PP&SLSII

I also just figured by saying you will be famous after you are dead means you can always ride the boat of humility.

Drama: See all i am saying is i'll be famous after i am dead.
Innocent by stander forced into a conversation with me by the power of the fact that i write this blog: Don't be so Cocky Yaar! (yes we are friends)
D:yeah but realise the irony i will never be able to enjoy it.
IBS: True True..

And by brute injustice of posthumous fame the person doesn't blame you for being a concieted brat!!

Posthumous Pleasure and Shit luck Soup

Haven't you wondered, It would be such a bitch if you became famous after you died. i mean the bastards just did't get it, and the day you kicked the bucket you became a sort of demigod.
Talk about bad timing.I am sure Mozart dosn't give a rats ass about how many CD's of his people make love to( it is true i have seen a Mozart for lovermaking CD).

I have a feeling i will be one of the bove mentioned.

revenge of the red tape and mediocre service

ok so ever wondered what happens behind the scenes when in ramayan or mahabharath one of those fellows in war raised an arro to his forehead and sadi a little prayer and it magically transformed into a super duper multiple arrow or flaming arrow or golden arrow which could oh so kick the flaming silver arrow. Ok if you were born anytime in the nineties and haven't seen maha bharath or ramayan on dd.... sue your parents now for a deprieved childhood . Anyway i was wondering imagine a god who was granting all these weapons of mass destruction and his office. people constantly filing requests for silver and golden and arrows that multiply like they were chinese people or hould i say indian. and the mess ups .

Hypothetical setting in Ramayan:

Call CentreExecutive:Hello thank you for calling shiv ji fire crackers this is Molly speaking how may i help you.
Ravan: Dekhiye madam meine shiv ji se golden arrow pucha tha and you gave me silver one.
Pichle paanch baar se mein prarthna kar chuka hoon lekin raam yahan meri vat baje ke rakh raha hai. aur pichle baar to engaged tone aa gaya hai matlab hadd ho gayi!!
CCE: could you please hold the line.
R: ....
CCE: actually we have checked our lines this could be a problem with your local towers this tends to happen due to conjestion we are having a lot of traffic nowadays .
R: pehli baat to yeh ki "drop the fucking accent, i know your name is malleshwari"
aur doosri bat ki pichli baar bhi apne yehi kaha tha( and he puts his phone down to go back into batle and loose the war and sita {who he has abducted} to a guy called Ram- bo.)

Moral of the story:
There is no justice in this world but lots of bureaucracy..... loads buhahahaha.

Mujhse dosti karoge..

So i recenty checked out the night life of the town i live in. We a bunch of brave desi boys(mostly imaciated) and girls made our way to the local night spot. After a few expensive rounds of beer(a whole crate of which is available in the gas station two shops away for the same price) we all start dancing all the while my desi sensibilities aware of the six and half foot gorrila like creatures dancing around me(read big white texans) . Little have i realised but the table i am leaning on (i am old as far as dancing through the night is concerned i have realised i can only last for so long.... twenty four is such a revalation.. my sweet aiyyappa) has two women who are scantily dressed and have their ahem.. do excuse my language, private parts rather close to my face. all through this while i am stangely reminded of my days in delhi where i used to shit bricks getting into a blue line and start screaming 'excuse me' even before i got into the bus so that the aunty who if you brushed up against even by mistake, would start screamng at you, wouldn't do what she does best, scream. So being the Sambar eating southie that i am i politely excused my self and left the table with beer for the ladies to dance on.


Moral of the story: Sambar eating sensibilities and hot scntly dressed women dancing on your table are are a great combination if you havn't been scarred for life on a Blue line bus.

Sniffle Sniffle Sob Sob...

Movie Bonanza!!!

All hail SNAKES ON A PLANE!!!!!
and you thought jaani dushman would stay worst film of the century forever!!!! guess sam jackson has given armaan kohli run for his money ...

The bonanza bit i just always wanted to use that word thats all..

