The Rise and Rise of P & J

There is a lot of room for love in my college (campus).

Room for bird lovers

Room for open sky lovers

Room for overpriced shitty food lovers

Room for football lovers

Room for dog lovers

Room for photography lovers

Room for poetry lovers

Room for toilet lovers (Each floor in college, atleast upto the 2nd floor has four bathrooms. You are never far away from one. It's a special feeling. :D)

And then there is plenty of room for luurver lovers. And there always is some more room.

For the luurver lovers, it is Paradise City. But just as Harry and his friends were always running from Filch and his cat, naah, our luurver lovers don't really feel the need to do that. It's the 21st century na? And the hundred hindi movie heroes who said -"Pyaar kiya toh darna kya" said it with a reason na? But of course like all modern love stories and the ones of generations past, we have been brought up to believe that every love-saga is incomplete with the muchad villains and of course, the reading room full of impotent sincere studious children. Right na? So while our luurvers are "Get your freakin on and on" the muchad cowboys, who unfortunately have balls of Lego roam the corridors and pick on the reading room full of impotent sincere studious children. Fair na?

Alright, sorry people, I have realised I am a terrible story teller. How can I not introduce the protaganists, the muchad heroes who more than make up for their orthodoxies and ubiquitous presence round college with their stunning good looks!

*Drum roll- open curtains-guitar solo-spotlight-silence-closeup"

Mr. P and Mr. J, object of every woman and girl's uncontrollable desires, every young boy's fantasy crushers, suave, classic, smoo(oo)th operators . Move over Rajnikanth. No matter how hard he tries, no matter how many bullets he catches with his teeth, no matter his extreme understanding of quantum mechanics, he can never match up with P & J's superpowers of being present everywhere all the time. They are so cool. However, since they have balls of Lego, they can't really instil fear in our luurver lovers who have balls of hormones but there always is the reading room full of impotent sincere studious children to pick on. And besides P & J are prem-pujaris, na. I repeat-they are so cool. I am absolutely in awe of them. I have even put posters of them on my wall. I am smitten,really.I so have to talk about their fashion sense. What you guys read Cosmo or Femina to learn dressing up tips for your gal? And what is with the chequered chaddis? Seriously. A three rupees bus ride from Andheri Station to my college is all you need people. And besides, you would actually get a chance to get up close and personal with P and J! *No pun intended. Now, which fashion magzine offers that? White reebok shoes never looked so good. J has been setting such fashion standards in college since time immemorial. Side-parting wel oiled hair is the way forward. Another fashion tip that I have picked up from P is keeping a comb handy. What were back pockets made for after all? So anytime you see a hot chickita walking past be sure to remove it from your back pocket and run it through your hair. However its should be in one smooth motion like running a hot knife through butter. It should appear as though you are removing it from your arse, and in a smooth sleight of hands, you drive the comb through your hair and part your scalp like a road divider. And running your hand through your hair to dobule check is a must.Kewl/Kool/Cool na?

For the reasons mentioned above and for many reasons still beyond my understanding, (since I happen to be one amongst the reading room full of impotent sincere studious children), P & J have become trendsetters in college and demand a lot of attention. For our hormonally charged luurver lovers, however, they pose absolutely no threat. Our lurrver lovers go about their business, making out, cleaning each others mouths and other parts of each other's bodies. Another trend I have observed among the lurrver lovers is they are very hygiene conscious and apart from the luurve they share for their better half they love the college toilets in equal measure. Apparently love is a lot better there.Phew. Lot of love for me to handle. No wonder I am one amongst the reading room full of impotent sincere studious children. Damn. So while P & J, who, like I said earlier have balls of Lego, haven't been able to deter the luurver lovers. But open sky lovers, bird lovers and photography lovers, they sure do love picking on them. And considering we-the reading room full of impotent sincere studious children have less hormonal problems than themselves and the luurver lovers, it only makes sense that they pick on us, na?

