Well, recently I read "The Godfather Papers and Other Confessions" by Mario Puzo. There was was piece that made of read it again and again. Though I could not understand some of it, I loved all of it. Hope you guys enjoy it too. Here its for you, with due respect to, and admiration for, Mario Puzo :
And man has to love someone and since love is not durable...and must did, it follows that a man has to love many times. I'm not talking about lust...or those phony playacting affairs that men act out with complacent women. I mean a desire to love, a willingness to accept pain and humiliation and if necessary to be damaged. Women are more important thu I thought. And that's a really funny line... But it makes of mad...what I always thought a weakness...is a weakness that a man must have to acquire or keep his strength.
And this is true of women as it is with men. It must be. And since they have even more pressure...how much more damaged must they be for not being allowed to love.
And so what."
Monday, July 27, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN
Death, destruction. Decay and anger,
But to fidelity one is no stranger.
Hate, love. Psychosis and insanity,
Friendship? Start of an inane enmity.
Rotten, smelly. Odorous and fey,
Hell is Heaven, whatever one would say.
Dark, light. Noise and serenity
Idiocy is mostly the dearth of ingenuity.
Screams and shouts, a poor man raving
Where is the love? Is revenge forgiving?
A river of black blood to be drank,
Blood red grass dying on its bank.
A blue, blue sky right there to be killed.
An empty pitcher here, waiting to be filled.
Tomorrow is a hope, yesterday is stale,
Dance, smile, dance in the storm and hale.
A decaying body, a mind so horrendous,
Macabre; a venture of life so tremendous.
A pain, a rain, a licence to kill
Here and now, life and death, a test of will.
Seas of life, that are yet to be seen,
Heaven and Hell, and everything in between.
But to fidelity one is no stranger.
Hate, love. Psychosis and insanity,
Friendship? Start of an inane enmity.
Rotten, smelly. Odorous and fey,
Hell is Heaven, whatever one would say.
Dark, light. Noise and serenity
Idiocy is mostly the dearth of ingenuity.
Screams and shouts, a poor man raving
Where is the love? Is revenge forgiving?
A river of black blood to be drank,
Blood red grass dying on its bank.
A blue, blue sky right there to be killed.
An empty pitcher here, waiting to be filled.
Tomorrow is a hope, yesterday is stale,
Dance, smile, dance in the storm and hale.
A decaying body, a mind so horrendous,
Macabre; a venture of life so tremendous.
A pain, a rain, a licence to kill
Here and now, life and death, a test of will.
Seas of life, that are yet to be seen,
Heaven and Hell, and everything in between.
Monday, July 20, 2009
FORTIFIED MAN
Sleepless, i think of the times gone by,
Sober, a little sad, silent i lie.
A grey evening and a black dawn,
Bright stars and a shadow reborn.
Bleak under the shadow, the world is wan,
Strong and supple is the fortified man,
Because slain and bleeding though they lie,
They still live on and refuse to die!
Sober, a little sad, silent i lie.
A grey evening and a black dawn,
Bright stars and a shadow reborn.
Bleak under the shadow, the world is wan,
Strong and supple is the fortified man,
Because slain and bleeding though they lie,
They still live on and refuse to die!
Friday, July 17, 2009
FAMILY MATTERS III
THE KUL FAMILY
The brothers were named Sofi, Dermi, and Bill. They were the last survivors of the Kul family, mishappen and grotesque though they were. Kul was not their family name earlier, but they changed it in reverence to their famous father, Kulbhushan. Yeah, of Bollywood fame.
Now it is interesting how Bill got his name. He was a great fan of Bill Clinton. Long before the Monica affair, if any perverts are wondering otherwise. Bill Kul even learned to play the saxophone while he was in his mother's womb. Surprising but true. He cried in tune of a saxophone the moment he was delivered. Swear! Sofi Kul and Dermi Kul knew nothing of music, the imbeciles. But Dermi gave his name to a famous brand of prickly heat powder. Sofi Kul had no ambition in this world other tin sleeping and day dreaming.
All of the Kul family, in fact all of them since time immemorial, has been educated at the same school: The Guru Kul Grammar School. Well, earlier it was called The Guru Cool Grammar School, if truth be told, since its founder-principal was a pretty cool guy. But after his sudden and sad demise, they decided to rename the school after the family of their most prolific students. Oh, and by the way, the moto of the Kul family is "Thanda Thanda Cool Kul".
J. R. R. Tolkien once came to India when the Kul empire was at its greatest. It is from their surname that Tolkien got the idea to name one clan of Orcs as the Kull. Not because our Kuls were warlike, rather because, as I said at the very outset, they were mishappen and grotesque. Eat that!
The brothers were named Sofi, Dermi, and Bill. They were the last survivors of the Kul family, mishappen and grotesque though they were. Kul was not their family name earlier, but they changed it in reverence to their famous father, Kulbhushan. Yeah, of Bollywood fame.
Now it is interesting how Bill got his name. He was a great fan of Bill Clinton. Long before the Monica affair, if any perverts are wondering otherwise. Bill Kul even learned to play the saxophone while he was in his mother's womb. Surprising but true. He cried in tune of a saxophone the moment he was delivered. Swear! Sofi Kul and Dermi Kul knew nothing of music, the imbeciles. But Dermi gave his name to a famous brand of prickly heat powder. Sofi Kul had no ambition in this world other tin sleeping and day dreaming.