How i wish things lke this happened.....

ok i am now officially screwed i am sittin here in a library in my univ, and for the love of anything god , cheap booze or my mother's amazing cinnamon cake, i can't seem to understand why i am doing a PhD? See i am a simple man who wanted to be called a Dr. Ramaprasad. But little did i realise you get ass rodded for the same. I figured i would be hangin around when suddenly a pretty lady would faint due to 'economic' reasons and i would give her CPR. My friend who plans on getting a doctorate in sociology and i have decided to start an enterprise of our own which would then broadly cover the realm of socio-economic problems.
though currently my only hope is the doctor who is responsible for CPR due to ass rodding is a pretty lady otherwise i am ....hmmm....

self depreciating humour part 2

i suffered last morning from actute abdominal pain and was rushed to the hospital where i was given a injection of something (which i wanted to be adrenelin though i think was not). anyway my mum said it could be appendicitis.

Symptoms of a normal patient suffering from appendicitis:

· Generalized abdominal cramps.
· Nausea or vomiting.
· Elevated temperature.
· Increased pulse rate.
· Loss of appetite.
· Constipation.
· Abdominal swelling.

ok i had abdominal pain so thats cool. no nausea. normal temperature. BP 120/80. Had eaten perfectly the night before. crapped nicely. and well if you have ever seen me the only swelling on my body was my ego which too fizzled out when the doc told my dad that it was a case of GAS. apparently it was building up for too long.. inside me and needed a vent.

Self depriciating humour 1

i have once recieved as prize a packet of biscuits and a pearl necklace for being the best male model in a school fashion show competition... i know! and the part that is funny is not best male model, its the biscuits and pearl necklace.....

Mechanix of a teenage/young adult blog

Five Easy steps to start a blog.


1]find a recent experience of yours .....

2]confess how you thought it was earth shatttering in terms of how it changed you , how you realized something profound...(refer one entry bout annonymity and rang de basanti somewhere below)

3] pick up a mundane object like a used tissue or cd case and compare life to it(for ex: life is like a cd case if you trace the edges you come back to the same place....you get the drift right)

4]employ tried and tested sentences like ," a friend recently went to ..." or " Just the other day i over heard...."

5] end the entry with profound thought like if only we look inside ourselves we would be really flexible.. ok that was my own take. but try something like if only we could see that other people's happiness is our happiness too..


And there you have it you have just created the essential teenage/young adult angst blog ... all hail the ultimate recipie for pain..


And remember if Dramaprasad can gas so can you

you probably think i hate my life part 2

You come home for summer.. you even have a plan this time . 'He is going to do his Phd in The US , says amma in a voice audible two tables away (this stunt should be tried only by trained mothers in untrained hands this could cause severe embarrassment).
You hope that this Pre phd summer is what you have been lookng forward to. All those jokers who knew where they were headed(i am off to iit/iim as case may be) now i had some thign to say hahaha(only they had all left and the others i really had nothing against them )
Anyway you think your life is going to be so exciting this summer...

Have no misconceptions...

the things i have being doing over this summer:

1] call the carpenter cos the last time it rained the doors all swelled up and now we need to get them to fit in so we can close the door without running into them and trying to latch them at the same time(which results in one side of your body being blue)

2]Watch Septic tank cleaner well .. let your imagination work that out..

3]Go to neighbours house to pick up a cylinder of gas because she has a five year old (the fat shit is bigger than me) which she had borrowed from us in the first place..

4]drive amma to vegetable shop . realise i don't know the difference betwen the 2345 different kind of beans there are. drive amma back home.


what then is the well the moral of this story?

is it he who laughs last is clearly the guy who got the joke late or
look before you leap or you could land on the pile of poo poo you were trying to avoid in the first place...
well i am afraid the answer is neither..

the moral of the story is..



you can be a Rocket scientist for all you know but at home if you are the youngest then well you better know your beans!

