The Wise one says…

May be not the first time in my life that I am a little scared. I dont know about what… but soemthing upsets me and just that I can put my finger over it. I have completely given up on my MBA prep…and I dont know where am I headed.

This unrest that manifests in my head is making me pull away from every good thing I should be a part of.
I dont believe in talking about it face to face with someone,Because it would alway result in some sort of a adage which may sound comforting but is not usually a great help. I dont know what should I be doing now… weeks pass by all eaten up by this inaction and lethargy that I find myself tied to. Caught in this stupid cycle of file submissions is getting hard for me. May be a vacation… may be a coma..

I have never been a fighter. I just wish this all gets over soon.. wake me up when it gets over. Why cant I be an ostrich,, why do I have to see the end approaching..

What occasion could cause the best of family friends dress up for the occasion and sit in ones drawing room drinking cola./? Well….title was give away haan??
Well this is exactly what happens at my place. Our family friends..whom if we visit otherwise..or if they happen to visit us.. there are no social protocols that we follow.
I know on which kitchen shelf they store their coffee…. and they all know where do we store ours. Which is like the highest social access you may give to people in our social circle..believe me! But there comes Diwali..and we know that they are going to be dressed in their shiniest outfits..and will be sitting in our drawing rooms pretending to be uptight classy strangers…trying to strike a conversation about my future plan (Which is a hit topic in my drawing room..)

Then it comes the difficult part, when you are expected to proxy for your parents and visit all those creepy people with their little dazzle shows they put there… (I wonder if yelling my eyes! my eyes! would be a compliment). So there were the other nigams in the colony who came in to sit and eat and admit that too…

“Your mom and dad are not here…. the best chance to sit, eat,and leave quickly..” said they..and then giggling and gorging.
Welll..I would have loved that but I am instructed to call parents up in such situations.. so I did.
Meanwhile..
“So…4th year haan..”
“Yes..”
“Job or MBA”
“Still figuring out..”

and the other thing I was still figuring out was their kid’s names. Man…am I bad with names. A wrong name could be absolutely embarassing.. (for them ofcourse ! ) Now I know they boys..and I they are two in number…

“So..how were his boards…??”
“Whose?”
“Both of them had boards..of course… yes..both of them had theirs.. How were boards for them.. now dont say Black…” Said I..giggling and sipping my coffee I did slip in sme humor..but they didnt get it I guess..
“Well..went well…”
“So have you decided upon a college yet..”
“Shubham is studying at Hansraj…”
“Ofcourse he is.. ya ..”
And then came my parents for rescue.. and I evaded what could have been a train wreck.

What is so good about diwali haan??? with all the cheap thrills you get from those bijli bombs.. or the shameless chinese wonders you plug in and flaunt at night.. Its so noisy..and my throat hurts because of all the smoke. Seriously… but there is something in the air.. and TV programming is at its best not to forget. Diwali has something for everyone..even for me

The artist I couldnt be,
for they
read me, follow ,ping me, tag me.
How bored fellows are they.

The incessant cries of the virtual socializer, begging of you to comment, wanting you to “lol” on him/his. With technology providing a way of fulfilling every basic human craving… the compulsive attention seeker seeks some more attention on his blog/twitter/relationship status on his facebook page. The emotionally deranged insecure puppy has arrived… on every social forum..

They want you to like them, follow them, comment on their needy writings. They expect you to like what they fell in love with. Who needs a psychiatrist when you have 241 friends on facebook haan??

Its not all that bad you see… a facebook account can be a litmus test on that person. See what he likes….see his pics.. invade a little privacy of his on his consent..be friends with him. And there..you know the person with the kind of status updates he like.. if I ever recruit people..their facebook profile will be a criteria…so will be their blog. But a caveat. Ever wondered how even ultra boring and stupid people get number of hits on their blog.. (Because you visit them..).Its a fools haven..out here with 24×7 google search giving you insight on every possible conversation starter, a spell check to make the most sense out of your writing..and a vast web full of other needy people you can borrow some thoughts from. Who needs original??

Wonder whether we will have another great book or poem or painting.. And you know why. Because all great novels are/were written in solitude, isolation. The human brain is known to work at its best in isolation, in social depreivity. In the stiffling corners of victorian walls did bronte write her Heathcliff. Now imagine if she did have a facebook account back then…how on Earth was she going to avoid that craving to make status updates. Had there been emoticons back then, I think we would have a smiley for Monalisa!! So in short, what I am trying to say is that the rise of machines as we may call it, is killing the flair for art, creativity ….why??… well it is that the social denegration has produced the best artists, their genius is a product of their introvert, lack of social conduct… and contact.

Now I know why cannot be the next da vinci. Even if I have what it takes… I am deprived of my share of social deprivation. Stupid Broadband!!!

My mother asked me..all of a sudden.. “So..no more companies are visitng your campus.?.”
Now as diverse the gamut of topics of my conversations with my mother may be, to my failrly accurate recollection, I dont think I ever discussed on those lines.
“How do you know?” said the bewildered self..yours truly.

“Well..you have grown that bakra style on your face again..”

Turns out my patch of facial hair communicates on its own ! Tada…

I remember when I had this chapter in my hindi text book, some author wondering about the purpose of nails, why they keep growing whilst we dont need them anymore. Well for one thing… we do need them, how the hell do you expect yourself to open that steel tiffin box haan??? Anyways.. I was thinking what possible reason makes a man grow his facial hair?? Now, I too maintain some patch of little grass there.. but if I told you that I liked the way it dances in the wind, I dare not expect anything less than a slap.

