Sadamned

Past

2010-12-18T20:08:00.002+05:30

Living in the past looking in the future

Forgetting the past and all its worth

Things that matter are a blur

Tiny drops in the ocean of the past

Childhood dreams lie frozen

In becoming men of the world

Young aspirations left for new ones

Apparently for the best

Winds blow to rekindle

Memories of the days gone by

Drowned down like corpses by

The waves of the past

Memories of the jocund years

Memories of the years of teen

Memories of growing up

Memories of these and more

But oft the corpses whisper

Stories of the darkness behind

Bringing tears of joy and pain

Each pearl worth a moment in the past

Dreaded nostalgia fills the heart

Driving it wild and insane

Making it wish to embrace

The ghosts of the past years

Living in the past looking in the future

Forgetting the past and all its worth

Things that matter are a blur

Tiny drops in the ocean of the past

And I am back

2010-12-18T20:07:00.000+05:30

I have been preoccupied and the blog was lay forgotten in some dingy corner of my mind. The culprit being Epigram Magazine. Well, I am back!

Spirit

2010-11-20T10:48:00.000+05:30

A stark contrast to the sky above
A speck of black against the white
A tiny dot among the Heavens
His was a heart that dreamed apart

To fly at heights seemingly impossible
Was his only wish
Not to be another face in the crowd
Working hard to achieve that

His belief was the force
That drove him to his goal
Fueled by passion and a spirit indomitable
He had a will of steel

He was born like everyone else
A nobody, not special or unique
But it was his desire to excel
That helped him reach the blue skies

Everyone looked at him with distaste
Like a forsaken case with no hope
But that did not deter him
Only rekindled his burning ambition

He had the world against him
Tall, mighty and strong
He was backed by nothing but
His will to succeed or die trying

When he flapped his wings first
And failed the next hundred times
They laughed and mocked, booed and guffawed
He only smiled and tried again

That was the thing that set him apart
His perseverance beyond measure
Because he not only wanted to do
But also loved what he was doing

And one day the mighty wings
Left the ground for good
He soared the clouds, the pirate of beyond
His dream had finally come true

A stark contrast to the sky above
A speck of black against the white
A tiny dot among the Heavens
His was a heart that dreamed apart

Robbing A Bank

2010-11-07T14:03:00.001+05:30

The Bart-men

The idea popped into my mind

It seemed like a golden find

Now I know how crazy it sounds

Declared by sanity as out of bounds

Getting rid of ennui was our only aim

Not the money, not the glory, not the unwanted fame.

We learnt the lesson the hard way,

Shouldn't rob a bank on any given day.

Things got off to a pretty good start

We dressed up like the great Simpson Bart

Got our hands on the money and nearly made it out

Something was wrong I knew without a doubt

The first Bart stopped in his track

We followed suit like a dominoes rack

A voice cut the silence and spelled our doom

The cops had surrounded the entire room

We ran upstairs like our pants were on fire

Up and above till we could go no higher

And then like lightning, a thought struck me

I opened the fire alarm and all hell broke free

But like every plan, also this one

Backfired and put an end to our run

Just like Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall

The four Bart Simpsons had a great fall

The cops caught us and put on cuffs

A theatric scene for all movie bluffs

Like petty criminals we made out of the bank

To make matters worse, someone really stank

Sure to make the headlines next day

Not in the desired or imagined way

For all the wrong reasons we would be known

The thieves that were dumber than a bone

'Where are we going?' I asked the cop

'To buy some cookies from the shop

And a dress your mom wants real bad

You can keep the rest,' replied my Dad.

The Epigram Magazine

2010-11-06T16:37:00.002+05:30

Epigram Magazine

We are Epigram. Or as Mr. Bond would say, ’We are Magazine. Epigram Magazine.’

Epigram is a funny, witty and sublime quote or remark. Examples:
"No one is completely unhappy at the failure of his best friend."
(Groucho Marx)
"Arguments are to be avoided; they are always vulgar and often convincing."
(Oscar Wilde)
"I am not young enough to know everything."
(Oscar Wilde)

We are pretty much awesome, and you can be too!

But there is a catch. We are an online magazine, being strong supporters of the Save The Earth Movement, and hence strongly condemn the use of paper. But yes, we are an online magazine nonetheless.

Want to be a part of the family? Got questions? Fire on, and we will answer.
Do not be shy. This time, curiosity will not kill the cat.

13 Ways To Know You Are A Facebook Addict

2010-11-03T11:32:00.002+05:30

In your face, sucker.

13. You don't know who Mark Zuckerberg is. Go on, Google him.

12. Every time someone says something cool, you can't help but think: Oooo! Ths will mke a 'roking' stat updte.

11. You use words like ma, kewl, and gratz more often than you use the toilet.

10. You believe that you have 379 true friends but the chances of you even meeting half these people are less than you meeting Fred Flinstone.

9. Everything in your utopic world is categorized into like, unlike, and I am a retard, I don’t understand.

8. Every time something falls in the third category, which is often, you say: LOOOOOOL or LOLOLOLOL.

7. When your grandma died the first thing you did was updated your status message.

Hopeless guy: Grandma died. Sad naaa?

Emo guy likes this

Pokefreak- It’s k yaar. Happens with everyone.

Emo guy- LOL

Retard- You’ll be next. Muahaha!

Emo guy- ROFL

5. When you see a notification, your heart beats faster than a starved zombie’s salivary gland in a cemetery.

4. You didn’t realize that I skipped a point 6 there because you are too busy thinking who is commenting on your photo right now.

3. The number of people under your siblings column will make your parents have a stroke.

2. Facebook is your dear diary. Everything that happens in your life, from your dog suffering from dysentery, to a comet destroying your house, has to be on Facebook.

1. You are silently wishing that I fall into a pool infested with piranhas and die a painful death for wasting your time when you could have been facebooking.

Station

2010-10-28T12:32:00.001+05:30

Not a scene unknown to me

The station was deserted as ever

Not a life in sight

Nor the dead

The reason wasn't obvious

But the train always

Stopped there for three minutes

Why, I couldn't fathom

Not a man stepped on board

Not a soul stepped down

I dozen times I wished I could

Summon the courage to

The station was cloaked by mist and rain

The patter of the drops

The unseen murmurings

Were more deafening that the silence

Just like every time

The train made it's halt

I saw a lady dressed in white

And I stepped down

Didn't hear the whistle

I was lost in oblivion

Walking away as if possessed

By the charm on that lady

She turned around a corner

Vanished into nothingness

I snapped back to reality

The train was at the edge of the station

I yelled for it to stop

A yell resounding with fear

The conductor came through the last carriage

And waved me goodbye

Lost and alone in that forsaken place

My torch my only light

I could see nothing

Except the haunting darkness

I trudged along the worn out road

Seeking signs of life

Though I knew I was trapped

In the middle of nowhere

After what seemed like ages

I reached a small village

It was crumbling to pieces

Signs of a lost battle

I took refuge

In an old abandoned hut

Toys were strewn across the floor

No child to play with them

Fighting drowsiness

I opened my eyes wide

A silhouette ran past me

Seemingly real

I could hear

The sounds of bangles

The sound of feet

Of women in a dance

Ignoring it all

For it seemed surreal

I closed my eyes

Hoping for sleep to blanket me

My eyes had hardly shut

When I heard shriek

Filled with agony and pain

Sending my skin crawling

I got up

And started toward the sound

To a futile effort

It was coming from everywhere

Then it stopped

To make way for a voice

A soft, soothing voice

Calming my taught nerves

I could sense my mind drifting away

To the melody of the lullaby

With horror it dawned upon me

It was singing of my bloody past

Drawing out my worst fears
Thing that I left for dead

Memories of a horrible history

Burning me from me within

Lonely and vulnerable

Only two glimmers of hope

The dawn of the day

The coming of the train

The dawn never came

Neither did the train

I was trapped in the sea of dead men

Till I became one of them

Where Is The Spirit?

2010-10-26T19:47:00.000+05:30

An old article I wrote during the CWG 2010.

The real measure of India's worth

The Commonwealth Games were jinxed from the start. India hosted them, millions were pored in, no output, bridges are collapsing, lifts aren't functioning, snakes are being found in rooms, there is legerdemain in every brick put up, the water has come up to the neck and yet the officials are working with great ennui, and there is a massive hue and cry over everything. Let us, the entire world, face the facts. Things just aren't working the right way and in all possibility the games will be an organisational disaster. We cannot change it. We cannot conjure a miracle in less than 10 days, when we had years to do so. It is time to get over it now. Stop being an armchair critic if that is the best you can do. Feel nationalistic? Love your nation? Well, now is the time to prove it.

We aren't fighting the British, Chinese, or the Pakistanis. Our battle is an internal one, to discover our unity and how well we can stand together in such distressful times. We know that the games won't be memorable. We are not capable of matching the extravaganza of the Beijing Olympics. We haven't got Waka Waka. But we have people . People, who if they provide their unwavering support can still prevent these games from disintegrating into the pyre, fuelled by greed, incompetence and corruption. And in an inchoate nation as ours, with 1.2 beating hearts, that is the least we can do.

People have been draconian towards the event. People lost money. They were aggraved, hurt and vindictive. But we have to accept it. It is too late now for fighting for the little things you lost. Think it as a sacrifice for the greater good. If pulled off, the event will herald the nation's pride. The mantle is in our hands. It is up to us to get over the pettiness and widen our hearts and vision. I am not asking you to be an altruist. All I am saying is to do whatever little good you can. Just a little support, just a little enthusiasm, just to uphold the honour of India. And if you can't, learn to shut the obnoxious mouth of yours.

The foreigners have a problem, which doesn't exactly come as a surprise. Even the best organised events are an issue to them, making the CWG almost obviously inherent. Accustomed to the namby-pamby lifestyle of theirs, they will definitely not like it here. But this is India, mate. Learn to live or go back to your own pampered nation. No one is asking you to stay. But while going, bear are thought in mind. You are getting paid for playing, not for acting like a sissy old loon. The call is yours. In the meantime we will make sure that you are not killed by terrorists like in the Munich Olympics, provide proper meals unlike the London Olympics, and not keep you at the fear of being shot if you dare to win, like in the Berlin Olympics which took place under the watchful eye of the Fuhrer.

Eventually, it is only a matter of less than a fortnight. A fortnight, regained some lost glory and to clean the tarnished name of our motherland. Our athletes are en route to that goal. We have our hockey team, Sharath Kamal, Saina Nehwal, Leander Paes, Sushil Kumar, Vijender Kumar and other stalwarts who will certainly bring silverware for the nation. What about us? Are we ready to that we can do better than sit back and watch? That we can forgive and forget the mistakes made by our higher authorities? That we can ignite the passion and ambition of the nation and help Shera roar? We can, can't we? We will, won't we?

Self Improvisation

2010-10-24T21:17:00.000+05:30

See the pointlessness?

It surprises me, the extents to which people go to improve themselves. They are never satisfied. Always craving for more. Want to be perfect. But nobody is ever perfect. The world cannot tolerate perfection. Abraham Lincoln, shot. Gandhi, shot. Hitler, committed suicide. Caesar, murdered. Steve Jobs, had a ravaged past. People have tried. You can too. Try as much as your heart allows you to. But you aren't getting anywhere. There is no point trying to grow thin, become fairer, getting a tan, or becoming a better person. Face it. You are human. Humans never improve. They are just the same piece of decaying matter. We all are. And those brave and ignorant souls still willing to give it a shot, here are a few tips for you.

1. Becoming thin- Throw your diet books and health reports away. Old lot of tosh. Just stop eating like a starved cow. That should help. Humans have a peculiar timetable. Get up, eat, sit, eat, Facebook, eat, recreation, eat, sleep, repeat. No wonder most people are bloated as swines. Stop trashing stuff down your throat every second hour. Eat enough to keep alive. That's it. If you don't turn into a Somalian malnourished freak in two months, sue me. Go on.

2. Getting a tan- Foreigners love doing this. You can see them lying like a flat, semi-clothed tire on beaches. Drunk whites. Come to India, buddy. Or smear cowdung onto your body. That ought to help.

3. Becoming fair- Most girls love vampires because they are fairer than they will ever be. That is the bitter truth. People have always got the thing for white. Everyone wants to be the glow in the dark person. Skin so fair that the darkness runs away from you. Well, just go hide yourself into a dark and dingy room for a year. You will reflect more light than a mirror. If lucky you might even be called a "bright" student. Sarcasm.

4. Gymming- We evolved. Apes to humans. Some people didn't. They gym. That is a simple equation. People who could not do anything in life, haven't got an ounce of brain, find their abode in the gym. Lifting weights, screaming like a wounded ape, all to be Superman. They find the bulging mass of thickened hide so cool. That is precisely what counts in life. Sarcasm. And if you want to be Superman, where your underpants over your pants. Easier. Effective. But you still can't fly. Hah!

5. Improving your vocabulary- Damn the dictionary. Learning a few new words isn't going to get you anywhere. Knowing enough of the language to hold a proper conversation should be enough. You aren't defined by the words you know, but by the person you are. Knowing a few more words might just make you a smartass, but it also could might just get you killed.

6. Motivational videos- If you fall in this category you have reached the point of no return. This is the end. You are going to die the same piece of worthless matter that you are right now. These videos are places where global hotshots flaunt how great they were and how great they are and how much of a loser you are. They tell you how you can be better. Hogwash. As likely as the moon being made of cheese.

You have to grasp the pointlessness of this all. Stop being perfect. It isn't going to get you anywhere. Love what you do and live who you are. This is salvation.

Death

2010-10-20T15:14:00.000+05:30

He lay there inanimate
Life had undone him
Skin paler than the white of his eyes
Staring into nothingness

His eyes seemed to ask
Questions I couldn't fathom
The best I could do was look at him
And wish him well for beyond

His mouth was half open
In muted agony or perhaps
Making confessions that a person maketh
Only in the face on Death

His arms were bent
At an angle impossible
But on closer inspection it revealed
They made the sign of the cross

Moonlight streamed into
An otherwise ill illuminated room
It fell onto his lifeless form
Igniting the path to Afterlife

A figure was hunched over him
It's presence marked by fear and cold
Death pulled it's hood, smiled at me
My turn would come soon

A melancholy melody hung in the air
Sounding like a Phoenix's lament
The haunting, gnostic, morbid music
Was to plague me forever more

Shadows swayed around the carcass
Vultures swooping on a helpless prey
Dancing to the maccabre moan
Bringing out my worst nightmares

I feared the dead had risen again
For the cacophony came to a halt
The darkness seemed to ignite
The Soul was taking it's leave

He looked like a man strangely at peace
Features still as the oceans depth
He looked like a man perfectly fine
Except for the fact that he was dead

As a mark of respect I closed his eyes
Fate had been cruel to him
To put him out of his misery
I had stabbed him with a knife

Salvation

2010-10-18T15:54:00.000+05:30

Shunned by society
By the mortal world
He wandered through misty unknown
In search of his Salvation

Hunting for the meaning on Life
For things that truly matter
For questions unanswered
For Salvation

He had no food to eat
Knowledge filled his hunger
His thirst was often
Quenched by his desire for Salvation

The questions were innumerable
Who is God?
What is Destiny?
What is Fate?
Why are we born?
What is the purpose of Life?
What happens in Afterlife?
What is Salvation?

His journey bore no fruits
Tired and with a broken heart
He sat in middle of nowhere
Lost in oblivion

With the rise of the Sun
The truth dawned upon him
The answers he was looking for
Clear as the azure sky

God was his conscience
The Ultimate Fate was Death
His destiny and purpose
Were to answer these questions

Though the solution was always within him
The journey was worth it
He experienced peace as never before
This was Salvation

Shunned by society
By the mortal world
He wandered through misty unknown
In search of his Salvation

Tempest

2010-10-17T12:27:00.000+05:30

The tempest was gathering
Dawn looked like night
Fierce winds blew
Shrieking like banshees

The sky was torn
Into a ravaged battlefield
A war raging
Between forces unknown

It looked like a canvas
Strewn with shades
Of crimson and dark azure
Magnanimous blood of the warriors

The thunder roared
Cry of the mighty beasts
Down came the rain
Tears of children and widows

The lightning set the sky ablaze
There was a minute of silence
A token of tribute in the memory
Of a mighty Hero that had fallen

The strife then resumed
With an unforeseen ferocity
The Godly forces battled
Like ne'er before

Earth and the sky collided
By an other-wordly force
It threw life out of it's wake
The Tornado was unstoppable

Destruction lay in it's path
The rain, nor the lightning
Were able to stop it
It's heart was the only haven

The Heavens called for help
To save a near lost battle
Mortals and warriors
Had been killed all alike.

