Tuesday, 20 August 2013


For reasons unexplained, every person in this world is born with a large gaping hole in the center of their chest.
While not uncomfortable, it is widely considered to be unsightly and so, pretty much everyone tries to fill it with something.
Some people fill it with religion, some science while others just buy a bunch of stuff.

I left mine alone though, because I found out if you run against the wind at just the right angle, it makes a whistling noise .. .. .. ..

Also, I haven't found the person of the right size to fill it yet.

Wednesday, 7 August 2013


The world is not divided between East and West. You are American, I am Iranian, We don't know each other, but we talk and we understand each other perfectly. The difference between you and your government is much bigger than the difference between you and me. And the difference between me and my government is much bigger than the difference between me and you.

And our governments are very much the same.

Marjane Satrapi
Iranian Novelist

Friday, 26 July 2013

The Call of Duty


He stood there, very still. His head was heavy, not from thoughts, but from the almost rhythmic drumming of rain drops on his scalp. His blazer, which was reminiscent of something a public school student prides and cherishes, was heavy as well. The wool had allowed water to seep through and drenching his shirt to reach his bare skin underneath. His tie, a fine pattern of red and white, was suffocating him. It was a knot, he has particularly worked hard at, for it was the first time he had knotted it that way. The watchful eye of the warden in the corridor ensures his obedience. There was no way he could undo his tie, even for a little bit. His trousers soaked, his shoes now filling with water. But, he must not move. For if he did, he knew there were far worse things in store. His hands now clenched into a fist, he becomes the rightful epitome of his school's heritage. Unflinching and unmoved in his resolve to see this punishment through.

His thoughts began wandering to the incident that led to his temporary purgatory. His tenure in this school had never seen an incident for which a student was even harshly reprimanded, let alone stand tortuously in the rain. For any reason, his crime did not equate with his punishment.He stared with angst at the piece of cloth that now rested inside, away from the rain, for someone deemed it disrespectful to let it be in the rain.

His time of punishment almost over, he realized, there wasn't a lesson to be learnt here. Just never to disrespect  that banner. A simple flag that would never matter to him ever in life and the attachment that it had to folk around him was so silly, it wasn't even right to give it credence.

He suffers in silence.
The warden decides, the boy has had enough.
He calls the boy and without another word, dismisses him.

Once in the corridor, he shakes off some of the precipitation from his uniform and adamant to the end, shows little remorse for his action. His head is held high and his shoulders straight as he walks by the stand, where the flag, completely dry, keeps watch. He sneers at it and walks to his room, his tie still knotted.


His numbers were failing him. He knew, at that moment, he did not have enough men. His mission was ahead of him and  through the operations at night, he had lost half. The words of his instructor resounded like  howitzers in his ears, " The platoon is every officer's first command. It is the first time an officer comes into combat with a group of men, whose responsibility he bears". He had failed his men so far. Also been told , that causalities are a part of battle and that an officer should have a clear head to get the job done. He should be prepared to do what is necessary in the face of overwhelming odds. He knew the words, they did him no good here. He was cold, starved and injured. There was nothing he wouldn't do as a person to be somewhere else.

He, however, did not have that luxury. For at that moment, the academy credo comes to mind. The words of the Army that are like scripture. " Country First".

All other things are secondary to him now. He holds his rifle with a silent resolve, garners every ounce of strength that comes from his bleeding legs and stands. His men should see him. His men should know. He is their platoon leader and lead he shall. For he is an Infantryman. And anyone who knows anything, Infantry knows only one way. Forward.

He turns, smiles at his men, fixes his bayonet and says " Follow me ".

With madness he charges, his men in formation behind him. His column emerges from the fog into the wee hours of morning. The enemy caught unawares, turns and fires. With the mud, human grit touches a pinnacle, as the officer leads the charge pinching his bayonet into the first of the enemy. The order of the battle was simple to his spartan ears. It was kill or die. His staccato diminishes enemy numbers and yet he sees his men fall. The numbers are too much for one single man, but that man will not give up. Till his last breath he shall fight because, it is only the country that he fights for. And so he does. Until the very last of the enemy falls, his bayonet doesn't lose the color red. It is emblazoned with a shade of crimson that only a warrior recognizes. He surveys his field, knowing that the enemy has been vanquished. He looks at his men, only 5 remain from twenty, the night before. There are wounded he must attend to. He too is bleeding from bullet wounds but he pays no heed. Quickly dispatching orders to tend to the wounded, he sets up a defensive line across the post. There is a particular lack of oxygen that now stings him, reminding him of the task accomplished. Once he makes sure that the site is secure, he removes his backpack and unzips it, taking out the national colors.