And what other people don't know we, the reading room full of impotent sincere studious children do. We have been subject to abject travesties in college, while studying. If heterosexual Hormonal Tandav(an entire post will be dedicated to this phenomenon) wasn't enough,we have witnessed the amendment to section 377 being celebrated before the court verdict. So while P & J are heroes in their own right, you would have expected more traditional machismo from them na?

I have really vivid dreams, and one of these day dreams I distinctly remember. It was a daymare really- Fast forward to 10 years from now.

I am returning to college, to relive memories, to relive the amazing days in the PL amongst great company, to relive hours spent in the canteen, in the quadrangle and discreet locations, to meet a few teachers who had managed to earn my respect. However, as I make my way through the skinny dipped students and condom vending machines next to the water coolers, I wonder if I have come to the same orthodox SPCE-SPIT. I look around to see some familiar faces. And I see P & J flaunting Versace ganjis and Calvin Klein underwear. Duplicates, of course. So the entire phenomenon of showing skin in orthodox Sardar Patel College suddenly made a whole lot of sense. P & J continued to set fashion standards in college. Apart from the change in their appearance , their demeanour had changed too, I am pretty sure the new bunch of the reading room full of impotent sincere studious children had caught P & J on multiple occasions performing their desi renditions of Brokeback Mountain during the PL. For us, back then it was still just the one time when we were subject to their PDA. But that is enough trauma to last us a lfiteime. On second thougght does anybody study anymore? So as I walked through the corridros heterosexual hormonal tandav was more pronounced than my time, but the homosexual variety had caught on too. Feelings of nostalgia went down the gutters. Mouth left gaping I walked out of college, shattered beyond repair, only to be called out by someone. With a glimmer of hope I turned back, only to be depressed further. P was the one who called out.

This is the conversation we had:

P: Kasa ahes tuu?

Me : Bara ahe sir, tumhi sanga.

P: Kay mhanu mee. Toh mala disat nahi.

Me: Koni sir?

P: Kay re, tula mahit nahi kay? Me anhi majha anil kapoor J ata vivahit ahe. Te asla nahi tar majha uslatach nahi. Anhi mala uslaycha ahe ata.Tuu karin ka majha help. Tuu bhetla tyala tari tyala sang ki mi tyala miss karto he. Majha help kar na . "For old times sake" (*winks)

Me: Ho zaroor sir, congrats tumchya vivah zhali. Mast he. Cool he. Mi ata yenar majhya porachi admission karayla. Tadhi mi bhetto tumhi dogana anhi tumhala wedding present pan dein mi, toh amchya poora group- the reading room full of impotent sincere studious children cha bhet asnar. Chala sir. Bhetuya. Bye

P:Bye ga!

Dream over. Watchman uncle comes to class. Chala 8 vazla, class band karaycha ahe. Ho kaka aaj last day ahe the reading room full of impotent sincere studious children cha.Amhi yenar nahi aaj pasoon. Thank you for the memories! P & J cha jai ho!

So as generations of students will pass through the hallowed corridors of the aptly named Sardar Patel College of Engineering/Sardar Patel Institute of Technology the legend of P & J will continue to rise and rise. *No pun intended.

Cheers!

(this one is again dedicated to my homies, the PL buddies who have been victims of other people's follies again and again)

If you were a Song...

Vh1-"If you were a song..." . Rings a bell? Some time back Vh1 had started this ad campaign which I fell in love with. So since I, like the entire blogosphere seem to be under the spell of the infamous"Writer's block", this is the only thing I can come up with after two weeks of nothingness. Engineers are a funny breed. This is somthing I have realised over the last three years. When they have all the time in the world, they slack off and when their asses are on fire, they choose to dive into their souls and write like Shakespeare or drunk romantics. Nevermind. I am one of them...

