Ah! The head reels from the two gargaunt patiala pegs I had yesterday. This is what happens when you drink at home. You don't realise how much you are guzzling, and the end-result is a maddening head breaker. Ten times removed I forgot about where it all began. Had a Gala time, though mother dosen't approve, I succeeded in not making a fool of myself, and laughed my loud laughter, whenever the opportunity.

A lot happened this week. My Anti-terrorist "fauji" friend turned up, with a carton full of booze, apples, shawls, and a truck load of pornm CDs. About 35 of them in all! And kept telling me proudly that he had a lot of variety. "Was tired of blondes humping muscle bound gentlemen, so got myself a whole new collection" is what he said. I was also told, that the army uses computers mainly as an upgraded form of a typewriter, and watching porn.And the covers looked innocent. "Love in Nepal" was actually "Malaysian Moulukee", "To sir with love" was some S&M video, *egads!!* and Delhi Diary, was you guessed it... some desi stuff. And there was this funny video called "Happy Holidays"...apparently some poor sod got his video camera stolen, and you could see a nekkid, unsure indian couple..making floppy attempts to grope at each other...in some hotel room, in some weird "foren" land...and mouthing words like "Main aa raha hoon!! ?!?!?!?!* I died laughing. So much for "desi" porn.


The nurse finally lost her eye, admist much publicity. The breathless reporter on Aajtak informed us that the victim is aware that she is going to loose her eye, and is a very brave girl. She also told us that she was gutsy, had balls of steel, and will take all that with a smile. And also that she might loose another eye as well. And then cut to the place where it all happened. And then the snippet that the police wewre instructed to get an AIDS test on the accused. It was all so shabby, that it made me want to slap the presenter. Totally dispassionate, and made uninteresting. I dunno what she was trying to establish.


Saw the movie "Blues Brothers" again, for the zillionth time, on HBO. The movie is so hilarious, and so sarcastic, and the music is soo soo good, that you never get bored. I have already downloaded the whole soundtrack. John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd play Jake and Elwood Blues, and they RULE!!!!! The movie has a cult following....and I suggest, you all watch this movie whenever its On!!:D Me goes, on this happy note, shall return real soon...:D

I am back again, after two lethargy filled days.Didn't have anything intelligent to write. Not that I am into intellegent writing anyways. So there was another rape. Another place. More brutal. The victim may lose her eye. I sometimes wonder, if it is even worth, writing about it.

I am the crawling dead,
a phantom in a box, shadow in your head
acid suicide - freedom of the blast,
read the fucker lies - yeah
scratch off the broken skin,
tear into my heart,
make me do it again



So, the Sunday was spent lazily..sleeping, drinking beer, and sleeping again.Macho Law prohibits me from admitting I'm lazy. Monday, came and went. A totally non-descript day. Nothing describable. White as a wall. Some Days are Better than Others. Monday wasen't.


They drowned him. 9 days, treated him like a king, and submerged him into the river. So is the ritual. Didn't go to the "visarjan". Hate those tearful departures. Not that I am religious, but, the overall feel is sad.He who throws mud loses ground.


The ganapati visarjan, and sharon's visit, were the highlights of the day. We saw the Police show. Mp5 totting NSG commandos, caravans of white ambies, with red lights, and Gypsies, with boards saying " DO NOT OVERTAKE" (imagine!! the luxury!!). And sneering traffic police, who are itching to pounce, lest you give them a glare. I was once stopped by a traffic policeman. This, on the busiest of roads. I saw him standing from a good 200 meters. Just to avoid him, like anybody else, changed lanes. The bastard was apparently watching patterns, he jumped right in front of me, and told me to "sade main aa jao". I had every paper, except the pollution certificate. "Saab se baat karo". I was introduced to the "saab", a menacing looking guy, with his top three buttons open, and a hint of an unwashed, yellowing "baniyan". He took me to this one room "booth", and started questioning me. I was in a hurry, like verybody else, so I told him to go ahead with his challaning. A few seconds later, he suggested an easier way out, I readily aggreed. Then I showed him my card, with the press* bearing. He softened a little and said: aap to staff ho". I told him I had only 20 bucks on me, and an uneaten apple. He took 10 rupees, and the apple. I left, very much amused. I have known similar incidents. with people getting away with paying as little as 5 rupees, uneaten lunches, and in one case a ball pen!!!! :|


A few months ago, someone approached my father with a "request" (he is a Fire advisor as well). He offerd to pay as well. Wrong move. Father wass rubbed in the wrong way, and he blasted the poor sod. And if this was not enough, he threw him out, and called the watch-room to stop him at the gates. He went down, and again blasted him for a good 2 hours, cancelled his liscense, and generally made him very, very miserable. So is father. So is the contrast.