He cannot walk, yet he seeks no help from his comrade-at-arms. He stumbles and falls many times, his breath still heavy from the morning mist, for at this altitude every little action becomes laborious. He summons every vestige of his strength to climb the final rock and wraps his country's flag on a pole to hoist it over the lay of the land.

Victory now lay at the Infantryman's feet.

He salutes his flag, a symbol of everything he fights for, a symbol of sacrifice to wield the godly right to kill another man for it. The flag gives him strength to his tired frame and gives his the right to shed a tear for his fallen comrades. He salutes for every soldier that came before him and every soldier that will go after.

He knows that flag alone can make him a legion.

And even as his head was again heavy, this time from his losses, the boy hasn't forgotten his punishment.That ensign, this flag is his whole life and he knows now that a suffocation from a tie standing in the rain was maybe too lenient a sanction.

He would die for it now. Any day.

Thursday, 25 July 2013

Birthday reds (because I'm colorblind)

Contrary to the popular belief running around my circles, I don't really hate my birthday.
I mean , who hates the day you were born into this insane nightmare. Right ?

I just don't see the reasoning behind celebrating it as if it were a big deal because it really isn't.
There are far better things to be done with my time and more importantly, money.

Since morning, I've been wished by six people. So, six people know it's my birthday, that's not including the family horde. So technically, my point is proven right here. It really isn't a big deal.

I find it very weird to grow up. I don't feel like it. I was just as sane as when I was 28. I tried last night to grow my biceps by an inch.... very hard, but they wouldn't budge. So no physical growth either.

Mentally, I don't think I have developed any nuttier parts of my brain.They're still nuts.

I find the counter to various checkpoints in my life to be moving so fast that I can hardly keep up.
I think it's time to burn down these so called milestones with a rather large mental flamethrower and start actually living.

In other news, I've been told by someone that I'm at, what some people call it, a very sexy age.

Age is a number. Unless you are a mathematician, and a rather large breasted one with long legs and a tight dress to match, I shall humbly disagree.

But, in the off chance that you are the above things, you'll find that I make good calculus references during my conversations over drinks.

Cheers !

Wednesday, 24 July 2013

Gym answers

When my trainer SOLs ( Scream Out Loud - Mine - hope it catches on :P ) at me in the gym and asks me " Who are you doing this for ?" ,my mind wanders. I mean there is no correct answer to that question. I was perfectly content being a couch potato weighing at 117 Kgs eating my share of meat in the world and all the fries to go with that ( proverbial as well ). Also, its a guaranteed (not by me) fact that the human mind cannot give the right answer when lifting 200 pounds of dumb weight. It's insane for any person to ask a question under those circumstances and then expect the correct answer. So for your future reference, when I reply "I'm doing it for me !" in a somewhat sissy way and even aware of the fact that my arms are going to give away any second, you should know, it's the answer you wanted to hear, not what I wanted to give.

Now. ask me under normal circumstances, who am I doing this for?

If I had to pick, It would definitely be the girls. But, out here, I don't have that luxury of ripping my buttons open every now and then to show off my nice definitions. As I take it, when I get into a cozy situation and should the opportunity arise for me to take off my shirt in front of a girl, I think it would be too late for her to back out of it anyway.

Imagine that.

Well, as it turns out,I am doing it for no one. I just feel different when I am in the gym. It helps me pass my time in doing something that my mind construes as constructive. I am shit bored of doing nothing, so that's how I pass my time. Actually I'd rather spend a lot of time eating all sorts of crap and watching a lot of telly, but I realized that television is shit nowadays and crap isn't coming cheap to eat. So, the decision to work out. It spawned from logic. Not from a need to look ripped.

When I do get ripped, I will just consider that as an interesting by-product.

Interestingly, even though I have lost 19 kgs in the past year, I still haven't come around to changing my clothes for the same. So I will be doing that sometime soon. Because now the jeans have begun to look saggy, a stark reminder of how hip-hop I'll start looking if I don't do anything about my apparel status.

But yes, Somehow I missed the point there. The whole point wasn't for anyone to go to gym and the reasons thereof. The point was to tell everyone that if you think adventure is dangerous, try routine. It's a real killer.

Get up from your chair. walk around. see. observe. read. travel. do shit with your life. it has never been and will never be too late.

