

The dude who wrote this though, later clarified that he had meant it in a sarcastic manner too. What confusion.

Anyhow, point is, it got me thinking. Since sarcasm is such a widely and popularly used literary tool, why relegate it to ambiguity?

Hence, I thought that we should have a universal symbol for sarcasm. I mean why not? Rupee has it. And I'm kinda sure that more people use sarcasm than they do rupee.

We could just plonk one of these down at the end of a sentence to imply to our readers that we didn't ACTUALLY think that the pink dress was nice, or that Iraq is having a ball of a time, or that Ricky Martin is gay. Oh wait, no, strike that last one. You get my point.

And like a responsible citizen, I've even managed to come up with a unique design. Lo and behold! The Sarm Symbol!

Any suggestions to improve, campaign for and get this done are always welcome!

The Case of the Empty Metro Stations #justsaying

2010-07-23T02:08:00.001+05:30

What do you do when you see something that you have an opinion on, and then you realize that your opinion doesn't count for shit, and that nobody is going to pay attention to it? You tag it with #justsaying. (Sorry, Twitter Hang-over :|) To get to it:

Metro rail travel might not be that popular in Chennai, but as I've been finding out over the last week or so, it is the most economical, fast and least hazardous mode of travel. One drawback: it only traverses two routes. I hear seven routes will be up by the end of 2014.

Anyhow, to get to the point. Every time I walk into a metro station to catch a train, one thought is predominant in my mind: What a colossal waste of space!

Every station is a monstrosity. And since the rail is elevated, there are three floors to the construction. Two are empty. One has the rail line itself (and a couple of bathrooms, though, most people prefer the ground floor walls for relieving themselves. :|)

I keep wondering why the city does not actually lend out space here and accomplish:

1. Revenue Boost.

2. Use of empty space in prime locations (in most cases).

3. And maybe even a bit of good exposure for the project of itself.

Station in need of some human occupation the most? Chepauk. It's scary to walk through the station in broad daylight. Reminds one of the set of a cheap B Grade Hollywood horror flick. I was half expecting a vampire to jump on me. (Not one of the gay ones from Twilight. More along the hard-core Dracula cadre lines.)

Anyhow, Just Saying.

The Fuck-Up that is Language

2010-06-19T02:37:00.000+05:30

Being Indian will definitely help one understand why language is such a fucked up thing. In North India at least, people get to speak Hindi in a larger area. Down here though, a bit west and it's Malayalam, a bit north and it's Kannada, a bit to this side is Telugu and a bit to that side is Tamil.

But, why do we still keep enduring it? Today I read an article about lawyers who are on a hunger strike to enforce Tamil in the Madras High Court. What if the Judge does not understand Tamil? What if the defendant or the accused doesn't? I'm sure they forgot to ask themselves THAT question. Hence, shouldn't they ideally know BOTH languages?

Point is, I think all this comes down to the fact that we live in an age of linguistic chauvinism. Which in ways are related to regional chauvinism. Saw a friends status message the other day, saying that quite a large number of students in Maharashtra had failed in Marathi. She was asking the MNS what they had to say about it. Marathi language of course is the sole responsibility of the MNS last time we checked.

Have we all forgotten what language was meant for? To communicate wasn't it? Since when did it become a part of narrow minded identities? If I speak Malayalam, and you speak French (which I can't speak) will it really hurt to pick up each other's language?

Is picking up a language being a slave to it, or the region from in which it was born? Is it somehow construed as bowing down to their culture and accepting that they're better than us?

I think, we should take a relatively easy, relatively not popular language, and introduce it into schools across the world. A language which the Whites did not use to advance Colonialism, or the West used to advance Globalization, or which 'primitives' speak. It might be hard to find, but I'm sure there should be one such language.

Yes, a compromise on language. When these kids grow up, across the world, there will be one language that everybody can speak. And hopefully, nobody's ego will hurt.

By the way, I'm just thinking out loud here, but, how difficult is to invent a language?

(Image Courtesy: IndianMirror.com)

One Mallu CAN make a difference!

2010-06-18T00:08:00.001+05:30

What have the true stories of Spiderman, Batman, Superman and Wonderwoman taught us?
That superheroes dress so gay? Yes, you're right. But besides that, they've also taught us that one man/woman CAN make a difference, and so totally kick ass at it. (which reminds me, MUST check out this movie).

Now, I don't have radioactive spiders, Kryptonite or power-hungry freaks in my life. Oh wait, I do have power-hungry freaks in my life, but they're not as irritating as warrants an ass-kicking.

What though is irritating me most these days is riding in Chennai. Chennai has a different set of riding/driving etiquette(or lacks it rather!) that just gets on my nerves. Hence I figured someone should do something about it.

