An all familiar rankling stirred the sleepy eyes. A spray of rain drops from that almost invisible crack on the window pane brought back a flurry of thoughts. Navigating byzantine memory lanes isn’t all that difficult, especially when you know what you are looking for. It was the same old crack which had set of a chain of events. It still remained there, not speaking about the complacency of the resident, but of those memories it harbored…
Come monsoon, skies are awash with grey looming clouds. The drizzle had already made its presence felt to me…I wasn’t out in the rain, but sleeping on a bed.. rather more like another article forming a sea of inanimate objects jostling for space on that tiny little bed. Chill breeze through the crack brought along an occasional bout of spray, refreshingly frosty and a break from the monotony called life. Somehow, the spray of misty blue water was an aberration to an otherwise placid stifling setting of the room. I decided it was time to fix the crack, not because I was annoyed by the spray, but more because of the fixated lunacy about the spray being so genuinely out of place in this lifeless room of 10 x 10.
Walking up to the window and trying to give one hard look at the mischievous crack which dared to try me, my eyes narrowed on to a shuffle outside. Had it not been for the voluptuousness of the creature out in the rain, my crack would have still held my gaze. Here was I, trying to improve my gaze, get more of what was being thrown at me. It should have been eons since man made his first civilized break, yet here was I ,stirred to the basest of instincts a man could feel. There was something more ,those eyes…
Large black eyes, a bit larger and it would have fitted the description ‘bulbous’. There was a glint of wild yet draped by genuine unfathomable warmth. She was wet ,her silhouette making its presence amply felt .There is something innate about certain actions, which throw the seeds of doubt, inhibition self evaluation right through the window. It was same for both of us, for what transpired next was in line with those actions…actions, which in any other circumstance, context would be baptized by some very alluring adjectives. I threw open the window and asked her to come in. Not even a for a moment did the doubt of her refusing flicker , even for an effervescent time.
What happened next is for your lucid (lewd?) imaginatory juices to take over the reigns …yes, the crack still remains and so does the bizarre events which followed and more so the memory like a whip flogging a horse, a horse for which the laceration inflicted is just another thing…yet, no denying it…it does surface, every time the spray spouts like a beached whale ………

I spent my whole Sunday reading this, where a so_defined social commentary blogger, wrote his rants. The whole Indian blogosphere was missing a cricket matches, just for a discussion. That was “Is Vultruo is racist or not. (world knows his real name, why does need pen name at all?)  

All he did was to write about an OOOoooLalaaaaa – I am soooo hot contest. By his generalized observation,

One curious thing that I noticed is that there are a dis- proportionate number of chicks with Sikh sounding names: Tejinder, Rajinder, Jaspreet, Jassi and any other Sikh name you could think of. I wonder what’s the deal. But in any case, I’m thankful they are North Indian: If the site had pictures of a shit load of them Madrasi chicks (with equally unique sounding names) instead of the Punjabi ones, the contest would have been an absolute non-starter. Or maybe not. Madrasi boys would have flocked to see them, for sure. 

Big deal!! Whole north India calls south as “idly sambar “, whole
India calls north-east people “chinki”. We have racism in our blood. So why bully him? Some people started doing psychological analysis of him, some were sure he is a racist. Some appreciated his blog name to be very apt, which happened to be “psychotic ramblings of a mad man”. 

It’s a very fundamental tip to be a successful blogger “create controversy, get your readers offended”. Everything is fair in love, war and blogging. If you don’t leave him alone, he will definitely build a sea-view house in Mumbai by his AdSense revenue

In the end you can always say “political correctness  go to hell”, and he knew this..

           Last over of the match, a deathly silence prevailing over the sea of humanity watching. beads of sweat forming on the brow, the heart beats loud and clear, 36 runs from six balls…a feat if achieved would shame miandad’s last ball a six.. no living mortal yet to achieve this in international cricket …the bowler chugging in …you see the crowd thinning , disappointed to the bone…for we always fail… suddenly the background to fade in the oblivion…the first bounce of leather and a wild swing…catapulted to seven skies…a long stare with feet rooted to ground …waiting for the umpire to raise his finger to relieve the unbearable burden…there is a moment at the other end….he is raising his hand, albeit both his hands…IT’S A SIX !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

          rest as they say ‘is history’ 🙂 .Wild with joy I swing my arms, one comes crashing down on the flush handle and the other skids on to the bucket nearby splashing water all over. Sounds familiar ???? (still grappling to transcend my word play ???? i was the batsman facing shoaib 🙂 )Maybe it has to do with humans hibernating in a bag surrounded with crap for about nine months; loo I guess is the way we connect to this primal truth. for all those who just believe in going through the motion..(just love this bit ‘going through the motion’ for this context 😀 ) and having a jaunt for a couple of minutes, stop right here and head to the next blog.
              Welcome to the world where all of us have been the loveable neighborhood spider man to the dreaded jack the ripper, wondering why on earth did Newton have to wait for the apple to fall for reality to dawn (that brings me to an important theory….the western commode I believe was the culprit, lack of visibility deterred this life saving realsiation of all important gravity !) .. a place where we have battled our demons and yes romanced with our loved ones .strategizing to win over the love of ever elusive to being Juan duan for every other girl in town. Ayn rand to Marx… ,Hinduism to its latest offspring called modi , ya…aids to piles !! ( when you spend hours in the loo…piles is very often not a blip on the radar of thoughts, what say ? 🙂 .. ).