20 years from now, you just shouldn't feel like your life was made by the lowest bidder.


PS. Ladies, please go to the gym and get your squat on. Its the difference between having a butt and having an ass! trust me. No I'm not being sexist. I like all types of bodies just fine. But please squat anyway. :P

Tuesday, 23 July 2013

Musings #3

I have no idea why, but the single most persistent thought I've had is the image of me driving back from a party at night with my wife asleep right beside me.
I know it’s not my girlfriend, because you can tell these things and I know it's distracting because of how she literally just lies crumpled beside me with her hair strewn across her face. I know it’s night because any other time would just not make any sense and I know I am driving because there is a light rain on the road which is competing for my attention.

The funny thing about this picture is that no matter how hard I have tried, I can never see her face.

Every single time my head is blank.

Consistently, since I can remember.

It’s weird.


"Will you whisper softly into my ear,
all of the words that I need to hear,
and I will love you even in your darkest hour,
my dear.
And when the music begins to fade,
taper, drift away,
will you still dance with me anyway?
For our time together will surely
slip from our hands,
quietly, strand by strand,
but my memories will be as many as the sand.
Then I will sit by the old oak tree,
just as I promised you I would be,
and I won't cry for you,
but for me,
because it is you that is finally free."

- katie daughtry

Peaceful words...

<not original content>

- 20 Reasons why you should date a biker -

1. Date a guy who has ridden across the length and breadth of the country. He’s the best storyteller you will ever meet.

2. Date a guy who will jump on his motorcycle and ride off in any direction, only to realign himself with this world once again. Respect him for this, because every time he is upset about something, he’ll make sure it doesn’t spill-over at work. Or at home. And when he comes back, he’ll be more sorted than he was earlier.

3. Date a guy who knows how to fix a punctured tube. Or broken gear box. Chances are, he’ll be able to sort out a lot of problems in his own life as well as yours, if you’re close to him. Without taking external help. You can rely on him for most of your problems. Unless they’re medical in nature. In that case, visit a doctor. (He’ll take you to the doc on his motorcycle.)

4. Date a guy who is as comfortable spending a night at a gas station in the middle of nowhere as he is in the plush comfort of his house. Adaptability is something we as humans are kind of running short on these days.

5. Date a guy who will always, without fail, stop to help when he sees another one of his kind broken down on the road. For that matter, even if he sees car drivers. He understands what you’re going through at that moment.

6. Date a guy who gets excited at the mention of hitting the highway and riding off to the hills. The curves on those roads teach him how volatile life can be. In addition to that, he knows how to respect curves. Of all kinds. (You know what I mean).

7. Date a guy who can actually break each bone in another man's body who is looking for unnecessary trouble with him, with just a wrench. But he won’t, because he knows it’s not worth it and it’s not the solution to any problem. Yes, he respects everybody's opinions. He won't force his on you. Just make sure no one pushes him around too much.

8. Date a guy who will ride 300 kms just to have that awesome breakfast that the road-side diner offers in the town next to the one you’re in. If this isn’t adventurous enough for a mundane day, what else do you think is?

9. Date a guy who will get so excited before each ride that he won’t be able to sleep for a minute, even though he has done this a million times. He knows how to keep things fresh. Always.

10. Date a guy who makes sure he packs in everything that he might and most probably will need on a long motorcycle ride. He pays attention to detail. Chances are he’ll be sorted in most of the things in his life.

11. Date a guy who will never ever ride his machine without wearing a helmet. He knows his life is not just his own.

12. Date a guy who will pause and skip a few heartbeats every time he sees the sun rise over the horizon, or comes across a waterfall at the next turn in the hills, or lays his eyes on the first snow-capped peaks in the ranges. He admires nature. The same nature you have chosen to ignore sitting in your cubicles.

13. Date a guy who will ride just for the heck of it, because it makes him feel free and liberated. Honestly, he is more free than anyone else, because he turns that throttle, puts the bike in gears and grabs that freedom.

14. Date a guy who would rather be sitting on his motorcycle thinking about God, and not sit in a temple and think of his bike. He has his priorities in place.

15. Date a guy who has seen the dark side of motorcycling and has survived. He’ll give you tips and lessons you didn’t even know existed.

16. Date a guy who will go to any lengths to spend some quality time with his "brothers", even when there is no obvious blood connection. He understands brotherhood much more deeply.

17. Date a guy who can go wild on his motorcycle trips and can make everyone have a great time. With his music and his stories. What's there not to like about this?