*Drum solo*

If I were a fart, I would be "Wind of Change" (The Scorpions)

If I were a Patiala peg, I would be "Unbelievable" (Bob Dylan)

If I were a used condom, I would be "Torn" (Natalie Imbruglia)

If I were Viagara, I would be "Let's Get it Up" (AC/DC)

If I were a granny, I would be "Rukmani" (Roja)

If I were a WMD, I would be "Yellow Submarine" (The Beatles)

If I were a headache, I would be "Zombie" (The Cranberries)

If I were a body wax, I would be "Smooth" (Santana)

If I were a number, I would be "One" (Metallica/U2/Creed)

If I were a car, I would be "Mustang Sally" (Creedence Clearwater Revival)

If I were a hitch-hiker, I would be "Highway Star" (Deep Purple)

If I were a shadow, I would be "Two Steps Behind" (Def Leppard)

If I were a self-help book, I would be "Keep the Faith" (Bon Jovi)

If I were a piece of chicken on somebody's plate, I would be "Love me Tender" (Elvis)

If I were a fruit, I would be "Tangerine" (Led Zeppelin)

If I were an American bound friend, I would be "American Idiot" (Green Day)

If I were a dance, I would be "Dance of Death" (Iron Maiden)

If I were horny, I would be "Wild Thing" (Steppenwolf)

If I were born again, I would be "Fly Like an Eagle" (Seal)

If I were mayor of Bombay, I would be "Paradise City" (GnR)

If I were a woman, I would be "I aint Satisfied" (Zero) :P

If I were a nomad, I would be " Born to be Wild" (Steppenwolf)/"(Wanted) Dead or Alive" (Bon Jovi)

If I were a fortune cookie, I would be "I don't want to change the world" (Ozzy Osbourne)

If I were a MU engineering student, I would be "Rape Me" (Nirvana)

If I were a pill, I would be "Miracle Drug" (U2)

If I were an executioner, I would be "Holier than thou" (Metallica)

If I were a place, I would be "Kashmir" (Led Zeppelin)

If I were an Indian I would be "Miley sur mera tumhara" ...

If I were to fart again to break the monotony, I would be "Hush" (Deep Purple)

Adi0s amigos...

Joga Bonito : Football of the Gods

Alright, before I begin what will be a long commentary, I just want to make one thing clear right from the onset. Whatever ensues is highly subjective, however I would welcome debates in the form of precious comments :P But please hear me out before you jump the gun and draw conclusions after the first paragraph. I know most of us are passionate about football or so we claim, so for football's sake read the entire thing. (the title holds no surprises as to what should ideally follow, but you never know what lies ahead...and for those who think this is just a backlash of the Chelsea-Barca game, it isn't . But surely that was the tipping point.)

I like to think I am an old fashioned person. And those who know me would agree. So amongst the many good things old(fashioned) people do, scouring the dictionary for meanings of words that they don't know is one of them. So after a lot of noisy chatter about a certain semi-final match in beckamsbarber's blog ( Click here ) that had me flabbergasted,I decided to look up the dictionary for our favouritest word in the world-football .To my utmost astonishment this is what I discovered :

"football(n): any number of forms of team game involving kicking a ball, in particular (in the UK) soccer or (in the US) American football." - Concise Oxford English Dictionary

"Football is the word given to a number of similar team sports, all of which involve (to varying degrees) kicking a ball with the foot in an attempt to score a goal." -Wikipedia

Hmmm. Frankly I am completely lost.Sticking to the basics was supposed to be easy, but this is turning out to be really difficult.Ok, since I am so slow to decipher the meaning of what Ms. Catherine Soanes and Mr. Wikipedia have said, please bear with me as I read aloud.

"football(n): any number of forms of team game involving kicking a ball, in particular (in the UK) soccer or (in the US) American football." - Concise Oxford English Dictionary

"Football is the word given to a number of similar team sports, all of which involve (to varying degrees) kicking a ball with the foot in an attempt to score a goal." -Wikipedia

Alright according to Mr. Wiki football is a sport, a team sport, not an individual one, which invloves kicking a ball with the foot in an attempt to score a goal. Not that I wish to challenge Mr. Wiki's knowledge or anything, but the definition seems incomplete. "...kicking a ball with the foot in an attempt to score a goal to win a match ". Now that makes complete sense, right?