you probably think i don't like being myself

if you were wondering why the absence? you can attribute it to 32 hours of the last 48 that i spent in good old Indian railways..
i was to go for an innocuous visit to Madras nka (now known as) chennai. to pick up my certificates of course completion for my MA. got into a train at three thity in the afternoon for which since amma (mum) is such a fuss sent me to the station one hour early and with a confirmed ticket there isn't much to do an hour earlier as you can imagine. ok so the train is moving and i realise that there are exactly two people in the compartment (indicating subtlely to the fact that no one except idiots like me and the other guy travel at that time of the day). moving on here is the good part. i have to make confession i am a hijda magnet . i know, its true. if there is one of them in the train and i am somewhere on it he/she will find me. mind you i don't have an issue with them and well kinda like their funny routines. but nothing could have prepared me for what was in store. the hijda after having ellicited money from my fellow passengers came to me and said ' ten bucks' in clear english with a firang accent .
i laughed so hard i almost fell of the chair . so much so that i gave him 'ten bucks'.
ok reach madras for the work i am supposed to do but can't seem to get it done.
was to meet my friend pixie(no thats not her real name!! only the name under which she has no gambling debts) but since my lovely college made me wait till four for something i was supposed to get in five minutes my entire day goes for a toss = Pixie is not happy( about me.. not the gambling debts mind you).
ok now to another issue i have a train to catch from a train station that is twelve stations away .....in one hour<=> estimated time of arrival 5'0'clock. estimated time of dparture of train
5'0'clock. in a manic run which attempted to imitate tomcruise(which looked more like kesto mukherjee) i board the train(half screaming out to the guy whether it is the right train) also quitely thanking indian railways for not installing automatic doors. he smiles lets me in. i look around something is wrong.. i realise i have entered the general compartment. i want to scream at some one i look for inspiration hope kali or chandi will grace me with their fiery precence. in walks buddha into my mind wearing his shades. ray-ban ki chooth i say!! he looks around and says nice!! i ask him doesn't any thing piss you off ? he just smiles and puts on the a'c of my mind i figure just wait till the next station. the guy at the door tells me this is an express train its next stop is at arakkonnam two ours away . i love my life.
two hour later with half my spirit broken and the other half spent on staying sane i walk into my compartment to hear from my TT a speech on why young people shouldn't be late..
and it gets bette r i finally go to sleep and get up in the morning to realise my train broke down at night when i was fast asleep and is five hours late.
I LOVE MY LIFE!!!

when you want to shoot yourself but think of all the mess you would make...

i arrived in delhi after a break of seven odd years to go to college. As i am unpacking my stuff in my room in walk Mr. Anuj bawa from lucknow who asks me promptly ' yaar now that we are in Delhi what are we delhites? or delights?'
i looked at bawa, at his heart felt question and replied 'you definately are a delight'.

What if god was senile?

Ram frowned upon sita as if to say - i am sorry but your agni pareeksha doesn't qualify as a sign of chastity. he raised his eyebrow and was about to say something when he realised he had forgotten . old age was such a bitch it spared no one. he had had particular trouble trying to remeber where he left his glasses after his morning game of sudoku. That wasn't half as troublig though to the general junta. After fighting for a good Fourteen years from his family and being kicked out the cut by tommy hilfiger in the first couple of rounds he wasn't really feeling at his brainiest best. he suddenly remembered he was supposed to make india win the third match in the windies but reacted a second later, yuvraj cursed as he looked at his stumps dislodged.
but all wasn't lost in this age of technology he just looked at his mobile and retrieved his speech for sita. He took a deep breath and said...."i am sorry but your agni pareeksha doesn't qualify as a sign of chastity".


PS:thanks for the inspiration sharmaji!!

When i die

Hypothetical conversation if i die and go to heaven.

my eyes open
me: i am fucked!!

pretending to recover from head injury that was the cause of my death.

Me: Mein Khan hoon?
St peter aka yamdoot etc etc....: TUM pearly gates pe ho vats
m: par mera naam vats nahi hai
SP: yeh mazaak karne ka waqt nahi hai. acha tumne zindagi mein kya kuch kiya
M: bahut kuch sir. meine logon ko help kiya kabhi apni biwi ko dhoka nahi diya i was a good boy Sp
SP:lekin beta tumne bhagwan ko kabhi kyun nahi maana
M: time hi nahi mila uncle
sp: sorry par aap bhagvan mein invest nahi karoge to kaise chalega?
M: chaliye ab pata chal gaya thank you...
and since god is just waiting to forgive you even at the last minute cheeky me will walk alongside him in the kingdom of heaven...