I myself have never taken bribes, but have remembered to pay off favors. In that case, I become the "corruptor". Hard work is the yeast that raises the dough, and God's last name is not Dammit. hehe...if you know what I mean. :P

*bloop*

Saturday. The day its supposed to be "chilled-out", as they say. slow trafiic, the luxury to wear a Kurta at the office, be unshaven, and no one raises an eyebrow ( I am unshaven most of the time, people have stopped raising their eyebrows anyways).

As I said yesterday, there is no trace of yesterday's headline. I attacked the newspaper, but found nothing. I probably won't, again, atleast till tuesday or wednesday. So much for the anguish. Then one day, we will read, on the 3rd page, thats the victim had finally committed suicide. Or something close to it. Anyways...

And thank you dear Sakhi, for pointing out my time zone. I had always overlooked it. NOW, I can claim, I do it first thing in the morning...hehe. My grandfather still writes his diaries. He has about 40 of them diaries (Yes!! Actually!!) stacked in his old wooden almira, and only god knows how many nasty family secrets are in there.:> I once peeked in to one of those diaries, once when he was ill, and all I found was a list of things done since morning...if you know what I mean. Never touched it again. Shall not spill the contents, cause I myself went green.

I myself tried my hand at a somewhat "graphic" diary. That was 10 years ago. I had drawn "graphics" featuring mah' teachers. A whole copy fill of them. About 45 pages full of hand-drawn pornography. Father found out one day. It was a beautiful evening. I had returned from a tiring table tennis match. Father waited patiently at he station gates. (Father is a fire engineer) When i came back, he put his arm around me, like a loving father, for everyone to see, I even caught admiring looks on the firemen's faces...and we went up. As soon as we entered, he shoved the copy under my nose. The notebook was titled "Carnal Adventures at school*, so well thought over by me... And then the first blow came. On my cheek. Then the second. And the third. I didn' even have time to open my mouth. I counted till 25, before I succumbed, and mother came to the rescue. My father always believed in natural selection. Never used belts, or legs. His hands are registred weapons. :| I got a well deserved beating. And he threatned to come to school the next day, in his red jeep, with the blue lights, and make me famous. I was beyond caring...anyways. I was totally into my new found religion then...pornography. I didn't touch it till the next few years. This was the first of the only two times he has beaten me black and blue. It was repeated again,a few years later, but it was more serious, and one day I will write about it. I smirk, when them student-parent groups debate hotly on parental violence. I am all for "controlled-parental-violence." (Boys usually get it more). You gotta have it, when you got it coming...sigh*. My sister never got it. :(



The Jockey is back, and with a vengence. He has taken to wearing long kurtas, so I don't get to see anymore. (Don't get me wrong, I am NOT a voyer). And he is curious than ever. I had a tough time, getting him off this machine. Had to bombard this machine over the LAN with numerous fake Illegal BXQT9 errors, from my macintosh, so now is is suitably scared, and is sitting on the other machine. A conscience is what hurts when all your other parts feel so good. I feel like a real devil, but can't help it. THIS, is my beloved machine and has served me well for the last hree years. How can I let it be USED by some jockey clad monkey? Never!!

It seems as if this guy thinks of all the stupid questions, when not in the office. And he has that bemused look on his face, which makes me want to kill him. Argh! And to top it up, he talks through his nose. A mama's boy till the end. And he goes every now and then to complain, because the rest of us here and making his life a sweet hell. I feel a little bad, afterall he is a 21 year old kid, but aren't kids supposed to be a little smarter? gaaaa..