Phew, now that I (think I) have estabilished the definition of football, I can move on to the next train of thought.

(And for the "anti-purists" who think I conveniently overlooked the first definition, it is because it is a very generic definition .)

So, if I am to gauge correctly nowhere is there a mention of " ball-watching in an attempt to score a goal to win a match" . The statement in itself is contradictory. You cannot watch the ball, and score a goal , unless of course you are Harry Potter or Stephen Chow. And if you can't score a goal, you can't win a match. So when you put this definition in practice, on the field, it still continues to be contradictory.

Now, a lot of my friends, the "anti-purists" would want the definition to read something like this "scoring a goal and then stopping the other team from scoring(defending) in an attempt to score a goal to win a match" . This is getting tougher. Alright, so you have scored a goal, now you sit back and choose to defend your lead, how does it ensure you win? If the team you are facing, chooses to stick to the basics and kick the ball around in an actual attempt to score a goal, they are bound to get rewards, sooner or later. So if you choose to ball-watch("anti-purists" definition of defending, I'll come to the purist definition later) as the other team comes at you, all guns blazing, and then cry about being cheated out of a win, blaming it on the gods, fate, a certain Tom Henning Ovrebo, let me break this to you, you are anti-pure, if that's a word at all. Sure, you have the right to protest about wrong decisions, (blindly) supporting your team through thick and thin. But when it comes to actually playing FOOT-ball in an attempt to win a football game the blind faith has got to end somewhere. You cannot continue to live in delusion.

Now, the nature of the Champions League format, where the matches are spread over two legs can be traced back to history. A War is a confrontation between two sides. It usually comprises many battles, and as history has it, the side that is stronger through all the battles usually wins the War. Now, strong and weak are again very relative terms, so let me elaborate more on that. The stronger side is the one which has a well planned strategy, people sticking to the gameplan, people who respect their compatriots and their opponents, equally good in attack and in defense and the side that has a burning desire to win. If you notice, I, so called purist mentioned attack and defense in the same breath. Raises eyebrows? Well it shouldn't. Even history will back me on this.

"Attack is the best form of defense".Period.You cannot defend unless you have the instinct to attack. Surely, defensive strategies of armies would not have involved just "watching" the enemy shower arrows on them or bomb their city. They had to retaliate using the same means to defend themeselves. In essence they had to attack to defend. Now defensive strategies vary in their nature, but the underlying truth is that defense has to translate to attack to win. So, a side may defend for ten days to wear out their opposition and then atack, but the fact of the matter is that they have to attack to win. Although many external factors will try and play spoilsport, if you truly deserve to win, you will, no matter the scenario.No getting around that.

Finally having estabilished what in my opinion is "defense", let me draw parallels in our footballing scenario. Let us revisit the chelsea-barca game(for the umpteenth time) with this analogy in mind. The first leg(battle), Chelsea went in with a completely negative strategy. They had a chance here and there, but Barcelona dominated possession(70-30 or so), were unrelenting in attack, defended equally well and showed the desire to win. Chelsea simply ball watched, and there is no denying that. While everyone at Chelsea thought they won the battle by having ball-watched and being the "first team" to keep Barcelona from scoring at home, they were so wrong. The Catalans knew better. Round one winners-Barcelona (Football).

The Second leg was a fiesty encounter. Chelsea magically started attacking, creating chances et al, surely this wasn't the same team that ran around Camp Nou like pussies.Barcelona on the other hand continued to do what they do best. Keep it simple.Play football.Defend well, attack, counter-attack.They, however didn't create as many chances as the first encounter because Chelsea had put on their (not so)attacking blues. Nonetheless, they went about their business.Chelsea drew first blood, and thought they had the match won. A number of decisions went against them, but they weren't good enough in attack, they couldn't kill the game . It's as simple as that. The Abidal sending off, in my opinion made up for the "unfair" decisions. But keeping aside these so called unfair elements, Chelsea were just not good enough. Barcelona should have been on the back-foot considering all of the above factors, but they were unfazed. They went about their business right though the match and then bang! The final blow. Take a bow Andres El Ilusionista Iniesta!

