Tis the season of lights, camera and action. Everyone has a bright smile on their face. Girls are wearing beautiful clothes. People stop hating noise all of a sudden. Roads turn into honking competitions. Now, I know what dreams are made of, but mine is different. A shock-collar for every driver. Every horn has a limit of one second. Beyond that, the driver gets a minor dose of electricity (Benjamin Franklin would be proud). As the time goes on, so does the intensity of electric current. What makes this interesting is that you will still find hardcore people who are willing to go through extreme pain to express their annoyance, but the joy it will bring me to see them suffer… I can’t explain it. It’s almost making me emotional. It’s like turning every vehicle into an ambulance with a built-in defibrillator. Genius. Happy Diwali every one!
I’m here to speak of the plight of the middleman. Not your usual middleman, the literal person who has to sit in between two people at the back of an auto. The raw hate spewed onto the middleman by the person who gets in last, merely because the person who got in first has a big ass, is simply unjustified. The middleman has to endure a barrage of frowns from countless men and women. Today the driver asked me to pay up in advance to which I replied “it’s too tight right now”. Kids, papa is by no means strapped for cash. Papa is literally stuck in between the ass cheeks of two grown men. So tight, that I can’t pull out my wallet. The driver, who is quite familiar with this pickle of situation, immediately understood my plight, and did not harass me further. He sped on, squeezing though the tiniest gap in between two motorbikes, and intimidating pedestrians. The guy on my left, got out. As I was taking my wallet out, and realizing at the same time, how good it feels to inhale fully, the lady in the front migrated to the back seat, which is understandable right? No one wants to be that close to someone who propels his three-wheeler with spit. If you don’t know, the Indian auto or auto-rickshaw is a small three-wheeler, and in some cities they take up to four passengers. Three at the back, and one sitting next to the driver, like in HIS FACE. So she starts to do this weird thing where she moves to and fro on the seat meanwhile giving me quick glances of hate. This kids, is a sign that the person on your left is not comfortable with their accommodation. Little does she know. the guy on my right has his legs in a ‘V’ shape. Blasphemy. I was about to cry foul when I noticed the backpack inside his ‘V’. I remember once asking somebody to keep their backpack in the boot, to which they replied “there’s food in the bag”. Apparently food goes bad when kept in trunks. Has to be the isolation.
What is Kumarakom, and how do you find it? Easy, you get a map, burn it, and go where the ash takes you. You see, the main reason why I’m blogging today is because I was ghosted by a very attractive woman. I spent 3 hours on a boat with my best friend (very hairy) who is getting married this week. We watched little baby ducks play in the water. It doesn’t get more manlier than this.
Now here’s a question. Is the title of this post a click-bait, or are you just a closet-pervert ?
I am happy to report that the summer in Kolkata has yet again beaten it’s past records. The sun is doing a terrific job of melting away ice creams and dreams. If you don’t have an AC, well, the suicide prevention hotline doesn’t accept temperature-related calls for help but you can always try the nearest cold storage. Anyway, if you prefer to fight the heat, and burn outside, the trick is to keep moving.
I went to an Archiological Museum. Did I spell that right? Archeology-cal? Archaeoloji. Ar…Ar… Anglican. Anyway… this museum had some unusual stuff in it. I reached the museum quite late. It was about to close. So, a security guard was assigned to guide/nag me through the entire museum. As you all know, I take my museum visits very seriously. So I explicitly stated that the guard maintain a distance of exactly three metres away from me at all times. Why ‘three’ you ask? Well, that’s none of your business. As soon as the receptionist understood that I had difficulty speaking Bengali, she began to shoot questions in English. “Are you South Indian? Where do you stay here? What did you have for dinner yesterday? What’s your blood type?”. You know…the usual stuff. I mean, she was very attractive. That’s probably why I panicked. After a short, uncomfortable conversation, I began the tour with my personal bodyguard.
There were extremely old paintings and pottery(7-14 century). Just as I was about to finish viewing the ground floor, motherfucker(guard) started to blow a damn whistle(probably to ask me to leave). Another guard heard this whistle and started to blow his own whistle. Within a few seconds, the whole fucking museum was whistling. I could see birds fly away from the roof. Motherfuckers were disturbing the wildlife.
As soon I got to the first floor, I knew it was a different scene. You see, there were these sculptures made of metal, kept in glass housings. They were sculpted in the 9th century. I hadn’t seen anything like it before. Figures sculpted with unimaginable level of detail and yet so tiny and realistic. That was not the impressive part. The figures were not of people or animals, rather it looked like something that was taken straight out of a Stephen King movie. There was a figure with an elephant’s head and a slim guy’s body(It had nothing to do with religion). It was holding a walking stick. It had a hunchback. It looked like it was dying. Then there were snakes, dragons and warriors that looked like trees, stuff that I have never seen or could have imagined. I was awestruck.
How could somebody think of that? How wild does ones imagination have to be to make something like that? Where did he get the idea from? Did an alien put it in his mind? Did he dream of it in his sleep? Did his day-to-day life affect the design of the sculpture in any way? Did his family approve of him spending so much time making figures that made no sense to common people? What was going on in his mind when he made it? How was he able to put an ‘idea’ into a sculpture? Does the sculpture mean something? So many questions.
I don’t have any pictures of the metal wonders because pictures were prohibited inside the museum. And I can respect that. All I have is a picture of a tree, from the museum’s garden.
The metal wonders will always live inside my head. I do not need pictures of them.
On an unrelated note, I got a keyboard. Today is Day 4 with new keyboard.
Side note: I do not know how to play the keyboard.