From the midst of Chaos
Shone something valiant
That put an end to it all
The Sun had come

Tribute

2010-10-12T10:28:00.000+05:30

He knew he was going to die. It was rather obvious from the way things were shaping. His skin had turned a shade of grey. His eyes had sunk in. Breathing was pain. He was coughing blood. Against hope, he knew it. The end was close. He desisted hospitals and I wouldn't blame him. No doctor could get enough of telling him how close he was to death. So it was a surprise when he turned up on my clinic step the other day. It was saturday. No one comes to me on Saturday. I thought it was just another visit that he graced me with every week or so. As a friend. My only friend. He knocked on the door. At eight. My first customer of the day. My only customer of the day. His chest was heaving and his face had turn a nasty shade of blue. I thought he was having a seizure.
'I won't beat around the bush,' he said through wheezing breaths, 'My time is limited. You know it. I know it. No point pretending otherwise. A month, maybe. Give or take a few days. So, I have an idea.'
'What?' I asked.
'This one month, I want to live life to the fullest. Do things I always wanted to do. See places I always wanted to. Live the life I always wanted to. This isn't a bucket list. This is how I pictured my life when I was a kid. Dreams that I just gave up as the candles on my birthday increased.' He paused for breath.
'That is good,' I said, fully supporting his motion.'You should leave...'
'I want you too come with me,' he said interrupting me. 'You need a break too. Look at yourself. You look like a grandad at 35. You need to get a life. By the way things are going, I won't be surprised if you end up dying before me,' he joked.
I smiled. It was true. I was feeling a little off myself. Was getting tired easily. Had stabs of pain in the abdomen. Nothing seemed to please me. Life seemed lack lustre.
‘Okay, I am in.’

We did everything. Bungee jumped from the Eiffel Tower. Climbed half a dozen Himalayan peaks. Traversed the Amazon. Searched for the Titanic in the Atlantic. Sky dived. Walked the Sahara into the night. We lived. Lived life. Though he seemed as pale as ever, I noticed I was feeling better myself. I wasn't tired anymore. The pain in the abdomen was retreating. I felt alive in a totally new dimension.

The month flew by and we were back. It was three days when I felt my twinge of pain passed through my abdomen. I went for a check up. The doctor said that I had pancreatic cancer, a very rare form, which miraculously had stopped growing a month before and now could be done away with easily.

I went to his place to give the news. It was thanks to his little 'trip' that I was alive and kicking right now. The door was locked. I note was wedged in between. It read:
"I knew you would come. Don't thank me. It was the least I could do to as a friend to prevent you from enduring a fate similar to mine. It was my tribute to you. My tribute to life. For the times we spent together and for the times we couldn't."
Stuck behind it was a newspaper obituary of his name, dating a month and five days back.

50

2010-10-12T10:26:00.000+05:30

This is the fiftieth post. Cutting the crap, all I want to say is, "Woohoo!"

He

2010-10-04T22:26:00.000+05:30

He was there
Inanimate as a rag doll
Still as death itself
Dark waves lapped around him

I was pulled to him
Curious and inane
Unwilling and reluctant
My feet moved forward

The wind bit into
My grey unbranded shirt
Nearly frozen, I realised then
I should have bought the Levi

Walking across the sand
Of invisible dead men
I kneeled down and saw
He was not there

The waves reached crescendo
I moved onto my path
Forgetting the man
It's only human nature

That night I couldn't sleep
Tossing from side to side
Shivers went down my spine
That had nothing to do with cold

With the coming of the dawn
I expected a fresh start
To get over the fitful night
My dog was dead

The night after that
Was more turbulent than ever
Livid images flashed through my head
Which I couldn't comprehend

Though I was alone
I thought I could feel
The presence of someone
Very close to me

The wind was blowing
The windows were closed
Could hear faint whisperings
In my deserted house

The darkness was there
I could take it no more
I trudged off my bed
In a trance

A man on a mission
I walked downstairs
Stopped in front of
A noose with my name

I didn't know why
But I knew I had to
The voice in my head
Told me so

The noose now around my neck
I smiled to myself
Because the dead man on the beach
He was inside me

Crimson

2010-10-02T14:11:00.000+05:30

The clock struck twelve,

We began to dance.

The band struck their chords,

People trapped in a photo frame.

In the middle of the crowd,

I spotted her.

Dancing in her crimson dress,

To The Godfather's Waltz.

People stopped in their tracks,

To have a glimpse at her.

Moving with grace, light as a feather,

She and her crimson dress.

Me, I was starstruck,

And surprised at the same time.

Wondering for a fleeting moment,

If she really was human.

She looked divine,

Glowing with an imperceptible aura.

Feet barely touching the ground,

Gliding like a swan.

With heavenly lithe,

She swept the floor.

She didn't need no space,

People gave it to her.

Lips were curled,

In a smile surreal.

Silky black hair, a stark contrast,

To a skin pale as milk.

For a passing moment,

Her eyes locked with mine.

She motioned me to look behind,

An obedient dog, I did.

Though unwilling, reluctant,

I did turn around, unable to disobey,

A command from those dark haunting eyes.

There was nothing behind.

I was back,

She and her crimson dress were no longer there.

Like they never were.

And I danced alone in the night.

P.s. Another of my poems: http://socyberty.com/philanthropy/humanity/

She

2010-09-29T15:34:00.000+05:30

I stood alone in the dark,
Wondering how I got here.
The wind whispered melancholy songs to me,
While I stared blankly into the black.

The frost chilled me to the bone,
Life lacked the warmth of a pyre.
Waiting for how long I didn't know,
Time dissolved into nothingness.

If life is supposed to be measured,
In moments that take your breath away,
Then my life would,
Amount to nothing.

And in my state of unenlightenment,
She became the messiah.
The Angel, the Giver of Light.
The one to show me the light.

She became the cherry on the pudding,
The silver lining against the clouds.
She became the icing on the cake,
The rays of the dawning sun.

The cold didn't matter anymore,
She gave the warmth I needed.
The darkness faded,
I could see a light at the end of the tunnel.

Her voice defined music for me,
Her eyes eternity.
The little things she did,
Pulled me away from the recluse of my mind.

A life that was earlier in shambles,
She turned it into something unforeseen.
The hollowness that had been earlier,
She filled it with her gentle presence.

Everytime I cast my eyes on her,
My fluttered flew like a wild dove.
Her mere sight helped me convalesce,
From a disease that had clinged onto me.

And all of a sudden she went,
And I was left back alone.
She didn't say she was going,
Didn't say if she'll come back.

I stood alone in the dark,
Wondering how I got here.
The wind whispered melancholy songs to me,
While I stared blankly into the black.

A Talk To Remember

2010-09-24T22:39:00.000+05:30

God: Why don't you believe in me?
Me: Who are you?
God: I am God, the Ruler of the earth, water and sky.
Me: Yeah, and Mother Teresa was a guy.
God: Do not joke with me, mortal.
Me: Oooh! I am so scared. Come back later, it isn't April Fool's Day yet.
God: I could blast you into a quantillion smithereens if I wanted to for talking to me with such impunity. But I won't.
Me: Forgotten your fireballs at home, have you?
God: I want to ask you something.
Me: I am not going to marry you if that is what you plan to ask.
God: I have a hundred and seven wives and husbands already. Trust me, I don't need more. It is something else.
Me: Oooh! God wants to ask me something. I am jumping with joy. Get on with it man.
God: Why don't you believe in me?
Me: Who are you?
God: I thought we were done with that.
Me: Just testing your memory.
God: Answer me, mortal.
Me: What did you ask?
God: I just said it, fool.
Me: Just testing your memory.
God: Quit playing games. I am a busy man.
Me: Oooh! I feel so honoured that a wannabe God took out time for me from his busy schedule, while he could be doing something noble like preventing the Haiti earthquake.
God: It was necessary.
Me: Meeting me, or the quake?
God: The quake.
Me: Not too fond of Haitians, are we?
God: It is not that.
Me: Accidently god-farted on Haiti, did you?
God: Nope.
Me:Can't god-fart?
God: Just answer my question, will you? And for the record I can.
Me: Can what?
God: God-fart.
Me: Seriously?! Whoa! Cool man.
God: Please will you answer me.
Me: You really want me to answer? You might not like it.
God: I'll take it.
Me: You cannot be God. You are nowhere close to what God ideally should be. Floods, quakes and accidents devastate lives, you do nothing. Terrorism, criminals and war ravage the world, you do nothing. The rich sanctify themselves and the poor suffer, you do nothing. Animals are killed, you do nothing. People die, you do nothing. Humanity dies, you do nothing. We believe in you, you do nothing. We pray to you, you do nothing. We beg to you, you do nothing. You ain't no God. There never was. You are just a sadistic bystander watching it all like one great reality show. Well, it isn't TV for us. We get no re-takes. We endure it all, with faith, and you sit back and watch it all with your hundred and seven wifes and husbands. That is why I don't believe in you.
God: Hmm...
Me: Did the incovenient truth knowck you out?
God: It did.
*Moment of uncomfortable silence*
God: You have spoken the truth, mortal.
Me: I know. And stop calling me mortal with that sanctimonius air. You are one too.
God: Hmm..
Me: Now go to your important business. Blow a few places, ruin a dozen lives. That is what you do best.
God: I shall pay heed to your words, mortal.

Tired of talking to myself, I finally walked away from the mirror.

Suicide

2010-09-22T14:34:00.000+05:30

For Retards

People suicide for shit reasons. Depressed, suicide. Don't get good marks, suicide. Can't marry the girl you want to, suicide. Just bored, suicide. Well yeah, it is a good thing. Help reduce the unnecessary population. Cool. I'd do it too, if I were as stupid as you (nice poetry, huh? Too- you!).

I wonder how this suicide thing proceeds. I guess it would require a lot of planning. When, why, how, etc. So here's this guy and he wants to suicide. He is tired of it all. An overpowering feeling of masochism overwhelms him. So how does his thought process go? Okay, can't suicide on tuesday, got a dentists appointment then. Wednesday nope, their showing the last episode of friends. Thursday, my birthday party and it would cheeky dying then. Friday yes, Eclipse is releasing then. Bingo.

And then the how. Can't jump off a building, got vertigo. Not drown, too painful. The sleep injection, costly. Cut a vein, allergic to red colour. Get run over, messy. Hang yourself, perfect. Then comes the why. Because most people, who are tired of life, think of the how before the why. Funny way how these brains work, if they do. The reasons for suiciding could be plenty. From the slightest reasons like a late pizza delivery to accidently running over your younger brother. But the pizza would be an absolute waste if you suicide, and it isn’t your fault that your younger brother didn’t jump off the road because you were driving. And one brother now hardly matters, because at the rate the poulation is growing you might have dozens you don’t know of.

Suiciding has lost all the subtelty about it. With people dying every three seconds, it has lost it’s value. It has the lost it once was.

Earlier it was: What!? He suicided?! Bless his soul. Why? How could he? *Cries the Nile*

Now: He suicided? Screw it man. The drinks are getting warm. *Drinks too much and pukes the Nile*

No one cares if you poison yourself. If you want to suicide, do it in a way everyone remembers. Be classy, so that if people don’t remember you for who you were, they will at least for the gory mess you became after dying. You could:

Blow your head with a semi automatic shotgun. Will pain for a minute, for no blood no glory, right?
Jump in a lion’s mouth. The last bit of philanthrophy you can do, before dying. Feeding a hungry lion.
Go bungee jumping to the Eiffel Tower and cut the rope. Then your family can sue the owner while gravity does the job for you. If lucky you might even get a shrine at the base of the tower. Talk about making an impact
Hang yourself in the hanging gardens. Highly ironic.
Suicide while trying to save someone’s life. People will then remember you as a martyr, superman, and a wannabe meddling in others business.

You should think about the others when you suicide. No one would like to carry a body with a decapitated head or with eyes nearly popping out. And then there will be chances that you were dissatisfied with life and will come back to haunt people. Puts people under a lot of pressure. Most ungrateful of you. You could be a little considerate. Suicide in a way that no one knows where you died, and in a way that you blow your body into a thousand smithereens to avoid the complications of a burial. You couldn’t live well, so at least don’t be a sucker when you die.

Culted

2010-09-21T10:43:00.000+05:30

Real Cool.

Cults spread like wild fire, capturing lives and ravging minds at the same time. They possess people in such a way that is gives George Bush possessed by an insane orangutan an inferiority complex. But they are here to stay and people with their unenlightened minds are there to fall prey to them:

1. Low waists- From what I have realised is that the main reason for wearing low waists is that you can put your hand straight in your pockets without bending them at the elbow, and catch your pants from inside your pockets to prevent them from sliding down, which is helpful for people with arthiritis, while simaltaeneously cleaning the roads by making all the garbage, dung and god-knows-what stick to your pant in an attempt to save the earth which could all be avoided by wearing no pants, pulling them a little higher, or pretending to be superman and wearing the underwear outside. Period.

2. Cellphones- Mobiles have become more important to people than their brain because in most cases the former spoils the latter and this is scientifically proven so I am not making it up. The radioactive waves of the mobile kill grey cells which are non renewable because over time they have got accustomed to people managing without them, you know the drill. The alpha man uses it as a substitute for the non living lump of mass in his cranium, the omega man to score on chicks, batman to shove it down people's throat, boogeyman to prank call small kids, power ranger man to change clothes, while the beta, theta, delta, wonder, and cat women use it for cribbing, gossiping, and ruining lives.

3. Bad Eengleesh- LOL. nm. K. Tat. Dunno. Hv. Ma. Kwl. ROFL. TTYL. No wonder the British, Americans and Aussies hate us.

4. Reality TV- Go on Tv. Embarass yourself. Get eliminated. Cry. Embrarass yourself. Aim- Gain fame

Jump off Mt. Everest. Aim- Gain fame

Murder Obama- Aim- Gain fame

Run in the funeral laughing and swinging your hands over your head- Aim- Gain fame

Eventually they are the same, aren't they?

5. Swear words- People think that these make them so cool. Like so cool. A major misconception. Gone were the glory days when you used to make fun of person by proving how stupid he is. You got to abuse him. Use phrases that technically are not even possible. Apparently people find being a jerk real cool. Like real cool.

The list doesn't end here. It goes several fathoms long. But eventually they all pass and we are left stranded like fools. The inconvenient truth.

The New Kid

2010-09-13T14:51:00.000+05:30

I had already posted this story. But deleted it sometime back in a schizophrenic state of mind. So here it is again.

To them he was the perfect scapegoat. New to school, diffident, bespectacled, a loner, and black haired. They hated kids like that.

'Look at him reading a newspaper, sitting by the fountain all by himself. And in this bitter cold weather that too. I almost pity him,' Aaron said.

'When do we get him?' Mike asked.

'Tomorrow, there is no moon. We do it then,' Luke replied.

'All right. Let us go and talk to him.'

The three of them walked towards him. The new boy looked the other way, afraid that they were going to beat him up. Everyday, he went home with a fresh set of scars. It was a routine affair.

'Hey new kid,' Luke called out, 'Look towards us, we ain't gonna beat you up.'

'You aren't?' he asked timidly, almost surprised. People rarely came to him if not for that reason.

'Nope. We're just here to be friends.'

'Really?' he asked and silently thanked god. These three were the coolest people in class. Maybe things were going to be better after all.

'But of course, you have to do something for us,' Mike said.

'Anything. Anything you say,' the boy replied, nearly jumping with joy.

'You know the deserted house on the corner of street 73? Well they say that there is a trunk in there containing, $10,000, left behind by the last family who lived there. We want you to get it for us.'

He gulped.

'Isn't that house supposed to be haunted?' he asked softly.

'Nah,' Aaron replied coolly, 'Only rumors to save the money.'

Then why don't you go yourself, he nearly asked, but stopped as he started the sentence afraid of losing his new friends right away. They noticed his hesitation.

'You don't have to...'

'I'll do it,' he interrupted.

'You sure? No pressure here.'

'I'll do it,' he repeated.

'Okay great. See you tomorrow then. Meet us at the entrance of the house at 11:50 tomorrow night. We wouldn't want anyone to see you going in, in case they become conscious that you are behind the money. You go in at midnight. And as for the money, we split it 30:30:30:10.'

Satisfied, they walked away. A grin on their face, and evil in their hearts.

