Yawn...... its Monday again ..... another yawn!! .... I yawn so much that it has become a part of my identity now. And whenever I yawn I still see around to see if some one has caught me yawning .In college one of our class professors used to tell us that yawning is infectious just like a smile and as soon as he finished saying this he caught me yawning, the madness dint end up there. He found himself yawning as the class progressed and blamed poor me for his yawning. The only crazy explanation that I give people who ask as why I yawn so excessively. I tell them that I need a lot of oxygen than any other creature on this planet and the fact that I have a Roman nose the breathing passage is narrowed and therefore I open my mouth to take a lot of oxygen in. Phew !!! That was a long explanation. “Aab dubara math puchna.......”
Another bus ride of mine to Chennai from Hosur has come to an end. I accept that I lie a lot, a lot of crazy lies I would have said in the past but when I talk about Hosur to Chennai journey believe me !!! because its now say the nth time that I would have traveled on the same route an now have confidence of that of Mandira Bedi in a sleeveless blouse on Sony Max.
Teach by example ,one of our class teachers in school used to follow this diligently. However I am not Raju Srivastav who can observe people who travel from Hosur to the rest of South India and enact the same to let you know that their stares can be very annoying. Never travel on this route wearing a Levi's T-shirt and jeans you might land up getting stares that might even make a eunuch feel uncomfortable in these buses. For that reason anything coming close to a trendy blue colored denim and a jazzy t-shirt might land you up in a soup. I mean its a sin to travel in such clothes in these buses where most of the people around you have some links to the stone age, besides believe me its very uncomfortable traveling in low hip jeans, specially if you have a wallet which is filled with “chillar” like mine u might land getting an impression of a 2 rupee coin imprinted on your butt. And yes it hurts a lot. The only comfortable attire would be a LUNGI(PREFERABLY WHITE) raised to threatening heights to show off your hairy legs. People here would not stare at you even if say you have tied ur lungi in such a way that it shows the border of your underwear. This is perfectly ok !!!!
Keep your high class status and etiquettes at home an travel on this route. Its indispensable for the driver not to play a Vijay's(Tamil hero) movie which is filled with brainless comedy and tribal dance steps. I mean for the ladies if you are the feminist types please avoid traveling on these route as some of Vijay's dialogues can be hazardous to your health. If your are the one who appreciated movies like "water" and "name sake" please carry cotton along with you so that you can plug your ears with it and can sleep through out the journey. But I think this wouldn't help. The volume levels here are so high that you can hear the dialogues and the screams of the heroines subduing the sound of the engine. I have traveled through this route so many times that I have found a new past time in the form of Vijay’s movies. I mean they are wholesome entertainers, brainless comedy, "long lectures to women and men " and yes soccer type of fights I have seen it all and have some how accepted it all in a very subduing manner because I know a majority of people like the same and that’s the way the society of ours is.
Half way through I had to change buses and at Vellore I had boarded another bus, the seats in these buses can be very cramped and it seriously makes no difference whether you stand for sit both the ways you gonna have a bad back ache which might leave you walking like an ape for a few hours. I ran and got into this bus only to be shown the footboard of the bus. This slow mind of mine took a few moments to actually realize that the driver was signaling me to sit on the steps for the whole journey. I sat down on the steps and the bus started.
Me, getting set on the foot-board turned out be a blessing in disguise. With cool wind blowing directly on my face I stared into the darkness of the villages that the bus passed by. It was as if the whole life of mine has come to standstill. Nothing was happening around everything appeared so very much in my control. No longer were the anxious thoughts of mine or the most vicious ambitions of mine troubling me from behind. I felt free. I felt re-born. It was one of the journeys that I shall remember for long and though it might seem to some of them as a very uncomfortable yet for me it was an experience from which I learnt being less anxious and ambitious in life. I mean It really does not matter to me anymore seeing some one more competent, successful or perfect than I am cos I know in the end what matters in life is your inner happiness and how you choose to live life .Not all might agree with you. You might get criticized but then again in the end it depends upon your ability to get over it and be yourself and not loose urself in the crowd.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Monday, May 14, 2007
Different side of me ...
