That gypped feeling again

It had been a while since I’d bought a car.
Over two years.
That may not seem a long time, but if you lead a dog’s life then that’s like ten odd years I’m told. Maybe a little bit more.
So the first thing to do is convince yourself, you lead a dogs life.
Everything else should now fall into place.
Except for the minor detail about money.
Minor but irksome.
So I decided to do the second best thing. Buy a second hand car.
A call was placed to a friend who by the miracle of St.Ignacio happens to be a used car salesmen.
“Two hours…your office…two cars.”
Sure enough he was at my office in less than two hours with the two aforementioned vehicles.
Shows me the first one.
“2003…29,000km…4 lacs…accidented “
Points to the second one
“2003…38,000km…4 lacs…not accidented ..here drive”
Thrusts the key into my hand. I do a quick round. He does a quick sales spiel.
“You…like??’
Before I can even say yes or no he’s already on the phone.
“2003…38,000km…4 lacs…no?… yes.. ok…ok…4.20 lacs final!
Hangs up “ good choice…4.20 it’s a steal…gimme advance.”
“advance??”
“5 k is ok.’
60 seconds later.
I’m standing on the road outside my office.
The two cars are gone.
I’m 5k poorer.
Had I just bought a car?

meeting

Threw the fucking cigarette. Tasted like shit anyway. half of them do. the only ones i care about are the ones after a meal and maybe when I'm drinking. the rest are smoked in hope of them tasting like the ones after meals or with a whiskey topped up (maybe a few gulps down). Strange that happens with a lot of things in life.Love, your second Prodigy album etc. We choose them cos we remember the other time...
and anyway... right now i was hovering in a moment of edgy anticipation... air is all i needed to breathe...i walked avoiding the little dirt puddles on the broken up footpath from behind, past the heat and smell of meals being cooked.
i tried not to make eye contact with anyone as i walked into the buzz of people. fishing the trusty phone, savior in awkward situations, i tried to think who it was that i was planning to call. scrolling down, i pressed the red button when i realised my friend was already standing outside the old joint. its been a long time. the place wasnt anything special, just tht now it was a storehouse of a lot of memories.
half a happy hour later we felt stupid going on with the "Remember whens" and sat silent, blowing circles and taking swigs, staring away into the vents in the ceiling.Yeah, its been a long time. things have changed.

_

Too crowded for my liking.

Last night, i reached home pretty late. And since there no prior dinner arrangements, we decided to eat out. Except it was 11:40 when we reached the Outer Circle. Thank god, Ruby Tuesday was still open and willing to take us in. We picked a place, in the nookiest nook, to get away from all the crowd. It was a great booth, meant for only two. We were on the ground floor of the resto-bar but our booth gave a strange impression of overlooking the busy street outside. Through the folds of the blind on huge glass windows, I squinted from between the blue smoke of my cigarette to see 4 smack addicts near a car. They saw me too. Peace.

The beer was too cold. And the Grilled Chicken Stacker he ordered tasted better than my enthusiastically chosen Crabcake burger. The beer got over too fast and I couldn't afford another. Luckily, they weren't taking any more orders either. It was time to close down. I looked around the completely empty restaurant with all its chairs hanging on the tables. I saw the waiters eager for me to pay up fast and get the hell out. I saw the bill and got the rest of my Crabcake burger parcelled. I adjusted my eyes to the now dim lighting in the restaurant. I heard strains of the television they'd put on for us. I walked out extremely happy with my half hour there. It had been fun.

Office

'Quick', I said to Kingshuk, 'let's get out of here before we go mad.'

'Yes', he said, 'as soon as i'm i'm done with this article on gravitaional time dilation'

We could do without it, really.

Monday Morning, 10 am - Push button for instant coffee and pull out at T - 3secs for a concentrated, undiluted cup. Step out for a smoke in the office balcony. Return to desk. Surf the net. Accompany friend for another cup of concentrated, undiluted coffee and a cigarette at 11 am. After another hour and subsequently from noon, that's pretty much all I do, all day through.

Most people in advertising are of the belief that there's no routine involved in their jobs. They can be drinking beer at 2, attending a sudden meeting at 9 am, making a presentation that's up in half an hour...you know. And it isn't entirely untrue either. There would be some difficulty in saying, for most of these advertising folks, that there's a routine; a set pattern that's followed everyday. But from what I've noticed, para 1 would be the set pattern, the routine for almost everyone in advertising. Unfortunately, drinking endless cups of coffee and smoking lots of cigarettes is what most of us do at work - everyday.

Although in the middle, I replaced coffee with beer. And it felt really good to break free from the routine.