By the time they reached the next night, the boy was already waiting there. He seemed to be nervous, but at the same time, excited.

'You don't need to have second thoughts, kid. We'll be waiting right outside. If anything goes wrong, just scream. And look at the benefits of it all. You get ten percent of the money, new friends, and no one will ever hit you again.'

He nodded. A stupid smile on his face. What a kid, Aaron thought. This was going to be fun.

'All right, ready to go?' they asked.

'Hell yeah!' he said gleefully.

He headed off towards the dark, deserted and colossal structure.

They entered from the backside. They could hear his footsteps in the living room. They knew the house like the back of their hand. They had come here in the morning. Further more, they also carried maps with them. Luke went in the kitchen. Mike in the bedroom upstairs, and Aaron in the underground basement. All three waited silently. Their jobs were simple: scare the living shit out of the kid and send him home crying. And the kid seemed to be gullible enough for even spiders to frighten him. At times they could hear the kids footfalls and at times see his shadow looming around. And they were waiting, waiting for an opportunity when he came close enough for them to pounce on him. They had been waiting for what seemed like eternity, when they heard the scream.

They knew something was wrong because they hadn't done anything to him yet. And the scream was blood curling. It exuded genuine fear. Luke rushed out of his hiding place and ran up the flight of stairs. He could hear Aaron treading behind him. The scream echoed once more.

'Do you think Mike got him?' Aaron asked, half panting.

'I don't think so. But I rather hope so,' Luke replied back, 'Because if something has really happened to that kid, we are dead.'

How true.

They reached the upper landing and rushed into the bedroom.

'Mike!' Aaron called.

'Mike!' he called again, his voice rising an octave higher.

Mike slid into view.

'Aren't we hiding?' he asked.

'You didn't hear the scream?' Luke asked.

'What scream?'

'That scream,' he replied as another shriek rang out.

They rushed down into the living room. Suddenly everything quietened down. They heard footsteps. The new kid came from the kitchen.

'Dude, why were you shouting?' Mike asked.

'Gave you a start, did I?' the kid replied. 'Everybody, I got you food.'

His body went pale. His eyed rolled up, the retinas disappearing, revealing only the whites of his eyes. His wrists and feet twisted around. His tongue became black and a sickening smile illuminated his face.

'Surprise fellas,' he said, his voice changed. Every word he said sent shivers down their spine. ' The game's over. Look around you.'

The trio turned around. Half a dozen dead people were levitating in the room.

'Meet my family guys.'

No one heard them scream.

_______

A kid sat in the playground, by the fountain, reading a newspaper.

'Three kids found dead in the living room of the house,' the headline read. The irony, the kid thought. He saw some people approach him. Not again, he thought and looked the other way.

'Hey new kid,' a bulky guy called out, 'Look towards us, we ain't gonna beat you up.'

The kid smiled to himself.

Global Indians Are Local Misfits

2010-09-13T14:41:00.000+05:30

Indians have always fantasised about the phaarein dream. And as bananas pull a monkey, many Indians too are pulled that way. Most of them, the ones that don't make it good, are seen in newspaper. A bloodied face, broken nose, cut ear, under the headline: Indian beaten again, you know the stuff. But a handful of them make it good. Big time. Ratan Tata, the Ambani brothers when they are not busy swearing at each other, celebrities like Shahrukh Khan, and so on. They are global icons, the face of India in the world, but somewhere down the line, the just lose their Indianness. People change, and they aren't divine. They change too and become the green apple in the broth, the oddman out, the single hair on Anupam Kher's head.

India is not about the upper class, the rich, the BMW's, or the tuxedos. It is about the Third Reich, the common man, the autorickshaws, and the cheap cotton pant. Now can you imagine Mukesh Ambani strutting like a dove along the street in anything less than a Raymond? There he is building a mansion that would probably accomodate half of Aurangabad, and we say that he is one of us. Yeah, if we all were overprosperous apes. Indian's are depressed people. Are these hotshots depressed? Indians are poor. Are they? Indians are eternally starved. Are they? Well, then what makes them the same as the local people of the country? How can they be called the missing piece in the puzzle? Our country consists of 1.2 billion people, three quarters of whom don't earn over 20000 per month. Our global citizens, the namesake Indians, earn that in a day. They average Indian lives in a three room flat. They in a thirty room penthouse. The former travels by trains. The latter hasn't seen the inside of one. The real Indian lives with togetherness and love. While the so called ones, come from around the world with an accent and an air of sophestication and leave the locals with an inferiority complex.

And one fine day, they get out of their glittering four wheeler, and remember how much they miss their mother land and come and spend a day with the people, and do some philanthrophy thingy, assuming all the while that how similar they are to the almighty doing charity and all. But spending a day with the local people or donating them money does not make you one of them. You have to live with them, to be one of them.

When Indians go abroad, they seek a better lifestyle. A way out of corruption and poverty. A getaway to the life of their dreams. They shine bright and then expect to merge with the people back home. Not happening fellas. Pretension does not help. Once you lose your roots, you cease being the tree you were.

Delay

2010-09-13T14:33:00.000+05:30

There has been a delay in my updating the blog. But sincerity was never my strong hold. Here I am, with a fresh set of excuses for the inconvenience caused. If any.

1. I saw Ghajini and got the short term memory loss syndrome. And ten minutes were clearly insufficient to write a new post.

2. Someone stole all my pens and I couldn't write.

3. My phone went dead, making it humanly impossible to come online.

4. I got possessed for two days and being a ghost writer is against my morals.

5. My dog ate the keyboard and more 18 flats hours I was wondering where it went.

A special prize for those who guess which two of these is true. Not.

P.s. For those who nearly died of depression because I didn't update I got another one coming up to you. As if anyone even cared.

P.p.s. Chulbul Pandey is a bad bad name.

Prove It

2010-09-05T20:16:00.000+05:30

I was sitting in the park. It was the time between night and dawn when the hour is at it's darkest. The park was deserted. A sense of melancholy surrounded it. A dry chill hung in the air. A feeling of foreboading prevailed, perhaps the reason why no one was seen. But this was the way I liked it the best. Not a loner, but a man who liked the company of only myself for a change. A time when I could truly be lost in the sanctity of my own mind and get over the disasters of yesterday. I could see a lone figure walking towards me from a distance. I was expecting the silhoutte to head somewhere else, but the man came and sat right next to me. He looked old, frail and in a serious need of fresh air. His face was pale, and gaunt. His cheeks sunk in. But his eyes contradicted the rest of his appearance. They were jet black and almost shined with an unearthly glow.
'Awake soon, son?' he asked.
'I'm a regular. And you, sir?' Yes. Sir. Because grandpa sounded lame.
'Wanted to catch some fresh air, and talk to you.'
'Me?' I asked increduously. A meeting with a madman early in the morning. Perfect.
'Yes. You. That's what you said yesterday, didn't you? "You need to give me answers god!" .' He smiled. His teeth even gleemed in the semi darkness. 'Yes Colgate,' he said, reading my mind.
'I don't get you,' I said, incredibly freaked out. Wannabe gods were definitely not in my list of to-meet people. And at this hour, hell no!
'I am God,' the man said, rather blatantly, sending shivers down my spine. Or maybe, it was just the cold.
'Sorry...?' I murmured.
'Don't be. I am God,' he repeated, as if I hadn't heard him the first time.
Yeah sure, I thought. And I am Jimi Hendrix.
'Prove it,' I replied with more confidence than I had.
'You didn't sleep last night.'
'That's easy. You could be spying on me.'
'You always wanted to be a stand-up comedian.'
'Probably read my diary,' knowing how pathetic that sounded the moment it escaped my lips.
'You wear underwears of the colours beginning with the starting letter of the day. Magenta on Monday, Teal on tuesday, White on Wednesday. Today it is Saturday, and you are wearing Scarlet.'
I gulped. This man had done his reseach well.
'Go on,' I whispered.
'You loved a guy till you were thirteen.'
This was personal. No one knew it. Even I had forgotten this, till this old man took the liberty of tossing me down memory lane. I felt cold. Frozen. My mind went numb.
'Hey, I really need to take a leak. I'll be right back.' I said hesitatingly.
The old man nodded. I got up and as he turned around, ran. Ran like my head was on fire. Ran like a lunatic running from an asylum. Ran for my dear life. One line echoing in my mind: God doesn't exist, so who the hell was that?

Foreign universities in India will make a difference

2010-09-04T18:57:00.001+05:30

The debate that didn't get me anywhere. But should have.

A great man once said: Foreign universities in India will be like Himesh Reshammiya in IIT. Awkward, pointless, and really really lost. Okay, maybe I just made that up.

A very good morning to the respected chair person, judges, everyone present here, and my unenlightened opponents. I am Saahil Dama from Deogiri college and the topic on fire today is that foreign universities in India will make a difference and with all my heart I condemn the loose, motion.

Wyelcome to thee Haarvadd. That is probably what the sign outside Harvard is going to read if it ever comes to India. Whoever thought that foreign insitutes in India will make a difference, was probably drunk or hurt on the head, because this is sheer wishful thinking. What most people fail to realize is that Oxford, MIT and Yale are not Mcdonalds, Big Bazaar or Goli vadapav. The two are as similar as Rakhi Sawant to Albert Einstein. A majority of the top notch institutes will not be gaga to proliferate, especially in a highly volatile place like India. If they had wanted to, they could have extended their horizons in the global market over the years but they haven't and don't seem likely to. In an interview, the Vice Chancellor of Oxford blatantly accepted that Oxford wasn't a hamburger to be franchised. So wish as much as you wish to, but they aren't coming home. That leaves us with the B-grade universities which we'd rather not have because we have enough of them already and the chances of them making a difference are as slim as size zero Kareena Kapoor.

Universities don't bring change. People do. And for change, we have to begin with the people. People who not only lack cognizance, but probably have no idea what that word means. People who still think that doing paranormal stunts on their bikes is cool. Even if Isaac Newton came back from the dead and danced on one leg while reciting the laws of motion, to most people it won't make an ounce of difference. And we expect a handful of universities to bring a revolution. Not happening. We need to sow the seeds of change from an early stage, not when a person is half way into insanity.

Now my misguided opponents will say, I quote: Hey! But what about the people who are intelligent but cannot afford studying aboard? Unquote. And to guide them out of the darkness I'll say: Hey! Scholarships exist for really intelligent people who want to study abroad, but since you haven't heard of that concept, you don't seem to fall in that category. And our government accidently forgot to put a cap on what the institutes could charge, which will still make them inaccesible to most people. So if you think that they will be outraegeously cheap in India you should really give up thinking because it isn't working really well for you.

Bringing foreign universities in India is just another weak attempt to stop the brain drain process and deepen the government's pockets because they aren't exactly epitomes of altruism. But their condition will be something like that of the IB school is India. Only a few, well off people will take the step forward, while the others will follow the well beaten, but well lit path. And as far as the difference making is concerned, they might even make one, for the retrograde.

Female Senile

2010-08-31T19:24:00.000+05:30

The boogeyman

This isn't going to be long. I am writing a debate. For representing deogiri. Yeah, you can laugh.

The title is wrong. It doesn't make sense. It is as pathetic as a babboon on fire. So is the person I am talking about. Lady Gaga which roughly translates to punch me in my face as hard as you can.

I have got nothing against her, him, whatever the hell it is. She just bitterly fascinates me. The gender, for instance. And it is not just me. I quote, "According to the celeb news site Bossip, the "Poker Face" songstress once admitted she's a hermaphrodite." There are more. Her voice is thicker than my dog's and behaviour like a drunk man. She even posed dressed as a boy for some magazine recently. Stupid, uncertain, or really confused. Her songs, another issue that stuns me by the sheer rottenness. What does Roma mamamamaaa, Gaga Oolalaaaaa mean? Anyone?

I have seen her a lot on the TV, but I still have no clue what she really looks like. Green face, pink star on face, 100 hairdos, rainbow coloured clothes, and they keep changing.

But I put an end to my curiousity and reached a conclusion. Gaga is a slimey blob of shape, gender, and voice changing gooey. That's it!

Ps. Title explanation for fools. Lady= Female. Gaga= Senile.

Pps. Her surname is Germanotta.

Brain Drain is better than Brain in the Drain

2010-08-30T20:39:00.000+05:30

To begin with, most of you won't even know what this means. Let me explain. This has got nothing to do with drainage systems. What it actually means is that people going abroad for jobs and employment is better than them staying in India. By people i mean intelligent people, so if you were one of those that didn't know what this topic meant then you have got nothing to worry about. And it is true. The main reason why a person gets educated is to be successful. And success is a little bit of a rarity in our country. So why not be sensible enough and try your luck somewhere else? Let us face the fact. Indian's are hungry people. For us, the self comes first. Feeding ourselves is our top most priority. Call me selfish and I will call you a fool because I am just being practical. Everyone cannot be an epitome of altruism like Mahatma Gandhi. Everyone cannot be the father of the nation, maybe because the nation already has one, and two will make things awkward. Everyone cannot give up everything, clothes included like him, for the country. So stop feeling all charged up and patriotic because that is just pretension. If you really feel something for the nation, stop preaching to others on what they should do of their careers and join the army instead. Let's see how many "patriots" actually do that.

Now that we have kept the so called patriotism which was more like retardism at bay, let us focus on another issue. Millions of people try each year to get admitted into the premiere institutes of the country, may it be the IITs for engineering, AIIMS for medical or NLSIU for Law. For obvious reasons. They want to go away. Away from the corruption, poverty, and chaos. Away to live their phaaren dream. Away so that they could live the lives that they always wanted to. And if you want these people who worked so hard for about 8 years of their lives to stay back in India, well you are in for a big surprise. It would just be pointless going to such top notch universities then. Because jobs in India could also get got through connections and money. If you feel offended by what I say, too bad for you. Too bad that you are dense enough to not understand simple logic. A man is simply born in a country, not bond to one.

If you really want the brain draining to stop you have to make changes. You cannot force people to work here by ranting about where their loyalties lie or by attacking their morale. That is typical Indian behaviour and it is time enough we change it. Make better jobs, improve living standards, pay more, and people will come. And those who still don't believe in what I say, the make belief freedom fighters, I'd rather hope that you get brain drained, albeit the brain of course, because the country already has enough or thickskulls like you.

Delay

2010-08-30T20:36:00.001+05:30

I know there has been a delay in my updating. My mistake. I went to deogiri. My mind took a while to restart. Will let you more, about the entire incident, in due course of time.

Literacy should be compulsory for Indian Farmers. Not.

2010-08-26T16:27:00.000+05:30

A farmer is a person who grows crops and rears animals. Even the dictionary agrees with me. And where literacy comes into the picture I fail to understand. It's not that being able to read and write is going to help them grow better crops or have better chickens. I am utterly surprised to see how people fail to realise the pointlessness of it all. We live in a nation on 1.2 billion really really hungry people. And if farmers waste their time leaning jack and jill and math tables, everyone is going to starve, not a feeling Indian's are very fond. We will starve because the farmers will be too busy getting educated instead of farming and they too because they will be too busy getting educated instead of farming. There is a reason why farmers are called farmers. They. Are. Supposed. To. Farm. They farm, we eat, they eat, we happy, they happy, a happy and well fed India.

Imagine this. A farmer learns to read and write. He doesn't grow enough crops. As a result he earns less money and starves, because books cannot be eaten. He is indebted and under immense pressure. The landlord comes to him for the rent. The farmer has no money, because he was busy getting educated while he could have been earning. The landlord, like every sensible landlord, obviously won't accept books as payment. He shows the farmer the contract. The farmer can actually read it. Because he can actually read it, the gravity of the situation dawns upon him. The pressure increases. Depression increases. He brings out the rope and ties it to the fan. He can actually read the name of the fan, which is like salt on his wounds. He pulls the rope around his now literate head and thinks.... A for apple, B for ball, C for cat.. Rotten isn't it? Which farmer would want the ABC to be the last thought that would pass through his mind? Ridiculous or what?
Eventually, becoming literate is not going to help their suiciding problem either. If you still haven't been enlightened and think that they need to be educated so that they can have a better life and better jobs then tell me who the hell is going to grow the crops then? You?

The people who came up with this idea ought to get some education themselves, because they obviously appear in the need of some, coming up with masterplans like this. As for the farmers all that you need to do is provide them with as much financial help as possible, and stop acting like a retard and come up with such inane ideas. Please.

