My Pervert Uncles

There’s one in every family. There are two in mine.

The first one is a 70-year old pervert. He’s my uncle on my Dad’s side of the family and has always had the ugly habit of addressing small (male) kids as, “Hi Miss!” and “How are you, Miss?”

If that isn’t uncomfortable enough, he still follows the ritual. I ran into him at a cousin’s wedding recently, and even though I’m taller and bigger than him, he smiled at me through his dilapidated yellow teeth and said, “Hello, Miss!”

I cringed and moved away, oblivious to his hurt sentiment. A minute later, I heard him say the exact same thing to my brother, who  is taller and bigger than me. I caught my brother’s eye and we both ignored the old pervert and moved away.

This pervert family member has kids of his own, who are both grown men and I feel sorry for the fact that they have to endure this kind of sexually explicit torture each day. I won’t be surprised if those two kids grew up feeling very confused abut their sexuality. I think it borders on sexual harassment.

The second pervert in my family is another 70-year uncle on my Mom’s side, who just can’t stop from touching himself in ‘special’ places in front of everyone. I had the misfortune of running into him as well during the wedding, and while he shook my hand, he twirled his other hand inside his white lungi. I rushed to the restroom and washed my hands with soap vigorously. Who knows where that hand of his has been.

As I stepped out of the restroom, my brother ran past me and starting washing his hand.

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When The Fan Hits The Shit

… I wouldn’t want to be anywhere within fifteen feet of that debacle. But, this post has nothing to do with fans or motors or shit. Seriously, there is no toilet humor in this post. Yeah, I know the feeling. I’ve become boring. Can’t help it. I’m probably in a very interesting phase of my life right now, with absolutely no idea what’s going to happen in the future. I’m poised precariously and I can either end up going to jail for murdering an endangered species of bird (out of frustration) or hitting the jackpot big time.

Most of the people who have made it big in life have been through this situation some time or the other. The stronger ones have come out smelling of roses. The weaker ones usually don’t come out of it. If they do, roses are the last thing on their minds. They would be on the hunt for that bastard bird to kill.

What bird, you ask? I have no idea. That’s the great thing about rants. It need not make sense to anyone, even the one ranting. Let’s all clap our hands together for no reason, sniff our fingertips and spit at the nearest wall. It’s going to be a three-legged race on the sharp edge of a razor blade. Hooah!

My Slow Chemical

The wonder of the world is gone I know for sure,
All the wonder that I want I found in her,
As the hole becomes apart I strike to burn,
And no flame returns…

Every intuition fails to find it’s way,
One more table turned around I’m back again,
Finding I’m a lost-and-found when she’s not around,
When she’s not around, I feel it coming down…

Give me what I could never ask for,
Connect me and you could be my chemical now!
Give me the drug you know I’m after,
Connect me and you could be my chemical…

When everybody wants you,
When everybody wants you…
Give me what I could never ask for
connect me and you could be my chemical now!

Give me the drug you know I’m after,
Connect me and you could be the chemical…

You could be the chemical…

Three Aspirins And A Headache

Three aspirins, fourteen hours of sleep in the past twenty-four, five gallons of water and sixteen rounds of bladder relief and I still have a headache. There are so many things running in my head that it feels like its going to explode any moment. No, its not pathological. I checked. I’m half a doctor.

There are some people in life whom you can’t ignore. And there are some who just won’t get ignored. There are also some very special people who just piss you off beyond imagination, but I’ll rant about assholes later. But, very rarely, once in a lifetime actually, you come across certain people who you can’t let go. No matter what, you have to try like hell to hold on to them and never let them go. Ups and downs, times and distances, mistakes and obligations, regrets and disappointments, pasts and presents – all aside, these people have a right to be a part of your life in a way so tangible it’ll choke you. Er, in a good way.

So yeah, I have been doing a lot of soul-searching and I’ve been at my wit’s end trying to figure out where I go in life from now on. Being stuck in a limbo is not a good feeling. Decisions have to be made, conclusions have to be reached, promises have to be kept up and no hearts should be broken. It’s like balancing a precious gem and a cucumber – one in each hand while walking a tightrope with no safety net. I really don’t know where that analogy came from or what that means, but you have to throw one away to regain the balance.

Some headaches are bad. Some are good. But I guess one that lasts seventeen hours is therapeutic.

Moving Day! Finally!

Phew. I have been living in a godforsaken limbo the past three weeks. I had little or no time for myself, let alone my friends, foes and hoes. Er, scratch the last one.

I have been constantly on the road (in the air, more likely) to Pune, Mumbai, Bangalore and God-knows-where, but finally, when I woke up today, I realized that this was the day I’m moving in to my new house. It’s a three-bedroom monstrosity and can only be described as awesome. I woke up with a smile on my face, forgot to download last night’s dinner and went on with packing all my things. I didn’t realize all the crap that had accumulated over the ages. No, I’m not referring to last night’s dinner – I meant my personal shit. Er, books, papers, badges, empty cigarette packets, unused condoms and other things. There was a lot of crap and I started disposing of them one by one. Starting with last night’s dinner.

“Don’t get women home,” shouted my mum from her room, as she combed her hair. I replied in automation, “Yes, mom.”

“Don’t drink.”

“Yes, mom.”

“Don’t smoke,”

“Yes, mom.”

Don’t get women home.”

“Yes, mom.”

“Where’s your girlfriend? Is she moving in with you? She is, isn’t she?”

“No, mom. We broke up.”

“Good.”

