I need....

I need a smoke. My hand moves towards the warm cup of tea as I sit in front of my lousy desktop. The key board is screwed, takes effort to punch in letters, so much so, that it derails my train of thought. In the background, 'Velvet Revolver' is belting out a classic on my outdated Winamp. A ruffled crow sits on the windowsill vigorously trying to get rid of the rain in his feathers. he looks at me with pity, I wonder why? Hes scavenged hard for slice of dead meat today, and there I lay, in front of him, sipping tea that tastes of everything but the effort that went into making it.

I need to do something. I look at the watch, its quarter past 12. I have practically wasted the entire morning. I have so much to do. My blogs been idle for a while, my drawer needs to be fumigated for the crap, which has been lying there for eons now. Life is moving fast.

I need to speak to someone. She hasn't called. She said she would. Maybe she's been busy. I need to give people their space. Everyone is not as wasted as I am. Or has my mobile battery died. Over the past months I have found solace amidst this seemingly mundane life in her and cricket. But then again, both of them don't go together.....kinda like the same poles. College life seems a blur, get up everyday at 6.40 am come back at 9.30 pm.....life's been good, except for the siesta I miss everyday . However, I do manage to sneak in some sleep in the college library.

I need to eat something. I think I will cook today. Haven't had kheema pav in a long time. Or should I place an order. Can't decide.

I need to change and do something about my "talking on the phone" manners. I can't seem to speak on the phone for more than 5 mins and 28 seconds. Don't know why. The moment I say those dreaded words " and tell me, hows life", I know I need to hang up. Some of them are pissed about this behavior of mine, however they have no clue how much crap they are being saved of. It makes me realize that people truly don't value good things in life.

I need to pause before I open my mouth and abuse. I might just end up regretting it for the rest of my life.

I am bored........I need a nap....

12/3

".....The trail was about a mountain of detonated RDX:
to our shame we reduced it to the level of unused gun."

- Bachi Karkaria

of 'kings' and 'ox tongues'

I have been asked by some quarters of my college audience to look at the bigger picture, and not stick to stories pertaining to the microcosmic scenarios.

well, I will just leave the bigger picture for the erudite lot. I live upto my blogs name, as I update it, only when I have nothing worthwhile to do.

I seem to be out of ideas to dole out for the expecting lot who wait for an update on my blog just as eagerly as people do to hear Rakhi Sawant talk. I guess I am at the world's end when it comes to writing blogs.

For inspiration I visit some brilliant blogs, like those by nandan and chamko.

Just got back from a trip to Goa, laughed at by some for planning on Goa in the rains. But the weather was amazing and so was the Konkan Shoreline. so Screw you all who mocked me.

Konkan is, I believe is lost amidst the now mundane Lonavla and Khandala and Mahabaleshwar. But it's better that way, lest you know that DLF builds another freaking mall by the Sindhudurg fort, with basement parking.
Like my colleague at work (summer internship) once said, "DLF has ma(u)led Gurgaon."

Anyways coming back to Goa, that place has a charm of its own.

The narrow roads are the ones which hit me the most (third only to cheap booze and gorgeous dreadlocked chicks). The goans navigate on those with ease, and somehow even the outsiders drive like pro's on them. Maybe it has something to do with the abysmally low number of rickwallahs from the land of mulayam and maya and not to forget the yadav dude.

The food is not the topmost thing on your mind, when you down pintsssss of kings (which for the record costs less than Rs.20/-).......but Infanteria is the place to be.
Tried the Ox Tongue for the first time. Ame and lly relished it as well. Though Bee, Shr, Kun and Aks were busy pretending to be oblivious to our gourmet meal.

Also learnt on this trip to always look at the person pouring the vodka shots with suspicion, for he might fill his glass with water; else its advisable to stick to rum.

Now I am back in Mumbai, lost amidst the fucked up ricks, crowded buses and costly bottles of beer.

Past week seems a phantasm!