Mumbai Mirrored

2010-08-24T19:34:00.000+05:30

They call it Aamchi Mumbai. They call it the city of dreams, albeit broken. They all it Bombay. They call it Fart-in-the-face, okay maybe I just made the last one up, but we are still talking about a city that doesn't even know it's own name for God's sake. And that is just the beginning. Looks can be deceptive, and Mumbai is the master of deception. Because Mumbai looks like a fun place to be until you really go there. I don't really understand what brings people to this city. Why would you like to go to a place like that? The weather is bad, the people worse, it has got more stomachs than it can feed, the city reeks of fish, pollution is intolerable, and the tale goes on.

Mumbai is like a spoilt kid with a bad case of progeria. And probably diarrhoea too, because it is way too filthy and smells way too bad. But I primarily say progeria because it is like a brat that has gone beyond its own age and beyond the control of itself. The city has grown so big that it has forgotten it's own hand and legs. When a city has got cities within itself, trust me, it is definitely bigger than needed. And even after having so much of land space, almost every corner of the city is inevitably overcrowded. People are lying on the street, on signals, in jails, and in asylums. The buildings are like those straight out of Lego Towers, blocks piled on one another. And people still are homeless. To face such a dilemma with so much of land, there have to be really a large number of people, or the management has to be senile. Mumbai, I am afraid, yet certain, has both the cases. The city has even got a multi talented persona. You want sauna, stand outside for a minute. You want to drown, stand in the streets in the monsoons. You want to die of lung cancer, the pollution in Mumbai will take care of that too. Ah, the pollution. Let us be honest and give Mumbai the credit it deserves for that. Because while the people are busy saving the Earth, Mumbai is busy keeping them busy. Geddit? It gives out more gases than a flatulent chimp on digestive pills, spills oil in the ocean every third day, and does everything possible to give the save the earth people a hard time. On one side there is the pollution of Maharashtra, and on the other, of Mumbai. And the people there do not limit themselves to a certain kind of pollution. You would go deaf, get skin cancer, intoxicated, and some sort of undiscovered flu all in a days work in Mumbai. Noise, water, land and air, Mumbai pollutes them all with equal delight. The One Who Must Not Be Named is another form of pollution in Mumbai. Probably the worst. And sadly, Bombay (I said it) is his own backyard. After terrorism, he single handedly grabs the second place for being the most abhorrent thing in Bombay. Half of Bombay loves him, called imbeciles in common language, and the other half is scared of him. When he says go, the former half goes, and the latter shit their pants. Because of him, Bombay has got stuck into a confused stage of limbo. On one side, they are trying to become global citizens, and on the other our Marathi dude is ranting about how Maharashtra is our nation. On one side, people are people trying to learn English, and on the other, he is stomping Marathi on everyones faces. On one side, people are emmigrating to countries abroad, and on the other this dull witted moron and his loyal Mumbaikars are banishing North Indians from a city of their own country. What this beast fails to realize is that this is just adding to the woes of an already disturbed city. I could probably get stoned by the thugs of You Know Who for writing all this, but you have to face to the truth. If you still can't guess who it is, either you are dead, or live in Mumbai.

Mumbai is the the hub of many things. Good ones, I don't know. Corruption, terrorism, scandals and sheer retardism to name a few bad ones. And yes, the people. Manners maketh a man. People maketh the city. Mumbai has got the worst of both. Don't misunderstand me. People in Mumbai don't lack manners. They don't have them. And if manners make a person, then Mumbaikars certainly can't be human, can they? Mumbai holds within itself almost all the stereotypes of people. There are the wannabe mafiosos. Clad in a pink or no shirt, torn blue pant, more hair on their face than on their head, chewing tobacco, smelling of beer, pretending that they are actually human. No matter whoever you are, whatever you do, please stay away from them because they haven't learnt the purpose of their brain yet. Then there are the taxi drivers who simply refuse to drive you anywhere in the world. They are the epitomes of bad idiosyncrasy and apathy. Because what in god's name is the point of owning a taxi if you don't budge it an inch from it's place? I have been to lots of other places and have seen taxis actually moving. But in Mumbai they just sit there all day. And the ones that actually do move make you wish they hadn't. Ridiculous, or what? Mumbai attracts a large number of men and women every year. And yes, it also largely attracts the section that comes in between men and women. Like attracts like, eh? It is entertaining to watch these people harassing normal. They laugh, clap, sing and dance. Cool stuff, until it's your turn. And in Mumbai, these things can be found everywhere. Every station, every train, every street, every signal. And you can't just say no to them and move away because they follow you, sit in your car, throw tantrums, and do things unworthy of mentioning. Mumbai almost has got as many of these "different" people as other cities have normal people. Highly disturbing. Mumbai also has a lot criminals. Pick pockets, politicians, smugglers, terrorists, gangsters, Mumbai serves as a haven to all these disdainful creatures. I find it ironical that Mumbai was formerly called Bombay because it has become a bay of bombs. The punching bag of all terrorists. So maybe the people decided to rename it. To break the jinx. The little thinking capacity of Mumbaikars makes them believe in stuff like that.The criminals rule the place. And the police who are supposed to stop them, are either one of them, sissies, or in the criminals' pockets. And the people who can stop them, don't give a damn.

Mumbai is someone's darling, someone's pearl, someone's life and someone's wife. All these are those someone's who couldn't get a real girl in life and had to make do with Mumbai. They call it Aamchi Mumbai. That's right, all you people on the wrong side of sanity. Mumbai is all 'tumchi'. Only eccentrics like you would want such a place.

Disclaimer- This was for humor purposes only. I do not take any responsibility for any hurt sentiments.

Jack and Jill

2010-08-23T14:02:00.000+05:30

Here's a poem.

Jack and Jill,
Went up the hill,
To fetch a pail of water.
Jack fell down,
And broke his crown,
And Jill came tumbling after.

This is my poem. If you see anything even vaguely similar to this anywhere, especially nursery rhyme books, let me know. I am going to sue them for plagiarism.

Ignited

2010-08-20T19:52:00.000+05:30

Cool, huh? But pretty pointless otherwise.

We were born free,
And were always meant to be.
But now are bound by shackles,
Creations of our own unignited minds.
Ambition is lost,
Fire sheathed by the frost
Life devoid of purpose,
Moving ahead like a boat without rudders.
No flame, no passion, no dreams of glory,
Everyone scripting their own sad story.
I wish to get ignited and break away from all this,
I wish to get ignited and make way for my dreams.
And then you can call me an incendiary,
Fighting for the wrong, for the contrary.
I will be a mercenray with a case of pyromania,
Burning down what I envisage untrue.
Despicable is the idiosyncrasy of the people today,
Doing away with their lives then finding god to pray.
The ultimate aim today is to get an insignia,
To ensconce a good family and a cornucopia.
Where is the man who has his soul on fire?
Who hasn't lost his heart, not torn down his desire.
All to be a man of the world,
Pride, guts and ambition all lost for nothing.
Where has the spirit of revolution gone?
To be the king of your life instead of the pawn.
Feckless are those who cannot walk the line,
People who cannot vindicate their own choices.
And I wish to get ignited to make my road,
My heart as my guide, my will as my goad.
No pain no gain, they'll look with disdain.
Doing what you want will make you an outcast.
We were born free,
And were always meant to be.
But now are bound by shackles,
Creations of our own unignited minds.

Politicos

2010-08-18T18:24:00.000+05:30

I hate politicians

They are baboons who rule over the nation,
Sitting in the Parliament they plan our cremation.
They have no clue of the harm they are doing,
With a strong united effort on the nation they are pooing.

We have more politicians than pigs out there,
Making life for us a living nightmare.
They are like garbage that cannot be cleant,
Putting everybody through agony and torment.

When you fail at everything you do,
Begging or your brain, nothing works for you.
Everything is dark and the future seems to fade,
These unfortunate times are when politicians are made.

They are the fools who ask for our vote,
Who do nothing but sit back and gloat.
What is the point when we have only criminals to choose,
This or that, it is lose-lose.

They govern the nation without knowing the ABC,
Not passing school and having no degree.
Removing illiteracy without knowing how to read,
These bunch of morons are here to set our creed.

Breaking pots and throwing mikes is what they do best,
Epitomes of unaltruism, not caring about the rest.
Sandals and shoes rightfully at them are hurled.
Burned down should be the flags that in their names are unfurled.

Rigging and winning they are the masters of deception,
Only a handful few can be called an exeption.
Everyone would be glad if we do away with them,
To put our nation out of misery and shame.

They want us to believe that they actually care,
That they are just, unbiased and totally fair.
Yeah sure that's very likely I say,
As much as the fact as vampires aren't gay.

They are baboons who rule over the nation,

Sitting in the Parliament they plan our cremation.

They have no clue of the harm they are doing,

With a strong united effort on the nation they are pooing.

Alone

2010-08-15T13:18:00.000+05:30

He lies next to me. I sit on the beach. The beach is deserted, just as my heart is now. The wind blows, as it used to every time I looked at you. I sit alone, staring into the dark. I sit alone staring into our past. The waves lap around my feet, caressing me. Just like you did every time I hurt myself. I feel bad thinking about you. I feel bad for all that you put me through. Your love was just a lie. I really loved you. You never did. You made me believe that you really cared. Like a fool I believed you. And the sweet lies that you fed me... The stars twinkle now just as your pretty eyes used to. Your eyes told me the truth while you betrayed me. I do not know why you did this to me. I do not know what wrong I did. What did I do to deserve this? And oh your face... The moon shines bright reminding me of your face. Just like you, the moon hides secrets from me. You found someone better. I waited. You left me. Everyone left me. Like the lone tree standing at the edge of the sand, I was alone. Like the shells lying broken at my feet, I was broken at yours. Like the person lying cold next to me, I was cold. Like he is now, my life became still. Like him in his last moments, I had struggled. Like the person lying next to me, my heart was bleeding. Like him in his last moments, I had struggled. Like he is now, my life became still. Like the person lying cold next to me, I was cold. Like the shells lying broken at my feet, I was broken at yours. Like the lone tree standing at the edge of the sand, I was alone. Everyone left me. You left me. I waited. You found someone better. Just like you, the moon hides secrets from me. The moon shines bright reminding me of your face. And oh your face... What did I do to deserve this? I do not know what wrong I did. I do not know why you did this to me. Your eyes told me the truth while you betrayed me. The stars twinkle now just as your pretty eyes used to. And the sweet lies that you fed me... Like a fool I believed you. You made me believe that you really cared. You never did. I really loved you. Your love was just a lie. I feel bad for all that you put me through. I feel bad thinking about you. Just like you did every time I hurt myself, the waves lap around my feet, caressing me. I sit alone staring into our past. I sit alone, staring into the dark. The wind blows, as it used to every time I looked at you. The beach is deserted, just as my heart is now. I sit on the beach. He lies next to me.

This Is It

2010-08-14T17:32:00.000+05:30

Okay. This is it. The final post. The end. The post that you will probably remember the longest of the blog. I hate to do this but it is not something that I can help. Regretfully, with my heart brimming with sorrow, I have to say that I fooled you. I am not closing down the blog. It was a joke. I expect two kinds of reactions to this. The ones who genuinely care and read the blog regularly would be happy. I like you. Good people. It was good to see that some people actually care. Thank you.
And there will be those saying to themselves, screw you. These are the cynical fools who don't read the blog because they like it, but because they can read and feel all good about themselves while they crib about my writing. Well, screw you too. For this one time, I give you all the right to hate me. That is probably the best you can do.
So the bottom line is that I actually fooled you.I simply can't believe that I actually fooled you.. I can't help but think to myself that I actually fooled you. Come to think of it, I actually fooled you. How cool is the fact that I actually fooled you.
'Nuff said.

Bad News

2010-08-11T10:38:00.000+05:30

I got some bad news for all the people who read this blog. I am closing down the blog. My parents are not that intent on letting me write and would rather have me focus on studies instead. According to them,"Studies ought to occupy the top notch in my list of priorities." Writing stands nowhere. They feel that writing isn't going to get me anywhere. And yeah, I partially agree with them. They are right aren't they? What would writing a blog everyday eventually going to fetch me? A few views. A little attention. But come to think of it. Is it worth all the time and effort I am wasting that I would rather put in my studies instead. So that'll be the end of the short journey we had together. I'll be posting one last update in a few days. Be sure to check that out. Thanks for reading the blog until now. Sorry if this disappoints you.
Watch out for the last update. Hoping to make it the best yet.
Thanks.

Commonwealth Games Corrupt in Scandals Proves That Indian Is Unable To Host International Sporting Events

2010-08-05T13:34:00.000+05:30

No we are not

I won't begin by reading out newspaper headlines to you about how the games are headed towards turmoil because you probably do it yourself. But, when was the last time you heard of India hosting a major international sporting event? A decade? A century? Never? You see, there is a reason. We do not have to capability to host an event of this magnitude. Not at all. So let's not be under the collective delusion that we can host one because trust me, look around you. You'll see proof enough why we cannot.

We lack the infrastructure, competency, skill, blah blah blah to host such a prestigious event. Let's just get to the base of this problem. The people who run this show, the entire circus, are politicians. Bad, evil, corrupt, and with a special mention, brainless politicians. That is like asking Rakhi Sawant to direct a intellectual documentary. Outrageous. These "people", that would be an overstatement, are least bothered about the games. They aren't really concerned if the games are a resounding success or a national fiasco. Think about it. Suddenly, money worth Rs.1.68 crore appears out of nowhere from a firm based in UK. Half the members of the ruling government are secretly wishing that the games don't go well and some loudmouths are also freely voicing their opinion about this. The politicos are busy hurling mud at each other and have absolutely forgotten what they are there for. Not that they ever knew. Stadiums are incomplete, they do not have sufficient funds, organisations like the BCCI are refusing to pay them money, newspapers are splattered with bad news about the games, it's a bloody war. With the noose tightening around their necks, everyone is only getting more frustrated. There's Sheila Dikshit asking if we would like to put her in jail for all the corruption allegations. Yes ma'am, we would love to oblige, but sadly that is not how things work, do they? The games could have possible be India's pride and a spectacle of its capabilities. Yeah, they certainly are a spectacle. A spectacle of corruption. One that can be found only in our country. If they give the job to even Kenya right now, they'll do a better job than us. That was a joke. But certainly when nations like China and South Africa can pull it off, we have to be really really spoilt and corrupt to make such a disgrace out of it.

The whole event is bound to be a massive embarassment to the country. One that the politicians will bear with a shameless smile. And the burden of this will not be easy to live down. But the epitomes of corruption aren't bothered about the nations pride, are they? Maybe when the next elections come they'll have the stadiums ready. And those who still believe that hosting it was right, quit the wishful thinking. Optimism is good. Faith in ones nation is good. But faith and optimism that ruin your sanity is bad.

Your Call

2010-08-03T14:17:00.000+05:30

Everyone has got a different taste of things. Some people might not like the humor I write. Some may not like the horror. Some may just be wrong in the head to not like anything at all. So I'll give you a chance to tell me what to write about. It could be anything from movies, to current issues, to whatever you want. But don't be a retard and tell me to write about Vampires Rock or something of that order because I would rather shoot myself in the head.

So let loose and tell me what you want.

When A Boy Loves A Girl

2010-08-02T14:49:00.000+05:30

He was called Average Joe, for two reasons. His name was Joe, and he was average in every way possible. Average height, average built, average looking, average at school, average at every freaking thing you could imagine. She was called Jessica Wagner, for one reason. That was her name. She was pretty, almost very much so. The dream girl of every guy in class, Joe included. But average and pretty people don't go too well together, right? Or do they?

It wasn't love at first sight. For Joe, such kind of stuff existed only in fairy tales. For Jessica, it didn't. 'Joe Martin, what are you writing?' Mrs. Creeple yelled out. Joe tried to hide the book but the Creep was already on him.
'Hand it over to me, NOW,' she screeched, tiny droplets of spittle flying at him. Bloody creep, Joe thought. She snatched the book away from him. He looked at her beseechingly as she started reading. 'And yet another day passes. Yet another day when she doesn't even know of my existence. My eyes are transfixed on her. There she sits, two benches from the front, in the third row,' the Creep paused as all eyes darted in that direction. The class bursts out laughing. Joe looked down burning in the cheeks, embarrased and Jessica Wagner looks at him accusingly.

