Good Morning!

Perpetual state of bad luck - (noun)
a state in which, no matter what, each and every thing that can / can not go wrong goes wrong. In such a state, the victim usually begins to blame everything on luck, starts to feel like a loser and tends to magnify even the slightest of setbacks to the biggest of failures.

There are pros and cons of being in a perpetual state of bad luck. Pros include (and are not limited to) the freedom to ascribe all of one’s perennial inadequacies to bad luck so that one is acquitted from them. Also, one is in constant anticipation of contretemps of all forms to occur. Such prognostic deportment makes one well-equipped and better prepared to endure (and not solve) the before-mentioned contretemps.

But if one takes a closer look, all the above pros are cons unto themselves. Perpetual state of bad luck makes one diffident and pessimistic. Every small hitch seems to be a big roadblock. Each of these “roadblocks” seem to be contrived by fate to make one realize what a big loser one is.
The worst part is the mornings. One wakes up to complete gloom and with no zest for life. To expound on the waking-up theory, I have given below two comprehensive cases.
1) Waking up after a Bad Dream/Nightmare: While sleeping previous night, one hopes for a more promising tomorrow, forgetting everything bad that has happened recently. The nightmares, however, just thwart all those hopes. Instead of obliterating all the memories, they bring them to the fore, accentuating the abysmal feeling.
2) Waking up after a Good Dream: Scarcely the case in dismal times, good dreams end up reminding one of a state one is not in or, of something one does not have. The false sense of achievement reminds one of how close one has been, yet not there. So close, one can only stare at and keep desiring to be in that portrait. Imagining being there, all the while knowing one can’t get there, makes one despondent.
Imagine a long slide, swerving here and spiraling there. There are only three objects that can be seen : the slide , the destination and yourself. Pitch black darkness pervades all other space. You are sliding along the slide’s steep surface, doggedly holding on, no matter how precarious the situation becomes. All along, you can see the destination. Even though you are afraid of falling down, you cling on and strive hard to do so. You’ve almost reached there. You begin to reflect on all the struggle endured and it seems to be paying off. You’re so close that the destination seems tangible.
Suddenly, a rift appears in the slide, sucking you into it. Your heart skips a beat. You can’t breathe for a few moments and keep falling into the darkness. The worst part is the tenacity of the agonizing image of the destination. It refuses to fade away.

One scene from “Taarey Zameen Par” that has and will always stay vividly in my memory is that of the dyslexic child waking up with a smile. Waking up with sadness smeared all over one’s being is the worst possible way to start a day.
One has two choices: either let the stream of events take their due course and take one along with it or; make efforts to change the situation (which won’t work because of the basic definition of PSBL). Both can be justified in their own respect. But all said and done, I guess it’s denial that aggravates the problem. More on this may come soon.

P.S. Go nuts with the following data:
Median age of India -25.1 years Median age of US - 35.9
Average age of Lok Sabha – 53.03 years Average age of US Senate - 62
(Figures might vary a little)

23

"He not busy being born is busy dying."
- Bob Dylan

I turned 23 on the 17th of this month. “No problemo, nothing changes in one day.”, the enlightened Joe would say. I am not referring here, of course, to the Supremely Enlightened One from F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Every one remembers how he wailed, and pretty loudly at that, when he turned 30 in “The One Where They All Turn Thirty.”

I am forced to write this post because of a peculiar feeling I experienced on that day. 23 sounds big. A day back, I was still 22 and it sounded really young. Turning 23 sounds like crossing a bridge to the other side, or the next phase. I can picture a responsible Homo sapiens who is no longer carefree. Furrowed eyebrows giving a serious, which could be mistaken for a menacing, look. Upright posture and an overall thoughtful, motivated and inspired look.

