Marital Piss

There comes a stage in every male loser's life where he needs to start browsing through matrimonial websites for a potential bride since he did not have the balls to go out and score himself a chick. I am going through that process now. Hell, a little self-deprecation never really did hurt no one!

So, yeah, matrimonial websites. I think this is a place where the rudest people have an account. The website itself gives you cheesy tags like "Express Interest", "Dislike", "Dislike with message" and the like. Of course, I never really got to "Disliking" anyone since I have always been "Disliked" immediately after I "Liked" someone! Anyway, God has funny ways of humouring himself. Be that as it may, these girls and their parents think no end of themselves. When one sends in a "like" request, these buggers take five hundred days to respond with a "Sorry Sir, but I don't think the horoscopes match". What the fuck! It took you five hundred days to say that? And, are you living in 1856 to be matching horoscopes? When the celestial bodies say that the boy and girl are not suited for each other, you hang on to it as if it was a pearl of wisdom. But, if the same celestial body declares that from tomorrow you are going to suffer from diarrhea for the rest of your life, you say, "Oh, I don't believe in that crap". Bloody hypocrites.

The weirdest answer I got was that the "girl was not ready". FUCK! Why the fuck did you put up her profile on the website then? It's not like she was super hot or anything. Even for this, the attitude is too much, I reckon. Anyway, the description on the profile is even more annoying. Typically, every parent HAS to mention, "..we are looking for a boy who is cultured and has good values..". So what is the benchmark for that? I can proudly declare that I ate my chocolate bar with a knife and fork (just like our very lovable George Costanza). So, does that make me cultured? Or are you looking for someone who consumes cultured fat? What do you mean by good values? Does it entail putting salaam to uncles and aunties? Does it mean that I shut my trap when elders are talking (or bitching about someone)? If I were to do this, then you will label me as subservient. If I were to open my trap and disagree with their one track opinions, you will label me as pompous and arrogant. So where the fuck do I draw the line? More-so, who the fuck gave you the authority to judge me?

Secondly, every profile indicates that smoking and consuming alcohol is an absolute no-no! Why the kolaveri against this? I can see your daughter's profile photo right outside a pub. Did she go there to find out what soft drinks are being served? So, you think if I emit a couple of puffs and down a few cold ones, I am the baddest guy around? Or the most annoying? Even more than Shah Rukh Khan?? That is a personal insult!

Thirdly, if the girl says that she would like to get to know the guy, be an ideal partner to the guy, respect his family, give her space, take my space, how the fuck do you hope to achieve this if you do not respond to the guy's interest?? Just like your space, you think the guy is going to drop from space? And, even if you do land up talking to someone, you dismiss him after a couple of calls saying, "we are not a match for each other". So you expect me to be all chivalrous and accept that I have just been KLPD'd?? Well, screw you. I already had plans of rejecting you. You just made it easier for me! My male ego will only get more inflated and I ain't gonna mess with that shit.

So, in effect, whenever I see male animals trying to impress a female on National Geographic, I think of myself. Well, at least that bird-of-paradise got his female by showing off his colours. And I am sitting here writing this. Fuck, sixth sense FAIL!

PS: This is not a rant. I know I am awesome!

Serenity

As someone who pays attention to the little details in life, I am inclined to write this. Perhaps, this might not be coherent or dainty but will attempt to entail a certain part of your mental make-up called comfort. I have been thinking about this area for sometime now. What does one mean when he talks about his comfort and the zone it belongs to? Various points come to mind.

First and foremost, I feel a sense of "belonging" to this zone. There is a warm reassurance of this space and being. The mind and body suddenly relax and a goodness factor creeps in. I am not able to pen the words to this feeling exactly and, neither can I quantify it. What I can say is that I want to relate to this feeling far more than I do presently.

Secondly, this space is yours, and just yours. This again re-affirms the sense of "belonging" that I mentioned earlier. Suddenly, the fast paced world stops and your world is now limited only to this space. It is as if the mind now gets events at a much slower rate to assimilate and process. And, it does that so beautifully! I get a feeling of focus when everything else gets shut out.

Thirdly, this state is completely pre-emptive. It just comes. While reading something that inspires, while sitting in the office cubicle when everyone has left work, while travelling alone, while lying in bed, listening to music in the darkness of the night, and so on. And, it is more frequent at night when all else is quiet.

