Everytime I wanted to update my blog, some kind of problem would always creep up. From lack of thoughts, laziness, lack of thoughts, work to lack of thoughts, you name it.
All these roadblocks clearly pointed to just one person. The one closest to me. To whom I dedicate this post.
This person has been with me through thick and thin, despite my constant efforts to ward him off . He has always taken me for a ride and made sure it wasn't smooth at all.
Whenever I was unable to park my car right before an important meeting, he was there. Sat nicely in the cars occupying all the empty spots.
Every time the guy in front of me in the line got the last ticket for the last show, it would turn out to be him. And along with the last ticket for the last show, he would also have the last laugh.
He opens my fly before a big date. He leaves an earring that doesn't belong to the girl I am driving with, in my car, on the dashboard and makes sure I go over a pothole.
He turns green into red when I am running late for office. Something that leaves me red and green. Red for the fury and green with envy at my lack of power to undo the things he is capable of doing.
It's because of him I walk with my head turned sideways. As I am forever looking behind my shoulder. Only to find him walking beside me, as always.
He hates me I guess, but I don't. And why should I? I am constantly in his mind. He is always there for me, although I don't want him to, but that's another thing. He teaches me not be happy all the time, for I shall not enjoy happiness if it gets too much. He makes sure he is always stocked up with sorrow, so that he can shove it up my ass. Maybe that's his way of making it disappear.
This one is for you, murphy!
Monday, December 21, 2009
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
The Delhi Dilemma
It doesn’t happen very often, but whenever I am faced with the question, “so where are you from”, I am a little dumbfounded. I don’t know why, but I want to avoid this question. Not because I am ashamed of the place I belong to, but to put it simply, I am not sure where I belong.
Born to a Punjabi father and a Gujrati mother, I am somewhere in between. So that must mean, geographically I am from Madhya Pradesh, but generally speaking I belong nowhere. I am at home whether I am in Gujarat or Punjab, but at the same time equally lost.
Maybe I belong to a different breed called - the Delhite. We delhite’s have nothing to call our own. Put more brutally, we are like parasites sucking on the city as a host. Our territory begins in Rohini and ends with the M.G. road. We cling on to nothing but our forefathers’ long left land long and long forgotten culture. So, what is it that we delhite’s represent culturally? What do we stand for?
To a girl, a delhite stands for a lecherous creature that has no respect for women on the streets. To a south Indian we are those superior bastards who look down upon everything that is a shade darker. To a mumbaikar we are more like competition. To a Bengali we are inhabitants of a state that has no soul, no history.
But to a regular normal punju-gujju boy who now proudly wears the tag of a delhite, we are a bunch of misfits who are basically misunderstood. We have a false image that always sticks like a shadow behind us.
There is a reason a Bengali director makes movies only about Delhi. There is a reason Delhi is called Dil walon ki dilli. There is a reason that even without anything to call our own, we are attributed a lot of things.
As a song puts it perfectly – Yeh dilli hai mere yaar, bus ishq mohobbat pyaar. That’s all we stand for, that’s all we want to be known for. Nothing else.
In the end, this is for a friend who almost puked at the mention of a delhite.
Born to a Punjabi father and a Gujrati mother, I am somewhere in between. So that must mean, geographically I am from Madhya Pradesh, but generally speaking I belong nowhere. I am at home whether I am in Gujarat or Punjab, but at the same time equally lost.
Maybe I belong to a different breed called - the Delhite. We delhite’s have nothing to call our own. Put more brutally, we are like parasites sucking on the city as a host. Our territory begins in Rohini and ends with the M.G. road. We cling on to nothing but our forefathers’ long left land long and long forgotten culture. So, what is it that we delhite’s represent culturally? What do we stand for?
To a girl, a delhite stands for a lecherous creature that has no respect for women on the streets. To a south Indian we are those superior bastards who look down upon everything that is a shade darker. To a mumbaikar we are more like competition. To a Bengali we are inhabitants of a state that has no soul, no history.
But to a regular normal punju-gujju boy who now proudly wears the tag of a delhite, we are a bunch of misfits who are basically misunderstood. We have a false image that always sticks like a shadow behind us.
There is a reason a Bengali director makes movies only about Delhi. There is a reason Delhi is called Dil walon ki dilli. There is a reason that even without anything to call our own, we are attributed a lot of things.
As a song puts it perfectly – Yeh dilli hai mere yaar, bus ishq mohobbat pyaar. That’s all we stand for, that’s all we want to be known for. Nothing else.
In the end, this is for a friend who almost puked at the mention of a delhite.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Wait for me
Watch the road and turn back once more,
Look over your shoulder and search no more,
Coz I’ll be there, m just a lil late,
As my legs are paining, can’t run faster,
Lungs are breaking, I am panting harder ,
But when I see you, its worth the wait.
