The Man From Nowhere

“See the nowhere crowd cry the nowhere tears of honourย 
Like twisted vines that growย 
Hide and swallow mansions whole…”

— James Hetfield, The Memory Remains

He came from nowhere and he didn’t know where he was headed. He seemed lost, confused, a paper boat caught in a hurricane, with turmoil eroding the last traces of sanity and reason in his head. He was escaping, hopefully to a better tomorrow, but he didn’t know for sure. He wanted a fresh start, desperately. He didn’t know how he was going to achieve it – his bad luck seemed to have followed him here as well. Everything he tried seemed to fail, and fail miserably. He caught himself searching for straws to clutch at.

He vowed to find a muse, an inspiration, a candle in the whirlwind of his bad luck. He wanted to find the elusive abundance of good luck that had deserted him for so long. He yearned for the peace and tranquility that had been hiding from him. It was not a search in vain.

He met her on a hot, sunny afternoon and they regarded each other cautiously, unsure of just how much attention the other person warranted. She seemed harmless enough, but he was expecting his seemingly unlimited quota of bad luck to step in again.

“Been a while,” he said. Cautiously. Two tigers, one paranoid and the other indifferent, circling each other.

“Yes. How have you been?” she asked.

“Good,” he replied and they went on to talk about other things mundane.

Time flew by and a pact was etched in stone between them, unwritten yet indelible. It took time, obviously. It did not happen overnight. He began to experience her presence more and more in his life until it almost became an addiction. Over time, he started craving for her company. She became the beacon of light in the darkness that had clouded him. She forced him to embrace good luck again, though he never knew how she managed to do that.

He still had no destination in mind, but he knew that his journey wouldn’t be lonely anymore; the journey that he had started from nowhere and had seemed to head nowhere; the journey that she had spectacularly derailed and made more bearable. He had a lot of things to be thankful for. And for a million things more.

He had found his muse. He had found his share of good fortune. The man from nowhere was finally home.

Of Cucumbers & Facial Creams

Look closely at your life, and at your circle of friends. There will always be a cucumber in there somewhere and there is bound to be a jar of facial cream too. I mean this figuratively, of course.

Some people are bright, witty and fun to hang out with. Others are cucumbers. They lack spice, they look boring and more often than not, women (and certain men) use them as sex toys. Again, the sex toy reference is a figurative one, with all puns intended. They are the most bland people you could meet on the face of this earth. They lack character, they kill any joy and are an absolute nightmare to hang out with. I know a lot of such people – both men and women – and however hard I try, I cannot get rid of them.

These cukes are usually devoid of any facial features – they have a strangely blank face with a stupid expression at all times. You can never tell what they are thinking, because they aren’t. It will usually take them a lot of time to process the simplest of information and their general knowledge and intelligence quotient is woefully inadequate for survival. Fortunately for the rest of us, cucumbers are a comic relief in this Greek tragedy that is life.

Then come the jars of facial creams. I’m sure you know a lot of people who fall into this category. These are people who are full of useless shit.

Image Courtesy: IntricateArt.com

 

Objectum Sexuality!

I was browsing through the morning papers today, when Manju “Mango” Panicker pointed out something interesting to me. Please tell me why we live in such a fucked up world! Have a look at this! ๐Ÿ˜€

The first thing that went through my head when I read this was, “Ok, this is a joke, right?” Then, as I re-read it, I realized that it’s not a joke!ย  The woman is actually married to the goddamn Berlin Wall!!! ๐Ÿ˜€

So, when Regan brought down the wall, he killed her husband! Her husband divided a country! Her kids are probably going to be cute, little bricks! I wonder how they consummate their relationship every night! I started thinking if I ever had this sort of disease. I once found a pair of sneakers “sexy” and bought them. I once found a sexy shirt. Thats about it! But I have not married anyone or anything to date! This woman finds “slim things with horizontal lines” very sexy apparently! I have a striped shirt, maybe she’ll be interested!! ๐Ÿ˜€

Either that woman was too drunk to realize that she was marrying a frikking wall, or she really really needs a hard hit on the head! God save the world!! How come idiots like these get publicity, when decent, hard-working people like me (ahem!) don’t even get mentioned in the papers? Why is the world so twisted!? ๐Ÿ˜€

The newspaper that carried this article was Mid Day, a stupid tabloid that is hailed as the “future of reporting”! Yeah, right! Objectum Sexuality, it seems! Oh God! And I thought I was mad! ๐Ÿ˜€

One Tight Slap!

Indian cricket has always been colorful – the glam, the girls, the money, the fans, the poor performances and finally, the controversies. Cricket was known to be a gentleman’s game, and over the years, has become more a Man’s Game. The match-fixing controversies that plagued Indian cricket is still reverberating in the heads of all the die-hard followers of the game. Just when the dust seemed to have settled, the Einsteins at the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) agreed to the ridiculous Indian Premier League (IPL), and killed what was left of Indian Cricket’s hope.

All right, I know the saying: If you can’t beat them, join them! Fine, I agree, I live in a cricket crazy country and I’m somewhat of a die-hard fan myself. So, I went ahead and watched a few matches in the IPL. And when I was thinking that it probably is not a bad idea to have players from all over the world, mixing with each other, playing with each other, sharing their experience and thoughts and ideas, the idiot-child Harbhajan Singh throws every ounce of shame out the window and slaps Sreesanth in the middle of the ground!!

Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t players on the same team supposed to at least pretend to like each other? Say and do whatever you want to them in the dressing rooms, but not on the field, in the open, in the era of long tom cameras and satellites that can see every hair on your neck! I was shocked and disgusted by the incident! In a country like mine, where cricket is not just a sport but a religion, players acting in such an indignant manner is unacceptable. Suspending Harbhajan was perhaps the best thing to do.

He has always been an idiot-child, getting into unwanted troubles and being more verbal than sportive. I think its time the BCCI woke up to the ground realities happening around them and stop concentrating on those sexy cheerleaders – Indian Cricket is dying, and the players are getting more and more self-centered everyday. Idiot-child is barely 24 and already a millionaire thrice over, so what can we expect? Keep him in check or throw him out!

I want Indian Cricket to be revived! Enough glamor, enough showing off wealth. Let’s play some cricket, and for once, play it in the spirit of the game.