What does freedom smell like? Non-polluted air. Just take a moment and smell your air. Most of us have gotten used to the way our air smells, it doesn’t smell like anything. Yet it smells. It smells of age and oil. You know what smells nice? Fried chicken. The air we breathe is old. Thousands of millions, probably billions of farts, decomposed matter, Jasmine flowers, bug spray, even the smell of wet dogs. All of that smell is in the air. How crazy is it that it’s just there(the air)? We were just born into it. What if there was no air, only water? Imagine a world where a mermaid Amber Heard actually exists. Now imagine your bedroom underwater. Your socks are floating. No more noise. Ever tried jerking off in water? It’s like that squid that squirts ink.
I realized something today. I’m gaining weight, because I’m sensing the legs of my plastic chair do the curly mustache shape. Pretty soon they’ll flat-line, and it’s going to be a disaster, because it’s not just about going down, but it’s about hitting rock bottom, literally. Whenever I think about weight issues I think about Michael Jackson, who had a lot of body image issues. I wish I could tell him, “Michael, its okay to have tits. Out of all the questionable things that you did, that would be the least concerning :-)”.
After walking this earth for 32 years, I have learned a lot of things. I have unlearnt a few things, but what it all comes down to, is this. Never forget to turn on your fridge after you’ve turned it off. For whatever reason it may be, do whatever needs to be done to remember to turn it back on. Write it down, engrave it on your hand with a knife, whatever. Never forget the fridge. If there’s one thing life has taught me, it’s that once the power is out, the contents of the fridge will never be the same. It turns otherworldly, like it shouldn’t exist in this reality. But what’s done is done. What’s done must be thrown out. Don’t hesitate. Always remember, the fridge doesn’t care.
One month, two doctors and three new medications later, I have returned to the blogosphere blogoverse? blogspace. Using one millennial joke after another, I will propel myself to a paradise of self-deprecating humor and meaty sandwiches. It is 2:40 am. The time, when most people are sound asleep. Even teenagers who got laid on Sunday night have gone to bed, but not me. I am burning midnight oil from the excess fat that my liver stores safely in my body. I have risen from the ashes leftover from late night family barbecues that ended in arguments. I will persevere.
There were worms in the Lychee. As I await the impending doom, I pen down an inspirational poem.
My quest to become healthier is being met with minor road blocks. Little distractions that nudge me into the path of doom. I resist. At 1 am , I went for the Lychee, instead of the chocolate fudge cookies and the tea cake. I beat the sugar, artificial sugar I mean. But all was in vain, for when I opened the thy prickly bosom (too sexual. lets tone it down), out came a can of worms (poetic prowess right there). They jumped in glee, thinking its another host, but I cut one in half with a mere Lychee branch. I disintegrated my enemy. I screamed. I looked at the cookies again. Alas! it was 2 am. Papa don’t eat snacks after 10 pm, unless its from nature’s lap. That’s the rule now. I want to live. So I looked up at the sky (I was in my apartment, but you get the intent) and prayed. I prayed to the midlife crisis demon. No one answered. Abrupt ending. Pure class.
Every time the weather people get the weather wrong, I put some money in the weather jar, so that one day, I’ll have enough money to fund an efficient weather forecast system. It will involve so many unemployed B-tech engineers, stretched over hundreds of miles over the mountains, wearing raincoats, and clinging on to dear life. I call it the WG system, or the Wall of Engineers. So many families will live and work at this wall. Everything from cigarettes to quantum computers will be hand-delivered to these Engineers by Zomato delivery agents, because those guys can get anywhere. In fact, we should all stop calling ambulances. I dare you, call an ambulance, and order a pizza at the same time, lets see which one gets home first.
The scariest thing about bullying is that you don’t know you’re doing it
One of my favorite comedians, someone that gives me joy on a daily basis, is actively being bullied, threatened and pushed down into a spiral of depression by his peers. Bullying is a menace because, not only does it destroy someones life, but it also takes away any good that’s left in them. Knowing what someone is deeply sensitive about, and using that against them to make them feel bad, is pure evil. People say, report the bullying immediately, take action against it, that is the best way to control it, and this and that. Everyone knows it doesn’t work like that. In most cases, it’s only going to get worse. The frightening thing is, the bullying usually comes to a halt when you bully back. I say ‘frightening’ because this ends up creating more bullies. It turns good people bad. Its like a cancer in the workplace, in homes, in schools, in friend groups, it’s everywhere. I have been bullied. I have bullied. I don’t bully anymore.
