NONE FOR ME

“Do you want to read? Do you want to listen to the radio?” I asked myself.
“I don’t wanna read. I think Rushdie sucks, I told myself.
“Oh, so you want some music?
“Nope.”
“What’s up then?”
“I dunno.”
“How about reading someone else?”
“Can I read with my eyes closed?”
“You can only dream with your eyes closed, asshole. And sleep. And yawn and sneeze.”
“I wanna write.”
“Then do it.”
“Okay, you win inner voice.”

Eyes wide open. I am what I call myself an ELR. English Loving Reader. Not the kind of crappy Indian English that ends up winning Booker Prizes. Good syntax, great grammar, and a dry humour is what I appreciate. All put forward in “english”. Not things like “Arre, yaar, I am here for you, na!” Things like “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times….”; “A small dusty man in a small dusty room”; “A squat gray building only thirty-four storeys high”; “It was love at first sight. The first time Yossarian saw the chaplain he fell madly in love with him”.

Sorry Messrs Dickens, MacLean, Huxley, and Heller. “Mischief managed”!!

So, I love english. Call me a non-resident firang. See, I am getting into Booker groove too. Attaboy. There’s more to come. Just hold on to your balls.

Today is supposed to be the birth anniversary of Lord Krishna, called Janmasthami. I say “supposed” as I have had read about Him only in mythology, not history. It was also the death day of one of my teeth. Upper right later incisor, maybe, to be precise. I am no daant-waala-daktar yaar . Anyways, I had tried to conquer a closed gate by climbing over it, slipped, and fell flat on my face. The dentist (daant-waala-daktar) said I had fractured the aforesaid tooth and it had to be removed. He then sawed, cut, bayoneted half my gums away before taking it out. In three unequal pieces. So much for informed consent. Then he prescribed some painkillers and advised cold, semi-solid diet for the day.

I came back to my room in a hand-pulled rickshaw, watched some television, had a semi-solid lunch ( bread with cold milk) and some painkillers (not outta fun, I assure you), and had some sleep. No adda, since the guys I share the accommodation with were on duty and I am on leave. They got back in the evening and I went out with one of them to get my jeans altered and my uniform pressed.

Now, my unit has Mandir program today in view of Janmasthami ehich my colleagues had to attend. And I am on leave, remember? So they had to miss dinner and I decided to forget about the “semi-solid” part of my diet. Rather, I thought about replacing “cold, semi-solid” with “cold, fluid”. So I went to the Officers’ Institute in the regiment to complete my day’s diet-chilled beer.

After three chilled (and fluid) beers, I was full and slightly inebriated, though happy, because I had listened to my dentist. I decide out of euphoria not to heed another of his advises and I lit a cigarette as I started to walk back to my quarters. By the way, he had not asked me not to walk.

Bollywood movies can be very crappy and I love them just because they are crappy. Such things don’t happen in real life, na? (I Hate Love Storys). But there was once this movie called Aur Pyaar Ho Gaaya (Booker calling) that had stolen the show at that time. Some newer movies can compete- a stammerer starrer, in which the stuttering hero catches up with a Scorpion (an SUV not the star sign) on a hand-pulled rickshaw. Aur Pyaar Ho Gaaya involved something much bigger- an airplane. The airplane carrying the female lead is on its final taxi and about to take off, when the long haired hero stops it riding a Jeep. Hey, now I see the connection- Mahindra Automobiles (Scorpio and Jeep). And they live happily ever after. No, I am not dishing out all this bullshit just to increase the length of my story. This has context. Back after a while though. Need some tea- Kashmiri tea that a friend has procured.

Okay, I was walking back to my quarters when I saw a brightly lit temple ahead of me, with music blaring out of it. “Celebrations,” I thought. But the some had a familiar ring. Then I recalled. Remember the crappy movie I was talking about, na? It had a Sufi number by the late Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. Suprisingly that was the song playing in the temple-albeit with the lyrics changed to praise Lord Krishna. I laughed out loud. Sufi bhajan, eh? Then I thought whether it was ignorance or blasphemy. Or maybe it was unity in diversity- the beginning of the end of religious zealotry? Maybe someday “Om Jay Jagadish Hare” with lyrics praising Allah will be sung in mosques? Or maybe hymns wound be sung in Punjabi in Gurudwaras? Who knows- there’s this adage “It happens only in India”. Oops: “It happens in India only, na?”

The my inebriated brain stopped taking the pressure and I puffed my way to my room, not much unlike a steam engine.

So, I may go back to reading now or may go to sleep. But I think it’s better to sleep. Then I can dream about winning some great literary prize. I think I have incorporated enough Indianisms in the story. See?

BY MARIO PUZO

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."

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.

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!

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!

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.

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.