_

A coversation with a loner

A casually dressed guy sits alone in the corner of a room, smoking. Young guys and girls sway to the beats of artificially created sounds, one of them moves to the same corner.

“Why do you sit like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like ... in the corner...”
“There’s something in corners you won’t get”
“I can try”
“Hmmm…forget it… get lost”
“Hey, you could do with some talking”
“There’s nothing in the centre you see”
“I don’t see that”
“Are you that dumb?”
“This isn’t a good attitude dude”
“I refuse to speak”
“There’re quiet a few gorgeous looking women in the centre dude”
“There will always be something in the centre. To me what matters is a 90 degree perspective of the world”
“Ok… and what’s a 90 degree perspective?”
“You get a 360 degree perspective in the centre, you see”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“You are making me talk too much”
“Just tell me what’s wrong with a 360 degree perspective, and ill go away?”
“It just makes your head spin”
“That’s a weird reason”
“The real world isn’t interesting enough to risk getting your neck twisted”
“Where does the interesting world lie then?”
“It’s the other 270 degrees”
“Dude I wasn’t very good at math in school”
“It’s because you shared a 360 degree perspective”
“True…roll a joint dude, I think my head is swirling”
“Sure”

Two guys sit in a corner of the room, smoking.

The Heartbreak Hotel, Connaught Place

I love you.
I’ll kill you.

Boom. Thunder. Darkness. It was hot and humid. It could’ve been just another night. Except tonight he had found her. In the dark she stood. A shadow. A distant memory. A brief moment in time. A lifetime of pain. In an alley in Connaught Place. In the corner. The corner of a circle.

Trickle. A drop of sweat rolled down his forehead. He didn’t even feel it. Maybe he did. But he couldn’t take his hands off the L96. His hands trembled. His finger itched. He took a deep breath. He took aim. He took his time. No reason rushing it. Not after waiting for such a long time. A long, long time. But it would be over soon. Just a pull. It was all a trigger away.

Splat. He felt a hot sting in his shoulder. His skin burned. His heart ached. Not the ache it was used to. Something different. Something new. Something that brought him to his knees. Again. The agony. The irony. He crouched below the window. Somebody had found him. Somebody was waiting for him to get up. Well, they would have to wait. Wait their turn. Wait till the sun comes out. While he waited in the shadows. Hoping that she was still there. Hoping that she stayed. Stayed till the end. Hers.

Crash. The door swung open. With force. With incredible force. A silhouette. A shadow. Hers. But how? She couldn’t have known. She shouldn’t have known. She was downstairs. In the alley. How? How did she climb up so fast? So fast. Unless. She had been a decoy. It was a trap. To take him down. To take him out. To finish him off. To end it all. Again. The agony. The irony. The trigger. Aim. Pu… He blinked.

Bang. Thud. Darkness. She stood in it. She relished it. It was her only friend now. It was her companion for life. Hers forever. A tear rolled down her cheek. She didn’t even feel it. Maybe she did. But she couldn’t take her hands off his head.

I love you too.
…

Sunny Afternoons

Beer.

_

Scoop

This blogspot is pleased to have with it this afternoon Mr. Prannoy Roy, news mogul of new delhi.

'Yes hello.'

'hello, Mr. Roy, how do you do?'

'I'm doing fine, how do you do?'

'I'm doing fine, thank you.'

'...'

'Yes.'

'Ah yes, Mr. Roy, can you explain the sudden upsurge in the number of hot news announcers on NDTV profit all of a sudden.'

'Well yes' (characteristic scratch of the nose) 'we've recently employed a very talented young surgeon who fixes up these faces for our news announcers.'

'and where is this surgeon.'

'Oh! we've got him in this charming little underground lab beneath our office in...what's it called...GK or something'

'And where does he get these very ukraine pornstar looking faces from.'

'what an idiot! from ukraine of course!!'

'and these ukranians, they're keen to give up their faces.'

'well, there's a recession there, and you know how things are in a recession.'

Breakfast on Sundays

I love Sundays. And I make the perfect Sunday Morning. I'll tell you how.

Boil a cup of water in a pan.
Beat 2 eggs with a generous amount of milk. Add Salt & Pepper for taste, Oregano for perfection. Get some butter heated on a non-stick pan.
Your water's prolly boiling now, so beat the hell out of an unopened packet of Maggi Masala Noodles. And put the crumbled bit of Maggi in.
The butter's burning so quickly! put the egg in. Keep scrambling.
Plug in your toaster, I like the knob at 4. I like crispy toast.
Add the Maggi masala along with lots of Catch chaat masala and Catch Pepper and lots of chili powder (red).
Put your bread in. White bread always makes for better toast. Brown bread sucks.
I hope the eggs were on sim, so now you tear open a Brittania cheese slice, tear it in 8 parts and quickly! scramble these bits with the eggs in butter.
So the Maggi noodles are dry and spicy and done. So get two nice plates out and divide the great tasting Maggi in these two plates. While you divide the creamy, cheesy, oreganoey Scrambled eggs in your two plates, the toasts will pop, the butter will have melted so spread it on and have a great Sunday!