Had to go see the eye doctor today because I sprayed lead in my eye. Life is a mystery, guys. It just keeps getting stranger and stranger. Incase you didn’t know, I am a total social recluse who is working on improving myself. So every opportunity I get to socialise, I force myself to go for it. So I did the most logical thing and hit on two junior doctors at the hospital. Lets just say I got ‘special’ attention because of that. The doctor was really nice. After staring into my soul for a few minutes, she concluded that I had an infection.
Now that I have disgraced myself, lets move on to the fun part of the story, the part where I make friends. After seeing the doctor I decided to explore that part of the city(this whole incident took place at Salt Lake, Kolkata). Now, I don’t often make friends during my travels because, you know, people are terrifying. But this time, I met some jovial characters that I couldn’t resist making friends with. They were so chill that they didn’t mind me taking pictures of them. In fact, they were happy to hear that I would be writing about them on my blog. Without further ado, here they are.
The “whoa there slow down” lion is the golden guardian of the roads. He is a funny guy who shouts funny things like, “If you are in a hurry, drive slower”, “your children would rather see you come home late than see you arrive in a casket”, “sex can wait, spinal cord surgeries cannot”. He was sad to say that out of all the defaulters, Lions club members were the worst. We took a selfie too but I can’t show that here due to legal reasons. Onto the next gang, the merry Grasshoppers. The Grasshoppers are a funk/jazz fusion band. They were on tour. It surprised me to see that they didn’t have a drummer. No offence, they sounded great without one. They explained how the drummer had problems with drug abuse. They said he was particularly fond of something called “grass”, which was pretty ironic because all of them seemed to be made out of … you know… grass.
I need help.
Write better posts
Travel to Kolkata. Go to the ‘New Embassy’ hotel at Elgin. Do not be afraid of the eerie atmosphere or the lack of electronic payment options or the motionless manager. Order dry garlic pork. Eat it. Enjoy it. Bathe in it. When the waiter comes over with the bill, start chanting the ‘whispers of the lost arts’
“I wish Christopher Nolan made one more Batman movie”
“I wish Christopher Nolan made one more Batman movie”
“I wish Christopher Nolan made one more Batman movie”
A one-eyed pony will meet you in the restroom. Explain to it your views on passive euthanasia. Depending on your views, the pony will gift you ‘Kalanick’s 10100’ card which you can use to buy wordpress premium. Publish a post titled ‘Planned obsolescence’ and watch the likes soar.
I am excited to start this new series of posts. Here, I will be posting completely random shit. Shit that I, as a successful full-on recluse, do to keep myself going. Now, some of the stuff I say here might not be, you know(how do I make this less disgusting?), ‘socially acceptable’. So(as a great scientist once said) hold on to your butts.
I was walking back from work today when I overheard a random dude speaking to (what looked like) his colleagues on the sidewalk. He was making a speech and the only part I heard was,”…It makes perfect sense. Especially because we have the majority market share…”. For some reason I felt a sudden urge to go upto him and yell, “are you sure about that?”.
Now, this is corporate India we’re talking about. If some random guy approaches you in the middle of the road and questions your accountability, you don’t just question back, you roll with it. So he started laying down statistics and company policies while the colleagues had a good laugh. Made my day.
In other random news, (this is for the Indian folk) did you know Bajaj sells auto rickshaws in Egypt? Bet you didn’t know that. Bet you didn’t want to know that. Bet you’re a little pissed off right now. But is this post the only reason for your discomfort? Or did something bad happen to you today? Maybe at work? Think about it.
Now, I don’t have an issue with people commenting on this post(trust me, none does), but if your comment mentions anything remotely similar to ‘erectile dysfunction’ or ‘hair donation’ or some shit like that, I swear to god man. I will find you. The next time you walk up to your car and drop your keys, guess who will be standing right behind you when you get back up?
No, I didn’t mess up the post’s title.
Valent- Having one or more valences
Valence-The combining capacity of an atom, radical or functional group determined by the number of electrons that it will lose, gain, or share when it combines with other atoms etc.
Having been dumped well in advance before valentines day, I am one of those lucky people who will be spending the day indoors. Wait a minute…that’s no different from any other day. Anyway… it is the day couples have been waiting for. It is the day for gifts, emotions and several other things that I’m devoid of. For the rest of us, it is the day for awkwardness, packed restaurants, more awkwardness and Black Panther. Woohoo! Thank you Marvel.
Quick change of topic to escape the depression(cos that’s how I roll now)
Welcome to Jurassic Pa… I mean my weekend adventure to the book fair. You know that feeling you get when you have a lazy Sunday morning at your hands and a sudden urge to sit down and read a really good book comes up? I never get that. I would instead… do anything but that. So why the hell would someone like me go to a book fair you ask? Well first of all, fuck you. Books are for everyone. Secondly, fuck you again. I hate you for asking that. Plus, who could resist going to a book fair when they welcome you in French?
And serve you great food
Kids, this is what adult depression looks like. The letters go up and down. Isn’t it fun?
There’s no better way to describe it. It’s a Disneyland just for the nerds. Instead of waterslides, they have book signings. Instead of rides they have bookstalls. Even though I felt the life slowly drain away from my body, it was nice to see the nerds loose their shit at seeing authors appear like astronauts who just landed from space.
I grew up in one of those households where there was a library ‘inside’ the house. Can you believe that shit? What a waste of space. And my sister, the biggest nerd of all, was like the librarian who also guarded the gates. The moment I enter the room, she would up the security. Mother would step in and offer a hand at pushing me out. So, clearly this goes back to my childhood.
PS: I have nothing against books or nerds. I am a nerd myself but I still like to make fun of them.
Do you know what it feels like to sit at home all alone while the rest of the world is outside having fun? It feels surprisingly good! I should do this more often. Only problem is that I have begun to talk to the computer. Not to Cortana or Siri. Just to the screen.
I should stop using overly dramatic post titles.