If you know anyone who engages in bullying, stop that shit.
My belly has gotten to the point where, if I put my hand underneath it, my belly flows over it, like a protective sheath. It’s dangerous. It’s a problem, but I can’t stop eating Jim Jams at night. Why does the world do this to me? Where is the silver lining? The only way I’m getting to the silver lining is if its on a cake. Sugar is the killer. But sugar is so good. Conflicting thoughts.
Yesterday, I tried Basanti Pulao, and get this, it was a Pulao and Chicken Kosha combo that I might never forget throughout my life. I call it lifetime foods. My introduction to Basanti pulao is like a romantic love story. Basanti Pulao (sometimes called Bengali Sweet Pulao) is rice cooked with ghee, sugar and Saffron. Put in some cashew nuts and resins and you’ve got yourself magical yellow rice. I want to make it clear that the rice by itself is a treat, but if you get bored, might as well eat the chicken. I have not tasted chicken this good in my life. IN MY LIFE. First of all, the chicken looks black. That’s never a good sign, but little did I realize that it was the result of complex culinary arts. Whoever made this, I need to give you a shout out. Come do my podcast. I could talk about food all day!
As the days go by, I’m finding it increasingly difficult to meditate. The mind is getting restless. It’s becoming more and more difficult to tame. Today however, I fell asleep while trying to meditate. It’s like I put so much effort into trying to focus that I got tired, and fell asleep. It’s always nice to wake up from a nap, and realize it’s only been an hour or 15 minutes. It’s not fun when you wake up and half your life is over.
Now, the internet defines ERP therapy as something very comfortable and soothing, but in reality it is not. I know there’s steps to it, but it still seems weird. So, for anyone who doesn’t know what ERP is, it stands for Extremely Radical Pornography. JK. It’s a kind of therapy that exposes people to their fears in a safe environment, and this apparently fixes them. When my therapist told me to do the one thing that made me uncomfortable, my initial reaction was to demand my money back (with interest). It would have been very funny to see how that played out, but no, I chose to remain calm, and do whatever she said because she’s the one with the degrees and the note pad, and I’m the one who’s afraid of talking to people. So far, it’s been going without any major issues, except every time I do the ERP, I feel like I’m punching a demon in the face, and how long can I keep punching a demon in the face? If horrors movies have taught me anything, it’s that the only way to get rid of a demon infestation is to invite a priest over for coffee, and stop thinking rationally.
Some time ago, my psychologist suggested that I go visit some place nice, possibly with friends. Winter was just beginning to recede. It was a nice time, when the weather was not too cold or too shitty. We took a train from Sealdah. Papa likes old buildings, and this trip was filled with them. Old houses, mansions, places of worship, and trees. The place- Bansberia
Man! I could sit underneath a tree for hours. That’s a stretch. Maybe 20 minutes.
I could sit there, and just loose myself in emptiness. Natural, peaceful emptiness. You see the birds fly away, and you start to think, what the hell have you been doing for the last six years of your life. Was Michael Jackson really a pedophile? Will they reboot Johnny Quest?
Then we saw some buildings. Some of them, we couldn’t get into. Some of them let us see just the outside. Some of them, we wouldn’t dare try to enter because… well see for yourself
It’s quite certain that if you enter a place like this, you’ll probably end up leaving with a story to tell, just might not be a PG-13 one. The gates were closed, and there was a scary “no trespassing” sign on the gate. Plus the locals gave us weird looks. Not scary enough for ya? Take a look after I add a filter.
As tempting as it was, we left it.
By the end of the trip, I came to the realization that I need more of this in my life. I don’t feel like my mind has been cleared, but I feel like things are settling down. I am reminded that there’s more to life than money and computers. Oh and we ate this thing, I don’t know what else to call it but an upgraded roti. Just magical.