The saturday is turning out to be a long sheet of thin, slippery shit. I am sliding........I don't see an end. And I am bored to death. Thought we would Play a bout of counter strike, but half of the clan are not there, and the rest are busy chatting. Such a vice. *sheepish grin*

The other other people, from the office we have here, sit quietly, and actually work sincerely!!! I have never seen them even talking among themselves. And my room is a chimpanzee's cage. Everyone, including me, has a loud, boisterous voice, and we make full use of it. And we deliberately keep our room door open. Eventually someone comes, and pleads with silent eyes. And when we pass through their office door, everyone looks up, as if we are about to attack them, and then directly back to their respective monitors, desperately trying to avoid eye contact. Makes me want to approach the nearest person, and pat his cheeks!!! eeergh!

Jockey is sleeping soundly, and I can hear his snoring, even over my dream theatre he looks like a large, overgrown puppy, hungry, drool hanging from his lip, and waiting to be kicked into reality. How i wish I could do that!!

Yesterday, I discovered my Old Phantom comics, and had a ball reading them. Then I had an argument with my ma' at 3 am, on WHO was the creator. Lee Faulk, ofcourse. She won't aggree. Logged on, and proved my 20-something years of Phantom-followship. :D. ALL these comics were so wonderful. Although, he is an american, I have a lot of his comics in Hindi as well, The "Indrajaal Comics" did a wonderful job of "indianizing" him, and his clan. "hero" became shera , Devil became shera, Goran became gurran for easier pronounciation, and The Ghost who walks became chalta firta pret. He was one of the characters, everyone wanted to be, when they were my age. Same goes for Mandrake, and Lothar. :D I got really, really excited, and dug out more of his comics...shall spend sunday reading the whole collection over and over again. I am so disappointed that the Times group stopped publishing them, 10 years ago. *sigh* The current generation dosen't know what they are missing!!! I never liked Archie comics....though I liked veronica *grin*.

Hurrah! I finished that file i was talking about. Gaaa.took me a long time, 'cause I used four pictures to create this one Phew. Shall put more of my work there...:> laterz...

me is off....this has been a post too long.. Ahm*

Slept late last night, and am all groggy today. Saw this news on the front page (Hindustan Times) " 15 year old girl raped*, and my day was ruined. The more I thought about it, the more infuriated I got. Wanted to write about it, but I don' know what to write about it, because I am at a total loss of words about it. I just sat there, and fumed. And lived the agonizing moments the poor girl must have gone through. And the guy was a chef. They say 'every Man, is a potential rapist. I couldn't aggree more. I am against capital punishment, and support life, but i sincerely wish these buggers die a horrible death. Public pelting is one.

I still remember, when I was in college, and senior school, eve-teasers, and romeos were treated as the lowliest forms of life. We made it sure, that the guy's remaining time becomes complete hell. As seniors , we could slap them, or kick them whenever we wished to. Wish it was that easy. *sigh*

Hey, let them do it again, yeah
Hey, you said you were my friend
Hey, turn me upside down, Oh
Hey, feelin' so down
Hey, hey...hey...hey...
:|

I am so sicked by the though, over and over again. How can we, an educated society do this? And why do we shut our eyes to all this? Or just feel bad, and sorry about it, and write a blog about it? And forget about it, the next day, and write funnier, lighter things? I KNOW I will. Maybe we will discuss it over a cigarette, and tea, and think of numerous tortuous ways, to punish the sods? And when the cigarette and tea is over, get back to our respective jobs.

So I ask everyone in general...what should we do with these bastards? Or, more importantly, how should we do it, so that it sets an example, for all those others in the wings.:|
Shall write later in the day, when I am up to it.

Decided to write from home, tonight. I generally don't do it. Believe in "using" the office resources. After all, I am entitled to a high speed, broad band connection.

Anyways, this is SO peaceful. Sitting quietly, all by myself, and no need to minimize, whenever someone comes near me. THIS, is mah' domain.

What a day. We didn't have electricity for almost 4 hours!!! So is life in Delhi. The generators, and the UPS's die screaming after an hour. After that, its time for mindless discussions, sweat, more pointless remarks about nothing in particular. Or listening to Rupinder talk fondly about his wonderful days in some hostel in Punjab. Now, don't get me wrong. He is a big, fat shining gem of a man. Master of programming languages.Weighs 95 Kgs. Has a feather pillow for a tummy. Can eat, almost everything except Karela,and Tinda. Can clear a room within seconds with one of his famous farts. Can mesmerize you with that "I am hungry" look, till you start feeling go gooey in the stromach. He can go as far as open his beard (it reaches till his tummy) and his long, flowing, Jet black raven hair, after office hours. THAT, I tell you, is a terrifying sight. All you see, is a gargaunt ball of hair walking towards you, and it happens to have a BIG mouth, teeth bared.