If you were thinking that I was dead and gone and that you can nail my picture on the obituary column of tomorrow's paper then chill!!! I am back risen from the grave on which your house stands today. Yes, I took the last comment on my blog very serious and have come up with a proper chain of thoughts and yes your house stands on a grave.
Things have been going fine in my life and though I was free I was acting to be as busy as the typist in the court room. Some nights are very strange. I don't get sleep at all on certain days. Like yesterday was a sleepless night and one thought of mine relates to another until I recall everything that I have done from my childhood till the last hour. Sins like puncturing the neighbor’s scooter tyres to locking up my sister in the bathroom make me laugh and repent at the same time. Happy moments like me and dad eating or drinking out and he driving me back from school on his scooter or those first steps of my life that he helped me to take leave my eyes watery. I become as emotional as Serena Williams after every loss or a win when I look back in life and remember those bitter moments or fights that I ever had in my short life span till now. It becomes an over dose when a song like "tujhse naraz nahi zindagi haraan hoon" keeps echoing in my head and I remember the good old school days of mine and a few important teachers of my school. A school so sheltered yet so unknown It had a strange name, a name so strange, named after a former school student. It stood in the busiest locality of Chennai yet a very few people knew about it.
It has been quite a few times when I have been asked the name of my school and I have just blushed at the very question cos I know that as soon as those words "Anita Methodist Matriculations Higher Sec School" leaves the mouth of mine my ears are gonna hear a roaring laughter that might even subdue the noise that our politicians make in the parliament. I know its strange but then it has a noble reason behind it. Suddenly I feel as proud as a soldier for writing such a meaningful blog (inspiration Ms. Deepa's comments).Anita was a student in my school in the kindergarten who died of a brain Hemorrhage in a class of ours and that’s how in the memory of this student my school was named as Anita Methodist Matriculation higher Secondary School. I dare anybody laughs at this. I repent for the times when I would have refrained from letting people or those curious female friends of mine know about my school and therefore I declare with a broad chest that I studied in this very school all my life.
The only sport that was popular in my school was “Chor-sipayi” and all of us held a PHD degree in the professional game of hand tennis. It was only in my 11th grade that I came to know the difference between a volleyball and a basket ball and that a volleyball game needed 6 players on one side. However if it wasn't for my dad who took me to the numerous fields that he visited on Sundays I am sure I would be running as fast as a duck would run. Well this was of my sporting life in school. I can't blame the school my school was a new one in the locality and the only thing that the teachers took interest was studies and moral science. Unlike the other big schools which me and my friends always craved to study in we never had a coach for a specific game and our games teacher was better at handwork than at playing games. We had a special bonding with the teachers which I have noticed to be lacking in the best of the schools with the best of the facilities for sports and recreation. When the kids of other school spent time on things like “whose going out with whom” issues we played around in the ground with the most innocent of minds. I don’t remember a single occasion when any of my class mates would have proposed any the girls of my class. Moral science classes an of course religion was given a lot of importance .Sometimes I think that too much of sheltering was also not good as I felt like the fish out of water when I graduated to college and went on to work .However what I liked about my school was the homely kind of environment and that we were never exposed to the adulterous things that this world proudly boasts of. The teachers were more like mothers to us and we still meet them and hear of them often.
Now all of these were the thoughts of my sub-conscious mind I was just making Deepa happy that I followed what she asked me to do in her comment. For myself I still remain the same and spill meaningless thoughts on this blog. This morning of mine started of with a bang when I experienced rain in the my sheltered bathroom as I sat on the closet reading Jeffrey Archer. For a moment I imagined my self sitting in a bathroom without walls and ceiling. It took a hell lot of time for this disoriented mind of mine to actually realize that the geyser above the ceiling of the bathroom was leaking and my room mates would have to take a "Thande Ka tadka" bath today. Well that’s the charm of life. Each day begins like this and there a whole lot of things for which the blogger.com might run short of space. So I shall stop here and will come up with another meaningful blog next time.