These aren’t the nanos you’re all big fans of.

1. She wore gawdy clothes at the wedding. She was inconspicuous.
2. It was a listless afternoon. I decided to do something about it.
3. Kumud is very funny. He cannot make me laugh.
4. A tele-marketeer called selling mobile connections. He refused to give up. I gave in.
5. I can’t sing so I hum songs I hate.

_

A Wild Night at Turquoise Cottage

they don't let us in.

'that's not a girl', the bouncer says, pointing to my date, 'no stag entry allowed.'

and we leave behind what we're sure was a wild night at Turquoise Cottage.

wasted

“You’re wasted man…you’re wasted” I heard a voice from somewhere above. I felt my head being held by a hand that thrust it into the sand. I slowly rose as soon as it loosened its grip. I could taste sand, I could feel its odorless smell… the grains were creeping in my hair, in my eyes, my nostrils... slowly moving deep inside, entering my soul. I didn’t mind any of that except for the sand in my shoes, giving me that feeling, of my skin melting into sand. My attention traveled from my shoes to my hand. I could see a big hairy foot where my hand was. I could feel it being crushed and move deep into the sand under the pressure of the big ugly leg.
The sun was too hot for me to be able to look up to find out who it was. Anyways I didn’t care. I wouldn’t have cared if someone had hit me with a baseball bat. I didn’t care to look at the half naked women around me, the waves or the castles they had made. With my back to the sea, I was just staring into the sand. But the pain he caused was so unbearable that I had to look up to see who the bastard was. Who couldn’t see me drifting into the oblivion. What does he care about? How does it concern him, whether I’m getting wasted or trashed or whatever. I was always wasted anyways.

I look up and the sun blinds me. I see a silhouette of someone large walking away.
‘He’s walking away?’ I manage to get up, grab an empty beer bottle from many lying around the beach, hold it by its neck and follow the man. I’ve already had enough mishaps here (on what was supposed to be a happening trip) that I plan to pour all my hatred into that big bald head.
Was he actually a giant or was I drunk?
Or was the combined effect of heat on the back of my head and alcohol on my brain giving me a vision that was out of proportion.
I follow him to a place which now looks more like a desert than a beach beside the sea. And the sea seemed to have disappeared. Suddenly I realize that I 'm not following anyone. I'm in the middle of nowhere. Does the beach really empty out into a huge bed of sand… a desert, like a river into the sea? Spreading far…endless. And i feel small, insignificant. Where’s everyone else? Where’s the whole of humanity? There’s no-one, anywhere, it’s just me and the hot outstretching desert. Me, getting lost, in the desert wastes. Djinns do speak the truth.

A curious case of indigestion

The other day we had a bomb scare in our building. Perhaps Osama had targeted Padma Towers as the place to give a fitting reply to Uncle Sam. The whole building was emptied and we pushed off to watch a movie at Naraina PVR. The simple joys of these uncertain times we live in. Went to Mumbai on Saturday for a promo film shoot. Back yesterday and to work today. My flight back, was a relatively empty flight as only morons and goblins travel on Sunday nites it appears. So I’m sitting there re-reading Catch 22 when this guy sitting a seat away leans across and politely enquires how the book is. He's the same gent who a little while back had ordered a second portion of black pepper Chicken. Obviously a member of the highly secret airline food fan club. His question just so totally threw me. "It's good" I finally hit upon an ingeniously ambiguous reply.
"what's it about?" he persists.
I 'm gasping for air by now.
"well..it's about... you know satire... and war.. and... it's a satire on
war" I finished lamely.
But this mutt wasn't going to be put off that easy
"Which war have they based it on?"
They??!!
U see the kind of morons we're dealing with here. It most definitely appears to be a conspiracy. Let's reduce the mental level of earth by 73.76%, the Martians must be contemplating as they point their brain shrinkers in our direction and then we'll just walk in and take it over. How else can u explain the sudden downturn in human intelligence.

_

What's for dinner?