So, he started off with one of his oh-no-not-again ones. We are actually seriously thinking of getting them numbered funny incidents. One of his favorites is, how the three of them (him and two more) were on a scooter, and how the driver saw some babe, and how he didn't see the speed breaker, and how the driver was forced onto the foorboard, the middle guy on the seat, and Mr. Rupinder singh on the back seat. He almost never finishes the sentence. You see a blur of teeth, and beard till a sprinke of spit lands in your eye.

So, all we have to do is number these precious little moments of his, and live happily ever after. And then all HE will do, is just get up and say #34...and we shall laff. So is life.

Went to the Four (FOREEEE!!!) school of management, since the lights had gone, and Rupinder was killing us with his exotic one-liners. That place has about 20 Dhabas, maybe more.. side-by-side. And the food is so cheap, and SO delicious, and the view so mmmmm. Incidently, the speciality remains the same. Paranthas. You get almost EVERY kind. Or for all those maybe-homesick people, they serve MAGGI!!! erm.

Its 12AM, and I am listening to Chris Cornell. "Just like suicide". Beautifully sung, and equally beautiful lyrics. Perfect, before I get lost in the book I am reading *part-time* these days. Its Ignited Minds* by the President himself. :) The book is a good, quiet read, and I have been saving it, and reading it for over 3 dAys now. :)

Shall resurrect in the morning...

This is the third day, since my vow never to smoke again. This happens on every sunday evening. I pledge, that the coming day would be spent as a non-smoker. Never happens. Although all this has led to a drastic cut down, it still is not going anywhere. It is partly because of the Program on Discovery channel I saw a few days ago, in which they said that when smokers quit smoking, they suddenly put on weight. Am waiting for the bell to toll. Amen.

Yesterday was mom's B'day. Could not think of a suitable gift this year. For the last 3 years, I have been gifting her books, but this time around, i was myself fed up with the book idea. So I gave her *sheepishly' the money I had taken out for my MP3 player. Went out, for dinner. I proudly say, that I went home early for that. Had a good time. We are all foodies, except my mom. Sister used to be one too, but she is in Pune now, and has to make do with hostel food. It was good, and going out once more reminded me that Delhi is such a show-off's city. I saw this guy, just outside the restaurant, with his wife. All slicked down hair. Jeans so tight, that one might think he was born with them. The wife was no better, only she disn't have a moustache. The thing that most stuck me was the guy's chest. Now I am certainly NOT a guy-chest-watcher, but this was different. There was so much mass, that I almost said this aloud:" you have bigger boobs than your wife!!!* I swear, I almost said it. But checked myself. It also reminded me of a passage from "English August" , where he says, "They are so big, I bet he flips his breasts over his shoulders, when he sits down on the toilet seat.". The though was so gross, so crass, and so funny at the same time, that I started Guffawing. And HARD. Poor puzzled parents whisked me away, before anyone could understand. Thank god. On the way back, mother kept repeatedly asking me. Ofcourse I could not answer, with father, with the keen ear driving.

The rest of the night was spent peacefully, gulping down icecream, "washed down" with more icecream, and reading TIME, the article on Indian-Muslims.It was so stinky, that it made me write a long one to them. Partly because they were somewhat right, and partly because who the hell are they to tell us that they have been the bright boys, and had it figured it all along. Yes, we DO treat the Muslims in our country with hate. Its a sad fact. I have been a witness to it, quite a few times. I was 15, when I witnessed riots in Indore, after the Babri demolition. It was horrible. I shall not comment on it. I have seen a group of young muslims, huddle in a local train in mumbai, and the look of fear in their collective said it all. I have heard, my own family members, uttler unkindly words for them. And this, after they have been with us for more than a millenium.

Gaa. I went off track. Shall return.