Now before someone starts suspecting the occurrence of any sort of revelation in my life, let me clarify a few things. Yes, I do not feel like 22 anymore. As a matter of fact, I never did. I still feel like a 16 year old. Lets make that 17, lest one begins to call me a “delicate bud” in Hindi. I still try to shout as loud as a child running by (Well, a lot of children happen to run by me on a consistent basis). I still get excited upon getting chocolates and toffees (or, was that when I was 13?). It is 13. Anyway, I still feel like the carefree me of 17. However, by the looks of some events that have transpired recently, I might reach the bridge earlier than I ever thought. Scary.

Now, down to the details. Had a quite uneventful birthday this time around. Though, that happens every year because of the education system’s conspiracy. My flatmates and friends nearby did not remember. One of them actually went to his cousin’s place a few hours before the clock struck 12. So, there was no cake or any putrefied fruits in liquid state. I missed my cake. Not in a “Oh my God (sniff)! How can you forget (slap)!!” sort of way. But a more ”Oh God! Where’s the delicious creamy all-chocolate cake I would like to eat by myself?” sort of way. They would not even have given me b’day bumps had Now-nerve (who remembered) not come to my place to wish. Got the thrashing of my life from 100-god Jerk. I shouted my lungs out, cried wolf. But he was so bent on wiping clean the seats of my jeans with his slippers, that he convinced them to take me out of the society premises lest some family complained. To ensure that this post passes censors’ knife, I’ll refrain from any further, thoroughly violent details. Enjoyed the rest of night smoking Hukka and playing guitar (the first string snapped) with Poo-le-jaa as the fourth entente.

Got a call from everyone who matters. Woke up late next day. Knee-tee and Sheep-raw gave me b’day presents, which was the highlight of the day for me. Felt really excited about and elated over the presents. The gifts are actually very useful and certainly one of my best : a toy car, Times Food Guide, P.G. Wodehouse omnibus and Pictionary. Had delicious boneless chicken Biryani in Meghna (a restaurant, in case anyone begins to reflect) with Now-nerve. Planned for a treat in TGIF. Mother Nature had other plans though. It rained cats and dogs and all animals alive/extinct. The plan got cancelled. Had dinner at home, watched an episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. and slept. By the way, I kept receiving b’day wishes till 11 in the night.

P.S. In case I ever “fall in love” with someone, I would never post a video with her pics and a mushy romantic song on youtube. Eeek. Just a reminder in case I read this post then.
P.S.P.S. At the end of the day, b’day ( more commonly, and in an irritating way, known as budday) is just another day. The date (except for the year part) just happens to coincide with the date of the day one is born. In spite of the futility of any sort of excitement over the date, I’d like to mention the following for their efforts to make a call or being there : Man-nee, Now-nerve, Tan-new, Puk-gaya, Knee-tee, Sheep-raw, Home, More Homes, Hen-jo, Pee-po, Half-tickit, Fish, Raw-hulk We-ass, Chaman, Troo, Put-tea, Hand-awe, Cena, Even More Homes, Gym Sheep-raw, Scew B, Delhip, 100-god Jerk, Poo-le-jaa, Quiet Ni. In case one wants to get one’s name included in the list above, transfer 1000 bucks to my a/c.

XXXX XXXX XXX - II

Rating: Insane Advisory. Must be read under the supervision of a lunatic. Extreme discretion advised. Disclaimer: The following text is highly contextual and any resemblance to any person or any incident, no matter how far-fetched, might turn out to be true. I am not responsible for anyone’s psychic powers deciphering the import of the statements that follow

The knight had once desired to njoy during the tutelage he received in Daily-Dally from Hope A. Mar. However, some arcane archives suggest that fate took his bliss to other arcades. Dejected, he went to far-off cold lands of Mighty Mittens. There and thence he was anointed as the generalissimo of the gentlemanly gentry. It is there that he chanced to meet the generous damsel. Smitten by the gentleness of the noble woman, the knight could not fore-see the arrival of the dragon. The dragon, though devoid of any mal-intent, had a prior covenant bequeathing him with the lady’s affection. The woman had to choose one between the two. To the knight’s delight, the woman played true to his hopes.
What transpired there onwards is not for everyone to know. However, the knight did shower many a people with this fable. People such as me, pie’-popper…some needy, some small, and some who entered a shell.