'I am sorry for that,' Joe pleads to her as she walks down the cafeteria. Eyes boggling at the odd pair walking together. 'I hate you,' she spits out the words, disdainfully. 'And if you don't go away right now, I'm going to shove this tray down your throat.'
'That would be fine,' some people were hooting in the background. 'But forgive me. It wasn't my fault. I just.. I just love..' he hadn't even completed the sentence when the slap hit him. Right acroos his face. He stood rooted to the spot, as she stormed away. Well atleast now she knows I exist, he thought.

He decided to speak to her as she walking back from school that day, a radio project in her hand. 'Go away,' she said before he even began speaking.
'Listen to me Jessica. You don't have to like me back. Just forgive me for my mistake.' She pushed him to the side and walked away across the road. Blinded by fury, she didn't see the bus heading towards her. Joe ran and pushed her to side, as the bus passed missing them by a whisker. He looked towards her, expecting a smile or alteast a sign of gratitude. She walked up to him, and slapped him. 'That's for following me,' and slapped another time. 'That's for ruining my project.'

The following week was tortorous for Joe. He sent her mails, called her and even made another project for her. His mails were replied by hate you's, calls unanswered, and project found trashed in the school garbage bin. On the ninth day, he decided to give one last try. He gave a card, simply saying sorry followed by a poem he had written. He got a reply on the third day. It read: Apology accepted. And yes, I love you. Meet me at Cafe Frankworth at 6pm tomorrow. :)

He was waiting at the foot of his bed. Teeth brushed and flossed, hair neatly made, a bouquet in his hand, and a grin on his face. It was his first date. His very first date. Partially out of excitement, and partially because he wanted to make a good impression he left early, taking his dad's car with him. It had begun raining. Hummimg a tune to himself, he reached the Cafe at 5:00 pm. He got out of the car and looked in. His knees went weak, and the flowers fell to the ground. Jessica Wagner was seated there, snogging another boy.

She took a copy of the auotbiography without intending to. It was titled 'The Average Boy' and was written by a Joe Thomson. A ghost from her past. The seventh richest man of the present. She opened the acknowledgements page. It read: This book is dedicated to Jessica Wagner who inspired me to prove what an 'Average' boy could be. In that ordeal I learnt a few things. Looks like I wasn't so average after all. And I reckon, love stories aren't meant to end happily ever after.

Sorry

2010-08-02T14:41:00.000+05:30

This is a not-so-sincere note of apology for why I didn't update my blog in the last few days.
1. I was captured by terrorists, and my parents thought I was in tuition so weren't ready to pay the ransom.

2. A meteor struck the frigging phone cable because of which I was unable to access the internet.

3. If anyone tells you that I was online in the past few days, then he/she/it is lying.

4. My right hand was fractured because of which I couldn't type.

5. I have only one hand.

6. I hadn't slept since three nights because I was busy saving the Earth from the clutches of doom and hence my mind became impregnable to thoughts.

7. I had a physics test for which I was studying.

I you believe in the 7th reason, you suck. I hate you, smartass.
If you believe reasons 1-6, well what more need I say?
So because of the reasons mentioned above, I was unable to update my blog.
Sorry.
Thank you.

WAR

2010-07-29T15:57:00.000+05:30

I wonder why there has to be a war,

Guns, bombs and deaths galore.

Why can't we all live together as one,

Awaken to the dawn of a new sun.

As a soldier I fought many battles,

I saw people die and guns rattle.

Killing as beasts nobody was spared,

And to the end no one even cared.

Why are we intent on ripping people apart,

Fighting like machines, we have lost our heart.

Win or lose, nobody's going to last,

All we are left with are flags at half mast.

There were the World Wars one and two,

Japan and Germany stood up and blew.

The Allies won while the Axis Powers lost,

But both agree, it wasn't worth the cost.

People die and families are broken,

Lives are lost and words remain unspoken.

Everyone thinks they'll make a gain,

All it leaves is a lot of pain.

Why can't we reach an understanding of some sort,

Without using a violent resort.

Try not to cause bloodshed,

Live together as humans instead.

Wars are not because of what we see,

It's not the love, trust or harmony.

It is the battle playing in our mind,

To which we are just oblivious and blind.

How can we take the life of another,

Kill someone without passing a shudder.

Do all this and finally take the shot,

Only for a nation filled with rot.

I wonder why there has to be a war,

Guns, bombs and deaths galore.

Why can't we all live together as one,

Awaken to the dawn of a new sun.

Disturbia

2010-07-27T19:17:00.000+05:30

Dr. Abrahams lay wide awake in his bed, staring blankly into the darkness. He hadn't slept for a week and feared that he wouldn't be able to for another. He felt the temperature drop a few centigrades. It was happening again. Yet again.

'No Christ, please. Not again,' he whispered softly into the darkness. His voice on the verge of tears, and edge on sanity. He thought something brushed past him. Shiveringly, he got up and went into the bathroom. Slowly, he turned on the sink tap. It creaked, and broke the silence of the night. The noise seemed a dozen times amplified to Dr.Abrahams. It echoed in his ears. He closed his eyes and splashed some water on his face. Even in the rain and bitter cold weather, the water felt good. Freezing, but good. He looked into the mirror, the faucet still running. The lights in his room had flickered on. The doctor didn't remember doing it. He put his head under the ice cold stream of water. His chest was heaving as he stared into the mirror again. His skin had grown pale, nearly like that of a corpse. His eyes were red and puffed. Mouth reaked the smell of alcohol. Two weeks worth of stubble under his chin. Suddenly, a scar appeared on his left hand. Before he could understand what was happening, another scar cut across his hand. He grimaced in pain. The razor was in his hand, but it appeared to be moving of its own accord. Blood was gushing out of the gashes that had opened. The blade moved to his neck now. He heard himself screaming out loud. 'Please no, please. It wasn't my fault. I beg you...' The razor toppled from his hand to the floor. His left hand was covered in blood. The doc heard something move behind him. He turned around and called, 'Who's there?'

There was no reply. Just the faint howling of the wind outside.

'Who's there?' he heard his quivering voice ask again. A cold blast of wind coming our of nowhere threw him off his feet. He sat haunched against the corner, whimpering, 'Plea.. Please, I didn't mean to do it. I tried...' he sobbed. 'It was an accident. Don't do this to me. Please, no...' He was hitting himself miserably on the head, begging for mercy, when he heard the scream.

His eyes were unfocused. Arms shaking. Body, unsteady. As soon as his patient was wheeled in, he knew he shouldn't have done it. There was no staff to help him. He was alone. He was drunk. Drunk to the point where his mind was blank and bladder was full. It was a hit and run case. He could have sent her to any other doctor, and could have saved her life. But he needed the money. His and runs, usually served that purpose. She had a cracked skull and was bleeding profusely. Even in that state, he knew that he needed quick action and in pin point precision to save her. He had neither. The doc was certain that he had doomed her as soon as he had started operating. He got the confirmation in twenty minutes. All he remembered was blood. And blood meant bad news. He put her in the back of his car and dumped her in a ditch on his way home.

The funeral was attended by the people closest to him; no one. The body had been found lying on the bathroom floor, spread eagled in a pool of blood, a syringe sticking out on his neck. A lone lady walked up to his grave and lay a rose and a card. It read:

Dear Doc,

Thanks for saving my life that day, a week ago. I am indebted to you forever.

Yours sincerely,

Martha

Save The Earth

2010-07-24T16:40:00.000+05:30

Low waist pants, being a jerk, saving the earth and pretending to be a vampire are the trends of today, in that order of coolness. But most people fail to realize that these are possibly the uncoolest things you could do. Every third person I go to today has this earth on fire photo on his shirt, is carrying a paper bag in is hand, and is like- The earth is DYING! And I say- Yeah sure. And pigs are FLYING!

Before getting deep into this topic let us get a few things clear. Tigers dying, 2012 and saving the earth are in no way related to each other. The first is because we are killing them, the second is not happening and the third is the creation of an absolute nut. No. The earth is not dying. It's going to be going around for another 50 million years atleast. And even if it does blow up then, you should be least bothered. The earth follows a specific pattern. The ice age, whatever shit happened when the dinosaurs died, etc. such things keep happening. It's just a part of the cycle when the earth goes emo and decides to screw itself. Perfectly normal. After such a thing happens, we are left with what we began with. And unfortunately in this case, a bunch of fools that think that we are killing the earth. There is no one to blame for it. This time too, some ice will melt, some forests will burn, but then that's how it is.

These save the earth antics are making it difficult to live. I can't use plastic bags, cannot throw stuff around or drive around just for fun becaue I'm wasting petrol. Well, I beg to differ. I can and will use plastic because the Earth doesn't give shit if we use paper or plastic. I am rightfully allowed to throw things around because eventually they all decompose, it's all a matter of time. And petrol. I'll drive twice around the city and a third time the other way round just to prove that I can do whatever I please with petrol, because I pay for it. I mean come on, can't one live the way one wants. I don't want people stuck to trees to remind me what my duties towards the environment are are. Because I very well know that the Earth doesn't care and neither does the tree you're hugging. Just let go and live in peace.

Polar bears are dying. Penguins are going crazy. Some other ghastly beast is shitting his pants. Too bad. I do not care. They are supposed to know how to adjust to changes in their surroundings. Everything cannot always be sweet and flowery for them. It's their fault that they are too stupid to know how to live. Given an ounce of brain, they'd know what to do to avoid a fate like the dinosaurs. Survival of the fittest, remember?

Get this down. Bullshit like The Day After Tomorrow, we running out of petrol, or any other insane idea running around in your retarted mind is in no way going to happen anywhere in the near future.So instead to trying to save the earth, we'd rather save ourselves. The earth can perfectly well take care of itself.

The Indian Cricket Team

2010-07-20T19:19:00.000+05:30

Our cricket team doesn't have an ounce of cricket in them,

They bat, bowl and field as though they were lame.

Dhoni the captain, they call him captain cool,

But on the ground, he proves to be an absolute fool.

Virendra Sehwag, he seems to have lost his way,

The only thing he does is keep his runs at bay.

When Dravid comes to play the match seems to stall,

But there was a time when he was called the wall.

Sachin Tendulkar, is the one man army,

But 9 out of 10 matches, he appears to go barmy.

Harbhajan Singh, he bowls like a wimp,

The Aussies couldn't have been righter, when they called him a chimp.

Yuvraj Singh he has got no brain,

When he gets out early, it is our team's gain.

Sreesanth in the team makes my brain whirl,

I guess every team needs a fellow who dances like a girl.

Together with the others they royally screw things up,

Not once in ages have they come home with a cup.

They have earned honors in dating, ads, and swearing,

Watching them play should be attempted by the daring.

As always they lose and the blame game begins,

'He dunnit, He dunnit' all begin to sing.

I think they should be punished everytime they lose,

Stoned, abused and should be beaten by shoes.

Some people say that they know how to play,

Yeah sure, I say, I'll wait for that day.

Often I wonder why do they even try,

They all should pack their bags and wish cricket goodbye.

Avenged

2010-07-17T17:03:00.000+05:30

The 23rd of July 2003. A date that would be etched in his mind forever. It was his birthday.

'Come on man. Drink another!' Luke shouted over the commotion. 'I need to win this bet! I got five hundred bucks on you!' Someone shoved another bottle into Deigo's hand. He was already seven bottles down. Criss, his friend and drinking counterpart was on his eigth. A cheer erupted as Deigo finished his eighth. Everyone was jumping and screaming. Typical bar atmosphere. Criss and Deigo were level now. Eigth-eigth. Deigo's vision seemed to blur. The whole bar spun around him. Through red eyes, he saw Criss take the ninth bottle. His own bottle waiting in front of him. With trembling hands, he picked the bottle. He didn't have the energy to do it. Luke grabbed the bottle and put it to Deigo's mouth. Dark spots were dancing in front of his eyes now. The beer wasn't going down his throat. And then he puked.

He lay on the ground. Breathing heavily. The guys were heralding the champion, Criss. Luke appeared pissed. He had a nasty anger. And with beer, it didn't go too well.
'Damn you man! You made me lose five hundred dollars!' he screamed at Deigo without offering a hand for him to get up. Groggily, he stood up. Bruce was showering Criss with money. Though he had lost, he still had a lot of fun. And that was the point of the entire thing. He saw Luke storming out of the bar. It took a moment for his drunk brain to realize that Luke shouldn't be allowed to drive in such a state. He had drunk something around fifteen, and also injected something in his right arm. With an effort, he called Criss and Bruce. They had seen Luke leave. They rushed after him.
'You go, I'll stay,' Deigo said stutteringly. But they pulled him with them. Luke was having problems with the car. He was fumbling with the keys. They called him just as he got in. The three of them got into Criss's car and followed Luke. Bruce was driving. Luke's car raced forward. The road was baren. But Luke's car was still wildly swerving left and right.
'Got to stop him! He'll die this way,' Deigo heard himself say. Bruce floored the pedal. The odometer read 120km/hr. Suddenly Luke came to a stop. In the middle of the road, in the middle of nowhere. We got out of the car. He came out too.
'Why are you following me?' he asked. 'Can't a person go home in peace?'
'Your home is the other way,' Deigo replied. Probably the worst thing he could say at this time.
'You think you are very smart, don't you Deigo? Time to teach you a lesson. Payback time for the money I lost, buddy.'
It was too late when he understood that this was a trap, that he had been deliberately pulled into this. Luke hated Deigo under normal circumstances, anyway. The beer and drugs messed up the equation a whole lot more. A stone hurtled out of Luke's hand, and hit Deigo straight in the stomach. And all of a sudden, they were beating him from all sides. They left him after twenty minutes of relentless, savage pounding, a mangled mass of blood and broken bones lying in the rain.

His eyes were unfocused when he opened them. His chest was paining. One leg broken. He could feel dried blood on his face. It took him a moment to realize where he was and how it had happened. And then like a gigantic wave, it all came flooding back to him. He had to get back to his place somehow. Limping, and grimacing he made his painful walk back to his car outside the bar. He walked for what seemed like ages. The bar was shut and the sun was at the horizon. He opened the door and stumbled into the car. The effort of walking had drained him of all energy. After lying for some time he felt better. The exhaustion was being replaced by something else. The need for revenge. The demand for vengeance. The taste for blood.

Breaking in from the window, he was hiding in the dark. The house was empty. He was waiting for Bruce to come back home. The lock clicked open and a figure entered the room, laughing. It was Bruce. He turned on the lights, but they remained off. 'Damn!' he heard Bruce say. Bruce was stumbling forward in the darkness. Any moment now. He tripped over something and fell to the floor. He turned around and the 70 kilo massive chandelier come crashing down onto him, curshing him to pulp. Deigo thought he heard him scream. Deigo had no business there. But he just wanted to see them die for himself. And savour the taste later on.
Criss. He was next in line. Not any longer, you bastard, Deigo thought to himself. Criss was alone at home when he reached. He rang the main bell. Criss came to answer. He didn't see Deigo enter from the open back door. Criss returned to the kitchen, muttering something to himself. He didnt see the liquid poured on the ground. He slipped and fell. Trying to stand up, he slipped again. Soon he was entirely covered in the liquid. It smelled sweet. He knew the smell well but just couldn't place it. As he was lying on the floor, his thoughts were set alight by the burning match coming from nowhere. And as he burned, he remembered what the smell was. Beer.
Luke, Deigo thought. He deserved special honours. He called Luke for Criss's house.
'Criss here,' Deigo said. 'Meet me at my place in 5 minutes.' Saying so he cut the line.
Deigo was waiting in the car, outside Criss's house. The street was deserted except for the lone man walking on the road. Even looking at his gait, he knew it was Luke. Welcome to hell Luke, Deigo thought to himself. Luke was knocking Criss's door. Deigo tiptoed from back and chloroformed Luke. He took in his car made him drink beer. A bottle, six bottles, a dozen. At twenty three he stopped. Luke was too much drunk to even open his eyes. Deigo drove him to some place and threw him out of the car. They say he ran over him 12 times. The place was where Deigo had been beaten.

Two days later, their funerals were held. At night, in the rain, a boy came and lay flowers on the three graves.
'That's for what you did to me you jerks. May you rot in hell now.'
The lone boy started walking away. As Deigo passed, he stopped in his tracks near another grave.
'Deigo Turner,' a tombstone read. '23-7-1986 - 23-7-2003.'

On A Random Note....

2010-07-15T17:45:00.000+05:30

1. If you don't read this blog regularly, I hate you. And I have got every reason to do so. I mean come on. Can't you take 15 minutes of your "busy schedule (gossiping, staring at your facebook home page, watching soaps)" to read something. Try it. Might free your mind of all the shit stuff you carry in there. And if you are looking for an innuendo, some sarcasm, or cynicism now, get lost. Sometimes, hate you simply means hate you. And for those who do read it, thank you.