Ah. Its mundane munday. Had to wait for 50 minutes outside the office. That ass Sajit had taken mah key. I swear he is not getting any keys for the rest of his life. So, all my pent up blog-pulp I had built up, was gone. So, I am here again.


Its Ganapati Time again. We have *installed* as those firangs say, a small Ganapati at our place. And my mother was outraged at the somewhat lack of show of enthusiasm. And I got a lot of slack for it. :| So, compensated by staying all day at home, lazing around, sleeping and playing counter-strike with bots. More on bots at some other time.


Talked to Rahul. I wanted to meet him over some cigarettes, and generally chit chat. But he wanted me to come to his place, and my lethargy-laced-ass, didn't want to go. And I told him so too. :| Sorry, Rahul, but I shall make it ONE DAY!!!


So, I stayed home and went for my late-evening-smoking walk. Had a smoke. Sat at the panwallah, and kept mumbling to myself. Its a bad habit. I keep doing it, and don't stop until someone starts staring at me, and I mean REALLY start staring at me. And sometimes i pretend that i have this invisible looking walkie-talkie tucked inside my ear, and I am talking something really important. :| I do this a lot when I am on my bike. That is, when I am NOT singing, or shouting obsceneties at defaulters. Its utterly stoophid.

No, its not mundane. I am about to suffer monday. Shall come back a survivor..in the evening..

adios..

YabbaYabbaYabaa!! I swear, I swear to myself, I WILL not wander into print-posters again!! NEVER!!

This friend of mine, came to me with a simple request. he had a poster idea for his company (ebookers, he works as a web-designer). And that i take a look at it. I say, ok, we'll sit, and see. He comes, and we sit, and watch. The thing he has brought with him, dosen't work out. Its too childish. So, me is given the task to think, and create. I think, and try to create. it looks good. Then my G4 macintosh says" thanks, dude. Thats a LOT you have put me through. I am going to crash". And the screen shows me eerie lines, and the machine goes "bloop*. After 2 hours of pleading, swearing, cursing, and hair-pulling, it starts again. This time with a beautiful, transparent error message. Now, whoever designed this error screen, was a real sadist. I am informed that my macintosh dosen't have a Hard disk. :| Thankfully, I live in geekworld. The mac remembers that it used to have a 30 GB gut. *sigh*

The friend is gone, satisfied, looking a little paler, and must have developed piles. My office room is a mass of papers, cigatrette butts, and empty water-bottles.

I was in a similar situation last year. We were working on a CD for Ms. Ritu Nanda (the wife of Mr. Rajan Nanda, Escorts, and the daughter of Raj Kapoor). Now don't get me wrong. She is one of the sweetest persons alive. Almost child like. Very energetic, and bubbly. We worked, night and day to complete the CD. It was amultimedia CD, which was to be packaged by the book (Raj Kapoor Speaks, published by Penguin). I was to design the layouts, and the CD cover. Now, making layouts for electronic purposes is no big deal. Making it for print becomes a nightmare. Atleast for me. Took me 7 days!!!! And that too, after numerous discussions with countless persons. Nevertheless, the CD was completed in time, and the design team went to Mumbai, an all paid trip. We attended the Inaugration at Grand maratha. It WAS grand. We saw Mr. Bachhan, and most of the biggies. Anyways, all we were interested were in was the free booze. b-). And the two days we spent in mumbai (we were paid 10,000 as *pocket money* , cause we have been such good kids!!!!...for "paan-bidi" !!!!!!) were a BLAST!!! We had a minor faux pas as well. later on that one.

I am disgustipated at the connection in the office. After I write ALL this, it stalls like a pregnant pachyderm. :|

I have copied this, written it on a CD, and have bought it back to home, so that I can finish it. Its been a good ride home, save for the mindless barricades put on by the Police, all those turds do, is sit by the side, with their paunch, and giving you suspicious looks. :|

I'll say this again, Scooters and Temples should be banned. Scootors, because it its the most ugly mode of transport, and almost no one in the universe ACTUALLY knows how to ride one. Temples, because they are such a nuisance. We have this godforsakenly small temple...its not even a temple, its a small "kholi" as you say it, right next to the road. ANd mind you, its one of the BUSIEST roads, here, in Delhi. Even at 10 Pm at night. But people roam around, as if they have the god's grace, and he is ACTUALLY itching to save them. This dude, with an extra stuffing of his paan, with garlands et' al came right in front of my bike, almost got his crotch-bone fractured, yelped, and sprawled right there, for ALL to see...belly button and all. It was a grotesque sight. All I could do was laugh. Angry and laughing. :| And he still had the nerve, to prop himself up, on the road, and say "Bhai sahab, dekh kar to chalte, saamne Mandir hai." !!!!!! All I could do, was mumble something illegible, show as much disgust as possible, and zip away. :|!!!!