All of the Kul family, in fact all of them since time immemorial, has been educated at the same school: The Guru Kul Grammar School. Well, earlier it was called The Guru Cool Grammar School, if truth be told, since its founder-principal was a pretty cool guy. But after his sudden and sad demise, they decided to rename the school after the family of their most prolific students. Oh, and by the way, the moto of the Kul family is "Thanda Thanda Cool Kul".
J. R. R. Tolkien once came to India when the Kul empire was at its greatest. It is from their surname that Tolkien got the idea to name one clan of Orcs as the Kull. Not because our Kuls were warlike, rather because, as I said at the very outset, they were mishappen and grotesque. Eat that!
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
FAMILY MATTERS (contd.)
PART TWO: THE DHONI FAMILY
Well there was the Das family. Now here is something about the Dhoni family. It is a vast one, and still flourishing. I wonder whether they are rabbits some days. They replicate so much!!
Anyways the first member of the clan was Mahendra Singh Shani. His children were named Phani, Johnnie, Dhoni, and Moni; all with the same prefix of Mahendra Singh. Now Shani had a pepperoni factory that was doing very well. But none of his sons seemed interested in taking over after his demise. Phani was very much into literature. Johnnie and Dhoni were great cricketers. And Moni wanted to be a doctor. Since Johnnie was the least talented at what he did, his father wanted him to take over the family business. That made Johnnie very angry and one day he ran away from home. He walked all the way to Scotland. The people there nicknamed him Walker for his legendary walking skills. Thus started the company Johnnie Walker, the one which most of us enjoy.
Shani was broken hearted at this and went into the skies, where he still lives as Saturn. Now Phani had to take responsibility and since he was a member of PETA, he closed the pepperoni factory. He started selling honey. That closed down too due to his ineptitude. So he went into exile, named himself Phani Dhar Sarma and started writing Assamese poems. Gross!!
Dhoni is still playing cricket. But he hates Virender Sehwag now. The cause of his hatred is that he has recently come to know that it was Sehwag who had advised his brother first to close down the pepperoni factory, and then to go into exile. He was jealous of the success of the Dhoni family, you see. Dhoni got his own back though, when he lied and cheated his way out of putting Sehwag out of the Indian T20 squad. Dhoni has done a good deed too. They had a distant cousin called Manpreet Singh Gony who family was very poor. Dhoni has at least given him the chance of coming into limelight.
You must be wondering what has happened to Moni. He has been banished because he only managed to get a seat in Assam Medical College and not at AIIMS. We know him by the name of Dr. Moni Greeva Krishnatriya now. He is an Otorhinolaryngiologist.
There is another person to add to all this confusion. She is my neighbor and her name is Loni. She has started a factory in the reverence of her forefather. She calls it Shani Honey and Pepperoni Factory.
Well there was the Das family. Now here is something about the Dhoni family. It is a vast one, and still flourishing. I wonder whether they are rabbits some days. They replicate so much!!
Anyways the first member of the clan was Mahendra Singh Shani. His children were named Phani, Johnnie, Dhoni, and Moni; all with the same prefix of Mahendra Singh. Now Shani had a pepperoni factory that was doing very well. But none of his sons seemed interested in taking over after his demise. Phani was very much into literature. Johnnie and Dhoni were great cricketers. And Moni wanted to be a doctor. Since Johnnie was the least talented at what he did, his father wanted him to take over the family business. That made Johnnie very angry and one day he ran away from home. He walked all the way to Scotland. The people there nicknamed him Walker for his legendary walking skills. Thus started the company Johnnie Walker, the one which most of us enjoy.
Shani was broken hearted at this and went into the skies, where he still lives as Saturn. Now Phani had to take responsibility and since he was a member of PETA, he closed the pepperoni factory. He started selling honey. That closed down too due to his ineptitude. So he went into exile, named himself Phani Dhar Sarma and started writing Assamese poems. Gross!!
Dhoni is still playing cricket. But he hates Virender Sehwag now. The cause of his hatred is that he has recently come to know that it was Sehwag who had advised his brother first to close down the pepperoni factory, and then to go into exile. He was jealous of the success of the Dhoni family, you see. Dhoni got his own back though, when he lied and cheated his way out of putting Sehwag out of the Indian T20 squad. Dhoni has done a good deed too. They had a distant cousin called Manpreet Singh Gony who family was very poor. Dhoni has at least given him the chance of coming into limelight.
You must be wondering what has happened to Moni. He has been banished because he only managed to get a seat in Assam Medical College and not at AIIMS. We know him by the name of Dr. Moni Greeva Krishnatriya now. He is an Otorhinolaryngiologist.
There is another person to add to all this confusion. She is my neighbor and her name is Loni. She has started a factory in the reverence of her forefather. She calls it Shani Honey and Pepperoni Factory.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
FAMILY MATTERS
PROLOGUE: These creations are not entirely my own. The credit should be bestowed upon Utpal Sharma, Vinay Upadhyay, and Mithu Teron too. These are the discussions we have when we sit around doing nothing, which is to say, most of the time. Then we talk and wrought these “crap, lies, and bullshit”. You may proceed.