Point number 1:
In Cochin, where I come from, if you're stranded somewhere with no bus, no auto fare and no friends to pick you up, what do you do? You stick your hand out and ask someone for a ride. And you get one too, guaranteed!

In Chennai though, NEVER have I seen anybody offering a hitchhiker a ride. Not that nobody asks for it. People just don't stop. And may I add, it's very rude to the hitchhiker if you blow by and pretend that you did not see anything. I have had it done to me before on countless times, trust me.

Point number 2:
Why can't these Coco Cola (another word for which is __) sucking bastards NEVER use their dim lights? You perfect-eyesight-fucks might not realize it, but especially people with glasses are effectively rendered blind when you shine your high-ass-beam at their eyeballs.
Combined damage as a result of your high beams is me having to replace my bike's shocks after falling into too many holes.

The Campaign
They say one man can't make a difference, huh? So be it. They were probably right, but I'm still gonna try my hand at reforming these manner-less pigs of drivers.

Point number 1 shall be addressed by giving rides to anybody who asks for it, anywhere anytime. As of now, I don't intend to force anybody else to give rides, but hopefully the example will suffice. If you see a 6foot4 guy on a Midnight Blue/Skyblue Splendor with Kerala plates, and if you need a ride, don't hesitate to stick your hand out! :D

Point number 2 shall be addressed by a combination of hand-signals and shouting. On a dark night (or not), if you see a tall rider approaching from the opposite side, and making hand gestures (opening and closing palm) combined with a fair bit of shouting, which, even though he whooshed by, sounded a lot like "Fyakyoomadafakkaaa..", then, he was not commenting on your wife's boobs (which may or may not be good), he was just asking you to switch to your dim lights once in a while.

Heh! They say one man can't make any difference? I'll show them what one Mallu on a '99 Hero Honda Splendor can do!

(Images Courtesy: maniactive.com, zcache.com)

The Dilemma of Weather

2010-06-09T13:17:00.002+05:30

This is as much a poll as it is a post. I have a question to ask. How many of you have been happy with the weather for a period longer than, say a week? Or a month?

I don't know if it's exclusively a Chennai phenomenon or not. But it seems that I'm incapable of being happy about the weather for more than two days at most.

After a grueling summer, which included endless traffic at noon and buckets full of sweat, the words on everybody's lips ranged from 'respite' to 'rain' to 'mercy' to 'Sambar'. (Yes, that last word has nothing to do with weather. But this is Chennai you know! We love our Sambar!)

I was no different. I wanted to ride through Anna Salai at noon and not feel sorry about it. I wanted to drink less than 10 gallons of water everyday. I wanted to not dread power cuts and not depend on ACs (which I don't own).

And then it finally rained in Chennai on Sunday. I was happy. I got drenched a bit. Everybody was smiling. It was almost like it was wine, not water that was falling from the Sky.

Yet.

Today it rained again. I'm no longer happy.

Because it means:
1. Now I've to make my way through endless roads streaked with puddles, of which some are capable of drowning a full grown man.

2. Riding is no longer that much fun. It's cold. You've to pull on raincoats (Which I haven't bought yet). And it's not fun to get drenched and then go freeze your ass off in the office AC.

3. You don't feel like getting out of bed anymore. I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing, but considering this is only my second week at a new job, I'm thinking it's a bad thing.

Anyhow, I suppose this is just a passing shower. Soon, November shall come. (sigh)

(Images Courtesy: Cj.Ibnlive.com.in, chennaiplus.net)

Who Wants Mumbai When You Have Shrivardhan?

2010-05-17T00:08:00.001+05:30

I made a Mumbai trip recently. Yes, the city has changed a lot in 8 years since I went last. But this time, it was not the Gateway of India or Monginis that I remembered most. It was a trip I made down to a place called Shrivardhan.

Felt obliged to up a few pics and feel proud about myself for going there. (Even though I had very very little to do with the planning) :D

Oh and yeah, looking back on the planning process, I'll take sympathy on you and make it easier.

If you ARE planning on going, call this guy called Sagar at the Anandi Beach Resort (09921247443). Very nice place and people! Fed me Kolmbi Bhaat for a couple of days and I'm sure, made me gain a couple of kilos! :D

Traffic: The Things You Knew, But Didn't Say...

2010-04-30T00:39:00.000+05:30

Traffic is a great source of conversation now ain't it? Even a pathetically bad conversationalist such as me can sustain a conversation of traffic for well over 2 minutes! I know! Unbelievable right?

Though, while talking to people, I've noticed that most don't make interesting or very observant comments about traffic at all. Yet, I know that these are things that everybody knows, but never really say. So I figured I should do the honours.