In this state, everything around you assumes a meaning, a presence that you do not notice otherwise. You feel good about the stillness of the air, the silence of sound, the absence of man, the sound of waves, the darkness of the night, stillness of water. These are moments that entails your conversation with your mind. Free of chaos, free of din, free of noise, free of people. Little things around you take precedence. Dew on a leaf, water droplets on the window, a cup of tea, green fields, last rows on an aircraft, a book, rain drops, a table lamp that lights a desk space and so forth.

It is very hard to shut one's self out from the commotion that one is subjected to. Perhaps, that is why I get pleasure from these little things. Though few and far in-between, these moments of alone-ness are rejuvinating. What if the world were full of it?

People may argue that one needs to turn into a monk to achieve this state of impasse. And, it would be impractical to be always surrounded by a bubble and not adjust to change. Perhaps, that is the point of contention itself. Are we going to be eventually embedded in this struggle, in this rat race? No wordly pleasure can match the few moments of joy the mind gets when all else has lost focus....

Adieu To Emotion

How and where does one begin to write about someone who has been a moral part of one's self? I do not intend to post laurels on Rahul Dravid or on his journey into the pantheon of greatness. That, is a subject best handled by journalists and biographers much more qualified than me. And, by those, who weave magic with the sanctity of the written word. Much like RD did with his willow. Instead, I wish to take you though a life-journey..

I did not watch RD's debut innings at Lord's partly because I was struggling with lessons in school and partly because my affection towards cricket at that stage was only playing it and nothing else. So my journey with RD (or perhaps, the other way around), began at a time when he was a "nervous nineties" batsman. Everything about him looked impeccable on the 22 till that point (or, it's near-about). For all the times, Lady Luck did not feel sorry for him, a part of me did. The analogy of studying so hard for an exam but failing to make the upper-cut often came up (of course, such was the maturity at that stage). Little by little, I became part of that struggle, his anguish and his long walks back to the pavilion, head held down...

Fast forward a year, I was busy studying for my tenth class board exams. It was during this time, the Indian cricket team was scheduled to leave for South Africa. I can still recall the advertisement represented by the players with Noble Savages' "I'm an Indian" as a background score. RD's line in that ad was, "Catch us in action in South Africa". The game of cricket reached The Wanderers and I was in the middle of a Chemistry tuition class. Acids were being mixed with alkalis and salts were being produced. My chemistry teacher, Mr.Khade was a remarkable man. He was an avid fan of the game and used to mute the television while ranting out chemical equations, all the while keeping an eye on the match and score. It was during this class, RD approached his eighties on a spicy wicket against a stellar pace attack. Suddenly, Mr.Khade stopped chemistry and focused his attention completely on the match, un-muting the television. Joy knew no bounds when we closed our notebooks and turned our interest to the same. I recall muttering a small prayer to enable RD to end his quest. Eighties turned to nineties and his guardian angel broke free from her shackles and wrapped him under her wing. Perhaps, she had heard my prayer. From then on, RD played like a man possessed! Cuts, drives, pulls, glides were unleashed in all their resplendent glory. He had completed his first spiritual quest. I somehow cannot recall how he got there, but I can never forget the image of his head looking up to the heavens and his bat raised in acknowledgement. While acids and bases continued to yield salts, patience and grit yielded a memorable milestone. I do not remember how I fared in Chemistry but I remember being bathed in that magic moment.

As an adolescent kid with new found charm of junior college, bunking classes was something I took great personal pride in. To me, it was the epitome of rebellion, it was Pink Floyd's magnificence playing with hormones. I would rush home early on Fridays to join my friends in colony cricket. We used to play into the wee hours of the night. The games constituted two phases. Proper "over-arm" cricket outdoors followed by a quick scamper home for meals. This was followed by throw-down matches in the building lobby (Bhatta cricket as it was called in Mumbai). These games were tense. Ten people crammed in a small area with the following rules:

1. If you were caught on the first bounce, you were declared out
2. If you had hit the ball directly on any building wall, you were declared out
3. If you had padded the ball more than once in an over, you were declared out (this led to considerable debate too!)
4. If you had edged the ball onto the back wall (which served as the wicket), you were declared out

So, with these in place, accompanied by a first slip, second slip, silly point, forward short leg, very short mid-on and mid-off and the bowler, the batsman took guard. The aim of this exercise was not to score runs (we did not bother keeping any), but to survive hostile pace. A batsman was not bound by number of overs but could just keep playing till he got out. The approach I took while playing these games was to leave the ball outside the off-stump irrespective of how close it was. Over time, I got pretty good at knowing where my off-stump lay. I once had the pleasure of surviving nearly ten overs and, to this day, it has been the most satisfying and adrenalin-rushing stay at the crease. During these glorious days, RD's concentration and dogged defense became a part of me...