PART ONE: THE DAS FAMILY
Sur Das was the eldest of the four brothers. The others were Adi, Dev, and Bin. They were born orphans. Sur loved Dev because he kept on listening to Sur’s frustrating songs all day long. Adi was an entrepreneur at heart and hated Sur for sitting at his harmonium and causing pandemonium 24X7. he also hated Dev because he dared to like Sur’s music. Sur loathed Adi with all his heart since he had denounced music. Dev hated Adi just because Sur did. Bin loved them all/ but he loved Adi the most because he got an occasional rupee from him.
Now one day Sur was braying on his harmonium as usual. Adi had had enough. He broke the harmonium on his elder brother’s head and also gouged out both his eyes for good measure. (That is how Sur Das became blind). Dev went berserk with fury and informed the police. But Bin, who loved Adi the most, helped his favorite brother escape from India.
Things returned to normal in a few days time. Sur Das kept on singing his hopeless songs. Dev Das kept on listening to them. (Although in the midst he started preferring a different kind of music for some time.) bin kept on cursing Sur’s music, because it had estranged him from his favorite brother.
One day Bin Das got a parcel from somewhere in Germany. He opened it to find his favorite brother’s name inscribed in bold letters on the carton. Upom opening the carton, he found, to his delight, a pair of brand new sneakers. It was only then that he realized that his brother had started a multi-national company called ADIDAS. When Bin Das got married to a lovely girl by the name of Chandramukhi, they received a truckload of sneakers, sandals, tracksuits etc. for the newly wed couple. Obviously from Adi. (Dev Das emptied a full bottle of vodka and half bottle of Coke that day. Poor bastard.) Sur and Dev never received any gifts from Adi.
Sadly, though, their great lineage has tittered over the ages. Apart from Adi, there is only one other surviving member of their clan. She is Dr. Rachna Das. She has kept the name of her ancestor Bin Das alive, since she believes he was the inspiration behind the great man, Adi. She calls herself Bin. Bin Laden.
PART ONE: THE DAS FAMILY
Sur Das was the eldest of the four brothers. The others were Adi, Dev, and Bin. They were born orphans. Sur loved Dev because he kept on listening to Sur’s frustrating songs all day long. Adi was an entrepreneur at heart and hated Sur for sitting at his harmonium and causing pandemonium 24X7. he also hated Dev because he dared to like Sur’s music. Sur loathed Adi with all his heart since he had denounced music. Dev hated Adi just because Sur did. Bin loved them all/ but he loved Adi the most because he got an occasional rupee from him.
Now one day Sur was braying on his harmonium as usual. Adi had had enough. He broke the harmonium on his elder brother’s head and also gouged out both his eyes for good measure. (That is how Sur Das became blind). Dev went berserk with fury and informed the police. But Bin, who loved Adi the most, helped his favorite brother escape from India.
Things returned to normal in a few days time. Sur Das kept on singing his hopeless songs. Dev Das kept on listening to them. (Although in the midst he started preferring a different kind of music for some time.) bin kept on cursing Sur’s music, because it had estranged him from his favorite brother.
One day Bin Das got a parcel from somewhere in Germany. He opened it to find his favorite brother’s name inscribed in bold letters on the carton. Upom opening the carton, he found, to his delight, a pair of brand new sneakers. It was only then that he realized that his brother had started a multi-national company called ADIDAS. When Bin Das got married to a lovely girl by the name of Chandramukhi, they received a truckload of sneakers, sandals, tracksuits etc. for the newly wed couple. Obviously from Adi. (Dev Das emptied a full bottle of vodka and half bottle of Coke that day. Poor bastard.) Sur and Dev never received any gifts from Adi.
Sadly, though, their great lineage has tittered over the ages. Apart from Adi, there is only one other surviving member of their clan. She is Dr. Rachna Das. She has kept the name of her ancestor Bin Das alive, since she believes he was the inspiration behind the great man, Adi. She calls herself Bin. Bin Laden.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
THREADS
All ties broken, all threads torn,
I can not venture in to the past I have known.
I move in to the future with eyes sewn shut,
Searching for something, not knowing what.
It pours tears and it rains blood,
I swim, I drown, in the ensuing flood.
All the hopes, all memories worn,
All ties broken, all threads torn.
I can not venture in to the past I have known.
I move in to the future with eyes sewn shut,
Searching for something, not knowing what.
It pours tears and it rains blood,
I swim, I drown, in the ensuing flood.
All the hopes, all memories worn,
All ties broken, all threads torn.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
WHEN YOU
It is beautiful when you start living a lie,
In the deepest niches, writhing you die.
When you smile and frolick and laugh,
And to yourself you can not but bluff.
When you hide and kill a part of your mind,
And those that you can not leave behind.
When you thrash around in your bed,
And all your lies get to your head.
When you are lonely, when you are lost,
And that is when I smile the most.
In the deepest niches, writhing you die.
When you smile and frolick and laugh,
And to yourself you can not but bluff.
When you hide and kill a part of your mind,
And those that you can not leave behind.
When you thrash around in your bed,
And all your lies get to your head.