God I hope he’s late. I haven’t even started dinner yet. It’s going to take at least an hour. And he might be in the mood tonight. He might not even care for dinner. But I do. I’m sure he doesn’t even rem... What is that god awful smell? It has to be that stupid dog. Why did we ever keep him? Wretched creature. Comes and goes as he pleases. Acts like he owns the place. Stupid mutt. He’s going to ruin dinner. I can’t let anyone ruin dinner tonight. It’s been ages since we sat down as a family. Rahul already looks sleepy. He’s had a rough day. It’s never easy for him. Moving, shifting. All the time. But I hope we won’t anymore, I like this place. Except for that stench. Imbecile. Devil dog. If it wasn’t for Rahul... Sigh. He’s already asleep. I’m going to have to wake him up. I hope he’s not fast asleep. I hope he’s not too late. But I still haven’t started dinner yet. When is that stupid food going to arrive. It’s going to take me at least twenty minutes. God. Why doesn’t anything ever work out. All I wanted was just one night. One night for us to have a nice peaceful dinner. Before the beast in him attacks me. Before everything ceases to exi... And that stench. Might as well start looking for that filthy animal. I’m sure his body must’ve rotted purple by now. It’s going to take me an hour to find his pulp in this dump. Poor Rahul. He’s going to... Wait a second. I think I hear the garbage truck backing up. Finally! The food is here. I hope it’s something good. I hope its home made. I hope it’s not too dirty. It’s going to take me at least half an hour to find it. God I hope he’s late.

A sign, many statistics and traffic signals

Driving past the MRF temperature sign at the Oberoi. The temp reads 37.6 on the celsius scale at 8:48 am. Time and temperature. Two things you can live your life by. Fill it up with seconds, minutes, hours...and a box of tissues to wipe away the sweat with. 'Cos when you're done complaining about your job and your life...you can always complain about the weather. Curse it. Or spend your life paying the instalments on the loan for an AC car. Go from point A to point B in your own weather controlled capsule. So what if it consumes more gas...the world's fossil fuel supply gets lower by the minute. OPEC has agreed to increase supply by 3%. 3%!!?! How many barrels for you sir? Life and statistics. That's another reality distortion filter. The rate of inflation, the barrels of oil, the sensex, the temperature. They're swirling around you all the time. Just pick your number. How many hours do you spend eating, sleeping and driving? Have you worked out the percentages, yet? Excuse me, I spent
27.67% of my time behind the wheel, is there place for me in in heaven.
Sorry, son! the cut-off just went up to 32%. Try again, in about another
lifetime. Then at the roundabout near the hotel that changes its name and management every season from Surya to Sofitel to BestWestern to whatever is the name right now…. a man in a Zen...wife in the passenger seat... she gets out. We're all waiting for the light to turn green. She gets out of the car and goes and sits in the one in front...that's so-and-so from my office and after office we even sleep together in the storeroom to which I have the key...hubby dear is free to carry on to his office. Ignorance keeps us all happy in bed and on the road. But hold it that's not where the similarity starts...the man reaches into the back seat and comes up with a tasty toast...the tasty toaster... ordered from the teleshopping network... so convenient, no? Tomatoes dripping he scrunches into it... And we drive on..having just seen the future drive past?!!! just another statistic....

Katthe mein pan zyaada hai

Zalim duniya ki kokh mein pal raha King Pan Bhandaar aane jaane aur rah pade rehne walon ke liye ek ajab tofah hai. Mr. Chabale ko hi pooch ke dekh lijiye. Sahab subah office jaate waqt ek banarasi saada aur office lautte ek meetha bangali zaroor jeebh pe rakht lete hain.
Kadakti garmi ki dopahar mein jab King ke ek laoute waris …Modke Dede style se nakli Ray Ban naak par chadhake choona potne lagte toh dolly ka chota kutta Kangaroo asman tadke aur gala phadke zor se gane lagta.
Jab pados mein rehne wali kuwanri ladki Supaari ke ghar ladkon ka aana jaan badha, to Mrs. Chopra, Rinku didi aur Mr. Nilofer ne milke King Pan Bhandar ke theek samne waale Gol Park mein samiti jaari kar li. King Pan Bhandaar se chai ki supply barabar jari rahi.
Aaj King Pan Bhandar bandh ho raha hai. Mr chable ke saath saath unki Mrs aur daftar wale, sab hairaan - pareshaan hain. Kangaroo ne bhonkna to door, baat karma bhi bandh kar diya hai aur Supaari aur uski supaari dene wale log hath jod, morcha sambhale khade hue hain.

Yaad aa rahen hai aaj mujhe who balti mein tairte hue paan ke patte, who laal rumaal jispe chuna, kattha aur na jaane kya kya poncha jaata tha . Tadpati hai mujhe ye sukoon radio ki chuppi ki. Aur woh kattha jo haath ki hathaili pe aa girta tha pan ka naam lete hi!

nevermind bhaiya
Umeed pe aaj bhi duniya kayam hai, aur katthe mein aaj bhi zara sa pan hai!

All the besht, thanku