Fast forward another year, I was in Bengaluru, slated to appear for the Karnataka engineering entrance examination. India was playing Sri Lanka at the World Cup at Taunton,England. Exams were forgotten. We were five, sitting in a tiny room glued to the television as two of India's young green-horns launched a superlative counter-attack. Perhaps, if God was induced into taking revenge for what had happened three years ago, this was how He would have done it. I shall never forget that period of play, or the cozy blankets, tasty tea or the re-assuring comfort of that room. Suddenly, all was well. It was at this moment RD's grit and struggle became a part of me...

Over the years, I tried to ape him in every possible way. I used to wear collared T-shirts to games so that I could raise the collar. I started listening to Sting. I used to take guard, left foot first in line with the leg stump, followed by a couple of taps of the bat on the ground and then position the right foot (something I do even today, when I get a chance to play). I used to close my lips while making contact with the ball. I always manned forward short leg in the lobby games. I tried to defend more than attack and took great pride in taking the single so that more flamboyant players could play their strokes. I always used to hit along the ground. I used to shadow practice after playing each ball. Needless to say, I failed quite miserably in these attempts!

The grind of technical education preceded higher studies and professional work. I tried to find a balance between honing analytical skills and psychological ramblings, between sharing wonderful boisterous moments with friends and quiet introspection, between rationality and insanity, between practicality and instinct. It is during this stage of my life that RD became a part of me...

Today, I saw good part of my life flash by. For this, I am grateful to RD. I am grateful for the memories. I am grateful for the dignity, spirit, respect, conduct, character and altruistic romance for the game and it's traditions. Above all else, for shaping my thought, I am grateful for RD. Goodbye and good luck. They do not come like you anymore. You will always be a treasure....

PS: The repeated use of "I" is by no means an attempt to focus this article on me, but rather, point to the influence RD has on "I"

Overdose and Overkill

There is a nice statement that is flung out on one of the Harry Potter movies. It goes something like this, "Fame is a fickle friend. Celebrity is as celebrity does". While this statement may sound quite attractive, in real life, the actual enactment of this is just causing intolerable pain to the poor citizen.

The celebrity seems to be everywhere now. I can understand if he restricts himself to his movies. The ideal case scenario would be act your ass off in-front of the camera and let the public decide on the judgement. But instead, he seems to be in a state of constant self-promotion like a two-cent whore. He endorses cola drinks, sodas, music cds, fruit drinks, consumer electronics, toothpaste, shaving cream, why, even state tourism. Why is this constant need of attention pinching your arse? More importantly, why are you determined to make us pinch ours and wince in pain?

If the poor people thought that self-promoting via advertisements is enough, they are in for a rude shock. Because, now the celebrity is free-whoring on TV shows, internet feeds, facebook and for fucking God's sake, even on news channels. All he does is rant and repeat the same shit of how fortunate he was to land up on the assignment, on how important his fans' support is. Balls. No one gives a rat's ass how you got your movie assignment. You just fucking got lucky. And don't worry, no fan is interested in what toothpaste you use for which tooth. We know that you are selling yourself for cheap publicity for which we just don't give a fuck about.

What's with the constant re-affirmation that you are the most down-to-earth human there is? Are you trying to convince us? You know shit about the stark realities of life. So, don't come to us with your caring, humane pretense to tell us you feel our pain. Fuck you! You feel shit. At-least, try to put in a good act so that you can boast about your actual acting skills. Oh, I'm sorry, if you knew how to act, you would not have to sleep around in the first place to prove yourself. And, what's with these fake "Achievement Awards" you get? What the fuck for? You better not declare that you have earned it. I can show you a million people who deserve it more than you. So, don your designer shades and go pleasure yourself somewhere else. Speaking of which, why the fuck do you need to wear shades in the dark. Are you a retard? I am amazed that you don't knock something over and land on shit. Maybe you can put this feat on your Resume. It will atleast ensure that you will earn your shades irrespective of whether you will earn respect.