So like all journeys (and movies) even this should begin with exploration of the self, I too would like to find answers to this hairy mystery.

It all began in third semester when one day I decided to experiment. Intentionally left a little fuzz on my chin, only to see it grow. Have you ever planted a tree?? No its not exactly the same..but thats the best I can compare it to. And then I liked it, so I carried on with it. My mother never really was fond of it. She said, some of it is that sun tan, and some of it is that beard and something about how its all painted black ans stuff. Once she even offered me money to get it trimmed or cleaned for the better .

Now some men do it out of sheer laziness, it keeps growing, and those attention seeking men in their mid life crisis seem to enter a relationship with the beard. This neighbour of mine, who I think is trying to look a little mature and wise with the proper beard he tries to maintain. Well..wont blame him. A degree in interior decoration doesnt make you look all wise..does it??

Then..I know this friend of mine who gets into examination mode and stops shaving..for weeks. Another guy chooses not to shave when he has an interview (whats that about?). Once when I was at Jaipur..and I do have a pic of three of us friends..who came to be known as the bakra gang just because we happened to sport a little fuzz on our chins. (We decided to toss for it since then.. )

Funny..na..how I keep going on and on about hard pigmented strands of protien.
I often get asked weird questions..
“do you condition?”, ” does it itch?” and I say just one thing..
Do you hear peacock complaining about its might?

This man, Indrajeet Hazra cracks me up every time I read his sunday pieces. He gets you to read the first few lines then making you move on to next few lines..never wanting you to come out (which I dont think Sanghavi ever will). There have been moments, when I began to pass his thoughts as mine or my thoughts as his, a direct parallel he draws to what I think (or at least what I think I think!). Amazing.. and light..not at all shallow like those Mohsin’s vile butterfly pieces. You know..he is a reason enough to flip through the otherwise dull and laden with crime pages of my daily – The HT.

I grew up with it, The HIndustan Times, and I actually feel a little out my system the day that newspaper boy mixes his papers up. It all began with HT City (and it usually does), for family like ours where kids learn the 24 hour clock timing so that they can read the TV guide (:D) and yah..all that Hollywood coverage they used to have back then got me hooked on to this daily supplement. Now publicly acknowledging the fact that one allows his/her kids to read those sleazy supplements bearing every possible vice (sex,violence and page 3) was a little embarassing for my parents so they never did. Once at our school, some kids put salma hayek’s cut out from DT on the display board. Now given someone as “voluptious” as hayek, our class teacher was bound to freak out. Taking the immediate action… our Principal switched to “The Hindu” (Bummer ) from then on.

As weird as it may sound, but some people take their gossip sections pretty seriously. Throw in some DT fanatics amidst of City admirers, and you get to see some smoke . And why not..?? All wars perambulate the fundamental differences between some printed text…dont they?

But what is it about newspapers that I am going on and on over them? Well nothing actually. And this nothing is what exactly makes them so special. For many of us, days would pass without you talking to your neighbour but newspaper is something I am pretty sure you cant live without. At least I cant live without. Even If I dont care to give it a read, I do flip the pages and see all the pictures atleast…just as a ritual. Well entwining newspaper with my routine further, I cant empty my bowels without reading my daily.
No matter how many e-papers they launch, how many blogs they (I) maintain, how many Kindles they come up with, nothin in this world can replace a the crisp flutter of the newspaper and that cup of tea.

All those sour bastards, who could never make in the real world, just go quacking around about the things they dont know. And one such cukoo dropped by our place..only to talk about my career.

“Hey congrats.. but” said this fat guy who owns a dance studio

“Thanks// but??”

“Dont join company of the likes of aricent”
said the jobless commerece graduate.

“Why?”

“Its kind of free lunch.”
said the guy who did not get one.

“Well..see. I understand people may have reservations about mass recruiters but they are not that bad a company”

“I am not saying that..”
said the one who just ate his words.

“Well…then”

“I know bunch of people, my neighbour..is an Engineer. Woh har ghat ka paani pee chuka hai. useey milna”

“I hear they do some good work”

“But aricent ke baad baccha ghar ka nahin rah jaata”
and yes..he blurted out the last hideous statement in front of my mother…who is no short of a melodrama queen herself. But that scene is for later…no jaw dropping in front of guests.

“Aisi companies sirf resume pe hi acchi lagti hain..”
said the guy who I think has 3 failed business attempts, and a dance studio on the name of resume.

“I understand..”

“You know..work for some startup..”
A**hole…giving me stuff I know. He thinks he knows better… how come he is not an adivsor to the PM as yet

“You see..my brother started off as an aide at this start up. Now he himself has a startup to his credit”
And he went on while I was making my “Oh Canada ” face.

“So.. we were planning daandiya on this diwali.. what say.” he said

“Hardly interested..”

“kyon..tu wahan sirf bolne ke liya aayega kya??”
that eight legged creature referred to my last attempt as the mc.

“Not even for that..”
How dare I say in front of my mother that I am hardly interested in social gatherings specially the ones which involve rhythmic gyrations and wooden sticks.

“Tere ko to mein dance karaoonga..”
Now this is the limit..

“Really..what dance do yo do..”
This was aimed as an insult…given his insertial frame..he I dont think could have danced .but..some people are too dumb to sense the tone.,

“we are starting with B-Boing..”

“Oh really..”

“Any ways.I would get back to what I was doing..” And I left.

He sat for another hour…before he left. I wonder if it took him that long just to stand up.

Wow… some people think they can drop of some advise and do some charity work…but the next person who drops by..I am going to dig into their credentials before they offer some. Even if it means social ostracization of my family. I mean..seriously..who do they think they are,,,