In all "fairness", I reckon Chelsea put up a good fight in the second match. However the worthy and deserving winners of the two leg war was the team that showed a greater desire to play football and win. Barcelona. Nothing any Chelsea fan or any "anti-purists" say can change the facts. Barcelona played football. Football won. Barcelona won.

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Moving on, "spending money to buy good players in an attempt to score a goal to win a match". Surely this can't be the definition of football. Keeping my socialistic beliefs aside for a while, as much as I would love to splurge and buy the most expensive things in the world and even if these things do make me happy, it will be only for a while. I cannot buy inner peace and I cannot buy perennial happiness. I don't know why it is so difficult for footballing clubs and their billionare owners to understand that they cannot buy heart, they cannot buy team spirit, they cannot buy desire, they cannot buy history. Money would attract the best players, would give you a lot of mileage, but where does the "footballing team" come into the picture. Another reason, why Barcelona is what it is, they pay UNICEF as jersey sponsors, rather than rake in all the moolah themselves. So down with the whole money element in football.

Real Madrid spending more than 100 million pounds for two players, is nothing but a money making racket. Their t-shirt sales will make them millions and like the galacticos of yesteryears, the new galacticos are headed the same way. Trophyless cabinets for another six years. Kaka might play ten matches, then get injured for another ten,spending the remaining time in the photo studios while slut boy Ronaldo will be busy bedding Spanish chicks(American socialites) and giving them herpes and what not. I sincerely hope, for the madridistas that spending this much gets them somewhere in the footballing sense, but I don't really see that happening. Forca Barca!

And to further my point I quote my (purist) friend, Michel Platini from today's Time of India,

" These excessive transfers are happening almost everyday. They represent a serious challenge to the idea of fair play and the concept of financial balance in our competitions." He goes on to say, " UEFA is working hard with clubs to estabilish a new set of rules to clean up the system and give it a more solid and more transparent base, that is our top priority. "

Hallelujah!

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And finally, what annoys me to no end is the theatrics, the diving et al that has crept into the game courtesy the likes of Juergen Klinsman, Rivaldo (World Cup 2002 semifinal) and a lot many others. So Mr. Didier Drogba, for the record you are a "fucking disgrace" to football.Needed to get that out of my system before I continue. I am a very passionate person when it comes to playing the game, so when I see these pansies and cheaters play the game the way the do, it disgusts me.If it was so easy to pull down a 6 feet, 90 kg athlete with the wave of a hand, heck I would try my luck at Ultimate Fighter.And again nowhere in the definition of football is it mentioned that diving and faking it in an attempt to score a goal can win you a match. It's plain ludicrous.You dont win matches that way. You cannot win matches that way. I sincerely recommend a minimum two match ban to discourage such miscreants from spreading this cancerous disease. Or better all divers and actors found punishable by the governing bodies should be forced to perform in CATS, the Musical. I'm pretty sure there's a lot of jumping and diving involved there too. Since these people are no good on a football pitch they might as well hone their un-football skills and suffer public embarrassment at the same time. Monsieur Platini, since we seem to agree on so many points, I hope you are thinking along these lines too!

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So, friends, purists and anti-purists alike, one thing that all of us share is the love of the game and I don't think you would disagree with the fact that anthing in its purest form is most cherished and loved . Joga Bonito is just that. It is NOT just playing beautiful,eye pleasing one touch football like Barcelona. It is about the love of the game, to play the game in a spirit in which it should be played, to play the game with an undying desire, to play the game that brings a smile on the faces of kids worldwide, across oceans and continents(not thrown in for dramatic effext, its true), to play football the way the Gods meant for it to be played.

Joga Bonito!

Fooootball. Fooootball. Fooootball.

(p.s: Please pardon my grammatical errors.Just relieved I finished it. I'll scan the article when I am free...)

