Unlucky Number Thirteen

‘13th May 2009’ is right up there and a strong contender for the ‘worst day of my life’ award in the lightweight category (Heavyweight category includes terribly bad days such as the day I was born, the day I commenced my graduation course…pretty much the days when I took decisions about my career). So, allow me to unravel the events that unfolded on ‘13th May 2009’ for you in a chronological manner.

5.00 am : My phone attempted to wake me up by incessantly vibrating beneath my pillow.
5.01 am : Thought of waking up and studying crosses my mind.
5.02 am – 6.30 am : I was like ‘what a fucking joke’ and got back to the game. I was on strike and Kings11 needed 13 runs to win of 1 ball. Malinga bowled a no ball, and I whacked it outside the park. “What a shot! What a shot! Mr Singh came dancing down the track and whacked the balls out of that ball …he is whacking the balls so hard that mine are begging for an elaborate security cover…People are dancing on the isles… it’s an absolute carnage over here...Malinga has dug his team’s grave here…” yelled Tony Grieg fanatically. Now, one ball is left and 6 runs are needed. Whack!!! the balls sails high over the midwicket and out of the horizon. Now, Preity Zinta is running towards me and looks like today I am gonna get a lot more than just a warm hug! Damn the earth starts shaking, it’s an earthquake!!! People are running helter skelter, I lunge forward to protect my darling. Thud!! I roll off my bed and fall flat on the floor. That earthquake was probably my 6.30 am alarm.

6.40 am : I start reading the ‘Times of India’
6.40.30 am : Move to Delhi Times and scan it for good 15 mins
7.30 am : Walking towards my bus stop
7.32 am : Running towards my bus stop
7.33 am : Missed my bus!
8.00 am : Decide to drive down and endure the hellish traffic
9.30 am -5.30 pm : Chatting, Copy Pasting, Chatting, Copy Pasting….
6.00 pm : Just few minutes in to my journey back home, I realized that I am not carrying a single penny. Fortunately, the realization came a few seconds early and not in the toll booth (the unruly crowd would have eaten me raw!). I gave my friend Mr Bhallu a call and offered to drop him home in lieu of some money.

6.06 : while I was on the phone, someone knocked hard on my car’s front left window. I turned and was terrorized to see a thulla there. In the moment of shock, I didn’t even realize that my cell was still kissing my ear. “ Tane pata hai na ki gari chalatay hue fone say na baat kartay!” yelled the cop. ‘”Aaa….ooooo….Sorry…galti ho gai….aaaa..ooo” I responded. Hearing this, he realized I’ll be an easy game for him. He got in the car and told me to take a U- turn and stop. Take this! I am broke and have a thulla sitting in my car waiting to get bribed. In keeping with the tradition, he starts by threatening to cut a chalaan and asks me to show my driver’s license, car’s RC etc etc…then eagerly waits for me to offer him a bribe of Rs 500. When I told him that I don’t even have 5 paisa, he got so upset that he started farting. Unable to bear him any longer, I told him that my friend is waiting for me near my office and that I’ll pay him there. Thankfully, he agreed and somehow with Bhallu’s financial aid of Rs 500 I bribed him away.

6.30 : Ranting of the great bhalu begins. “Because of you, I had to do something unethical today…I bribed for the first time in my life” thundered Bhallu. This was a prologue to a two hours long third degree punishment. Spending the night in the jail would have been better than subjecting my self to this discourse. He bombarded my brain with everything he had got “ Yaar my three years stint at XYZ company really changed me…I was shy in front of girls earlier but now I am very comfortable, the other day when a girl said hi to me I didn’t start flushing like a potato…blah blah blah”. “Drop me over here on the left side” the final words which Bhallu spoke that day in my car bailed me out of the 2 hrs long misery. “This is it… the worst is over” I told myself and for the first time in the entire day felt elated.