2. I got my first hatemail. Lucky me. I fell of the seat laughing. Well it was not exactly a hatemail, but rather a go screw your opinions kind of mail. From an IIT lover. HAH!

3. Match predicting octopi are bad. All octopus should be roasted and eaten.

4. People who think that using words like 'ma', 'kewl', 'grats' etc. and think that they are awesome, are mistaken. Speaking bad English does not make you cool but only shows your total inability to use your brain.

5. Dubbing should be made illegal. But it should remain legal only for all the movies of the twilight saga.

6. All girls who like Edward should be made to talk, look, eat and shine like him. See how it feels then.

7. People with attitude problems, should have their heads flushed down the toilet to get the attitude washed out of them.

8. The members of the Indian Cricket Team should all just become models, actors and pimps, because that's what they do best.

9. There should be more eunuchs in trains. It's fun watching them trouble people.

10. The Maoists should be allowed to defend of the conutry, because our Army and Police force can't do shit.

11. Superheroes look good only in Hollywood. In hindi cinema they end up as Krissshhh, which is just a blatant embarassement.

12. Sania Mirza has proved that there are no Muslim men in India. Don't blame me, blame her.

13. Apple products should come with fire extinguishers (scroll up for image.)

14. Rafael Nadal was kissed by a guy while chaging shirts in the US Open. The man openly accepted that he loved Nadal and Nadal accepted that the man was nice. This does not mean anything though.

15. If you can't appreciate what other people have written, best not comment at all. Because if that is the case, you suck, and I don't care about the comments of such people.

16. Michael Jackson must have been really, really confused about his gender. I wonder what his kids called him, mom, dad, um...

17. Students from SSC schools think that if you talk to a girl, you are from another planet. I guess they all just want to be happy and gay.

18. Everyone with an ounce of brain has started blogging now. But the fact remains, that those can't blog, shouldn't. For the readers sake, and for the sake of saving yourselves from public humiliation.

19. 'Behne De, Mujhe Behne de, Mujhe Behne....' I wish he stopped saying that and just told how many bloody sisters he wanted.

20. Cristiano Ronaldo should marry Robert Pattinson. A well deserved fate for both.

21. For some reason, guys in my tuition think that wearing rainbow coloured shirts makes them look cool.

22. Behind the downfall of most successful men, there is one woman atleast. Eg. Tiger Woods, John Terry (removed from England captainship), Raavan (Sita ma got him killed), Michael Jackson (his own gender changed alter ego finished him)

23. Megalomaniacs should marry themselves because no one will ever love you as much as you love yourselves.

24. SSC and ICSE should reach an agreement, so that we all can get on with our bloody colleges!

25. Instead of 'loling' all the time, people should really try laughing.

26. How many more points do you want!? It's over.

27. The End. Told you it's over.

Boards- The Nostalgia

2010-07-14T15:42:00.000+05:30

The following is a memoir of my feelings as the board exams where getting over. Reading it, nearly made me feel that I were back there. Something I would have been partially grateful for, and partially not.

The fact that the board exams are nearly over has filled me with a plethora of emotions. A part of me feels great, like everyone, but another part feels not so great.

The former feels that in two days it will be then end of three days of torture. This time after 48 hours, I'll taste freedom. Freedom from three months of hardwork, pressure, and STUDIES. I say three months because the real studies began in January with the prelims and all. Soon there will be no more anxiety or hassles. Life will get a new dimension. One of enjoyment. Things couldn't get better. Picture perfect, right? But almost too much so...

On the flipside, there is the second part of me which feels quite the contrary. To begin with, boards became a goal in life. They acted as a rudder to an otherwise directionless boat. There was something to focus on. But now that they are almost over, it feels as though the boats had been thrown in the vast expanse of the ocean with no directions to follow. The problem is not what to do. Its what not to do. Further more, end of boards signifies the final end of school life. Its like an apple pie right in the face saying: School's over buddy. And being in the same school for a decade now, it is something I find hard to digest. The boards maintained an atmosphere of tension, similar to exams in school. In one way, it still felt that there was a part of school left inside me. But now its almost gone in a puff of dust. While going for the exam, everything, from doning the uniform for one last time, meeting friends, and answering the last MCQ of my school life will have a sense on nostalgia surrounding it, not a feeling I'm too fond of. The next few months also include making some very important decisions. Deciding a college, tuitions and et al. This summer wont be the normal one where all there is to do is wait for the next term to begin. There wont be a next term now. Things will be very different. New college, new friends, new uniforms, new world.

The baseline is this. Though the boards getting over is a good thing and it demands rejoicement, deep down inside this feeling has been clouded by something else. Maybe its the fact that boards are my favourite exam. Of that school's finally over. Or maybe, the year has become too much integrated in my life for me to let go so easily. Whatever the reason may be, I hope that time (the great healer) does its job quickly, because hey, even I want to party!

Dated- 29/4/2010
Saahil Dama.

YaaY YaaY Tee

2010-07-13T13:30:00.000+05:30

Now this is one place where people are dying to go, and die after going too- IIT.

Personally I have no grudge against IIT. But a thing I do dislike is all the hype. I mean why all the craze about it? It’s only a college right? Then why the ‘I’m going to suicide if I don’t get in there?’
The madness begins right from when you are 14 years old. They have these classes they take from ninth grade. And guess what? They teach you engineering there (yeah, in 9th), so that you can go into a college to learn engineering.
Makes a lot of sense, right? Bet some YAAY YAAY TEEian thought of it. And that isn’t the worst part. I speak from an unforgettable experience. I went to one such class in ninth. Come on, you can’t blame me, I was a kid then. So, I went to this class called Narayana (nice name, huh?) And well, the class was sick. Not the irritating or boring kind of sick. The faggoty, disturbing kind of sick.

First of all, the teachers were, um…gay. Seriously. And gay as in “I like hugging and kissing unknown ninth standard kids” gay. And they really did to certain students. Gross. Second, the children were weird. Even looking at them made me feel depressed. They just couldn’t be called normal human kids. No way. Nature's accidents would be more like it. Next, the place smelled like a rotten pigsty. Someone or the other always had a serious case of flatulence. And they didn’t even have the courtesy to bring a room freshener with them. So that’s it till ninth (I left the damn place in 10th!)

Moving on, comes 11th. This is the most bemusing thing. You have to join tuitions, to join tuitions which in turn teach so you so you can get into YAAY YAAY TEE.

It’s like this. You join some horrendously screwed tuitions. Now they will teach you, so that you can get into even screwder tuitions. They in turn teaches you so that you can get into YAAY YA…. you get it don’t you? Smart, eh? And that’s not the end of it. After getting into the screwder tuitions (e.g. Bansal, M.P.Prakash) you have to study day and night to get into the college. So it isn’t exactly a surprise that so many people commit suicide when they don’t get admission there. And as I said, people not only commit suicide on not getting in, some also do it after getting in because they can’t cope up with the studies. The number of people who commit suicide in IIT is actually considered classified information!

The good news for those people who don’t want to do IIT is that IITs are ranked 163 (IIT Bombay) and 181 (IIT Delhi) in the overall list of universities. The other IITs are not in the top 200 list. And among the engineering institutes of the world, IIT Bombay ranks 30, and IIT Delhi ranks 35. So there are at least 34 engineering universities that are better than the best IIT. And it is easier to get into them.
And come to think of it. Lakhs of shitheads appear for this exam every year, of which only eleven thousand get selected. So do you really want to be a part of this wannabe trend that's going around the entire country brainwashing parents and students alike to get into IIT? I wouldn't.

And even after all this, bearing gay teachers, enduring pig sties, burning mid night oil, what do you get? What exactly do IITians do? What is their contribution to the society? Who are they in the world? Nobodies.

For those who want to do YAAY YAAY TEE, I’ll wish you luck, because you’ll need it. Study hard, be gay, be an IITian.
Period.

Ps. I'm sorry if i have hurt any sentiments. Well, maybe i'm not...

The Heist

2010-07-12T19:23:00.000+05:30

An empty mind, a devil's workshop. Four empty minds, don't ask.

We were getting bored. Nothing more, nothing less. Simply bored. It was a some afternoon. We had lost track of time and day ever since the vacations had begun.

'Let's rob a bank,' Reiley said suddenly.

We looked at him. Exasperated, but not surprised. Dude, get a brain, I thought.

'Let's rob a bank!' he quipped again, louder this time.

'We heard you the first time, and are you out of your freaking mind?!' Dan yelled back.

Then there was silence.

'Can anyone think of anything else?' Kevin asked.

'Yeah..' Reiley said, but was inturrepted by Dan, 'No Reiley, you can't think of anything. You need a functional brain for that.'

'So why not we rob a bank?' Kevin asked.

We looked at him, then at Reiley, who was expectedly looking back at us. It was settled.

I know it sounds crappy. Like what, four seventeen year olds, robbing a bank, just like that, retarted idea. But somewhere deep down inside, we all knew that we wanted to do it. Enough of the same old let's play basketball, or let's watch a movie, let's get bored shit. It was time to do something different. Robbing a bank is a cliche, but some cliches just never get old. This stuff was different, different for us. We spent days planning. Everything from the number of security guards, to the money in the main vault. We were total amaetuers in the field, never having done anything of this order of madness before. Come on man, to think of it, we could easily get our butts busted even if we made a slightest degree of error, all for the sake of not getting bored. We planned. Continuously, no stop, all the time, always. Just planned. Everything had to be in place. Everything had to be perfect. Hours turned into days, days to weeks. After 2 relentless hours of thinking, we were ready.

We were going to rob The Citizens Bank, the largest bank in the country. We avoided talking about the money. Not that we were not thinking about that, but we just did not talk about. The main concern being getting out the place not in handcuffs.

After around sixteen days, I'm not sure because I just lost count, we made the finals sketch of the heist.

'So guys, we seem to do it now,' Dan said. 'Let us just discuss the plan one last time and fix the date of the robbery, no we won't call it that. We'll call it the heist, which is essentially the same as robbery but sounds way more sophesticated. So, Kev.'

Kevin, the think-tank, stepped in.

'All right. So here's the thing. We rob the bank during the daytime, because it will easy to camouflage with the people during that time. The bank is miost crowded from eleven a.m. to one p.m. So the more the better. The bank has a large security force, so going in and brandishing a gun is out of option. We'll be numbered atleast 1:15, and flattened in minutes. So we will be using something that the security forces thankfully do not have. A brain. And Reiley, you can share by brain, because yours' is clearly not sufficient. The guards enter the building at nine. But not every guard has the number to the main vault, which changes every three hours. Only the three head guards are informed about the change in the code. Here comes the trick part. What we have to do is monitor the movements of the head guard. He enters the building through street 27 and passes a small, dinghy alley on the way. That's where we take him down. We kidnap him, take his clothes, and the pager where he is given the security number. So Dan becomes the new security head guard. I've asked a parlor guy to make up Dan's face exactly the same as the guard's, and he says that he can do it...

'Okay, that should be enough,' I interrupted through drooping eyes, 'We know what we have to do. Why don't you just tell us when we are doing it?'

'We are doing it, tomorrow.'

I didn't sleep that night. Couldn't sleep that night. Call it the excitement, anxiety, or the seriousness of what we were doing dawning upon me. I had hardly shut an eye lid when the alarm rang. Slamming it off, I dragged my unwilling feet off the bed and got ready. We were waiting in the alley at 8:15. The guard passed ten minutes later. We threw eggs at his windshield. He turned on the water and plop went his vision. He eventually stopped the car. Reiley and Dan moved swiftly from behind, chloroformed him and dragged him into our car. We took his pager, and switched clothes and drove to the parlour. And in half an hour, Dan was the head security guard of The Citizens Bank.

We drove him to the bank, Kev giving him the last minute instructions. It was nearing 9:30 when we reached. Dan was late, but he would make up something. We went back to Kevin's house, as Dan entered the building.

I returned at 11. Dressed as a businessman. I went in without drawing suspicion. So far, so good. I went sat on a chair in the corner. Waiting. Kevin and Reiley entered the bank twenty minutes later. They spoke for a few minutes with the entrance guard who nodded and let them in. They didn't look at me. Neither did I look at them. So far, so good. The two of them went over to the bathroom. I went over to the counter. A man with hair slicked back and a greasy smile greeted me. Though I knew nothing about banking, this was going to be fun. I went to him and opened a suitcase filled with wads of cash.

'What can I do for you sir?' he asked me.

'You're not doing anything for. I'm suing you.' I replied.

He looked stunned, but recovered soon. 'And may I know the reason sir.'

'I withdrawed cash worth 50,000$ two days back. And what I have come to know is that all these notes are fake. And theses are veyr much from your bank.'

'That is not possible sir.'

'Don't you dare teach me what is possible and what is not. I have sufficient proof for getting this bank dragged to court for giving me fifty thousand dollars worth of fake money,' I said shouting aloud, drawing plenty of attention.

'Please, sir. You must be mistaken.'

But there was no stopping me. I went on and on, about how I had been duped and the charges I would stick on them. He went to call his manager. So far, so good. And then I noticed that all the guards were moving away into a room. And they were all staring at me. Maybe I hadn't been informed about this in the plan, or maybe simply I was in deep shit.

I was busy arguing with the manager, when I heard the sirens. Just an ambulance, I told myself. So many ambulances? Three police force men walked straight in. There were no guards to stop them. They hadn't yet come out of the room. One of the man spoke to the manager, and I saw the others rush towards the vault. They returned a moment later, with Kevin and Reiley in cuffs. Oh bummer, I thought, Soon, Dan came too. But he wasn't in cuffs. He tried avoiding looking at us. But that said enough, we had been betrayed. They pushed the three of us outside, Dan following coolly behind. My head was slammed in the bonnet of the car. Kevin was talking something to the main policeman. I noticed that the suitcase of stolen money was still with them. The officer snatched it away and opened it. Kevin was released. He handed the money to the cops. A deal was made. Hands shaken. Kevin gave away the suitcase and we were left to go. Dan did not follow us.

We went directly to Kevin's place. Moods down. No one made an effort to talk. There was knock on the door. My heart skipped a beat afraid that it was the policemen. It was Dan.

'Welcome sucker,' I said vehemently, eager to punch him the face, 'Thanks for nearly killing us. Would a punch in the face be enough to show the gratitude, or should I stab you, like a dozen times?'

'Calm down,' Kevin told me. He went and opened a bag. It contained the counterfeit notes. He threw one to me. Look it against light. I didn't need to.

'And the cops?'

'Bribed by the counterfeit money.'

Our dear faithful police.

The New Kid

2010-07-07T19:07:00.000+05:30

To them he was the perfect scapegoat. New to school, diffident, bespectacled, a loner, and black haired. They hated kids like that.

'Look at him reading a newspaper, sitting by the fountain all by himself. And in this bitter cold weather that too. I almost pity him,' Aaron said.

'When do we get him?' Mike asked.

'Tomorrow, there is no moon. We do it then,' Luke replied.

'All right. Let us go and talk to him.'

The three of them walked towards him. The new boy looked the other wa, afraid that they were going to beat him up. Everyday, he went home with a fresh set of scars. It was a routine affair.

'Hey new kid,' Luke called out, 'Look towards us, we ain't gonna beat you up.'

'You aren't?' he asked timidly, almost surprised. People rarely came to him if not for that reason.

'Nope. We're just here to be friends.'

'Really?' he asked and silently thanked god. These three were the coolest people in class. Maybe things were going to be better after all.

'But of course, you have to do something for us,' Mike said.

'Anything. Anything you say,' the boy replied, nearly jumping with joy.

He gulped.

'Isn't that house supposed to be haunted?' he asked softly.

'Nah,' Aaron replied coolly, 'Only rumors to save the money.'

Then why don't you go yourself, he nearly asked, but stopped as he started the sentence afraid of losing his new friends right away. They noticed his hesitation.

'You don't have to...'

'I'll do it,' he interrupted.

'You sure? No pressure here.'

'I'll do it,' he repeated.

Satisfied, they walked away. A grin on their face, and evil in their hearts.

By the time they reached the next night, the boy was already waiting there. He seemed to be nervous, but at the same time, excited.

He nodded. A stupid smile on his face. What a kid, Aaron thought. This was going to be fun.

'All right, ready to go?' they asked.

'Hell yeah!' he said gleefully.