Things have been going fine in my life and though I was free I was acting to be as busy as the typist in the court room. Some nights are very strange. I don't get sleep at all on certain days. Like yesterday was a sleepless night and one thought of mine relates to another until I recall everything that I have done from my childhood till the last hour. Sins like puncturing the neighbor’s scooter tyres to locking up my sister in the bathroom make me laugh and repent at the same time. Happy moments like me and dad eating or drinking out and he driving me back from school on his scooter or those first steps of my life that he helped me to take leave my eyes watery. I become as emotional as Serena Williams after every loss or a win when I look back in life and remember those bitter moments or fights that I ever had in my short life span till now. It becomes an over dose when a song like "tujhse naraz nahi zindagi haraan hoon" keeps echoing in my head and I remember the good old school days of mine and a few important teachers of my school. A school so sheltered yet so unknown It had a strange name, a name so strange, named after a former school student. It stood in the busiest locality of Chennai yet a very few people knew about it.
It has been quite a few times when I have been asked the name of my school and I have just blushed at the very question cos I know that as soon as those words "Anita Methodist Matriculations Higher Sec School" leaves the mouth of mine my ears are gonna hear a roaring laughter that might even subdue the noise that our politicians make in the parliament. I know its strange but then it has a noble reason behind it. Suddenly I feel as proud as a soldier for writing such a meaningful blog (inspiration Ms. Deepa's comments).Anita was a student in my school in the kindergarten who died of a brain Hemorrhage in a class of ours and that’s how in the memory of this student my school was named as Anita Methodist Matriculation higher Secondary School. I dare anybody laughs at this. I repent for the times when I would have refrained from letting people or those curious female friends of mine know about my school and therefore I declare with a broad chest that I studied in this very school all my life.
The only sport that was popular in my school was “Chor-sipayi” and all of us held a PHD degree in the professional game of hand tennis. It was only in my 11th grade that I came to know the difference between a volleyball and a basket ball and that a volleyball game needed 6 players on one side. However if it wasn't for my dad who took me to the numerous fields that he visited on Sundays I am sure I would be running as fast as a duck would run. Well this was of my sporting life in school. I can't blame the school my school was a new one in the locality and the only thing that the teachers took interest was studies and moral science. Unlike the other big schools which me and my friends always craved to study in we never had a coach for a specific game and our games teacher was better at handwork than at playing games. We had a special bonding with the teachers which I have noticed to be lacking in the best of the schools with the best of the facilities for sports and recreation. When the kids of other school spent time on things like “whose going out with whom” issues we played around in the ground with the most innocent of minds. I don’t remember a single occasion when any of my class mates would have proposed any the girls of my class. Moral science classes an of course religion was given a lot of importance .Sometimes I think that too much of sheltering was also not good as I felt like the fish out of water when I graduated to college and went on to work .However what I liked about my school was the homely kind of environment and that we were never exposed to the adulterous things that this world proudly boasts of. The teachers were more like mothers to us and we still meet them and hear of them often.
Now all of these were the thoughts of my sub-conscious mind I was just making Deepa happy that I followed what she asked me to do in her comment. For myself I still remain the same and spill meaningless thoughts on this blog. This morning of mine started of with a bang when I experienced rain in the my sheltered bathroom as I sat on the closet reading Jeffrey Archer. For a moment I imagined my self sitting in a bathroom without walls and ceiling. It took a hell lot of time for this disoriented mind of mine to actually realize that the geyser above the ceiling of the bathroom was leaking and my room mates would have to take a "Thande Ka tadka" bath today. Well that’s the charm of life. Each day begins like this and there a whole lot of things for which the blogger.com might run short of space. So I shall stop here and will come up with another meaningful blog next time.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Ajeeb daastan hai yeh...!
A lot of things seem to be strange nowadays to my eyes. "Aisa lagtha hain ki I have become addict to something". Things like the new Atif's video (doorieeeeeeeeee) which absolutely has no relevance to the lyrics of the song at all something which Mandira Bedi's fans would approve of her talk about cricket on Sony. Charu Sharma should get an award yar to tolerate her "export quality bakwaas" all through the telecasts.