Ok. Here goes. Things about traffic you always knew, but never really said out loud:

1. Auto Drivers always think that from all the horns blaring around them, none of them are aimed at them.

2. Car drivers hate Bike Riders while stuck in traffic because riders get to squeeze by more easily.

3. Bike riders hate Car Drivers because drivers get to sit in AC while they're out in the sun (rain, smoke, or dust)

4. Bus drivers are sadistic bastards since they don't have AC nor can they squeeze by. They purposefully squeeze you out of every inch of road you have if they can help it.

5. Just as the light turns green, there is that one last pedestrian fucker who always HAS to run in front of you just as you're taking off. Always!

6. Traffic Policemen are the most useless cadre of public servants ever. They don't do a good job with traffic control in the first place, AND they end up stopping all the sane riders, asking for papers and alcohol consumption details while the drunks, fanatics, racers and Ghost Riders fly around killing and maiming people.

I'm sure there are so many more patterns in the chaos that is traffic. I just remembered something about the Chaos Theory. Anyhow, there is sure to be part 2 for this. Keep reading. :)

(Image Courtesy: LiveChennai.com)

Why Does the IPL Suck at Times?

2010-04-10T18:31:00.000+05:30

Dear Mr. Modi,

I think I will go for an entirely original approach to this topic. You see, if you were on Twitter, you would've noticed, that there are two kinds of people when it comes to IPL.

1. Those who are Cricket fanatics and ALWAYS talk about the IPL. Sometimes too much. Including those who watch it on YouTube at a 5 minute delay and hate the rest of the tweeps at home for spoiling the suspense; and,

2. Those who hate everything about IPL and thinks that basically, you're just a dick out to rip off everybody and make a lot of money, and screw over every Indian in the process. These are the people who sign into Twitter only after games get over, or have successfully made use of filters so that they don't see anything with the tag #IPL.

Now, I don't belong to either category. See, I like watching cricket. I like it when Yusuf Pathan blasts a 37 ball 100, or Warne flights the ball and makes an idiot of the batsman.

But, I should tell you, the IPL sucks for me too at times. And like a responsible citizen, I will tell you the reasons why:

1. Why the fuck does it last so long?

2. I like using the terms 'Catches', 'Sixes', and 'Awesome'. Your puppet doll commentators, for some reason insist on using 'Karbon Kamaal Catch', 'DLF Maximum' and 'Citi Moment of Success' instead of their better substitutes. The retards!

3. How do you guys manage to squeeze in an ad while the spinner takes his run-up?

4. I DO NOT WANT to see that stupid MRF Plane anymore!

5. And also, I know you went a long way and worked hard to steal the IPL idea from Kapil Dev, but still, try and feel a little less important. Think that'll stop people thinking 'Oh he's such a dick.' whenever they see you.

As conclusion, I'd also like to politely request you to take a look at the English Premier League. It's obviously bigger than the IPL in terms of viewership. But there are no Barclay's Super Goals or a Nike Super Duper Tackle in the EPL now is there?

See Mr. Modi, I know you like money. I do too. But we all gotta draw the line somewhere, don't we??

(Images Courtesy: Starbozz.files.wordpress.com, Cricket.butjazz.com)

This is Democracy!

2010-04-01T23:38:00.001+05:30

If it's really hot, and the sun is out, and it's noon, what do you NOT want? You Don't want unnecessary delays.

Yet today, I had to endure one. After finishing a meeting, me and a friend were walking back to the Bus Stand. There were Police Personnel lining the road and traffic was frozen on all sides.

Do keep in mind, this was during the final phases of the morning rush hour, and there was a mountain of traffic piled up in all directions. For a moment, I was glad I did not take my bike. Yet, I had thought too soon.

We were walking along the side of the road, when this cop asks us to stop and wait. I ask "Why?" And he shouted back: "Just wait." Gee, you're asking me to wait in the glaring sun in the middle of nowhere at noon on a shit all hot day, the least you could do is extend some fucking courtesy.

Anyhow, we wait. Then we figured out what was happening. The Chief Minister was passing by. His motorcade rolls by eventually, and then everybody is allowed to unfreeze again. After HALF AN HOUR!

Precious time has been lost, pandemonium breaks out, bottles of water are sweated out by us poor souls who are out in the sun, and not in the AC comfort of a luxury car.

This is democracy! We elect these people, and yet we suffer endlessly because of them. I've seen this in many places, and I still don't get it. Politicians are the representatives of the people, they are supposed to serve the people. Having said all that, how come rush hour and traffic are not applicable to them?

My friend told me that there was nothing than anybody could do. "These people are too powerful. The cops HAVE to do what they say. So can't blame them either."

Yeah. I'm one among those who are part of the world's largest democracy. And look what I get for it.

(Image Courtesy: Chennaiplus.net)