And she went on for another twenty minutes, dispensing advice like only mothers do. I nodded to myself and kept saying yes, while packing the mattresses, the pillows, the laptops, the phones, and other essential nothings. I almost forgot to pack my toothbrush.

So, an hour and a half later, I found myself struggling up three flights of stairs carrying my bed along with three other people. Twists and turns and acrobatics later, all my things were moved in. I came back to my house (or rather, my parents’ house. So cool!) and finished some minor last minute packing.

Phew! I’m moving in. Finally. Round of beer to everyone. I’ll let you all know when the party’s happening. Be there. Bring a date.

Resolutions And Wishlists :)

There were quite some sights to behold last night:

1. Mom, who prides on being a teetotaler and frowns when I even think of alcohol,  nursing a mug of chilled beer and ‘Cheers’ing everyone in the room!

2. The great-grandmom of the family dancing to Elvis Presley’s “A Little Less Conversation”!

3. Uncles and aunties enacting skits and acting like kids!

4. Overflowing beer!

5. Four people trying to force open the cork of a wine bottle, without a cork-opener, and managing to  break the cork into tiny pieces that fell into the wine!

6. Turning around in circles with a confused look because I was drunk and I couldn’t find the bottle of scotch!

7. Calling up friends and singing Nickelback songs while standing in the middle of the road!

8. Scrambling for money to fulfill the last-minute orders for booze in the packed wine store!

… and other memorable sweet nothings marked the end of 2008 and brought in the new year with much anticipated revelry, fireworks and a collected sigh of relief. It was something that everyone needed, I guess – a break. It was a fantastic start to the new year when I closed my eyes at 2 in the morning, drunk, expecting a major hangover and with a contented sigh on my lips.

)
Resolutions, Wishlists, Hopes And Fears 🙂

Once upon a time (2 days ago) Apar had asked me for my resolutions and I had deftly deferred (adamantly refused) the issue until the year actually begins. Now that it has, I can avoid it no more. Through my hungover haze, I thought about it and realized that there are quite a few things that I’d want to do this year – resolutions and wishes – and I made a rudimentary list. I began prioritizing them all, and here’s the final result:

    • I want to smile more this year, irrespective of the situation. I want to be able to convince myself that punching myself in the face while asleep is not worth losing a smile.
    • I want to make sure that I think seriously about making a resolution to consider the possibility of a faint chance of quitting smoking.
    • I want to get the two books in the pipeline out this year, come what may.
    • I wish this year has some surprises in store for me, because all 2008 had to offer was one heartbreak after another.
    • In the same vein, I hope to find true love, clichéd as it may sound. I’m tired of one-off dates and two-week affairs and one-month ‘girlfriends’. Sigh!
    • I want to go to France.
    • I want to succeed in organizing an All India Bloggers’ Meet in Gokarna this year – it started out as a South India Bloggers’ Meet, but I decided that Gokarna is too beautiful a place to make anyone jealous!
    • I want to feel like God – I want to buy an Avenger!
    • I wish I can convince myself to start working out again – running for 40 minutes a day isn’t enough. I want to pump iron again!
    • I wish I could sleep for 16 hours a day and laze around in bed for the other 8.
    • I’m going to booze more often and get drunk less often.
    • I wish I could wish for more wishes.
    • I wish I could make others feel better.
    • I wish people can live in peace without having to kill for it.
    • I wish I could make at least one person happy per day.
    • I wish I can grow a year old and look back at myself with pride for having accomplished at least one of the above.

Have a great year everyone! It’s been one hell of a journey, isn’t it? 😀

The Great Banana Run! :)

ba~nan~a

[buh-nan-uh]

noun

1. a tropical plant of the genus Musa, certain species of which are cultivated for their nutritious fruit.
2. the fruit, esp. that of M. paradisiaca, with yellow or reddish rind.

the Great Banana RunOne of the more fascinating aspects of being cooped up in a room that stinks worse than a ten-year-old freshly dug-up coffin is the ease with which we can find blackened banana skins in the most unexpected places. I found seventeen last night.

My brother doesn’t clean his room. Ever. I think the last time the room faced the business end of a broom and a mop was when it was built, more than a thousand years ago. We exchanged rooms for the night as he said he had to prepare for an exam and needed the computer all night. My guess is as good as yours – I found three porn sites in the internet history later. But anyway, I don’t want to digress into a 19-year-old’s late night exploits.

Entering his room is akin to stepping out of civilization and entering a neanderthal realm of sabre-tooth tigers, mammoths, man-eating men and rotting food. I stepped into a half-eaten box of ice cream lying on the floor, as soon as I entered the room. This should’ve warned me what to expect, but I blissfully ignored it and crept in to the bed. It was unusually warm and cozy.

Unfortunately, the warmth was due to the fact that the bed was partly drenched with fresh coffee, and I hadn’t noticed it in the darkness. I changed the sheets and crept in again, and realized that the pillow seemed to emanate a strange smell, that distinctly reminded me of the frog dissections I used to do in school. And there it was, under the pillow, nestled snugly, the first of the blackened banana skins.

I realized that I can’t sleep unless I was satisfied that nothing else was hidden in the bed. I stripped the bed of all sheets and turned over the mattress, and immediately, cursed myself for doing so. In the midst of a couple of cockroach corpses and old newspapers and new porn magazines, I found sixteen more banana skins.

I spent the night in the living room, on the couch – safer and a lot wiser.

PS: I got a pounding from the creep this morning for destroying the chaotic sanctity of his room. A great start to the day.