When you are lonely, when you are lost,
And that is when I smile the most.
Monday, March 23, 2009
ACCESSORY
A cloudy gray sky swollen with rain.
The vagrant's wiles did make him gain
The home he wished for, a place in hell.
Scathing fires and boiling oil in the wells.
Screaming souls tortured and raped,
The perpetrators in billowing cloaks draped.
The vagrant smiled in memory of his sorrows great,
An accessory to murder: his ultimate fate.
The vagrant's wiles did make him gain
The home he wished for, a place in hell.
Scathing fires and boiling oil in the wells.
Screaming souls tortured and raped,
The perpetrators in billowing cloaks draped.
The vagrant smiled in memory of his sorrows great,
An accessory to murder: his ultimate fate.
THORN
Departed lives on the eclipsed morn,
Seeking hot blood, the thirsty thorn.
The dead leaves and a cloud of dust,
The man of iron now encased in rust.
Yellow blood spilled, the thorn defiled
It gave birth to a deranged child.
Death and destruction: the destiny of joy
The child grew up in a day to a psychotic boy.
The thorn still needy, the thirst for lust.
But it died of hunger, it died too fast.
Seeking hot blood, the thirsty thorn.
The dead leaves and a cloud of dust,
The man of iron now encased in rust.
Yellow blood spilled, the thorn defiled
It gave birth to a deranged child.
Death and destruction: the destiny of joy
The child grew up in a day to a psychotic boy.
The thorn still needy, the thirst for lust.
But it died of hunger, it died too fast.
Friday, March 13, 2009
ANJUM
I guess I must be in love.
I see her whenever I close my eyes.
I lie down in my private cove
And I think of her as the music moves.
A beauty, a lovely smile.
Engrossing she, a gorgeous wile.
I am in love but I cannot speak to her
So many feelings: I am at war.
Sigh...
I see her whenever I close my eyes.
I lie down in my private cove
And I think of her as the music moves.
A beauty, a lovely smile.
Engrossing she, a gorgeous wile.
I am in love but I cannot speak to her
So many feelings: I am at war.
Sigh...
Thursday, March 12, 2009
DESERT
Orange and blue, as she glides past,
The heart beats faster, an emotion vast.
A whiff of her fragrance as she passes me by,
I breath in deep and cannot but sigh.
A flutter inside of me I can feel
Words are lost and the breeze stands still.
I close my eyes and heaven I see,
That she is what I want her to be.
The milling crowd fades on this day,
I hear their voices a thousand miles away.
I want to hear her voice, one that must be sweet,
For my ears, that should be a treat.
A pleasant pain surges through my veins,
A desert wishing for the invigorating rains.
The heart beats faster, an emotion vast.
A whiff of her fragrance as she passes me by,
I breath in deep and cannot but sigh.
A flutter inside of me I can feel
Words are lost and the breeze stands still.
I close my eyes and heaven I see,
That she is what I want her to be.
The milling crowd fades on this day,
I hear their voices a thousand miles away.
I want to hear her voice, one that must be sweet,
For my ears, that should be a treat.
A pleasant pain surges through my veins,
A desert wishing for the invigorating rains.
MADHOUSE
People like to dream on.
Dreams: when one's mind becomes a con.
Nightmares, at least, are far better,
They come back to haunt one much later.
Sanity? What is supposed to be that?
If not the oddities of an insane brat.
Lunatics live in a land separated by walls.
That could be the only place, other worlds could be false.
The grass is green when one smokes and flies.
The sky feels ecstasy as it dies.
Dreams are dead, nightmares rule the night.
In this wrong world, that is the only thing right.
Dreams: when one's mind becomes a con.
Nightmares, at least, are far better,
They come back to haunt one much later.
Sanity? What is supposed to be that?
If not the oddities of an insane brat.
Lunatics live in a land separated by walls.
That could be the only place, other worlds could be false.
The grass is green when one smokes and flies.
The sky feels ecstasy as it dies.
Dreams are dead, nightmares rule the night.
In this wrong world, that is the only thing right.
STUPID ME
I stared as I sat alone
Hoping for a smile.
A light through her eyes shone
As she looked at me awhile.
I thought our eyes had met
But I turned my head away.
I looked at my shoes and thought that
I should not be feeling gay.
Wallowing in bed now, for everyone to see.
I feel so stupid. Stupid me...
Hoping for a smile.
A light through her eyes shone
As she looked at me awhile.
I thought our eyes had met
But I turned my head away.
I looked at my shoes and thought that
I should not be feeling gay.
Wallowing in bed now, for everyone to see.
I feel so stupid. Stupid me...
Monday, February 23, 2009
PERFECT BLACK BODY
The grass is green. Today being Maha Shivartri. Here I was in my room listening to two bhajans(?) dedicated to Lord Shiva. Flipping through some old albums. I saw the photo of an old friend in one of those albums. Well, here's how he got his name.