There are few things that are more bizarre than seeing Sushma Swaraj entering the monsoon session of parliament in western casuals. Things are bizarre because issues that I think are important somehow turn out to be less important for others. Well everyone is a different identity and a different person all together but then we belong to the same species called the Homo-Sapiens and when I go out of the way to help someone I do expect the same from others but then these things sadly do not appear on the priority lists of most of my friends.
Things are "so-strange" phenomena did not end this dreaded weekend. However this weekend didn’t turn not be as dreaded as I expected, I was just minutes away from the cheating death with no food or water in my room .No room mates and me feeling as lazy as Kumabakaranan on Sunday morning who would have died of hunger on his bed but would not have pushed my ass to buy breakfast. Times like these I wish I was at home and mom had already made breakfast for me. I lazed around the whole of two days in the village where I stay except for a brief exercising session in the Infosys swimming pool and yes for all those who know me well and keep embarrassing me with questions like...
"Oh so u don't know swimming?" or "You should have learnt it in your child hood?" let me tell you one thing I am still learning it and I am not at all ashamed of the fact that "I DON'T KNOW TO SWIM". “Jo karna hain karlo jao ..!!!”
With no TV in my room and absolutely no company in this lonely desert where my room is situated with only summer heat to make things worse I would say my chota radio came in very handy. "WC nahi dekha toh kya hua .Top class commentary to sun lee."
This world cup final had been a very different affair for me.I felt strange that instead of watching it on television with the whole family for company I was listening to the commentary on radio.
Shuttling between Shakira's "Hips don’t lie" on FM and cricket commentary on AM. for all those illiterates and imported Aborigines.
FM stands for frequency modulation and Am stands for Amplitude modulation-“dekha scientists ki aulaad hu main !!!!”
Middle way I dropped it on the floor and the already rattling radio of mine started to behave strange. Here's an example of it. It disobeyed the laws of physics and mixed AM and FM waves and mixing it along with other channels on one single band.
AM: Aaj Australia ke Balebaaz dhudar form me dikya dere rahe hain .Gilchrist ke bale se jo bhi shot lag raha hain woh "Como si llama, bonita, mi casa, su casa" ho raha hain - shakira interefeering with the Am waves.
Every over and every six or four was sponsored by Nari swast seva or Mala-d.
AM:"Is over ke prayojak hain "Mahila swast kendre"- one of those ads on AM:
Voice 1: Mummy gulu ne mujhe mara isliye maine use phir mara
Mummuy: hey bhagwan mughe zher ki goli dil wade ,in bacho se main pareshaan "Oh baby when you talk like that You make a woman go mad"(Shakira again) ho gayi
hoon.
background voice: Arey sheila zeher nahi aagar baas ek goli bache karne se pehle khai hoti toh yeh naobat nah aati.
Message:Garb nirodak goliyan mahilao ke liye .Bache tabhi peda karo jab chaho.
I had a strange and a bizarre time figuring out what the score was. I had a taste of everything on one channel (dont even remember it in the dark on which frequency was it) from Shakira to cricket commentary to the sponsors’ adds.
For a mind as immature as mine the radio has reached heights of vulgarity. The only add that is broadcasted between overs of a match is that of a condom or a birth control pill. "Arey bhai aise addo se toh heart or brain donon fail ho jaya ga mera" .One of the add that almost disoriented every movement on mine was this
Voice 1 to the medical shop owner: Bhaisab zara "woh" dena.
Voice 2(owner of the medical shop):"WOH" kya?
Voice 1:"WOH" jo samne pada hain
Voice 2:arey bhai jaab condom use karne ki samajh dari dikha sakte ho to magne main sharmathe kyu ho.!
Message: AIDS se bachne ka ek ki tarika condoms apnao!!!.
Are bhai explicit content like this can throw kids like me out of gear. Strange that the people don’t feel the same. Ajjeb hai duniya ,yeh duniya wale . Ajjeb hain mera radio aur ajeeb hain Athif aur shakira. Ajeeb hain Australia jo kabhi WC final hi nahi harthi yar.