So, wait for me when you reach the sky,
Wait for me when you choose to die,
Wait for me when the cool winds blow,
Wait for me when your heart is low,
Wait for me all this while,
Wait for me, oh just wait for me
The next time you smile
I am almost there, one block away,
Can fall anytime, but you just stay,
Be there when I come, be there for me.
So wait for me, when the clock ticks away,
Wait for me when you pray,
Wait for me when the guns cry loud,
Wait for me when you’re in doubt.
Wait for me all this while,
Wait for me, oh just wait for me
The next time you smile
They are blocking me, I can see you standing,
Turn to me- I scream, turn one last time,
I know you’ve waited long enough,
It’s been too late,
So, if I don’t make it in time, I hope you never wait
Look over your shoulder and search no more,
Coz I’ll be there, m just a lil late,
As my legs are paining, can’t run faster,
Lungs are breaking, I am panting harder ,
But when I see you, its worth the wait.
So, wait for me when you reach the sky,
Wait for me when you choose to die,
Wait for me when the cool winds blow,
Wait for me when your heart is low,
Wait for me all this while,
Wait for me, oh just wait for me
The next time you smile
I am almost there, one block away,
Can fall anytime, but you just stay,
Be there when I come, be there for me.
So wait for me, when the clock ticks away,
Wait for me when you pray,
Wait for me when the guns cry loud,
Wait for me when you’re in doubt.
Wait for me all this while,
Wait for me, oh just wait for me
The next time you smile
They are blocking me, I can see you standing,
Turn to me- I scream, turn one last time,
I know you’ve waited long enough,
It’s been too late,
So, if I don’t make it in time, I hope you never wait
Friday, October 3, 2008
The man on the scooter
He swooshes past you on the road. How dare he impede the road you own. The idiot that he is doesn’t know that the one with more wheels rules the streets. Yes, the very same faceless man hiding behind his wizer, to protect himself from an accident or curses, only he knows.
Why was he speeding anyway? Is he running late for a movie? That’s understandable. Was he late for work? Huh, the lazy retard must have got up late. Its people like him that make the streets unsafe. Zipping across between cars. So what if his scooter fits in smoothly between two sedans, he has no business to disturb others.
It’s so distracting for drivers, busy on the phone with a friend planning a party this coming weekend. I mean come on, the busy lives we lead don’t leave us with much time to catch up on.
He deserves all the malicious words thrown at him, so does his mom and his sister.
Suddenly he bumps in to you, how could he not see you were talking to your friend at the backseat? Was he blind?
Damn! The headlight is broken, and you are in big trouble because your dad will ban your rights to a car for the next 2 months. So unfair, you didn’t even do anything, it was his fault.
You scream at him, but he doesn’t. Why would he, it was his fault. No, wait, he is still down on the road. Not moving at all, just lying still. Is he breathing? How much will a headlight cost? Is he alive? Will dad kill you for damaging the car?
As you ponder over your car, his family awaits the arrival of their son for lunch.
As you weep over your probable strangled freedom, his family cries over nothing. They just cry...
Why was he speeding anyway? Is he running late for a movie? That’s understandable. Was he late for work? Huh, the lazy retard must have got up late. Its people like him that make the streets unsafe. Zipping across between cars. So what if his scooter fits in smoothly between two sedans, he has no business to disturb others.
It’s so distracting for drivers, busy on the phone with a friend planning a party this coming weekend. I mean come on, the busy lives we lead don’t leave us with much time to catch up on.
He deserves all the malicious words thrown at him, so does his mom and his sister.
Suddenly he bumps in to you, how could he not see you were talking to your friend at the backseat? Was he blind?
Damn! The headlight is broken, and you are in big trouble because your dad will ban your rights to a car for the next 2 months. So unfair, you didn’t even do anything, it was his fault.
You scream at him, but he doesn’t. Why would he, it was his fault. No, wait, he is still down on the road. Not moving at all, just lying still. Is he breathing? How much will a headlight cost? Is he alive? Will dad kill you for damaging the car?
As you ponder over your car, his family awaits the arrival of their son for lunch.
As you weep over your probable strangled freedom, his family cries over nothing. They just cry...
Monday, September 29, 2008
Stick it up for saturday
For ages sunday has been the official flagbearer for everything that stands for leisure. Think of the word Holiday and your mind zooms directly on a sunday. Sunday is awaited with great enthusiasm irrespective of age. School children, corporate bigshots all look forward to the 7th day of the week as if its the last of their life.
In all this, we all miss out on one important day, a day that does not get its due recognition, a day that is not shown the respect it deserves, a day that is called Saturday.
Saturday lays the foundation for humans to build a grand sunday on. Saturday does all the hard work by providing people with a day to recover from all the head-less chicken like running of the previous 5 days. Saturday allows people to plan for a sunday. Imagine if there was no saturday, the cushion for a perfect transition from a gruelling week to a chilling sunday would be lost.