Perfect Black Body was born on the 20th of May, 1978. He was a few years senior to but we were in the same class since he had been admitted to school a couple years late. Must have had mentel retardation, eh? Whatever. So, he was born at Guwahati Medical College. It hat been an uneventful(!) pregnancy and he was delivered normally. Now, the moment the baby was out of his mother's womb, all the lights in the labour room went zilch. It was pandemonium, the Paeditrician screaming at the nurse to hold the baby tightly. The Obestetrician bellowing out for "A light. A frigging light, someone!" The baby starting to wail in the midst. Someone had a sense to pull out his battered Nokia 1100 (Made for India) and switch on the torch. Poof! Out it goes. A nurse, a big torch, same fate. "Something to do with electromagnetic radiation", the Paediatrician gives his valued opinion. "Candles, idiots! Candles!", the Obstetrician bellows out loud. The useless Intern rushes out to get the candles. Sees a fat, old nurse hurrying past with lighted candles in hand. Rushes on till he reaches his hostel room. Meanwhile, the candles go out the moment the are in the labour room. The Paediatrician swears under his breath. The Obstetrician bellows "Fuck." They both mutter while they set to work in the darkness. Being experienced, they finish by the time a second batch of candles arrive. They doet go out. The lights come back on. The Obsterician looks around and bellows out, "Now, where did our bloody Intern go?"
Now, the baby's maternal uncle was a Professor of Physics at the prestigious Cotton College. He hears of the incident, thinks awhile, and says out loud, "Well, he must be Perfect Black Body. But he imbibes light only when he is in the upturned position". The name stuck as his parents decided it was an important sounding thing.
Man. I mean, what the...
Perfect Black Body was born on the 20th of May, 1978. He was a few years senior to but we were in the same class since he had been admitted to school a couple years late. Must have had mentel retardation, eh? Whatever. So, he was born at Guwahati Medical College. It hat been an uneventful(!) pregnancy and he was delivered normally. Now, the moment the baby was out of his mother's womb, all the lights in the labour room went zilch. It was pandemonium, the Paeditrician screaming at the nurse to hold the baby tightly. The Obestetrician bellowing out for "A light. A frigging light, someone!" The baby starting to wail in the midst. Someone had a sense to pull out his battered Nokia 1100 (Made for India) and switch on the torch. Poof! Out it goes. A nurse, a big torch, same fate. "Something to do with electromagnetic radiation", the Paediatrician gives his valued opinion. "Candles, idiots! Candles!", the Obstetrician bellows out loud. The useless Intern rushes out to get the candles. Sees a fat, old nurse hurrying past with lighted candles in hand. Rushes on till he reaches his hostel room. Meanwhile, the candles go out the moment the are in the labour room. The Paediatrician swears under his breath. The Obstetrician bellows "Fuck." They both mutter while they set to work in the darkness. Being experienced, they finish by the time a second batch of candles arrive. They doet go out. The lights come back on. The Obsterician looks around and bellows out, "Now, where did our bloody Intern go?"
Now, the baby's maternal uncle was a Professor of Physics at the prestigious Cotton College. He hears of the incident, thinks awhile, and says out loud, "Well, he must be Perfect Black Body. But he imbibes light only when he is in the upturned position". The name stuck as his parents decided it was an important sounding thing.
Man. I mean, what the...
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
THE CELIBATES
Fuckface, Zidane, and Cobri were seated on the floor with the empty glasses in front of them when I walked back into the room. They were my best friends. I was Psycho to them. We have been addressing each other thus since as long as we can remember. Even in public. I had gone out to receive a phone call as it was impossible to hear anything in the room, what with the heavy music.
“We thought you had grown roots with the phone to your ear”, Fuckface said. He always tried to be funny.
“After another girl Psycho? You won’t be able to impress her, the way your feet smell”, Cobri added. The pessimist. Now, I wouldn’t go to meet a girl without spraying some cologne on my feet too, would I?
“Sit down and finish your peg. We have been waiting for you”, the epitome of practicality Zidane said.
I sat down, drained my glass at one go and smacked my lips.
“So, who was it?” Zidane asked as he made another round of “little water”.
“Peter”.
“Peter Pan”, Fuckface chirped. “Hey Psycho thinks Peter Pan is real. Maybe, too. In his make believe world.”
“Har har de har!” I said, while pretending to tickle myself.
“Isn’t he the loser who is supposed to be a doctor? That simple MBBS guy? Man, he won’t get his postgraduate seat, the way he drinks.” Cobri said that. Obviously.
I was in no mood to argue so I simply nodded my head.
“So what was it all about?” Zidane queried.
“Well he was telling me a part of his love story. The usual crap.”
“Oh, so now it is Eric Segal you were talking to? Knock, knock! He’s dead mate.” Guess who said that? Fuckface, who else?!
“Shaddup”, I snapped.
“His girlfriend must have ditched him”, Cobri opined.
“Yes.”
With that we sat awhile in silence sipping our pegs. It is a little difficult to carry out a proper conversation when Rob Halford keeps screaming.
All of a sudden fuckface said, “It’s quiet.”
“That ain’t funny.”
“No I mean we haven’t been talking.”
“Is that a problem?’
“We are not talking because we have nothing new to talk about. We have talked so much in our lives to each other that we have exhausted all our topics”, Cobri said.
I couldn’t but smile at his point of view.
“Hey there is something new to talk about. Right Psycho?” Zidane said.
I got him right away. “No way”.
Sadly, the other two idiots got him right away too. “Yeah Psycho that would be fun”, Fuckface said. And both of them started to chant “Story, story!” in chorus, and that too in a sing-song voice. Imagine!