There are few things that are more bizarre than seeing Sushma Swaraj entering the monsoon session of parliament in western casuals. Things are bizarre because issues that I think are important somehow turn out to be less important for others. Well everyone is a different identity and a different person all together but then we belong to the same species called the Homo-Sapiens and when I go out of the way to help someone I do expect the same from others but then these things sadly do not appear on the priority lists of most of my friends.
Things are "so-strange" phenomena did not end this dreaded weekend. However this weekend didn’t turn not be as dreaded as I expected, I was just minutes away from the cheating death with no food or water in my room .No room mates and me feeling as lazy as Kumabakaranan on Sunday morning who would have died of hunger on his bed but would not have pushed my ass to buy breakfast. Times like these I wish I was at home and mom had already made breakfast for me. I lazed around the whole of two days in the village where I stay except for a brief exercising session in the Infosys swimming pool and yes for all those who know me well and keep embarrassing me with questions like...
"Oh so u don't know swimming?" or "You should have learnt it in your child hood?" let me tell you one thing I am still learning it and I am not at all ashamed of the fact that "I DON'T KNOW TO SWIM". “Jo karna hain karlo jao ..!!!”
With no TV in my room and absolutely no company in this lonely desert where my room is situated with only summer heat to make things worse I would say my chota radio came in very handy. "WC nahi dekha toh kya hua .Top class commentary to sun lee."
This world cup final had been a very different affair for me.I felt strange that instead of watching it on television with the whole family for company I was listening to the commentary on radio.
Shuttling between Shakira's "Hips don’t lie" on FM and cricket commentary on AM. for all those illiterates and imported Aborigines.
FM stands for frequency modulation and Am stands for Amplitude modulation-“dekha scientists ki aulaad hu main !!!!”
Middle way I dropped it on the floor and the already rattling radio of mine started to behave strange. Here's an example of it. It disobeyed the laws of physics and mixed AM and FM waves and mixing it along with other channels on one single band.
AM: Aaj Australia ke Balebaaz dhudar form me dikya dere rahe hain .Gilchrist ke bale se jo bhi shot lag raha hain woh "Como si llama, bonita, mi casa, su casa" ho raha hain - shakira interefeering with the Am waves.
Every over and every six or four was sponsored by Nari swast seva or Mala-d.
AM:"Is over ke prayojak hain "Mahila swast kendre"- one of those ads on AM:
Voice 1: Mummy gulu ne mujhe mara isliye maine use phir mara
Mummuy: hey bhagwan mughe zher ki goli dil wade ,in bacho se main pareshaan "Oh baby when you talk like that You make a woman go mad"(Shakira again) ho gayi
hoon.
background voice: Arey sheila zeher nahi aagar baas ek goli bache karne se pehle khai hoti toh yeh naobat nah aati.
Message:Garb nirodak goliyan mahilao ke liye .Bache tabhi peda karo jab chaho.
I had a strange and a bizarre time figuring out what the score was. I had a taste of everything on one channel (dont even remember it in the dark on which frequency was it) from Shakira to cricket commentary to the sponsors’ adds.
For a mind as immature as mine the radio has reached heights of vulgarity. The only add that is broadcasted between overs of a match is that of a condom or a birth control pill. "Arey bhai aise addo se toh heart or brain donon fail ho jaya ga mera" .One of the add that almost disoriented every movement on mine was this
Voice 1 to the medical shop owner: Bhaisab zara "woh" dena.
Voice 2(owner of the medical shop):"WOH" kya?
Voice 1:"WOH" jo samne pada hain
Voice 2:arey bhai jaab condom use karne ki samajh dari dikha sakte ho to magne main sharmathe kyu ho.!
Message: AIDS se bachne ka ek ki tarika condoms apnao!!!.
Are bhai explicit content like this can throw kids like me out of gear. Strange that the people don’t feel the same. Ajjeb hai duniya ,yeh duniya wale . Ajjeb hain mera radio aur ajeeb hain Athif aur shakira. Ajeeb hain Australia jo kabhi WC final hi nahi harthi yar.
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