He headed off towards the dark, deserted and colossal structure.

'Do you think Mike got him?' Aaron asked, half panting.

'I don't think so. But I rather hope so,' Luke replied back, 'Because if something has really happened to that kid, we are dead.'

How true.

They reached the upper landing and rushed into the bedroom.

'Mike!' Aaron called.

'Mike!' he called again, his voice rising an octave higher.

Mike slid into view.

'Aren't we hiding?' he asked.

'You didn't hear the scream?' Luke asked.

'What scream?'

'That scream,' he replied as another shriek rang out.

They rushed down into the living room. Suddenly everything quietened down. They heard footsteps. The new kid came from the kitchen.

'Dude, why were you shouting?' Mike asked.

'Gave you a start, did I?' the kid replied. 'Everybody, I got you food.'

His body going pale. His eyed rolled up, the retinas disappearing, revealing only the whites of his eyes. His wrists and feet twisted around. His tongue became black and a sickening smile illuminated his face.

'Surprise fellas,' he said, his voice changed. Every word he said sent shivers down theur spine. ' The game's over. Look aorund you.'

The trio turned around. Half a dozen dead people were levitating in the room.

'Meet my family guys.'

No one heard them scream.

_______

A kid sat in the playground, by the fountain, reading a newspaper.

'Three kids found dead in the living room of the house,' the headline read. The irony, the kid thought. He saw some people approach him. Not again, he thought and looked the other way.

'Hey new kid,' a bulky guy called out, 'Look towards us, we ain't gonna beat you up.'

The kid smiled to himself.

The End.

We are the Worst

2010-07-06T16:30:00.000+05:30

I've heard a lot of music. Rock, metal, hip hop, country, I've tasted it all. And I love it. Who doesn't? But the following imbeciles, have scarred my mind so bad, that I'm afraid of listening to music now, afraid that I might never be able to be the same again. If you thought that this blog will be about the worst band of all times, then that's a bingo. If you haven't, then you probably are trashheaded enough to love these bands.

1. Black Eyes Peas- With member names like Taboo and apl.de.ap (don't ask me. I have no idea how it is pronounced or what it means), songs like Boom boom pow, and an absolute distaste for good music, it's no surprise that these Neanderthal dungheads top the list. They should roam with a tag around their neck reading: I suck. I know no music. Because trust me, they have no idea what music is. I band which has 4 singers, neither of who can sing, is not a music band. It's more of a train band, the kind that wears sarees, are confused about their gender and go clapping without their fingers (come on, try it. I'm not looking), that's the one I'm talknig about. And they play the worse kind of music their possibly could be, Electro hop, which is essentially hip hop, with something like a donkey farting in between at times. If you call THAT music, well I suggest you consult a psychiatrist immediately.

2. Hannah *Beep*Tana- I have no clue what to call her. Hannah whatever, Miley Crapola, meathead, trash face, dung brain, but certainly not a musician. She ain't no singer. Listen to her voice, man. It's the sound of a eunuch crying! Her music is used as method of torture by the FBI. For obvious reasons, she has been declared illegal in certain countries. No surprise there.

3. Jonas Brothers- Technically they are not brothers, but essentially a bunch of faggots, pretending they know music. That is all there is to them. If it weren't for Disney you would probably find them on the streets moving from signal to signal singing burnin up or some other of their shit. They keep Demi Lovato and Miley Cyrus for company, because no other girl who even let them come close. They can't make their own songs so they copy the songs of others like year 3000 by busted. All these facts only point to that fact that they SUCK! Listening to them is like shooting yourself with a bullet in the head.

4. Britney Spears- Shaving her hair of when drunk, hitting herself with gym weights, pulling her hair out, attacking cars with umbrellas, letting her three month old kid drive, throwing herself down the stairs and all the other reckless and retarted stuff she has done over the years were enough to earn her a spot in this list. She can't sing either, and uses techniques like lip synching and heinous dancing to get over this disability of hers. Maybe she tries to distract people by doing all this stuff, so that they don't realise what an absolute no brained babboon she is. Maybe.

5. Flo Rida- You spin my head right round, right round

When you go down, when you go down down

Go figure what that means.

Combine those lyrics with bad beats and a man getting throttled, you get Flo Rida.

So long for now. Do yourself a favour and don't listen to these guys, girls and the rest.

The Other Side

2010-07-04T16:35:00.000+05:30

I liked being with Jason. Two reasons behind this. The first, he was a convivial, cheerful and a really friendly person. And the second, he was my only friend. I had been alienated by all my past 'friends' after the accident. A drunk and disturbed hit and run driver had run me down while I was walking back from school, nearly killing me. They all felt that I was a little touched in the head now. I realised that by the way they avoided me and the looks they gave while I was walking down the coridoor. Whispering behind my back. But trust me. I was perfectly fine.

Jason walked up to me one boring day and said, 'Hey, I got an idea.'
I smiled to myself. Jason always had an idea. I looked up to him. Something seemed to be wrong. His wasn't his usual joyous self. And his lower lip seemed to be swollen and a cut was running across his left cheek.
'What happened, man?' I asked him.
'Nothing,' he murmured.
We kept silent for a few minutes.
'I got an idea,' he said again.
'Yes. Say.'
'I'm not sure if you'll like it though.'
'Go on.'
'I want to beat up Reese.'
I remained silent, grasping the situation. 'Hasn't he got an entire army of goons with him?'
'Not when he's out of school.'
'When do you plan to do this?'
'Tonight, while he is returning from his guitar classes.'
I began contemplating. I hated Reese. He was the kind of person, who everyone loved hating. You know the type. But I wasn't the kick you enemies ass kind of person. I was more like the take it, forget it kind.
'You in with me?' Jason enquired.
Jason had stuck with me through thick and thin. He had come the same year I had the accident and had visited me in the hospital every single day. I didn't feel like repaying him by saying no.
'I have to go out tonight Jason. My cousins party. I don't think I'll be able to make it,' I managed to lie, almost as slickly as a lawyer. He looked at me. I could feel his eyes boring into mine. And in a moment, I knew that he knew the truth.
'Okay,' he said dismayed, looking down. 'Guess I'll do it on my own then. See you later.'

I was sitting in the bed that night when I heard a knock on the main door. It was 8. My parents were out for dinner, and I wasn't expecting them so soon. I went downstairs and opened the door. Jason was standing in the doorway. A baseball bat in his hand.
'So this is your party, huh?' he asked, a hint of vehemance in his voice. 'I knew that you were lying. Bastard. You could've just said no if you'd wanted to.'
'Listen Jason, listen...' I tried but he cut me off.
'You listen too me! Stop feeding me more of your lies, you backstabber. I'm going and doing the job now. And I don't even expect your sissy self to follow me. But remember, I'll have it back. Someday, you'll pay for it.'
Giving this mighty speech, he stormed off the door. I closed the door behind. He was right. My sissy self didn't follow him.

I woke up to a cloudy day the next morning. I was unusually tired, even after having a good night's sleep. Hoping that it would pass soon, I got ready for school. My parents were sitting around the breakfast table. I joined them. My dad didn't believe in reading a newspaper. He felt that reading bad news would bring an unhealthy start to the day. I had just taken the first bite when there was a rap on the door. I got up and opened it. A well dresses man in black overalls stood in the doorway. Behind him, was another man wearing similar overalls a long black coat.
'Do the Baxters live here?' the first man asked.
'Yes,' I said.
'Could we come in please?'
'Sure,' I said.
They followed me to the living room. I called my dad.
'Yes officer,' dad said, looking not particularly please for being made to get up from his breakfast.
'This is in relation with your son, Mr.Baxter. If you could...'
'Go up,' my dad commanded. His voice tensed.
I went up, for some reason, my heart thundering in my chest.

That was my first experience in hell. Behind bars, in a juvenile prison. I had no clue why I was being kept there. I was in a lifeless cell of my own. My dad didn't speak to me after that. His image was important to him which had crumbled to the ground, allegedly because of me. I found a copy of the local newspaper on the floor of my cell as I entered. Its cover page read, 'Teenager, Reese William was brutally murdered by his school mate, Zach Baxter...' I felt the world spin around me and I collapsed to the floor.

I woke with a start in a white marbled room. A bespectacled man in similar overalls sat in front of me.
'I am Dr. Vlad,' he said.
'I didn't murder him,' I heard myself whisper.
'Yes I know, Zach.'
'You do?' I asked half surprised.
'Oh yes I do. The subconscious mind has tremendous powers, Zach. One of them being the power to tell the truth,' saying so he got up and walked away.

The visiting room was next to my cell. As I lay in my bed the next afternoon, I heard my parents voice in the next room.
'What is the problem doctor?' my mom asked.
'It is actually simple, yet comlex. Your son, is a victim of Multiple Personality Disorder, a case in which the person has multiple identities is a single body. So he did not actually commit the murder, but his alter ego which is in fact him, unknowingly did ....'

'Revenge is a dish best served cold. Told you that you'll pay for it someday,' I heard my alter ego, Jason whisper eerily to me.

Hating Bollywood

2010-07-03T19:08:00.000+05:30

Bollywood is just the kind of thing that I'd love to punch if it were a person. Intolerably obnoxious at times, with a high amount of plagiarism and an utter lack of intelligence.
But since certain bollywood movies are "refreshingly original" and "scintillatingly ingenious," let us give it credit for that. So kudos to Bollywood for such movies it makes once a decade or so. But I would still punch it. Maybe not in the groin but definitely in the face.

Bollywood has got tons of ignoble rip offs. Beginning from its very name, Bollywood, it's like a retarded, disowned cousin of Hollywood. Or maybe they are these, to quote Bollywoods only quotation, "Kumbh mai bhicchde hue bhai." Bollywood being the rabid one, probably lost the way and ended up being what it is now. A humongous shit making machine. And this is just the name we are talking about- the machine. The shit comes... NOW!

Sholay, hindi cinemas' most epic cult classic. Well, this'll be a surprise to all Bollywood lovers aka. Suckers (don't talk to me if you are one), but this "daringly original" "cult classic" is actually a jigsaw puzzle made by joining a plethora of Hollywood movies. Cowboy classics such as Magnificent Seven and The Wild Bunch feature on this list. So if this is the best Bollywood can do, it's not much. But seeing how numb minded our directors it's still a marvel of Indian Cinema. Haw! We made Sholay! God bless us! Well, screw you! And that's not it. Bollywood is certainly more shameless than that! So they rip, rip, rip and keeping ripping off movies until they name the grim ripper after it. They changed Harry Potter to Hari Puttar! If you're not a retard, that's the first name that should come to your mind, when you hear Hari Puttar. But let's not about intelligence when we're talking about Indian directors. That's a personal insult for them. Warner Bros. ultimately hauled the shithead director to court for it. Come on. They could have named it Shri Ganesh or something and would have survived the embarassment. But no, they have to behave like complete jackasses and make a film called Hari Puttar. And the title song goes something like 'Hari Puttar, Hari Puttar, Hai sweet jaise shakkar?!' What the hell is that now? Bollywood at his epic fatuity. I lost my appetite listening to that. Then there was the movie goal. The only difference between it's name and Hollywood movie Goal! was the exclamation mark. And that the latter was 2 dozen times better. Then the well known Partner an obvious pull off, of Hitch. A terrible one, non surprisingly. How can you expect Salman Khan the 45 year old cow, sorry male cow whatever it's called, to match Will Smith? I think that's expecting a little too much even by the low brain standards of Bollywood. And it gets worse. We are also copying Tamil movies. You know the ones having actors like Rajnikaant and that kind of crow shit. I'm talking about Ghajini of course. Ghajini was a copy of a tamil movie which was a copy of Memento. And they didn't even bother to change the name or the actress (it's the same Asin surnameless) while making the remake. And the story is such shitstorm that I think you'll have to see all the three to make sense out of it. So Ghajini from Ghajini from Memento, albeit the plastic abs and the constipated gorilla look. The void seems endless. Sarkar from The Godfather. Koi Mil Gaya from E.T (the difference that Hritik is the alien in hindi version). Even the recent hit Rajneeti was inspired from The Godfather and Mahabharata. The tale does on...
Now let's come to the song. The songs have no music. Let's accept it. For certain exceptions, the Indian film industry has got no real musicians. Their all wannabe's like the demented Monatana girl. Using their soundproof tablas, make fart noises gizmos and the guitar with the big butt, sitar. So no music, no story or origintality for that matter, making a royal crapola. That's Indian Cinema for you.

But towards the end I think I realize that why copies are so bad. The truth is that the movie makers try to hide the fact that they have copied by strangling the movie so hard that it becomes blue and black beyond recognistion. Yeah, that could be the thing. For the good of the Indian cinema I rather hope that's the thing, because if it is not, it could be a matter of sanity then.

Apocalypse, Now

2010-07-02T21:41:00.000+05:30

I've always thought that people who believed in the 'earth is going to end in 2012' kind of inanity, to be completely on the wrong side of sanity. But however implausible, let us assume for the sake of humor, that haplessly, we do have a disastrous end. This makes me muse on how exactly the programme will proceed. Will the planet just explode like one giant fart bomb, ot will we die in miscellaneous ways, some getting hammered by asteroids, while others carpping in in their pants and dying out of pure fright. Well, supposing that god does exist, with even half the brain that he allegedly has, and actually decides to pull off his 2012 stunt, this is what his death sequence should be.

I think he would and should just bomb off Australia first because they don't actually care about god. So god, just for vengeance, blow them. The Indians, Americans, British etc. all have their religions and gods, but all that the Kangaroos have is beer, cigars, body fat, and odour none of which are even miles close to the almighty. It's just one screwed up continent, in the middle of nowhere, extirpating which will hardly make any difference to anyone. It would serve the Assies right for beating Indians and having smaller brains than a peanut. They are after all the direct descendants of the orangutans. So god, just show them the door, just as you did to the dinosaurs.

He could annhilate all the hateful celebraties next. Just put your choices in the list. They don't deserve the live anyways. So just do away with them and help the society! There are some more people who I'd rather not mention, afraid of getting sued. The rest is up to him actually. I just had it against these two.

But that's not it. I'd really fly off the handle if god decided to kill me in such a short period of time. I didn't waste years educating myself just to get flattened out in the end. I study for all my life, and end up as road grease. No way. If he does it, I'll make sure my damnest that I come back to haunt him.
I would be pissed off because I wouldn't get to watch any more football world cups, which by the way, is a well justified reason. I want to see England get redemption, which I don't think will happen if we all get creamed by god's idea of a practical joke. No table tennis, blogging, books, friends, movies, CRAZY PISSED OFF.

On the other hand, I'd be happy too. I'm pretty much sure, I would die laughing looking at the faces of the people who worked the final years of their life to get into IIT, but ended up in a grave instead. How funny would that be? 'Take that, losers. Get into IIT now!' I'm not a sadist. But yes, I would find that extremely farcical if that happened. No offence please. Another reason I would like the demolition is that it'll help clear the population of all dysfunctional people. We could really do without politicians, models, bad actors, and the all others' whose only purpose ever in life has been increasing the population. No wonder we have got over 5 billion people!

But as the end nears, I think I'd rather die pissed off and not happy, because who wants to die when they are happy? I'd rather get run over by a train when I want to, than when I'm all smiles and eating a burger. See the thing. I don't my body to have a ridiculous grin when it's being lowered into the grave. No thank you.
And I request all people, to stop saying save the earth it's causing 2012 and all, because the earth doesn't need us to save it. It can take care of itself. We should rather say save ourself, the earth will do just fine.

Celladdiction

2010-07-01T21:58:00.000+05:30

I don't like cell phones. I accept it. And it's not just my cell phone I'm talking about. I hate all cell phones with equal disdain. No prejudice there. And all the people who are glued to it, like a constipated man to the toilet seat, I sincerely dislike you too. No hurt sentiments please. I'm just being frank here.

The cell phone was devised as this instrument to talk and message when necessary. I specify when necessary because some people just don't seem to get it with all the cell radioactivity floating around their think skull. It's not meant to talk and message so much that some person gets so antagonized and writes something like this. The cell makes too much noise for my liking, doesn't provide me a much needed moment of peace, and worst of all has got me hooked. So let me just let it all out, before I turn my attention back to it again.