“No way. He told it to me as a friend. I shouldn’t go around telling his story to everyone.”
“Oh, he is a friend. And we are everyone”, Zidane said.
“Hey that’s blackmail.”
“Yeah, now we are blackmailers. And Peter is a true friend. Soulmate?” Fuckface said.
“Come on. It’s not like we are gonna split it to anyone else.”
They pestered me for some more time. I finally relented. After all for how long can you say no to your best friends?
“Okay, it’s not his love story though. It’s just an incident from his life. But turn down the volume first.”
Zidane reached for the remote and turned the music way down.
“Peter is Christian”, I started.
“Oh, really? I though he was an orthodox Brahmin”, Fuckface said.
“Stop trying to be funny Fuckface. There is no reason you will succeed today where you have failed for so many years”, Cobri lilted while picking his teeth.
“Stop bickering, you two, and let Psycho speak.”
“Yeah. So Peter is Christian. He had the hots for a Muslim girl when he was way back in school. They used to be good friends. And he used to fantasize about her! One day he couldn’t stop himself from expressing his feelings. She refused saying she couldn’t say yes because of their religious differences.”
“A rare specimen of a good girl”, Zidane commented. “At least she was being honest.”
“Anyways, they remained being friends. They left school and went to different colleges. They occasionally talked to each other over the phone. Neither of them had got involved with someone else. And they had numerous fights, as does good friends. Take our own Cobri and Fuckface for instance.”
“Cobri always starts the fights.”
“Yeah, and you are an angel.”
“Cut it, dudes. Grow up!”
“Really though, Fuckface must be tired of all the beatings I have given him.”
“See, what did I tell you guys? This asshole is always ready to pick a fight. Come on, lemme show you some moves, mate.”
They were almost at each others necks when Zidane interevened. I sat there amused. “I guess you are not interested in listening to me.” I finished my peg and jiggled the empty glass at Zidane. Curiosity mollified the idiots and they too sat down to empty their glasses.
“So during one of those telephone conversations”, I continued as Zidane poured the drinks, “she told him that she wanted to say something to him. When he asked what it was, she said that he already knew. Peter was kinda insistent and at length she told him that she had always been physically attracted towards him.”
“My, that’s cute”, Zidane said and went out for a pee.
“There must has been a glow on the loser’s face”, Cobri added.
Fuckface was speechless. He had always maintained that all girls were lesbians since he did not have a girlfriend.
I lit a cigarette and dragged deep waiting for Zidane to return.
The flush sounded and Zidane asked from the loo “What came out of the mutual physical attraction?”
“Nothing.”
“Loser”, Cobri commented.
“Well she went to Pune to study and Peter joined the medical college. Nothing could happen when a guy and girl can’t meet, right?”
“Sometimes nothing happens even when they meet”, Cobri again.
“Whatever. Cut to two years later. Peter was going steady with a girl. All of a sudden he gets a call from the Muslim girl. She wanted to meet. They set up a date. Neither of them could keep their eyes off each other when they met. Peter said if she was sexy earlier, she was super sexy then. They went for a drive and Peter sang her a song since his car didn’t have a music system. She sang along and held his hand and caressed his cheek. She sat so as she could run her foot up and down his calves.”
“Man, that was a sure come on!”
“Peter asked her what she wanted and she answered she wanted him.”
“Must have had a romp in the hay.”
“No. He stopped the car, bought her a chocolate, and drove her home. “
“Loser.”
“It must have been funny because she asked Peter if he were gay! He replied, in his own words, ‘I am not gay. I am just faithful’. They have never talked since. Now his girlfriend has ditched him and he is rueing what he calls his misplaced sense of honour.”
“He shouldn’t. because he did what seemed right to him at that point of time”, Zidane said.
“But, my, how stupid can a guy be? I mean, that girl wanted to be fucked bad, from what I can make out. One shouldn’t miss such a chance”, Cobri said
“Look who’s talking”, Fuckface smiled. “Remember that one time when a girl invited Cobri to her house saying she lived alone?”
“You live alone? That must be very boring. I live in a joint family. It’s so fun”, I mimicked.
“Shove it. I missed a chance doesn’t mean that anyone else should”, Cobri said defiantly.
“What about you Zidane. When are you gonna go after a girl?” Fuckfcae asked.
“Think about yourself. I don’t need to go after a girl. My parents will search for a beautiful girl whom I will marry. That way I won’t get the blame if the girl turns out to be bithcy.”
“Fuckface doesn’t worry either. No girl’s gonna fall for him what with his horrible sense of humour”, Cobri said.
“You want a black eye, mate?”
“Guys, don’t fight, for a change. I have a question. Who, other than us three would believe even Psycho haven’t had a girl even with his charisma, style, and everything?”
“How does that matter if no one else believes me? You guys do, that more than enough.”
“Hear, hear!” the two idiots said in chorus.
“Hey, let’s finish up. It’s late and we won’t get anything to eat if we sit her any longer”, Zidane said.
So, we finished our pegs and got up to go.
“Yeah, mate, we can’t have sex due to our misplaced sense of humour. At least let us have some food. What?”