I recently went through an interesting experience.i think i came to question one of my fundamental beliefs and well this also resulted in me thinking of interconnected issues which i find hard to express with clarity. So running the risk of the before mentioned, here it is.
For the Sake of brievity i think what i am writing about is trust and information also in a sense what anonymity means to us. i was watching this program the other day (scrubs) , where this doctor asks his collegue why people lie? And to say the truth i really couldn't see a good reason why, at least in the context of medicine. I mean after all doesn't honestly with one's medical examiner give you the best possible chance at good medical service? but i can remember countless times i have lied to a doctor misquoting my symptoms, sometimes to avoid medication and other times to just not be looked at as a sick person. Ok so maybe sometimes to live up to some macho image that my friends would say i am delusional about[;-)].But seriously this irony was well interestingly stark.
Then i came upon another interesting issue that of annonymity,which branched from the earlier. i Have been giving some serious thought to the fact that the internet is a democratic and well if not perfectly so a free space. Speaking to a friend led m e to believe that i must moderate my comments for he believed (and convinced me too) that i would be doing it for my own good. i of course have decided to not do so.(which by no means is proclaiming my total love for human thought and expression and how i am the last standng samaritan who permits people to say stuff they want). Interestingly this throws open another thought which i find quiet perplexing. When the internet is the most democratic and free space that can be thought of at the moment. why are people most afraid to be them selves there? or is it that, the lives they lead are but the mask that is shed?
I speak of the numerous times i have seen myself type erase and retype on messenger the times i have deleted stuff.
well the Point i am trying to make is this . the question is not if i am a person who was ever in a band or watched a film or had a friend called deepak.
The larger question is, isn't it ironic? that when we(or at least i did) dream of a place where just being ourselves is possible it was never a corollary that we would still not be able to get over lying from ourselves....
Random thoughts i admit but well thats what you get when you put a monkey in front of a typewriter and he outsourses the work to me!!

I just finished with playing for my band boo hoo. and all i can think of is my friend's band played its first concert in baltimore on friday.... why???? ok i am happy for him but i wanna play..i hate this episode of my life some times i wish we could jump chapters and replay it like i do when watching films on power DVD? should it be an option hmmm...? i dunno..
Btw for those who saw it took the picture off cos i thought it was cheesy.

I saw rang de basanti the other day again and frankly i thought to my self "where the hell is that fort"?? . After that brief but totally apolitical question i came across the politics of the film that hit me slowly one by one. I loved the anger the wanting to kill someone cos you think that is the way to do things but hold on is it the right thing to do?? then you have siddharth surya narayanan's charecter go" no we know it was wrong". then why the fuck kill my man??
i have also asked my self several times over if i am qualified to actually make a statement on the film. i had a friend who had grown a beard in 2002 december in delhi when the parlimanet was attacked and remember how the cops picked him up and i had to go testify that he was just a student who had fallen victim to fashion rather that a terrorist. the anger one feels against a system where 'collateral damages' such as my friend deepak or for that matter the charecter madhavan plays are well hard to describe and can have dangerous repurcussions. but then comes the major fuck up that i find the paralel of the revolutionaries. now here the guy seriously got it wrong while the revolutionaries did it for the country these guys made it personal and that i couldnt forgive. But that is the truth o it all every thing is personal at the end of the daymaybe why i don't like the film is because its all fucked up but i have to admit "it could happen... " on that very note one last thought
Where is that fort??

Musings of a lazy writer

I have recently discovered that most women i have dated tend to hate the fact that i don't punctuate. I also have discovered this is a problem faced entirely by the 'unfairer' sex. What is it with women and punctuation? Saala The last two have been patrticularly trying. Another one is messaging. what is it with women in chennai and messaging, how can you message 400 messages in one day?????? how?? it defeats the very core of me. Ps i actually revisited this entire blog and punctuated.