Colours

Sunday,I hoped, would turn out to be what they are actually meant for.....relaxation.
However, a call from certain Dhi, asked me get ready for a "sheild" match, against Mhada XI. (In sheild matches, ill informed captains, who are of the opinion that theirs is the best team in the vicinity, lay bets)

We are talking under arm cricket here, played in any open patch of land found in this city, where an inch of space on the asphalt goes for astronomical sums.

Just to satisfy my battered ego, about my cricketing prowess, I agreed (though I'd make it a point to ponder over my any decisions for a tad longer, henceforth). Now MHADA XI ain't the most sophisticated of teams, but they are professionals when it comes to playing the game in closed small spaces. Thats their sunday bread and butter, so one isn't surprised, if they are more aggressive than what is called for on a sunday afternoon.

The Venture Capitalists might laugh at a paltry sum of Rs. 150 per series (series comprises of 3 matches of 5 overs each), but its about respect! and thats what we play for, not to mention free pepsi.

We were leading half way through the series. I was fielding at the boundary, when the ball ended up in the compound behind the ground. Was looking out for any human souls in that compound, who could fetch it for us. A trip to the compound via the conventional route would have delayed the game. Finally I managed to induce 3 three year olds to fetch the tennis ball for me, while I stood on the fence and guided them.

They were extremely thrilled that one of the elder dudes(hehe) had asked for help, and looked at it as a mission. " Lets search for it" they all screamed in unison and off they went to search for the elusive game stopper. It was funny to see them search for it. I thought i'd help them, so told them it a tennis ball and its green in colour. "Its a tennis ball and its green" they yelled again, as if to check if all were on the same wavelength. (management education, especially teamwork, these days has permeated even the kindergardens).

A good 7 mins later, they were still searching, and I began to wonder if they knew what they were searching for.

Maybe they weren't big enought to have seen a tennis bal before, so I asked them, " you know which colour the ball is.....right?".

They were all yelled in affirmative again and the eldest of the lot pointed to a spanking new SILVER santro!!!!!

Dhi yelled, as to why I was taking so long to get people to search for a tennis ball.

How could I explain my folly to him, of engaging a search party of toddlers, who were yet to see the different colours of life?

the Run and the Cricket

Mumbai Marathon was a disaster for me, though the visit to the venue was worthwhile. The energy levels are to be witnessed and can't be spoken of, as so many of our superfluous news channels have stated. We were supposed to be volunteers for the wheel chair event (running for the society for the paraplegic : Nina Foundation). Well, after the initial photo sessions, we were stranded as the organisers just permitted one attendee per wheel chair. Some people got through the 'Dream' run however they ended up walking the stretch, as free space on the asphalt was hard to come by.

So I backed out of the 'Dream Run', and so did Am, Roh and Rej. I suggested Kyani near Metro and the Kheema Pav there made me take an oath of never suggesting a place again. Its better to follow someone else's suggestion of a restaurant and then abuse him if at all the food sucks.
The kheema did taste like dog meat. More like a dog who didn't bathe....ever!

The event looked more fun on TV. And then I consoled myself, by repeating that paying the fees and then running was akin to paying the bill and cooking the food yourself. It helped.

Watching Mumbai beat the opposition black and blue in the Ranji Trophy has made the last week look roseate. Having been brought up to the stories of the domestic invincible, the respect levels are right up there. Some of them, who started with me, are today rubbing shoulders with the greats of cricketing glory. If only, had some one told me that Batman wasn't for real, I would have set myself some realistic ambitions. (its a different thing that i would have still screwed up...)

But you realise such things only when it's too late, or you think its too late because you are in no mood to go and correct the earlier wrongs of life.
Laziness is the justified rationalisation of the individuals urge to procrastinate the future glory that befits us to avoid the difficult things of today.

But right now, I would have been happy if only I were able to watch cricket on Television, but for the screwed up cable guy, who opined that Ekta Kapoor serials were of more importance to the national interest.