18. Date a guy who will look back at his life’s achievements and mistakes while riding his motorcycle. He will chuckle a bit, smile a lot, sometimes shed a tear or two. And that’s what builds character.

19. Date a guy who has crash and burn marks on his self. Warriors aren’t pretty. Barbie dolls are.

20. Date a guy who can keep his motorcycle like any other man would treat his wife. He’ll treat his wife like a Queen.

<not original content>

Monday, 22 July 2013

God's honest truth

  • My first experience of unhooking a bra strap did not come from my first sexual escapade, but from the first He-Man action figure armor I had.

    Thank you so much Dad :P
  • The only time I utter the words " what's wrong with my sensitivity" is when I am fiddling around with my Xbox controller.
  • Until 7th Class, I used to think Gaza strip was some famous topless bar.
  • While taking a pee and accidentally flushing, when I am only halfway through, makes me race against the flush. With vigor, mind you.
  • I find it impossible to make women understand that even a bargain costs money.
  • Redbull might give me wings, but I am much more comfortable with the twin pod Jet pack that comes with Old Monk. I cannot justify the existence of a drink like redbull either. Except maybe to make Jaegerbombs.
  • It has been a longtime thought of petting three Dogs > A German shepherd named Whiskey. A Belgian shepherd named Tango and  a Siberian husky named Foxtrot.

    Just so that when I shout WTF! they all rush to cheer me up. 
  • There are times that I can't believe that I am from this planet.
  • If there's really nothing in a name, I don't think anyone should mind when I change my name to Tiberius.
  • At any point in time, there is nothing I'd rather be doing than riding my motorcycle in any direction.
    A close second would be making love to a magnificent woman.
    Only because it is uncomfortable to do both at the same time.
    No, I haven't tried.
  • I have never pushed myself to impress any girl. The right girl would be the one who would be impressed on her own for her own damn reasons. 
  • Peas and carrots are two things that should have been made extinct with the dinosaurs.
  • I am very weird in the head when in comes to shopping because I might be in and out of a mall like Flash Gordon, picking up all I need without trying anything. Maybe even regret it later when it doesn't fit. It's just an exercise I don't enjoy.
  • To the above, I only shop thrice a year and buy all I need at those times.
  • No, I don't see the charm in leaving India.
  • There are things, I accept, that are out of my control. It's obvious really, there is no need to fight it since I am but a tiny speck of dirt in this universe.
  • Bad grammar is a massive turn off.
  • Music is much better enjoyed by me without the lyrics.
  • I love Autumn Rain. Absolutely love it!

Of cheatcodes and rewards

So this is what hell feels like. I had tried staying awake all night and study for this exam, but no longer than the first few minutes trickled by , I was day dreaming. Actually it was night so it was just dreaming. All night I thought I had it under control, but in the end it was a sham. I was as prepared as an elephant, trying to swim through an ocean. Kind words of my mom asking me to concentrate more and harder floated by me like the eerie irony they were. " SHIT !", I thought out aloud. There had to be a way out of this. A way to end this misery. A way to calmly eat lunch during the break without worrying about this exam !

As I looked at my watch for the umpteenth time , I could see the seconds trickling by. A sad and harsh reminder of the time remaining. " Jeez! History is such a bore ! " I couldn't help but notice the quiet smirk developing on the face of the invigilator who just happened to be my teacher , who , I felt at times, had a vendetta against me. Dates, times and months... I tell you if you asked me my birthday right now , I wouldn't remember. How the hell was I supposed to know when the Boston Tea Party, was held ? I doubt if it was anything more than a gay congregation anyway . I wasn't built for history !

Furtive glances ahead and behind didn't yield much results. The examiner was watching me much closely now. " Heck! I wonder if he knows the answer ! " My thoughts weren't proving to be very constructive. Although one thing was clear. It was cheat or die !

So , there I was , thinking of an "out" strategy. I had already considered a dozen ploys including the old stomach-ache routine and the writing on the handkerchief move. They wouldn't work anyway. These methods relied on an age old system of 'giving' for 'receiving' information. And I had nothing to give. I knew I had to think of something before the bell rang and all was lost.

Stealing glances around yourself is like a beacon for the distressed. Everyone who notices knows you are in trouble. If luck would have it I would get a friend who would 'share' .

" Damn " , I swore, under my breath. Everyone was busy scribbling.Was I going to be the only one to fail today ? God , oh God! Why didn't you make me study yesterday ?