Speaking of respect, give some while trying to mimic local dialects. Just because you dress up like a baboon and shout, "Enna rascala" does not mean you got it right. If you had bothered to do your homework, you will find that no Tamilian even talks with that annoying accent. And, mind you, it's TAMILIAN, and not Madrasi! Same's the case with your cheap imitation of a "Ayyo Rama" and the like. For fuck's sake, don't ever say it out loud in front of a Madrasi lest you want your fledgling biceps to be pulled out.

Just when I thought you would sink no further, you went and branded a fragrance line. Do you think all of us are retards like you? Tell me this, which jackass with a semblance of sanity will buy a perfume/product when the focus is on your sorry-ass face? If the director of the advertisement asked you to pose for the bottle, where the fuck did your brains go? Did you leave it with your shades in the glove-box of your big-ass SUV?

I also see that you seem to be quite tech savvy these days. You seem to be blogging and tweeting messages to endorse your opinions on every subject, right from politics to sports, from current affairs to your own affairs? Seriously? Did you pause for a milli-second and realize that your opinion matters to something as redundant as the hair on my privates? So, get a hold on yourself and stop wallowing in self-pity that someone, somewhere raised a question about your credibility. Stop giving your fake aggression there.

If you want to contribute to something, take the effort to do it on your own time and you own space. Don't fucking publicize it to the whole world. Do it gracefully, or is that too much to ask? If you want to opinionate on something, get your personal life in order first. Don't come and give your thoughts on matters relating to violence, values, culture and tradition when you land up knocking the shit out of the bartender, causing havoc in an inebriated state at some party organized by your kith. Speaking of parties, you don't have to flaunt your birthday to the whole world when there are those who don't even know theirs. Even if you want it, do it behind closed doors and not for the cheap publicity.

Work for something you believe in. Not because you are getting millions to promote that something. And, for God's sake lose the attitude, arrogance and contempt that you so freely display. So what the fuck if it is an old idea? Gone are the days when people with sane minds blindly purchase the product you endorse. Deal with that, bitch!

Celebrity is as celebrity does...my ass! It not long before fame returns to knock the shit out of that pretense attitude.

P.S:If you think the female celebrity gets a respite sorry to deflate your ego. You have indeed proved that you are just a dumb bimbette!

An Open Letter

This comes at a time when, under hushed tones, sections of the media are baying for your blood...People who have never held a cricket bat are calling you out to hang up your boots out of a misplaced sense of media marketing and "breaking-news". And they seem to be doing it without any remorse, thinking only of the TRP ratings for their channels.

Suddenly, everyone has forgotten all that you have brought to us. For a very few, playing to win matches for your country is one aspect but you have given us much more. You have shown that qualities like pride, hope, courage and, dedication do really exist and have tried to encourage us to inculcate them in our daily lives. Each time you step onto the field, to represent your country, you have shown us that these qualities can be applied beyond the boundary ropes, in our lives. I can only think of our brave soldiers, besides you, who invoke these qualities as they stake claim to our security by offering their lives. Sadly, most of us are not made aware of the sacrifices they make to protect our sovereign integrity. So, we have to make do with you...

Suddenly, everyone appears to be questioning your integrity for a new "headline" to pop up every few minutes. Panic buttons are being pressed, one moment, the media claims that the team has let millions down while the very next moment, individuals like you are being singled out. Have they forgotten the number of times you have bailed the team out in the past? Have they forgotten the immense discipline you have displayed while making so many personal sacrifices for the team?

Suddenly, people want to infuse brash, callous. young blood into the team at your expense. Do they not realize the depth of the void this would create? Do they not realize, for these modern-age players, to carry your mantle forward, they need tutelage from you? Do they not realize, for all the combined laurels you have brought to the game and country, you have earned the right to call it a day and ride into the sunset?

A few of us would like to remember you for the humility and grace with which you have conducted yourself. We have tried to ape your game sometimes in our colony games but on most other counts, we have tried to live our existence based on the ideals and values you have set, for respect, charm, discipline are qualities not learnt or developed, but are in-built into the Indian middle-class strata of the Seventies and Eighties. The few of us cannot see ourselves identifying with the current "next-generation" of players and perhaps, no amount of their valour can change this view.