11.30 pm : I won the toss and opted to field.
Ravi Shastri : “ So why did you opt to field”
Me: “Think there is some juice in the wicket and ball should move around a bit early on”
RS: “Any changes in the team?”
Me: “Yes, David Hussey plays in place of Dada”

David Hussey, Dada?? wtf?? Gripped with fear I looked at my jersey…it was black and golden and had “NOKIA” embedded in the middle.
11.31 pm : I was like “What a fucking joke” The worst was not over yet. In fact, the Knightmare had just begun...

Breathless!!!

My cerebral circuit has gone haywire; infinite, erratic electrical pulses are charging both the lobes at an alarmingly high voltage, catapulting an avalanche of random piercing thoughts. These acerbic thoughts - some about my childhood, some about my not so distant past, some way in to future and some plain delusional - are eliciting a weird cocktail of emotions, a cocktail which is making me angry, very angry; I don’t why, but it is! Its consumption has lead me into a fit of sorts. Even though I am sitting comfortably in my seat, I feel as if I am trapped in a coffin, planted some 50 meters below the ground. I am gasping for air and yearning for space. Time Space continuum cease to exist in this coffin, it's all just a morbid flux. A flux which is crawling through my body, the more I despise it the more it spreads.

Allah kay naam par Vote de de baba - not a politician begging this time!

You are voting tommorrow right? asked an unruly character in my office for the 100th time. I tried my level best to put up a smile and nod, where as actually I wanted to show him the finger which may get inked tomorrow. The fact that some people can assume the right to tell you what to do and take a call on whats right /wrong vexes me big time. They are the bovine farts who are as hollow as the rest of us .Their only claim to righteousness being lighting two fucking candles in their vernadah after watching "Rang De Basanti" for the zillionth time. Don't mistake me to be a radical! I am not saying dont vote, it is none of my business to do so; if you are old enough to vote then you are surely wise enough to know how to exercise your right!.
Lets take a step back here and figure out why these useless sacks around us have suddenly turned into activists (namesake). Its probably because they think it's 'COOL' (the 'in-thing'). And why do they think so? because this is what the TV journalists, our role models (Read actor, actresses - no pun inteneded here!) have been babbling lately, this what the most read newspaper 'Delhi Times' has been trying to shove down our throats. They are doing the right thing in encouarging people to 'excercise their right to vote', by excercise I mean doing the proper due dilligence figuring out who the candidates are... what they have done so far etc etc...and then judicously using the sacrosanct right. But, oblivious of these things, chintus, bittus and mintoos want to vote and force others to vote because doing so makes them look 'HAAP', the louder they are in asking someone to vote the 'HAAPER' they are.
We have become the 'India TV' generation. We embody the key charcteristic feature of 'India TV', the very channel we love to hate and that feature is ' Nautanki' , jitni karwa loo hum say kam hain. "Yaar pata hain kal India TV main kya dikhaya....(why the hell do you watch it if you think its that frivlous...does Rajat Sharma give you a bamboo if you dont). So all u "Barkha Dutt" acolytes out there who indulge in such fake activism to gain acceptability, kindly jump of our butts and let us make up our mind for ourselves. If I have to choose between 2 scoundrels, I am gonna choose none! I am not going to walk to the election booth and favor one a hole over another, I'll rather watch 'RDB' and light candles at home!
Seedhi baat, no bakwas...clear hain??

Ollay Ollay

Ollay, Ollay, Ollay! I am in office and have shit load of work to do, but all I am doing is huming this crapy song from some old Saif Ali Khan's movie. No wait a min, now I am thinking about Jennifer Annistion and trying to remember what was her hair style like in season 6 of Friends...also was wondering what the outcomes of upcoming matches need to be for KKR to get a berth in semi final slots. Oops, some senior person in my team just walked past me, did he/she see spot me blogging. What if she did? Will she escalate it? If she does, then would they ask me to provide them with an explanation? If they do, then what would I say? What if I dont say anything? Will my silence infuriate them further or pacify them? What if its bugs them further?.........................................Koi na I'll sing ollay, ollay, ollay, ollay!!