Friday, May 25

Thank you for the music

I have recently come to enjoy the many powers of music, be it the quick escape some people make so soon as I turn on Pink Floyd, or be it the power of making otherwise twisted sounding sentences (Cobain, anyone ?) acceptable. A brilliant method of passing time, as bored people like me have often discovered (I say boredom is the granddad of invention), is when you press too many buttons on your favorite jukebox, a la Dee Dee on steroids. Here's what I got:

M:You're beautiful.
F:I'm 18 goin on 45.

M:I can ease your pain, get you on your feet again
F:Let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late.

M:Hello, I love you, won't you tell me your name ?
F:There must be some way out of here.

M:a lady who's sure, all that glitters is gold. I'm the Man who sold the world.
F:Did you exchange a walk on part in a war, for a lead role in a cage ?

M:You know you're a cute little heartbreaker, Foxy
F:No reason to get excited.

M:All I want is everything, like the feel of your touch.
F:Janie's got a gun.

M:Mother, is she good enough...

Wednesday, May 23

How I wish, how I wish...

No it's not about my obsession with Pink Floyd.
Ah so, what the {hell|fuck|crap|bleep} (ruby is a great language) is it ?, asks the unassuming reader and immediately regrets it. Guru munh se nikli baat aur chandni raat laut kar nahi aati!
Now, since I do not give a rat's ass that you do not give a rat's ass to what I think, I present to you here, my wish-list. I must assure you the idea that the Queen of Jordan might feel really generous some day and decide to choose a random wish of mine to fulfill, never crossed my mind for once. So here goes (I hope you're looking God, or the director of The Banga Show, if there is one)...

First there's the philosophical list:

1. An ability to sing or play the guitar, either will do.
2. Dr.Cox's ability to talk relentlessly and endlessly.
3. JD's imagination...though I suspect I do have it.

Next is the more worldly list of things:

1. A bike and the skills to drive it like Trinity in Matrix II.
2. A library with every book ever written.
3. A music station with every song in the world (u get the idea).
4. And lastly, someone to be the pillion rider on my bike.

And if you're still on it, few things I want to do or I wish I had done:

1. Flying a fighter jet!
2. Use a real sniper gun, a MAG!
3. Get lost in space!
4. Be a character in a cartoon/comic!
5. Live like Barney! (except the gay part!)
6. Work in an hospital, like JD! (and save my sniper victims)

For those who are rolling their eyes, just listen to/read "Hazaron Khwahishaen Aisi". And btw, I've stopped listening to ghazals coz of the uncanny habit of my folks of smelling a big, fat, ugly rat where there are only tiny amoebae, already dying of radiation.
For those who are rolling on the floor with laughter, I hope you laugh so hard you die. But that's just wishful thinking, innit ?

Thursday, May 17

Sophomore no more

Well it's not about that, only I couldn't resist this title.

Most of you won't get this post so don't sweat it.

It's 3:33 AM. I don't know why these days I see numbers like 1:11 or 3:33 very often. Maybe I'm just delusional (roorkee water, I guess). I'm listening to Jagjit Singh after a very long time. There's a reason behind that. Ever since the school trip to Mumbai, I've discovered ghazals as potent weapons at helping you wallow in self pity. Better still, when your friends realize you've memorized "Hazaron Khwahishen Aisi" they tend to get a lot more supportive than they usually would.
Today probably was the highest number of times I was asked what I was doing for the summers. And as I sheepishly admit how I've spared all of the zillion days of boredom to Me and Myself (no Irene here), I cannot help but enjoy the different ways people react to it. While Leftiekins gives a proud pat-on-the-back smile and most others console by telling how they, too, took the road less taken, which admittedly makes no difference to my self-centered life. Probably the only reason I'm not packing my bags for eight weeks working on LZYDT 2.0 in an AC room in Gurgaon or Malegaon is that while most of my peers were busy mass mailing (sounds like mass murder, dunnit ?) or calling up their Mamere Chachas, I was refreshing a particular profile on orkut for the nth time.
Anyways, what started as a teensy bit of an infatuation blew itself into gargantuan proportions as the semester progressed. From uncanny timings of practicals and forthcoming coincidences to an even uncannier choice of seating themselves at a particularly mundane quiz, a series of fortunate events led me into believing something which I should not have. Anyways, as the division bell (for more reasons than one) on this semester sounded ever more clearly, I decided to do something before it was too late. Maybe it was. More likely, it wasn't meant to be. The lesson to be learnt here is what Caulfield says as he parts - Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.
How I ended this semester exactly as the previous one, I do not know. For I clearly remember starting the two very differently. Apparently, there are issues I'd like me and myself to work upon.

Tuesday, May 8

be crazy
go wild
be a child
o nervous wreck!

we danced while u slept
we laughed when u wept
cmon it's time
to get a reality check!

been dreamin too long?
were they too strong ?
go get the pot
you jumpin' jack!

it's ok, it's fine
there will be sunshine
it's ok to be wet
while it rains.

did u fall ?
or were u pushed ?
remember the feeling
when it pains.

Monday, May 7

Billions of blue blistering barnacles...

There's a famous anecdote which does the rounds every so often. It's about a boy (the choice of whose name depends on the dynamics of the group under observation) who, under the influence of multiple night outs and exams was heard telling his mom how he screwed his paper in literals involving the mother herself. Hilarious as it is, I've often felt a need for the babel fish while communicating with family members or members of the female species.
However much the non-male and the family guy sections of the society may rubbish the claims that a simple, loud and clear 'FUCK' or one of its many Indian varieties is perhaps the best stress reliever with no side-effects (except if you're the boy above mentioned), they would clearly agree with me on the observation that if there's one thing to rule them all and one thing to bind them, it is this language of hate.
It might be wrong to call it really the language of hate. It is more of a grammar than a language in itself (listen to Osho's "Use of the word fuck"). The meanings of the most common expletives are are usually euphemised enough to become part of common conversation, while innovations like spoonerisms (eg: futhermocker) become sources of more meaningless humour - something most ladies and some gentle men miss out on. No sense of humour you say ? Well, balls to you!

Thursday, May 3

The Pursuit of "Happiness"

As I use every ounce of will power within me to gather the self-restrain needed to keep a man from crying, I cannot help but swell with joy (I avoid the term happiness for a certain purpose) on being inducted by the Masters and Minions into the happiest section. Anyways, I can't help but notice for the Nth time, the sheer lack of females - a word whose definition is thoroughly shaken (not stirred) once you come here. Shaken out of our wits is what we electricians face quite often. If it isn't the so-not-amiable RPM demanding you to remember the frequency of alternating current in Ukraine, you can be sure IG remembers which classes you missed so she can rattle every bone in you already weakening skeleton (radioactive water - read it) with that voice rivaling Castafiore's.

And so the weak among us slowly fall prey to the stresses and strains of their IITian lives where they're supposed to changing the lives of millions of men and women. Well, I don't know about women but a lot of the popular (by which I mean larger in number) sex is choosing happiness over perfection (and by perfection I mean Charlize Theron) and copying over plain vanilla
ghissai. I feel heartened when even Lefty is forced to call up K-II and vent out those feelings of (hopefully)platonic love. I'm ever so moved when I witness Kannu, our very own SuperGhiss, copy from my tuts (seeing your work copied is a great ego booster).

Long story short, I feel proud that as I'm about to hopefully end my second year at this geek sanctuary I am very much vouching for perfection (or at least her resemblance) while I see many around me fall for the pursuit of happiness or vow for celibacy (no offense rappy). As our retired but never tired professor says after two excruciating hours of practicals every week, Happy time!