P.S. The disclaimers are not applicable to any of my sort-ofs….and for the umpteenth number of time, the post is not about me. In case any one desires to know the controversial title, a special request needs to be sent to me.

XXXX XXXX XXX (Title censored after protests by Bad-rang Bull)

Rating: Insane Advisory. Must be read under the supervision of a lunatic.

Disclaimer: The following text is highly contextual and any resemblance to any person or any incident, no matter how far-fetched, might turn out to be true. I am not responsible for anyone’s psychic powers deciphering the import of the statements that follow.

There was once a knight in shining armour who saved the damsel in distress. Since then , they started having long walks and protracted conversations lingering for hours at a stretch. But now, I and the pie’-popper know that the knight, with a crown on his head and wired to the hype-o-ed, has got a chink in his armour.

P.S. The disclaimers are not applicable to any of my sort-ofs….and for the first and last time, the post was not about me. In case any one desires to know the controversial title, a special request needs to be sent to me.

A Few Breaths Lesser

Am I not asking enough questions?
(A sharp metallic hum. Strong dark silence)
Have I lost track in the quest they call life? What is this feeling? Is this an overflow or a void? Why am I getting this feeling, whatever it is? Ah, questions. Why should I ask questions?
(Silence.)
Why did I just do that? Is it my responsibility to do so? Why do we have responsibilities? Why does someone have to do it? Why does it have to be done? Oh, it’s the same feeling again. It’s getting stronger. Sad. Why is it making me feel sad? Why do I feel sad? What is sadness? Ambition. Aspiration. Why do I imagine myself in a better situation? What is better? Why can’t this moment be the best? Does this moment have to be “the best” at all? Can’t I do without being in “the best” moment? Why do I desire? These questions have begun to scare me. I don’t want to ask anymore. I wish I could sleep this moment right here, without an ounce of care in the world.
(“Why is he so quiet today?”
“I don’t know. Diptanshu, what happened?”)
A Question. (Silence.)
(“Oh, nothing.”)
Have I become less articulate? What is this feeling that I get upon her success? Why do I feel angry, bitter and sad for someone else being better? Is this a feeling I should not have? Fear. Why am I so afraid of this feeling? Weak. Why does it make me feel so weak, drained of all the self-exalting confidence I flaunt so often? Why am I afraid of feeling weak? Fear. Hey, I just tried to run away. Wait, do I run away from frightening thoughts every time? Am I a coward deep within? Am I so weak? Ashamed…of myself, of my weakness, of this resentment within me for others’ might. No more questions. Hunger. I must feed myself.
(Silence)
(Footsteps)
Choler. Ire. Why did I let him go? Why did I not hit back? Why did I not give that arrogant piece of dirt a piece of my mind? Is my anger too transient to last a retaliation? Why should I have retaliated? Why do I care? Does it matter anymore? Did it matter to me back then? Should any of it matter at all? Should I care? Why am I here? What do I want? Is there any interminable gain to be obtained from this meaningless existence? If everything is so ephemeral, what am I striving for? Does crying over anything help or, will laughing it off do the job? Is any of these emotions relevant to anything? Void, overflowing.
(Footsteps.)
Hey, I don’t know that person well. We’re only acquainted. Yet, he showed concern. Why did I reciprocate now? What happened to the angry me earlier? Why was I transfixed then? Was I afraid of the consequences? Why did I show concern for this guy? Was it forced or was it impulsive? Is this stimulus in-born? Or, has it been fabricated in me by the society in a senseless act of dictation? Why should I show concern if I don’t feel it? Why does everyone put on such pretenses every insignificant day they live? Why do I do it? Have I not ever questioned such a meaningless consuetude as this before? What use am I to this society if I too stop questioning it? Of what use is this society to me? Why am I so dependant on it? Why do I need the assurance of having atleast one person to look forward to, if everyone else turns his back at me? Fatigue.
(Blackout)
(Silence)
(Blackout)
(“Oh come on, say something. He’s freaking me out.”)