FEDEXPRESS Rolls on and on

The Greatest Ever. No more speculations. No more debates...ad infinitum 

Roger Federer, we are not worthy. 

College...Hmm

For the few of us who quite literally live out of college these images are dedicated to all of you. Why study at home when you can choose to surround yourself with such beauty and serenity? So to all the people who make college and PL worthwhile here goes...

P.S: To all my friends this side of town, these are a few of the many reasons why I spend so much time in college :) 

One batch of engineers just gave their last exam yesterday. I can't really think that far into the future but it's hard for me to imagine my reaction, one year from now after that last paper . Only time will tell. Watch this space for more.

Cheers All!

Hakuna Matata...

Best of Luck to all the engineers for their remaining papers and I sincerely wish all my seniors the best in whatever they do. 

Demo(n)cracy

Look at the shoes your filling

Look at the blood we're spilling

Look at the world we're killing

The way we've always done before

Look in the doubt we've wallowed

Look at the leaders we've followed

Look at the lies we've swallowed

And I don't want to hear no more!

Guns n Roses is absolutely brilliant. For a band to come up with such profound thoughts and infuse these thoughts in their lyrics is bloody brilliant. 

All those who believe that ours is a successful working democracy, read and re-read the lines above, especially the last line. (this is from the song Civil War , which I highly recommend)

Compared to earlier years this has been a relatively fairly fought election, but that still doesn't change anything.I hate to say it but the so called largest democracy in the world is nothing but a sham and a shame. And unless "we the people", decide that we don't want to put up with lies and more lies, and shout out that we don't want to hear no more, we will continue to be the world's largest Demo(n)cracy. Period. A more detailed and subjective analysis to follow post June 11th when all the hoopla has died down and I get my life back.

For all my engineering friends, Best of Luck for your papers :) God is good. Our exams are ending in less than a month. 

June 11th is the day this blog gets a new life. 

June 11th is the day I get a new life.

Hakuna Matata. :)

Perspective

It has been a while since I posted something sensible. This doesn't mean that I am going to break that monotony and do that now, because I can't. (I have vivas on Wednesday). I clearly shouldn't be sitting in front of the computer and type because as and when I do I find it difficult to stop. Anyhow I am going to make a conscious effort to keep this short and simple.

At times like these; times like these being exam time for engineers when the " I have not done anything and I am going to fail " feeling starts sinking in, you (I) start thinking of things which are very irrelevant and in no way tangible would help me in my pursuit of getting by yet another examination crises. Yet I spend more time than I should thinking and contemplating things which otherwise I wouldn't.

"Perspective" is the best word I can come with for all the wicked concoctions my brain stirs up at these times.

And when I talk of perspectives the first thing that comes to my mind is The Shawshank Redemption. Needless to say it is one of the best movies ever made and a movie that I never grow tired of watching but what appeals to me most about this movie is Perspective.

Here are some quotes from the movie that are absolutely brilliant, thought provoking, mind numbing and all that jazz.

(Lifted shamelessly from imdb :D)

Andy Dufresne: That's the beauty of music. They can't get that from you... Haven't you ever felt that way about music? 
Red: I played a mean harmonica as a younger man. Lost interest in it though. Didn't make much sense in here. 
Andy Dufresne: Here's where it makes the most sense. You need it so you don't forget. 
Red: Forget? 
Andy Dufresne: Forget that... there are places in this world that aren't made out of stone. That there's something inside... that they can't get to, that they can't touch. That's yours. 
Red: What're you talking about? 
Andy Dufresne: Hope. 

Tommy Williams: I don't read so good. 
Andy Dufresne: Well. 
[pause] 
Andy Dufresne: You don't read so *well*. Uh, we'll get to that. 

[Tommy receives a letter from the Board of Education] 
Red: You gonna open it, or stand there with your thumb up your butt? 
Tommy Williams: Thumb up my butt sounds better. 