The thing that I find most abhorrent about cell phones is that they never stop ringing. Day and night just ringringring non stop with no breaks leaving me feeling so agitated that I want to throw it away but can't because it has been gifted me by my parents and somewhere deep down inside know it that I need it too finally out of spite just switch its damn self off. The peace that gives is beyond words, maybe because I'm asleep then. I might sound all hysterical, because I AM! That demented thing, has taken over my life like gastroenteritis has taken over the people. What if cellphones are just a scam run by the doctors? What if all doctors just came together and decided to make mobiles so that people could suffer from heart, hearing, brain problems, and do what not mumbo jumbo to your nerves and immune systems which would in turn increase their profits? Are we ready to face that fact? And if that really is the case, then who all are actually ready to give up their cell phones? See, NO ONE! People would rather die with cells in their hands or noses or wherever with no brain, a deaf ear, and a still heart, than live without it. Face it my friends. Cell phones were actually made by the devil to use it as an instrument with which he would be able to brainwash and forcefully recruit us to help defeat god. Trust me.

One of the other eleventy million bad things about a cell phone is that it self adveritses itself. When you call a person the phone leaves a number behind, like a bird dropping, encouraging the person you called to call you back which he invariably does. The messages are also made in such a way which compels the reader to message back, only to the benefit of the service providers. "If you don't forward this lucky underwear to 13 people, you are going to be cursed and will repent it your entire life." Well, go to hell. Cursed be you. If you want to be so lucky, just send it from my side too. Why don't you wear the underwear on your head and roam about the city? That should definitely make you lucky! Dunderheads. And never ever send me such messages again, unless "you want to repent it your entire life." Driving me insane.

Everywhere you go, you hear people speaking in loud voices over their phones. No one seems to understand how much it gets under a persons skin. One day I'm surely thrust a cellphone down someones throat, call him and say, 'NOW SPEAK TRASHHEAD! SPEAK NOW!' Someday, definitely.

Well, that'll be it for now. Someone's calling me. And there it goes,
"Do you know your enemy
Do you know your enemy
Well gotta...."

Oh yes I do, you nitiwit. And it rings again. *pissed off. *

Anyone up there?

2010-06-30T13:34:00.001+05:30

After continually abusing and humiliating disasters like twilight and miley cyrus, I figured that it was time for some change. Let's talk something serious this time. Maybe you won't like it, but too bad.

The existence of god is surely one of the most debated upon phenomenon. Is there really anyone up there? Someone who's watching everything, like on one great big plasma tv. As humans we stand divided on this issue. The atheists say no, the agnostics remain confused, while the remaining wholeheartedly believe in Him. Being an agnostic, I stand somewhere in the middle, musing over his existence. Was someone called Ram really there, who befriended apes, and walked across the country in chaddi baniyan, only to find his wife, or is it just the biggest prank of the millenia? I'm no one to question the powers of the almighty with such impunity. I just want to know whether he exists or not!

As an agnostic, there are times when I do believe in him. Whenever I feel that I have been been officially screwed, the entire concept of God seems a lot more plausible. My ears start resounding with the names of the various avatars of Vishnu. A voice in my head says,' Ah ha. Should've kept faith in me buddy.' At such moments my head looks up of its own accord, searching for the guy who said that. But when things aren't going my way and I'm all pissed off and all, I ask myself, who is god? And where the hell is he? Isn't he supposed to be this saviour kind of person full of benevolence? Well, he certainly ain't doing his job! Next on my to-do sue list!

To the atheistical side of me, the whole concept of Jesus, Krishna and Allah seems a little absurd. The stories seem even more farfetched than Harry Potter. Who would ever believe that there was a time when shirtless warriors dressed in awkward little gay pants would ride chariots killing each other with magical mantras and arrows? Or there was a dude, who was disowned by his parents because he thought that he was the son of god, roamed about the street showing magic tricks to people and was impaled, but showed up again one fine friday afternoon claimed to be god. Are we like really expected to have faith in all this kind of shit? If yes then sure, pigs fly and robert pattinson is not a faggot. But come on. We know better than this, don't we? If they really were gods, then why did their production stop now? Was their dad like, 'Ok. No more gods now. I'm out of the z chromosome?' I don't see anymore messiahs wandering the streets now. Maybe they just stashed them all in the asylums. I would certainly think that a person were mad if a he had an elephant's head and came swinging his trunk calling himself god (no relevence to Lord Ganesh, by the way. Just a coincidence.) Or if a blue skinned person, wearing badly cut tiger skin lowers, danced like a homicidal psychopath with a snake hung around his neck (another coincidence.)
And if by some minute possibililty say they do exist, then who decides who gets to be a god? Did they have an option where they could choose human or weirdo, and only the demented ones taking the latter? What if this whole abstraction of god if nothing more than a puerile fairy tale, a creation of an unhinged man with schezophrenia or something? Have you ever thought about it that way? The faith of over the half of the worlds' population could prove to be wrong then. No talking monkeys, no baby-boy elephant combos, no such thing as GOD. Atheists win.

But that's the atheistical part of me. The non believer. As an agnostic, there is obviously a flipside. *The other side, the other side, the other side of... Oh damn you Hannah Wannabe-tana! *
Maybe gods do exist, but not in the hyped about form that we know them to be. Just like a normal human being. Or maybe he just resides in us, guiding us... Oh cut the crap.
Here's the thing. There is god or no god. I don't know. All the Ramdeo babas with gorilla hair have faith in Him and believe that he is there, residing in us or some godforsaken place yet to be found. But that's none of our business. Let him stay wherever he wants to. One the other hand are the scientific smartasses who claim that they know everything, disclaiming his presence. They have never seen beyond their microscopes you can't completely trust what they say.

In the end the call is still yours. Those who have faith in him, please continue doing so. Don't let my words of wisdom affect you. Ignorance is bliss they say. Those who don't, well and good. Don't let my words of wisdom affect you. Ignorance is bliss they say. So whatever the case maybe, if things are going good, then whatsoever you believe in, it's working for you.

As for me. If He's there and He reads it, I hope he doesn't mind atheistical part. But just in case: JAI RAM JI KI!

A place called Deogiri

2010-06-28T22:23:00.001+05:30

After doing my 10th from a good school like Nath Valley I'm going for further education to a place called Deogiri (pronounced Dyyyogiri) Mahavidyalay. Except that there's no education there. And I'm not going. Let me explain.

I think this is where they got the phrase 'looks could be be deceptive' comes from. Because the college looks good enough from the outside. Period. That's the only good thing about the damn place. Once you go in, you get the entire picture. The administrative people couldn't be more obnoxious. They have no clue what to do when a person comes to take admission. A normal insituition would do what they say give admission. But nope. Deogiri doesn't want THAT tag on them. They just behave stupid. Inexplicably stupid. I went one day to get a registration form and here's an excerpt from the conversation, dubbed of course to make it seem saner.

Me- I would like to know where I could get a registration from
Stupid man- Hyave you result come out?
Me- Yes
Stupid man- Howw that?
Me- Huh?
Stupid man- Howw did result come?
Me- I'm from CBSE board *What are you saying moron?*
Stupid man- You not SSC board?
Me- No. *I just said that I'm from the CBSE board*
Stupid man- Hyave the SSC result come out?
Me- No
Stupid man- Whyen will out?
Me- I don't know
Stupid man- But you result hyave come?
Me- Yes *That's the first question you asked!*
Stupid man- The SSC result out?
Me- No *Dork*
Stupid man- What you want ?
Me- Registration form *blank stare*
Stupid man- The SSC result out?
Me- no *WTF!?*
Stupid man- How cyan you gyet the registration forum?
Me- My friend got it
Stupid man- The results hyave come not na yet?
Me- no *FO*
Stupid man- Then no form. Come whyen results. Later.
Me- ok. *You dumbass, I'm so going to kill you*

There are such kinds of jerks present there. No english, no respect, no dignity, and no brain. You got to pay a parking fees to park vehicles. If you don't park it in the parking you get your tires punctured. The population of the college seems to be endless. You get all types of people from the stereotypical gundas, to the weird nerds. The college has its own gangs, consisting of fathers and uncles who are still studying and were unable to pass for all these years. The people are jealous of the strangest of things like speaking english or talking to a girl, maybe because they cannot do neither.And you can't complain to the authorities because they are scared as hell and would rather shit in their pants than do anything about the gangs. The benches and tables are broken. The smell as good as a public toilet Simply a bad place to be.

So after the SSC result finally came out, I went again to take the registration form. I go on one counter, he says go on the next counter, that person says go on the previous counter and I do get the form from the first counter I went to! Then I fill out the form and take another form for the subject I'm taking. After roaming like a hobo (not homo) from counter to counter, I finally get the form and it's got all kinds of weird shit I have no idea about. With some help and difficulty I manage to fill the forms out. But I have to wait another day to submit them because I am a few minutes too late. They just don't seem to get the point that I stay at the other end of the city and it's crazy coming back all the way the next day. So I spent the day filling out shit forms, meeting shit people, in a shit place, and with no food, for this! And that's just the beginning. Trust me. Taking admission is a lot more shittier, with a lot shittier people. You have to provide them with enough information to complete an encyclopedia. And they make you come to the place for admissions every single day. You ask for something and they say:

Stupid man- Come tomorrow
Me- YOUR FATHER DOESN'T PROVIDE THE BLOODY PETROL! *pissed off*

But for one thing I'll glady thank god. I don't have to attend college except for perhaps the exams. So once I do get admission I don't think I'll be going there for another year or so. Thankfully.
The experience wasn't completely worthless. I learnt a few things, like why the place is called deogiri. Deo is marathi means god. That's right, only the gods can save them.

Sue You!

2010-06-28T18:28:00.000+05:30

I've always thought what fun it must be going around suing people. Showing people their rightful place and shoving it in their face. Sounds cool. So far so, I've even made a list of to-do sues'. And don't be shocked, because you'll be a real loser if you do, Stephanie Meyer, and the makers of the Twilight series shit top the list. As if I even need to justify.

The thing (censored), sucks so hard and is so dead bait horrendously boring that I'm obviously going to sue them for attemped homicide. They could've bored me to death, nearly succeeding. After seeing the thing (censored), my eyes have never been the same again, bringing in charges for physical abuse. Everything seems to glitter in the sun now, courtesy- Edward Cullen. Cullen, you are so dead. Oh sorry, somebody already did the honours, you sparkling, lifeless, cold blooded freak. My poor eyes. Ow... And somewhere down the line I'll also slam charges for emotional harassement because I never really have been able to recover from the emotional trauma I suffered after I endured the book and movie. Shirtless werewolves, hissing vampires, and the constant absence of light and life, have scarred my mind, perhaps forever, bringing in more charges. You are so sued twilight and associated content.

Featuring second on the list is BSNL aka. Bharat Sanchar Nigam Limited (what were they thinking?!). The company is unforgivabely heinous or unbelievably stupid, both reaons enough to get its butt dragged to the court. Never in my life have I been able to enjoy a dream called fast and uninturrepted internet, which they supposedly are supposed to give. Never. And their outrageous schemes like 2 mbps superspeed, which have never been converted into a reality will also get the charge of false claims stuck on them. The staff couldn't be less helpful and I plan to sue them for sheer brainlesness.
Their telecommunications department is also a disaster. They gave practically no sensible schemes to customers. Non existent range. And pathetic customer care. I have suffered so many torturous hours both online and on the phone due to this damn thing, that if I could practically sue it for doing nothing. Ever.

Next in line, is Miley Cyrus or Hannah Montana or shithead or whatever the hell her name is. Now here is a girl who can't sing. No way. Her voice is like that coming from a goats backside (some simile, eh?). I'm going to haul her to court for physical abuse, again. I think I've burst a eardrum, thanks to what she calls 'singing.' Everytime I see the godforsaken show or listen to her goats backside voice, I'm nearly driven to the point of senility and suicide. You can't sing so you start a stupid show in which you wear a wig and chase boys like a horny philander, which in turn proves that you can't sing. A little too depressing for my taste. So then again I'm charging her for abetting suicide. That could get her lifeterm and shut her goddamned mouth, once and for all. Sing now, with your goats backside voice!

Grabbing the fourth spot are the Narayana IIT classes guys (pronounced gays), held accountable for a number of reasons. They didn't know how to teach. I simply didn't get my moneys worth. Hell no. It was thievery I'd say, which is darn right a punishable offence. Put them behind bars for a few years and they'd learn their lesson. The guys, as I've said, were also gays. And at that time section 377 penalised people for such behaviour. So all the hugging and kissing of boys they did, gives me the right to subpoen them with these charges. Though it has been two years for this, revenge is a dish best served cold.

A lot more people feautre in this list, including:
1. Hotel Ajanta Ambassador for poisoning me with exessive chlorine in their pool.
2 The makers of Hungama channel for relentlessly showing end hours of crap varying from speaking cat robots, to an over perveted seven year old combined with painful dubbing and horrid names like tongari and buta gorira.
3. And so on.
Well, that's it for now. So till then and forever. Sue 'em. Sue 'em hard

Interview

2010-06-28T17:37:00.001+05:30

Me- Ladies and gentlemen I present before you an interview with two members from the cast of twilight. The first one with us will be the GIANT SUCKER, Edward Cullen aka. Robert Pattinson.
Rob- Thank you...
Me- So Rob, what made you play the role of Edward in Twilight?
Rob- As you know I'm really desperate for movies. I haven't done any movie after Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, where I acted so bad, that they eventually had to kill me. So this was a good break. Acting a gay vampire.
Me- Oh yes, it comes naturally to you doesn't it?
Rob- *Laughs* How true. But sadly in the movie they put that gooey ball called Kirsten Stewart opposite me. So I couldn't show my true talent. I was hoping that James the vampire could have been given the role. I even kissed him on the neck in the movie, if you remember.
Me- How could we forget. We had nightmares for weeks after that.
Rob- Classy acting, huh? Though I wouldn't call it so. I was born with it. My name was actually Gaybert Pattinson.
* ''Ohhh'' from the girls in the audience. "Ahhh" from the gays. "HAHAHA" from the guys.*
Me- I am surprised we didn't realize it earlier. Was kind of obvious though. So tell me about your experiences while shooting the film.
Rob- Oh it was just fabulous. From kissing James on the neck, to see the werewolf remove his shirt. We had 48 retakes for the neck kiss scene. I kept doing it wrong on purpose. You know me...
Me- How well we know you now. Now beyond the movie. How were you as a kid?
Rob- A rabid homo from heart. I loved playing doctor doctor, especially with the guys.
* ''Ohhh'' from the girls in the audience. "Ahhh" from the gays. "HAHAHA" from the guys.*
Me- And were your mom and dad happy with it?
Rob- What 'mom'? I have two dads!
Me- Oh nice... If you weren't an actor what would you do?
Rob- I'd be a playboy. In todays world gay ones are really rare.
Me- What do you do in your free time Rob?
Rob- Why don't you ask that to Bob. He knows it best. Hey Bobby darling come over here man.
Me- No. No need to call him, Robert. That's it for today. Anything you'd say to the audience?
Rob- Love you guys. Muah!
* ''Ohhh'' from the girls in the audience. "Ahhh" from the gays. "HAHAHA" from the guys.*

Me- After that gay and cheerful interview, coming up next, ladies and gentlemen, the lifeless blob of mass, it's Kirsten Stewart aka. Bella Something.
Bella- Hello *indistinctive murmur*
Me- So Kirsten how was it acting in Twilight, with the ladies heart throb Robert Pattinson?
Bella- I got to kiss Robert. I got to kiss. Yeahiee, I kissed him!! In your face you all the other girls. Igottokisshim!!!
Me- Yeah, okay. Calm down.
*Slumps back in her seat*
Me- Now tell me, what things did you learn from your twilight experience?
Bella- *Indistinctive murmur*
Me- Could you be a little louder please?
Bella- What.. I... did learn.. Is that.. I'm an absolutely... lifeless person. I'm hopeless... *trails off*
Me- True that. Couldn't have put it more aptly. What's your favourite activity besides acting?
Bella- Getting bitten my hawt vampires.
Me- Do you really believe in vampires?
Bella- Of yesss. Edward is a vampire. My child is a vampire. The camera man is a vampire. George Bush is a vampire. YOU ARE A VAMPIRE!! Bite me! BITE ME!!
Me- Woah woah woah! Calm down you crazy piece of shit.
*She slumps back again*
Me- Ok. One last question. Anything for the audience?
Bella- Edward is a vampire... Shhh...
*Goes off leaping and howling, 'I kissed him. I kissed Robert. I ki...*

Me- So that's it for tonight folks. Smell ya later.
*Backstage. On the phone*
Me- Mum, can we have a sumo wrestler for dinner tonight. I'm starved.