Amidst all this furore for your heads, you have maintained dignified silence. Please consider this earnest request to throw in your towels because the cynical world does not need you. It does not recognize the purity and innocence of your selfless services. This gentleman's game, which you have held so closely to your hearts is vanishing and as it's last dying breed of custodians, it will only be prudent for you to do the same. Retract from all of us into the darkness...for the remaining few of us, will accept this with a heavy heart. We may or may not have succeeded in emulating some your qualities in our lives but we are ready to acknowledge this our personal shortcoming to thank you for all you have done for us....

With utmost respect...

The Dark Knight

This is the first time I am writing about Rahul Dravid. There have been countless articles written about him and boy, what articles they have been! Two stand out in my opinion. A couple of superb tributes can be found here and here another similarly titled one here. I have attempted (albeit, only an attempt) to draw some inspiration from them for this one.

The fourth test match between India and England is in progress at The Oval as I pen this. The post-tea session on the fourth day to be exact. After spending around five hours at the middle, he had seen it all. The entire Indian team collapsed in front of him in the first inning. After carrying his bat, he was soon to walk out to open once again in the second inning. All in a space of around ten minutes!

Much has been written about Dravid. Some very poignant, some philosophical, some statistical, some euphoric and some motivating. For fifteen years, he has been my symbol for hope. When I needed to put in that extra hour of studies, I thought of Dravid. In all my failures, I thought of Dravid. After hard earned success, I thought of Dravid. When all else has gone against me, I think of Dravid...

To me, he is the pinnacle of struggle. He is the pinnacle of mastering that struggle. He is the unsung hero. When the night is dark, Dravid sticks his neck out and waits for the Light. When in the midst of the storm, Dravid waits for the calm. When the opposition attacks, Dravid waits. When all else is lost, Dravid waits...

Much like the pensioner who waits for the red tape to sanction his money, like the anxious man who waits for the birth of his child, like the school kids who wait for their exam results, like the Indian citizen who waits for the end of corruption, we all wait like Dravid. To me that's why Dravid is so special. His heroics so clearly relate to the struggle we undergo in our daily lives. We might succeed, we might fail, but, we wait. We can dream of emulating a Sachin Tendulkar but we can hope to live like Rahul Dravid. And to me, that is the greatest tribute I can pay to the man!

I have taken utmost care not to bring any statistical data into this. Nor any comparison. This is an article dedicated to Rahul Dravid and only him. It is my view on the amount of sacrifices he has made for the cause of the country. It is my view on how he is the backbone for the Indian team. It is my view on how he has always been the backstage artist for many a theatrical masterpiece. It is my view on how his on-field valor has scripted my pre and post-adolescent life.

Amidst all this contemplation and thought, Rahul Dravid takes guard and waits....

Cool Comfort

I have now realized that being cool and feeling cool are completely different things. I know of a good set of close friends, who, wholly fit into the "being cool" category. Having said that, I can say with certainty that, these good people will swear by their grave that being cool is not one of my traits. Believe you me, I have tried. But I'm just not cut out for it and I have made my peace with that!

But, feeling cool....that's an entirely different thing. There have been plenty of occasions in my life where I have felt cool, as if all the problems were lifted off my shoulders. And, for a fleeting moment, I made my place in my own limelight!

I shall attempt to, in this blog, take you through this journey which pretty much spans across my life thus far. Don't be surprised if you call some of my own, yours too!

-> Elevated to drinking coffee or tea instead of Bournvita
-> Wearing full trousers to school
-> First bicycle gang with friends
-> Lead actor in neighbourhood play (still fancy the lead actress :))
-> First dinner using fork and knife
-> Use of a tie outside of school
-> Cheering by classmates during farewell party speech in college
-> First cricket bat
-> First air-guitar imitation
-> First travel by air
-> First pair of shades (yes, those free ones with Rasna!)
-> Standing in front of the riders' seat on a scooter
-> First shave (and the stinging after-shave)
-> Coloured clothes to school on birthdays
-> Use of pocket money at school during "snacks-break" (I used to get Rs.50 per month then)
-> Use of ink pens at school
-> Bunking classes in college
-> Owning my first car/bike
-> Strip-club experience at Las Vegas
-> First beer

As you can infer, most of these "feeling cool" experiences (for me) have occurred during school/college days. Perhaps, that's why I look back fondly over those years. As we grow older, such instances to cherish diminish, as we get entangled in the web of life....