I got all charged up thinking of the grisly belly button. Argh!!

Shall put this on, now!!!

OMG!!! it was supposed to be a saturday. i was supposed to be at home. Drawing pictures. On the mountain tops. With me on top. lemon yellow sun. Arms, raised in a V. Oops. I have gone all the way this time. *Blatant , shameless copy, courtsey :pearl Jam*

Anyways. I am blank today.:|

A moving stream of information
That is floating on the wind
The secrets never end
And now they call,
They sing, they play, they dance
For you, from out of the blue,
What can you do?
b-)

Adios. till monday *i hope*

Gaaaa!!! Tried that gostats thing!! It won't work!! Wanted to keep a count on my visitor hit!! Stupid HTML!!!!! grrr. Anyways.
Had a tablet for my mild, "budding" headache. Its getting a habit now. A tablet a day, keeps the annoyance away. My stock in the office is running out!!! Have to refurbish!!!

Got some pictures for upload for TIME magazine. kareena Kapoor. Some movie called chameli. Based on the story of some prostitute. Well, I say this...she dosen't need to act like one, she already looks like one!! Real glossy pictures though. Just hope those firangis take them and give us some $'s! Got some more on the mumbai blasts, and they were real gruesome. Body parts hanging on to car parts, bodies being carried away, policemen yelling...volunteers, the Taj hotel..the works. Commendable work. I am apalled! :|

Got this real heartbreaking picture a few days ago. Although, i block those forwards, but this one really got me. Some photographer by the name of Kevin Carter. And he committed suicide a few days after clicking that particular picture. Have a look, he shot this particular Pulitzer prize winning picture, in Sudan, during the famine, its about a hungry baby, crawling to the UN camp, for food, and a hungry vulture watching her. I lost my apetite for the day, when I first saw it. Ugh.

Its a friday, and the roads were real empty, even during the rush hour. Wonder what occassion it is. Is Delhi finally coming to the weekend culture? Had a fine drive, and drove the bike at 75 +!! Hope its the same when i go back home. Its more fun, driving at night, the roads are emptier, and the air fresh.

Its lunch time, and I don't feel like eating. 2 Pm, and its still too early to eat. I got baingan-aloo anyways. :| And i can't complain much about it to the mother. She will prompty send me to the market, on sunday, to do the vegetable shopping myself. And I hate it, from the bottom of my heart. :| So, I eat, whatever is in my lunchbox. Though we have a home-delivery joint nearby, I dare not order from there. Its a gastronomisicist's paradise, and always successfully gives me the motions. :|

Talked to sister in Pune. Poor girl is having a hard time with the mountain of studies she has to cope with. Working on computers is one thing, studying them is a different ball game altogether. Hehe....have to get a computer for her next month or so. I have specific instructions from the parents, to keep it basic. No frills. Just the basic, plain-jane-programmer's box. Have to comply, depite the fact that it is cruel. My sister is not a hard-core gamer like me, but she has an eye for them, and It would really break my heart to see her struggling with C++, on a 800Mhz machine. gaaa.

I am thinking of putting some obsceneties in my next post. Just to add a little color. ;)

Mr. Jockey, has become a proper PIA. *pain in da ASS*. I think god broke the mould, after he was born. He has this DUH aura around his head. And man, he asks TOO MANY questions, about EVERYTHING!!! Yesterday, he went in for a shoot, and I had to listen to the monologue in the background. I was about to jump him (really), but he muct have sensed, that no one was really listening..so he shut up. Just in time. I finally got to know his name. its Shoaeb.. From Jammu. Surely they used to make them a little smarter. :((. More about him later.

Am out..for now..*bloop*!