Heywood: The Count of Monte Crisco... 
Floyd: That's "Cristo" you dumb shit. 
Heywood: ...by Alexandree Dumb-ass. Dumb-ass. 
Andy Dufresne: Dumb-ass? "Dumas". You know what it's about? You'll like it, it's about a prison break. 
Red: We oughta file that under "Educational" too, oughten we? 

[Playing checkers] 
Red: King me. 
Andy Dufresne: Chess. Now there's a game of kings. 
Red: What? 
Andy Dufresne: Civilized. Strategic... 
Red: ...and a total fuckin' mystery. I hate it. 

Red: [narrating] I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up DOES rejoice. Still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone. I guess I just miss my friend. 

Andy Dufresne: She was beautiful. God I loved her. I just didn't know how to show it, that's all. I killed her, Red. I didn't pull the trigger, but I drove her away. And that's why she died, because of me. 

Red: [narrating] In 1966, Andy Dufresne escaped from Shawshank prison. All they found of him was a muddy set of prison clothes, a bar of soap, and an old rock hammer, damn near worn down to the nub. I used to think it would take six-hundred years to tunnel under the wall with it. Old Andy did it in less than twenty. Oh, Andy loved geology. I guess it appealed to his meticulous nature. An ice age here, million years of mountain building there. Geology is the study of pressure and time. That's all it takes really, pressure, and time. That, and a big god-damned poster. Like I said, in prison a man will do anything to keep his mind occupied. It turns out Andy's favorite hobby was totin' his wall through the exercise yard, a handful at a time. I guess after Tommy was killed, he decided he had been here just about long enough. Andy did like he was told, buffed those shoes to a high mirror shine. The guard simply didn't notice. Neither did I... I mean, seriously, how often do you really look at a mans shoes? Andy crawled to freedom through five hundred yards of shit smelling foulness I can't even imagine, or maybe I just don't want too. Five hundred yards... that's the length of five football fields, just shy of half a mile.

Red: [narrating] The first night's the toughest, no doubt about it. They march you in naked as the day you were born, skin burning and half blind from that delousing shit they throw on you, and when they put you in that cell... and those bars slam home... that's when you know it's for real. A whole life blown away in the blink of an eye. Nothing left but all the time in the world to think about it

Andy Dufresne: You know what the Mexicans say about the Pacific? 
Red: No. 
Andy Dufresne: They say it has no memory. That's where I want to live the rest of my life. A warm place with no memory. 

Andy Dufresne:Dear Red, If you're reading this, you've gotten out. And if you've come this far, maybe you're willing to come a little further. You remember the name of the town, don't you? I could use a good man to help me get my project on wheels. I'll keep an eye out for you and the chessboard ready. Remember, Red. Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things and no good thing ever dies. I will be hoping that this letter finds you, and finds you well. Your friend, Andy.

Thank you Mr. Frank Darabont and Stephen King for giving the world The Swashank Redemption. Thank you for making people like me think. Thank you for opening our eyes to Perspective.

Yours truly,

Pratap Kaul

(Lost in thought and perspectives)

Journeys...

Have a lot of intense issues and topics that I want to write on-elections, politics, conversations with God -Part 2 and more (still formulating all of those in my head before venting my ire here) But before all of that I choose to put up some photos after a long time. After all, I have to live up to the reputation of being a photo-blogger :P

These pictures are from this year's trip to Rajasthan and Amritsar and may or may not bear any relevance or significance to the places visited. It's just me going trigger-happy as always, clicking random things, animals, people...

The Golden Temple by night.