Why is sunday so over hyped anyways? Sunday fills you up with depression, as you know the week starts the very next day. it's because of a sunday that people all over the world hate monday. i mean, what has monday done?poor fellow. All he did was follow sunday.
Saturday takes all the brunt of the week where as sunday very nicely licks up the adulation.
Its time we give saturday its credit thats long overdue.
P.S: For all those living in middle east, just relpace sunday with friday and saturday with thursday and the mesage will not be lost on you.
In all this, we all miss out on one important day, a day that does not get its due recognition, a day that is not shown the respect it deserves, a day that is called Saturday.
Saturday lays the foundation for humans to build a grand sunday on. Saturday does all the hard work by providing people with a day to recover from all the head-less chicken like running of the previous 5 days. Saturday allows people to plan for a sunday. Imagine if there was no saturday, the cushion for a perfect transition from a gruelling week to a chilling sunday would be lost.
Why is sunday so over hyped anyways? Sunday fills you up with depression, as you know the week starts the very next day. it's because of a sunday that people all over the world hate monday. i mean, what has monday done?poor fellow. All he did was follow sunday.
Saturday takes all the brunt of the week where as sunday very nicely licks up the adulation.
Its time we give saturday its credit thats long overdue.
P.S: For all those living in middle east, just relpace sunday with friday and saturday with thursday and the mesage will not be lost on you.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
You didn't succeed
Put bombs in bins, cycles and all places imaginable you cowards. Kill as many people you want, we are a billion strong nation, we will cope with it. But, for a change show us your F***ing faces, if its a bloody fight then come forward beating your chest and then we will see who has the last laugh, in this case a last cry.
your bombs were not loud enought to shatter our hearts, your bombs weren't strong enough to hurt a nation wounded with poverty and corruption, your bombs are as useless as your plans.
Want to kill more?
I will still go to GK -1 market to hang out, i would still have nimbu soda at prince pan, i will still go to CP, i will still roam aimlessly in the centre park and i will make sure i go to gaffar market now. Are you listening cowards?? target me, you know where i will be, you know where the whole of delhi will be. OUT ON THE F***ING STREETS. target us for all we care because we won't let you succeed,ever.
your bombs were not loud enought to shatter our hearts, your bombs weren't strong enough to hurt a nation wounded with poverty and corruption, your bombs are as useless as your plans.
Want to kill more?
I will still go to GK -1 market to hang out, i would still have nimbu soda at prince pan, i will still go to CP, i will still roam aimlessly in the centre park and i will make sure i go to gaffar market now. Are you listening cowards?? target me, you know where i will be, you know where the whole of delhi will be. OUT ON THE F***ING STREETS. target us for all we care because we won't let you succeed,ever.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Blossoming irritation
The next time I receive a useless bouquet of pretty flowers that last no more than a fly's life, I swear the one who presents them is going home hungry. the fixation that people have with giving out flowers is beyond me. Gifts on special occasions are supposed to be cherished forever, or atleast a few years/months. What's the use of a gift that will become rat feed 3 days later.Or if the flowers are lucky, they will become manure and help their extended family expand.
I guess people who give flowers as gifts are the laziest people on the face of this planet. And when I say lazy,it includes both mind and body. For starters, they are lazy enough not to think of the perfect gift for the person sponsoring their food and wine for the evening. Secondly, if some manage to overcome this mind boggling question that has eluded the most brilliant of minds over the years, they won't bother lifting their sorry arse to get that prized possession.
Don't people notice the hatred and curses dripping from the receiver's eyes while he/she happily accept a burden they can easliy do without on a joyous day? And the worst part is that 90% of our relatives/ffriends belong to this breed of flower gifting people. No matter how good looking the flowers are, you can't stuff all of them in your home. imagine going for a dump in the morning only to be bothered by a lily tickling your crack.I mean after a point one runs out of space.
I guess now you have a fairly good idea of what not to bring on my birthday or else you go hungry(refer to the first line in case you got lost in between my rumbling)
I guess people who give flowers as gifts are the laziest people on the face of this planet. And when I say lazy,it includes both mind and body. For starters, they are lazy enough not to think of the perfect gift for the person sponsoring their food and wine for the evening. Secondly, if some manage to overcome this mind boggling question that has eluded the most brilliant of minds over the years, they won't bother lifting their sorry arse to get that prized possession.
Don't people notice the hatred and curses dripping from the receiver's eyes while he/she happily accept a burden they can easliy do without on a joyous day? And the worst part is that 90% of our relatives/ffriends belong to this breed of flower gifting people. No matter how good looking the flowers are, you can't stuff all of them in your home. imagine going for a dump in the morning only to be bothered by a lily tickling your crack.I mean after a point one runs out of space.
I guess now you have a fairly good idea of what not to bring on my birthday or else you go hungry(refer to the first line in case you got lost in between my rumbling)
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