Am I worrying too much about something trivial, missing on something vital? Have I squandered too much and collected little? Hold on…..am I asking too much?
(Silence, Blackout)
(Light, Warmth)
(Air, Smile)

Seeking Solace

I am not afraid of failure. What appalls me is not giving my best.
When I do my best, even the most humiliating of defeats seems to be but a lesson. When I don't, I know that even the most exalting victory is nothing more than a fluke.

As some wise man must have once said;

" It's not the destiny that matters after all. What persists is the road traversed. "

Staad Wads I --- Fall of the Supedhedos

(*The following is an excerpt from digary ---digital diary--- of Fluke Skywalker. The digary was, apparently, inadvertently dropped in a time-travelling contraption and was detected and then captured, even more inadvertently, by my secret time-travelling-contraption intercepting contraption. One of the incidents seems to be dated to 1.3 Janworry, 0 AD. It’s written after the supposed death of Darth Hey-dhar in the lap of his own son whom I’ve been able to identify, after reading lots of the digary, as the straight Fluke himself. Interestingly, AD appears to be After the Death of Darth, which, as I find logical, should have been called ADD. Anyway, AD is also reported to be 23.5 Exceptember, 4172 AD ----Anno Domini. It’s also mentioned that just before his demise, Hey-dhar muttered something which seemed to be a query about kun-taynts of some random course called something like “I’m a Bengali rockstaad, tay-day ko kya padoblem hai?” Though this something doesn’t have any particular relevance as such, but demanded a mention due to its idiosyncratic mention again and again. Also, the writer seems to have a feverish predilection for a seemingly sacrosanct phrase, “May the force, chores and whores be with you.” Must have been a powerful, obedient, pervert kid, I must say.*)

A long time ago, in a galaxy not far away, there existed a planet called Earth inhabited by an unevolved, weird, diminutive species called Homo sapiens. The problem with these creatures was that they kept quarrelling amongst themselves for miniscule gains and sometimes, not even for that. Appallingly, the pitiful Homo sapiens failed to accept the futility of the constant bickering during their short life-spans. It’s said that they seemed to possess dark forces like ego, jealousy and the likes, which led them into bitter feuds. In their fanatical one-upmanship, Homo sapiens began to misuse the natural resources present on the beautiful Earth. This led to wide-scale pollution and rapid depletion of the resources.

On the planet Earth, there existed an even more beautiful territory (called country) by the name of India. This territory was abundant in natural resources and was, at one point of time, blessed with intellectuals of caliber far exceeding the others and comparable to creatures of today. It’s said, however, that incessant invasion of the territory by people from other territories enfeebled its core cultural and intellectual identity. The invasions were so powerful that even after liberation, people did not relent from stooping lower still. This resulted in a lot of corruption and again, pollution. These two factors, as is the legend, led to the fall of superheroes of yore and ultimately, rise of the diabolical ass-kit-ball player Darth Hey-dhar.

In the year -2165 AD, a massive congregation of superheroes was planned in Delhi, the capital city of India. The gathering was called Pee-8 and was convened to discuss means to tackle global problems like pollution, child labour, poverty, IIT female Homo sapiens, remixes, hip-hop, She-may Fray-shammiya, Mooli-kha Sharafat etc. The superheroes belonging to the conclave were called developed superheroes. Also present at the time were other “developing” and “under-developed” superheroes. The legend has it that all the superheroes died in Delhi. Here’s how;

1) Superman: The invincible, herculean superhero possessed extra-ordinary abilities like flight, laser eyes and the most envied ability; to see through objects, most notable amongst which were clothes. On that fateful day, while flying over the outskirts of Delhi, Superman happened to pass over Najafgarh drain.