The Golden Temple by dusk

One side of the entire Golden Temple complex

Bullet Holes at Jalianwala Bagh (look deeper)

Squirrel at our Jodhpur hotel

Squirrel at the Meherengarh Fort

The Three Stooges :D, bylanes of Jodhpur

The Reservoir Dogs :P

Hope you like them

Until next time,

Bye bye

The Fart and the ipod

Farts are supposed to be embarrassing, nasty, smelly, loud and what not. But in essence it is a healthy release of all things that you have assimilated in the not so distant past. Ideally one would want to eat and dump every two hours to keep your system efficient, clean and running.(*Santusht is the word) 

Since the great newtons and einsteins of days gone by haven't been able to invent a portable dump taker, nor have I read or heard of MIT's and Stanfords spending thousands of dollars in research for a thing which in my opinion is very very essential; it is but natural to let go once in a while. In the world I live in, farting is a good thing, the smellier the better. It lets the cook know that his dish has been appreciated by the taste buds and has gone down well. So the entire hoopla behind farts and it being "ewww gross" and "disgusting" is seriously beyond me.

To all those people falling in the above mentioned category I ask a simple question- Would you want me to invent a portable dump taker or you can tolerate sulphurous odours in your immediate environs for a maximum of ten seconds( In 20 years of having farted and having been farted upon by countless people, my general experience has been that fart stinks dont last more than ten seconds) or "screamers" which are odourless  and you get to laugh about it? In all respects the fart ensures you are healthy and well. Your nose gets a work out, your cheeks get a work out, your digestive organs get a work out, your butt-cheeks get a work out. 

So Farts are good. Period.

(And the silent ones are innocuous :D)

Date: 19th March

Time: roughly 6: 15

I am travelling shamelessy on the footboard of the train(as usual, inspite of repeated warnings of a not so sweet sounding western railway female who is so popular that her voice echoes all the way from churchgate to borivali, gives me a tooth ache really;  and my parents who are aware of my pseudo-herogiri).

Anyhow, a nice big onion uthappa at the not so cheap Vrindavan(considering canteen uthappa is better and cheaper) is working its way through my body, and a fresh lime water(sweet) helps its onward journey to my bowels. Ha, so I am doing my pseudo herogiri on the footboard, listening to ma ipod( yo maan, I'm cool \ m/ !), trying to be more cool, listening to Guns and Roses Live Era after a bloody long time. Love it. Patience is playing as I near Mahim. Clearly the uthappa has gone down well and the lime juice has worked its magic because I feel the need to release. The first class compartment is unusually crowded, I look around.I dont know any one. Now the one problem I have with farts and fart anatomy is that until you actually let go, you dont really know what type it is. "Just a little patience..yeaaah..." is ringing through my ears. Just to paint a better picture I am very happy, carefree, wind blowing through my mane, head swaying et al. GnR has that effect on me, so I am always on another planet when I am with GnR. So I let go. It feels like a screamer, I momentarily awaken from my trance like state. Look around. No-one is smiling, no one is laughing, no one is giving the "eww disgusting" look. I still don't know how to categorise that fart because with the headphones in my ears and Axl Rose screaming through it,there is not much of a chance for me to hear anything else, and the serene sweet smelling "Meethi" nadi has my nose occupied. So a complete win win for me really. I am over the entire three minutes of ecstasy, the train grinds to a halt at Mahim station. I alight. Slash and Axl Rose still giving me company.

Paradise City starts playing :D

Cheers to the fart and farters everywhere!

Yours truly,

The Hairy Farter

Pratap Kaul

(This happens to be my 50th post and I want to dedicate it to my dear friend Sanket, who brought it to my notice. Thank you Sanket :D)

Last

The last diaper

The last crawl

The last monkey bars

The last hide and go seek

The last innocence.

The last bat

The last rally

The last three-pointer

The last goal

The last game.

The last alma-mater

The last " teachers"

The last uniform

The last assembly

The last nostalgia.

The last haven

The last laughs

The last gaalis

The last tears

The last friends.

The last porn download

The last sms

The last chat

The last phone conversation

The last vice.

The last lover

The last date

The last dance 

The last embrace

The last sex.

The last companion

The last journey

The last adventure 

The last accident

The last scar.

The last repairs

The last bike

The last barter

The last heartbreak

The last return.

The last breath

The last wish

The last denial

The last tear-drop

The last blood-tie.

The last memory

The last thoughts

The last smile

The last ink-drop

The last line...

(Some random thoughts put down on paper last night,after a long time)