This guy. Our dear fuckface will die trying to be funny.
“We thought you had grown roots with the phone to your ear”, Fuckface said. He always tried to be funny.
“After another girl Psycho? You won’t be able to impress her, the way your feet smell”, Cobri added. The pessimist. Now, I wouldn’t go to meet a girl without spraying some cologne on my feet too, would I?
“Sit down and finish your peg. We have been waiting for you”, the epitome of practicality Zidane said.
I sat down, drained my glass at one go and smacked my lips.
“So, who was it?” Zidane asked as he made another round of “little water”.
“Peter”.
“Peter Pan”, Fuckface chirped. “Hey Psycho thinks Peter Pan is real. Maybe, too. In his make believe world.”
“Har har de har!” I said, while pretending to tickle myself.
“Isn’t he the loser who is supposed to be a doctor? That simple MBBS guy? Man, he won’t get his postgraduate seat, the way he drinks.” Cobri said that. Obviously.
I was in no mood to argue so I simply nodded my head.
“So what was it all about?” Zidane queried.
“Well he was telling me a part of his love story. The usual crap.”
“Oh, so now it is Eric Segal you were talking to? Knock, knock! He’s dead mate.” Guess who said that? Fuckface, who else?!
“Shaddup”, I snapped.
“His girlfriend must have ditched him”, Cobri opined.
“Yes.”
With that we sat awhile in silence sipping our pegs. It is a little difficult to carry out a proper conversation when Rob Halford keeps screaming.
All of a sudden fuckface said, “It’s quiet.”
“That ain’t funny.”
“No I mean we haven’t been talking.”
“Is that a problem?’
“We are not talking because we have nothing new to talk about. We have talked so much in our lives to each other that we have exhausted all our topics”, Cobri said.
I couldn’t but smile at his point of view.
“Hey there is something new to talk about. Right Psycho?” Zidane said.
I got him right away. “No way”.
Sadly, the other two idiots got him right away too. “Yeah Psycho that would be fun”, Fuckface said. And both of them started to chant “Story, story!” in chorus, and that too in a sing-song voice. Imagine!
“No way. He told it to me as a friend. I shouldn’t go around telling his story to everyone.”
“Oh, he is a friend. And we are everyone”, Zidane said.
“Hey that’s blackmail.”
“Yeah, now we are blackmailers. And Peter is a true friend. Soulmate?” Fuckface said.
“Come on. It’s not like we are gonna split it to anyone else.”
They pestered me for some more time. I finally relented. After all for how long can you say no to your best friends?
“Okay, it’s not his love story though. It’s just an incident from his life. But turn down the volume first.”
Zidane reached for the remote and turned the music way down.
“Peter is Christian”, I started.
“Oh, really? I though he was an orthodox Brahmin”, Fuckface said.
“Stop trying to be funny Fuckface. There is no reason you will succeed today where you have failed for so many years”, Cobri lilted while picking his teeth.
“Stop bickering, you two, and let Psycho speak.”
“Yeah. So Peter is Christian. He had the hots for a Muslim girl when he was way back in school. They used to be good friends. And he used to fantasize about her! One day he couldn’t stop himself from expressing his feelings. She refused saying she couldn’t say yes because of their religious differences.”
“A rare specimen of a good girl”, Zidane commented. “At least she was being honest.”
“Anyways, they remained being friends. They left school and went to different colleges. They occasionally talked to each other over the phone. Neither of them had got involved with someone else. And they had numerous fights, as does good friends. Take our own Cobri and Fuckface for instance.”
“Cobri always starts the fights.”
“Yeah, and you are an angel.”
“Cut it, dudes. Grow up!”
“Really though, Fuckface must be tired of all the beatings I have given him.”
“See, what did I tell you guys? This asshole is always ready to pick a fight. Come on, lemme show you some moves, mate.”
They were almost at each others necks when Zidane interevened. I sat there amused. “I guess you are not interested in listening to me.” I finished my peg and jiggled the empty glass at Zidane. Curiosity mollified the idiots and they too sat down to empty their glasses.
“So during one of those telephone conversations”, I continued as Zidane poured the drinks, “she told him that she wanted to say something to him. When he asked what it was, she said that he already knew. Peter was kinda insistent and at length she told him that she had always been physically attracted towards him.”
“My, that’s cute”, Zidane said and went out for a pee.
“There must has been a glow on the loser’s face”, Cobri added.
Fuckface was speechless. He had always maintained that all girls were lesbians since he did not have a girlfriend.
I lit a cigarette and dragged deep waiting for Zidane to return.
The flush sounded and Zidane asked from the loo “What came out of the mutual physical attraction?”
“Nothing.”
“Loser”, Cobri commented.
“Well she went to Pune to study and Peter joined the medical college. Nothing could happen when a guy and girl can’t meet, right?”
“Sometimes nothing happens even when they meet”, Cobri again.
“Whatever. Cut to two years later. Peter was going steady with a girl. All of a sudden he gets a call from the Muslim girl. She wanted to meet. They set up a date. Neither of them could keep their eyes off each other when they met. Peter said if she was sexy earlier, she was super sexy then. They went for a drive and Peter sang her a song since his car didn’t have a music system. She sang along and held his hand and caressed his cheek. She sat so as she could run her foot up and down his calves.”