         Ever wondered the fertile of thoughts (and of course the unmentionables…) to be born in the most daunting of circumstances … 🙂 .for the legions of humanity, to deny the ‘loo’ its rightful place in the pantheon of intellectual labyrinths is a crime !!. the creepy lizard on the ceiling to running water.. every single object and pure ether to produce such thoughts and someone said to crap is to is to relieve yourself !! maybe that was the most profound statement ever to be made. Maybe the marketer who coined the term ‘captive audience’ hit upon the word in the loo,we are all captive for we cannot deny the law of nature, to sit through and prevail , (so ain’t ‘captive’ just the word 🙂 ) …guess its left to us…to just ‘go through the motion’ OR….to dream …………..

PS note : for those who believe this to be a truck load of crap…well, as the crap being the premise…what else did u expect 🙂
Acknowledgement : my cozy loo, without which this article wouldn have been possible…and last but not the least…thanks to nature…which gives me an occasion to dream and still remember it fondly 🙂

I guess there are a lot of people like me who dont like politics, especially in India where you dont want to waste time, or brain on such crappy things. But there are some politicians who are known to almost everyone. For Eg., Laloo!! He is very comical. There is another person whom i know these days very well, though i didnt want to. He is Arjun Singh. An intelligent idiot.
The controversial bill has been passed. The OBCs will get 27% reservations in govt-aided institutions. The equation is very finely balanced so that it wont cross the Lakshman rekha which the Supreme Court has put(50%): 27(OBC) + 15(SC) + 7.5(ST) = 49.5. Although the whole of educated circle in India is against this quota, Singh doesnt care any. Ambedkar himself had told that the quota system should not extend more than ten years from its implmentation. I know i cant do anything about this now. no … wait ….. I can do something …. as Bach saidI declare Fatwa on Arjun Singh.

What the Bill says?
-It makes 15 pc reservations for SCs, 7.5 pc for STs and 27 pc for OBCs binding on the government
-It exempts four categories of institutions: Institutions in tribal areas, research institutions, minority institutions and super-speciality courses
-Mandatory 54 pc increase in seats
-Reservation in admissions to begin 2007

Seems some marriages are made in heaven. My fiance(who is now my husband) and myself did not want to travel to heaven at such an early age, instead we got married in a marriage hall in the south of bangalore.  The wedding was attended by a lot of people, friends of the groom, bride, well-wishers, sympathizers, relatives, neighbors, acquaintances, friends of relatives and so on.

I had often seen people describing their wedding day as the happiest moment in their lives and so on. I would say it was the most tiring day in my life(no offence guru!!). You are draped in a heavy kancheepuram saree, there is almost 1/2kg jasmine flowers around a “virtual plait”, another 1/4 kg jewellery which includes a variety of earrings, necklaces, bangles and anklets. Sitting cross legged on the floor in this attire for around 3 hours is no joke. (but who ever calls marriage a joke??). After the entire ordeal is over, you and your spouse are made to sit like 2 exhibits for people to come and shower their blessings/gifts/comments. The most common thing people tell you after congratulating you is to invite you for breakfast/lunch/dinner. You smile, nod your head and say “Sure”!!!

By the time the guests have had lunch and left and you have stopped smiling, your cheek muscles are paining. It is difficult to manage a frown, leave alone a smile..All you want is it go and sleep for some time, but there is the reception!!!

(Rest to be continued if there are readers.. )

   Do Pink Floyds ever get tired of playing? They perform all the time since years. When I work, when I travel, when I eat, I brush, I…In my ears. They are more than 1 GB with me.  Recently friend of mine related PFs with my philosophy, for which I never had an answer. 

“I do not understand Atheism, if you say there is no god  … Then who is David Gilmore??” 

One more, I read..,  

          The three remaining PF members get in a car wreck and all three die. They’re standing in front of the pearly gates to heaven when St. Peter comes up and says “Oh hi guys, we’ve been expecting you! You’re really going to love it here; Heaven is a great place for musicians. We even have our own band and you guys are welcome to join. We’ve got Elvis Presley singing, Jimmie Hendrix is playing guitar, Frank Sinatra is on piano and Roger Waters is writing lyrics!” 

Dave replies “Roger’s here? When did he die?” 

St. Peter leans over and whispers in his ear “It’s really just God, but he thinks he’s Roger Waters!”

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