Apparently, the local organization which was responsible for drainage, also called Municipality Corporation of Delhi (MCD), thought of it as an ingenious plan to make their young ones exposed to and thence, immune to environmental adversities. Sadly, though, it led to large-scale genetic mutation and gave rise to evil species like Rash-us driver-us, Pervert-o rapist-us, 764 conductorus, Slum-y dweller-us and the most dreaded of them all, Iit girl-phus. The drain was replete with all sorts of junk possible. It gave away obnoxious fumes having an acrid smell, a heady concoction of poisonous chemicals.

Unknown to and unforeseen by Superman, the fumes also contained his only weakness; Kryptonite. He was forced to inhale lethal amounts of Kryptonite, which led to his death. The inhabitants of Najafgarh mistook him for the monkey-man and called the police and the paramedics. As was the custom at that time, which I find to be very peculiar, the police and the paramedics reached a good hour and a half later. What ensued was complete furore. Indian rulers blamed its neighbouring territory, Pakistan, for the tragedy. Employees of various local organizations, particularly MCD, were relieved of their jobs. An inquest was swiftly ordered and the investigating authority, Delhi Coolies, hastily came up, perplexing as it may sound, with a list of suspects. Autopsy reports reported strangulation of the deceased and then backtracked on its statement, citing suicide as the reason, only to revert back to murder. Rumour has it that records relating to the inquest; compiled in one of the most durable, long-lasting, clever contraption ever made and called Indian government files; are there to be discovered floating in space.

2) Batman: One of his kind, a superhero without any superpower, Batman used his intelligence to beguile even the disguised. But alas!! Even his intelligence could not shield him against official apathy and the murky world of Indian politics. Due to airport staff strikes in India, a concept highly practiced and prevalent during those times, Batman was forced to shun Batplane in favour of Batmobile to travel. Driving over the bumpy roads of India, a tough ordeal in itself, Batman found his Batmobile engulfed in the infamous Gujjar strikes. The Gujjars, as is believed, were followers of Batman’s arch-nemesis Jokers and used to play practical jokes & political gimmicks.

Being the Good Samaritan that he was, he chose to evade the mob rather than kicking their posteriors. Hooking his grappling hook to one of the skyscrapers in a place called Gurgaon, Batman landed on a busy traffic intersection. Left all to himself, fighting paan-stains (which, even his special batsuit couldn’t exuviate), sweltering heat, Batman got Delhi belly, an ailment, and died soon thereafter.

3) Spiderman: A hybrid between spider, another species belonging to that era, and Homo Sapiens; Spiderman was known far and wide for his crying antics, adolescent mood swings & rebellious behaviour and, at times, for his agile body & spider sense. On his way to the Pee-8 summit, Spiderman’s websling got entangled in a horde of people. Fate always has the luxury of circumstances as its conniving partner and so it did at that moment. Spiderman got carried away with the mob to their destination, Baybay Kaam-de’s camp. After laying witness to the various pliant stances of Baybay, Spiderman got intimidated and felt that his girlfriend, Meri Pain, is cheating on him with Baybay. A challenge was raised and a duel followed. After 5 excruciating days of body-wrenching stances, Spidey’s body started whining and gave way. “Meri back, Meri Pain. Hasta Lavista Baybay.”, cried Spidey just before his quietus.

The fate of five others, I shall demystify later. But before that, let me expound upon the rise of the nefarious Hay-dhar, the Dark Fourses and the saviours of our times, the aa-ay ha-ay chee students, the group of farcical Homo sapiens. Even the bare mention of the likes of gunnyraj, troo the flu, Sexy Sam, a hoop, yell jo, half pant, chee po and of course, dipped 'n shooed were enough to give enemies agonizing moments of stomach pain from laughter, to set them rolling into convulsive fits of laughter.

(*The above text was translated from Sanskrit. The rest will be deciphered, as soon as I learn how to get to the next page in the digary.*)