“Man, that was a sure come on!”
“Peter asked her what she wanted and she answered she wanted him.”
“Must have had a romp in the hay.”
“No. He stopped the car, bought her a chocolate, and drove her home. “
“Loser.”
“It must have been funny because she asked Peter if he were gay! He replied, in his own words, ‘I am not gay. I am just faithful’. They have never talked since. Now his girlfriend has ditched him and he is rueing what he calls his misplaced sense of honour.”
“He shouldn’t. because he did what seemed right to him at that point of time”, Zidane said.
“But, my, how stupid can a guy be? I mean, that girl wanted to be fucked bad, from what I can make out. One shouldn’t miss such a chance”, Cobri said
“Look who’s talking”, Fuckface smiled. “Remember that one time when a girl invited Cobri to her house saying she lived alone?”
“You live alone? That must be very boring. I live in a joint family. It’s so fun”, I mimicked.
“Shove it. I missed a chance doesn’t mean that anyone else should”, Cobri said defiantly.
“What about you Zidane. When are you gonna go after a girl?” Fuckfcae asked.
“Think about yourself. I don’t need to go after a girl. My parents will search for a beautiful girl whom I will marry. That way I won’t get the blame if the girl turns out to be bithcy.”
“Fuckface doesn’t worry either. No girl’s gonna fall for him what with his horrible sense of humour”, Cobri said.
“You want a black eye, mate?”
“Guys, don’t fight, for a change. I have a question. Who, other than us three would believe even Psycho haven’t had a girl even with his charisma, style, and everything?”
“How does that matter if no one else believes me? You guys do, that more than enough.”
“Hear, hear!” the two idiots said in chorus.
“Hey, let’s finish up. It’s late and we won’t get anything to eat if we sit her any longer”, Zidane said.
So, we finished our pegs and got up to go.
“Yeah, mate, we can’t have sex due to our misplaced sense of humour. At least let us have some food. What?”
This guy. Our dear fuckface will die trying to be funny.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
SOME MORE NAMES
I had no patients so I started 'surfing' the OPD register. Here are some more nice names for you people. Enjoy!
1. Sapha
2. Properman
3. Risingstar
4. Barrister
5. Mighty
6. Drink
7. Defence
8. Tiny
9. Ferry
10. None
11. Starlight
12. MAMMARY KHONGIONG 23/F. Beat this!!
1. Sapha
2. Properman
3. Risingstar
4. Barrister
5. Mighty
6. Drink
7. Defence
8. Tiny
9. Ferry
10. None
11. Starlight
12. MAMMARY KHONGIONG 23/F. Beat this!!
Monday, January 19, 2009
BLACK PHILOSOPHY
1. If only time stagnated like life tends to..
2. If only life smoked when it burned like a cigarette does..
3. If only life was as easy as the love songs tend to portray it to be..
4. If only the night was as dark as life seems to be..
5. If only medicine had surety as life surely ends in death..
6. If only life was just a bed similar to one on a wedding night..
7. If only life was as predictable as the monsoon rains..
8. If only the corrosive waters of life were as pure as snow..
Why would astrologers and numerologists exist then?
2. If only life smoked when it burned like a cigarette does..
3. If only life was as easy as the love songs tend to portray it to be..
4. If only the night was as dark as life seems to be..
5. If only medicine had surety as life surely ends in death..
6. If only life was just a bed similar to one on a wedding night..
7. If only life was as predictable as the monsoon rains..
8. If only the corrosive waters of life were as pure as snow..
Why would astrologers and numerologists exist then?
Friday, January 16, 2009
Answer to a Question
I was reading a friend's blog. He had posted something like 'Where is the Love'. The following post is my mad answer to the question:
Good question: 'Where is the love?' Nowhere. Its just malignant lust, or insipid selfishness. And Eagles sang Love Will Us Alive. As if.
Good question: 'Where is the love?' Nowhere. Its just malignant lust, or insipid selfishness. And Eagles sang Love Will Us Alive. As if.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
SOCHA HAI?!
Why does one get drunk after drinking and not before?
Why can't one shave without a blade in the razor?
Why does soap not lather in the absence of water?
Why do Delhi autos have faulty meters?
Why doesn't a heater work during load-shedding?
Why is a bride and a groom needed to complete a wedding?
Why do some men pick their noses in public?
Why, in The Age of Empires, only monks can fetch a relic?
Why that which barks is called a dog?
And why, oh why, do people blog?!
Have you thought, ever in your life
Why some men fear their wives?
And if you haven't had time to think
Meditate when you blink.
P. S: Ah, now that's what I call ORIGINALITY!
Why can't one shave without a blade in the razor?
Why does soap not lather in the absence of water?
Why do Delhi autos have faulty meters?
Why doesn't a heater work during load-shedding?
Why is a bride and a groom needed to complete a wedding?
Why do some men pick their noses in public?
Why, in The Age of Empires, only monks can fetch a relic?
Why that which barks is called a dog?
And why, oh why, do people blog?!
Have you thought, ever in your life
Why some men fear their wives?
And if you haven't had time to think
Meditate when you blink.
P. S: Ah, now that's what I call ORIGINALITY!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