" Psst ! " , at first, I didn't even notice the hiss. On a careful recon, I saw the girl sitting right next to me. Funny, Isha wasn't the kind to 'share'... let alone 'cheat' . Was this a trick ? I remembered the time when she busted me for disturbing the class and complained to the teacher. I had to stand outside for an hour ! No ! There was no way I was going to trust this Satan's offspring !

" Hey ! I got Q.8 for you if you've got number 2 . " she whimpered. Hmm... Interesting. I DID have question number 2 , but the fishy thing was no 2 was 2 marks and the eighth was for 10. " What is she playing at ?" I wondered as I contemplated. Multitasking is fun .

If I got 10 , I would pass. No doubt about it. Battling my inner urge to resist giving into the devil, and carefully looking if anybody had eyes on me < I had a reputation to protect> , I caved." okay" , I said. shifting my sheet towards her, i gave her the answer. " Your turn" I thought. She was uncertain. I could almost feel her unease. Topper of the class and getting caught cheating . It would be disastrous for her. For me, Hah ! I couldn't care less. I was at the bottom anyway . A pure dysfunctional rebel of sorts with an attitude to match. I 'could' take the risk. She , on the other hand, could not.

I waited. Waited for her to return the favor. I couldn't understand why it was taking so long. In the hollow cacophony of silence this wait was killing me. There were sounds all around me , but all I could hear was silence. She was tense and paranoid, but she stuck to her deal. Scribbling something on the question paper, she passed it to me.

" Whoa ! Nice !", I had 10 marks. Looks like I wasn't going to fail after all. Trying to grasp her ant-tracks handwriting, I finally made some sense out of it and started writing. Fast !

For the examiner it must have been pretty unusual to see me jotting something at such a speed. Which really doesn't beg the reason why he observed very quickly that I was cheating. Calmly, he came up and said, " Abhay. put your pen down. The test is over for you and you're coming with me."
I wont say that I was shocked.He did sound scarily similar to the gestapo though - " Abhay ! Schnell ! Alarm ! For you ze war is overr ! Capitalist pig !" Heaving a sigh, I laid down my arms and followed him as I saw him cancel my entire paper. 15 marks gone to dust ! Damn ! could this go any worse ?

Yes it could. 10 minutes later, the test was over , everybody was leaving and I was standing in a corner.Wondering. If only I had studied. If only Rahul hadn't come last evening about a movie. If only I had the sense to devote time for the test than video games . My reverie came crashing down as I was strong-earred. " You're coming with me to the principal's office! I am going to get u a good thrashing !" Promises promises. Its not like I hadn't been there before. Scot free abhay, thats what they used to call me. 6 principal summonings and not one action . Good record for a troublemaker.

I stood there once again on my favorite side of his door. The principal was a good guy, believed in the 'inner good' of kids. I was just going to wait this one out. I was sure he wouldn't even entertain any action . Laughable actually. My teacher despised me so much and my principal was absolutely my godfather.

Classes were getting over for lunch break. I scanned the populace.Like ants they hurried to the canteens and the cafeteria. Looks like I was going to be hungry today. As long as Herr History teacher the gestapo SS was trying to brainwash a ridiculously simple piehead of a principal.

Isha smiled at me as she passed. There was a twitch in her eye as if asking a question. I nodded in bravado and assured her that it was all cool . She kinda made me nervous. A looker that she was, her tastes in losers like me bore a feeling which could be best compared to a conflict eternal. She looked around and came up to me.

" How bad ?" ..... " Not that bad actually. Looks like a few hundred bucks fine" I tried to smile but she did intimidate me. " Did they ask anything about me?" she asked. Did I sense nervousness? From all the years of knowing her, nervousness and Isha didn't match." Nope. And don't worry. Its the code. We don't rat " I tried a James bond smile on her which came out to be very corny. The worst part is that she knew it.

" Thanks...... " her voice trailed off. " I better be going, lest they see me here." I agreed. That would be admission of guilt, circumstantial evidence, proof of lie .... God ! I gotta lay a rest on Grisham ! " Hey Abhay ! " I turned to her. Sifting through her wavy hair, she asked " Wanna go for a movie tonight ? I heard Notting Hill is on " Her smile was piercing.

" Okay... yeah ... great ! " I was mumbling. " Cool, I'll see you at 7 at Mayfair. And don't worry, tickets and popcorn are on me" She smiled and walked away.

Oh for the love of risks and rewards !