The One

Well, I am going to be 24 this December. If another kid calls me uncle, I will castrate him.
I need to fix some terminology.
Call your parents' brother uncle, not me. I am not old.
Old is when an "all nighter" means not having to get up to pee.
Old is when you are cautioned to go slow by the doctor, not the police.
Old is when your wife tells you, "Honey, let's go upstairs and make love" and you reply "Sweetheart, I can't do both".

OK. In all seriousness, I was freaked when I turned twenty. I was no longer a teenager anymore. The twenties brings some really heavy-duty words to mind like "Job","Marriage".
Every guy has his share of marriage-phobia. Every guy gets cold feet. It's just a matter of how he deals with it. If he has the prefect girl alongside him, then it gets easier. But that doesn't mean he doesn't get cold feet.

It is true that love is blind, but marriage is definitely the eye-opener. Before marriage, you dream of growing old together. After marriage, you wonder who will die first. Love is one long sweet dream, and marriage is the alarm clock.

We learn about these things called "love","relationships" when we are around 15,sweet 16. But we really start to understand them when we reach the 18-20 phase. Most men get married when then are 26-27 and most women when they are 24-25. That gives every man roughly 8-9 years and every woman 6-7 year to find their better half. Wow, I love statistics. Numbers never lie. How can one find the one person out of millions in such a short span? There might be a time in the future when people look for the right person for 20-30 years and end up spending 7-8 years of married life. That would be wierd, though. Imagine a 50-year old man standing at the alter saying his vows, "I searched 8 countries for you, even Ethiopia. But the 30 years of my life that I dedicated to finding you were worth it." Then the woman replies, "Sorry honey! I forgot my hearing aid."

"By the power of God, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You might not have a 25-year anniversary, unless both of you trust medicine. Good luck trying to get pregnant. You may now wear your dentures and kiss the bride."

Sometimes I wish she was you

I heard this song about 14 months ago in Russia on the radio. I didn't know the name of the artist or the song, but I loved it and never heard it again. The song kept playing in my head many times. Finally a few weeks ago, I heard Omkar listening to it and I was in luck.

Happy Birthday Omkar!!!

P.S - This song is NOT dedicated to you.(seriously!)

I can't imagine saying the words "I wish you were her, I wish you were my girl" to someone while your girl is with you. Apparently, Hinder can.

"Honey, why you calling me so late?...... My girl's in the next room, sometimes I wish she was you. I guess we never really moved on" - Hinder

While you were sleeping

Have you ever woken up from a night's sleep or a short nap and felt a different person?

Have you ever felt that something changed while you were sleeping, but never managed to understand what?

It happened again today. It's been a while since I remember it happening.

I was exhausted from all the running around I had done on that Saturday afternoon. Three private tutions back-to-back during 10th std is enough to get your head aching. I decided to take a short nap after lunch and recharge my batteries. I wasn't looking forward to playing cricket that evening as the last time was painful. I was so scared of facing that bowler again, Harnish, was his name. I had got bruises on my foot and my wrist from the last time. I had been too boggled, not concentrating on the ball, more bothered about how to avoid it. I wanted to skip batting for the first time in my life. But I was too tired to think about it, so I slept.
A rush of blood ran through my head when I woke up. I felt as if I had dropped from Mars at that very instant. I looked around. Something felt different. It was 6pm. I got ready and joined my friends. When it was my turn to bat, I wondered how I would face the music while attempting to keep my eyes open. The first ball was played by me on the front foot. My outstretched foot was perfectly placed for me to play a forward defensive stroke. Where did that come from, I wondered. The second ball was a full toss which I slapped for six runs. It landed on the terrace of the opposite building. Who was holding the bat in my hand? It sure as hell wasn't me! I played like I was possessed. I took 18 runs of the over, which isn't too bad. It was a week until I faced Harnish again and I never got bruised again. I played him with sheer confidence and agression.

What happened during the time I was asleep is still a mystery to me, but I loved it.

I fell asleep on my study table during my 12th std prelim exams. It was 2am and I had been working on this particular math problem for 40 minutes without a clue. My eyes opened at 4.35am and I gazed at the geometric figure for half a minute. I knew the solution! I began writing the proof and just managed to carve something out of the stone. It turned out to be correct!

Did an angel come into my dreams and whisper something in my ear, or was it Newton or Pythagoras?
How can a rational or natural explanation exist to such bizzare phenomenon?

Today, I woke up and realized that I was falling short of expectations. I haven't been paying attention to the one thing that matters the most. I had almost lost sight of it. But someone must have held my hand ..... while I was sleeping.

Write here, write now

I was having a discussion a few days back with a friend about reading and writing. There is nobody in the world who likes both equally. We all like one more than the other. Some of us prefer reading, while some prefer writing.

I like to read. Some tales are better told in words than on screen. But writing is my passion. If someone told me to choose, I would tend to bend more towards writing. It's not only my blog, but the other stuff that I write. I normally don't show people everything. It's just such a beautiful way of venting.

I've written poems, scripts, even short stories. Some friends have witnessed a few of my short stories. They were well-appreciated. My fear is and will always be the same, that someone will duplicate my material. That's the reason I never post any of those stories on my blog. Some genius jackass siting in Swaziland can easily translate my story and make a movie out of it which might win a Raspberry award. This is the reason why I sometimes think about a good subject but never put pen to paper. I once thought about an excellent sequel to "Main Khiladi Tu Anadi" - a 90s hit hindi movie. I had planned out the entire plot in my head, continued with most of the characters from the first film and given it a decent ending. And yes, this would have been a film without any songs. But those would find their way into the film anyway, as they always do in hindi cinema. Most of the script involved incidents that had happened in the past few years with me and my friends, and everything made sense. I had the stunts, the thrills, the romance, all in my head, but for some reason I decided to think more and never wrote it. I've forgotten most of it now. But still remember the story, at least the gist of it.

Another story that I've been working on is my own. It's been three years since I first started writing the script for that one. Still don't have a name for it, but I'd named it "The Amateur" temporarily. It's a drama-thriller about a young CIA agent. I never got a chance to continue it. Same case with this story. I have the whole plot in my head, but don't have the time to sit and write it down exactly the way it is.

I've decided that I'm going to devote a certian amount of time every week to my stories and scripts. Now that it's Spring Break, I can make such a decision. After a month, when I'm swamped with studies for my final exams, I won't even remember that I ever thought about this resolution, and my stories will once again be mummified waiting for the next excavation trip.

Worn Out

In Russia, most undergraduate students live in dorms. Ask anyone who has lived in a dorm when he/she was a student, and they’ll tell you how crazy life can be. Late nights, stayovers, piles of books on your bed, conversations over coffee, fights, parties. It’s a crazy life! When I was in my final year undergrad, I took maximum advantage of my free time by spending it with friends and visiting places in St.Petersburg that I hadn’t seen before.

Sometime in December 2006, after having dinner with a friend, I decided to stay over at her place (don't get any ideas). We both had to go to church the next morning, and my place was a forty minute commute from hers, so staying over made sense as it was almost midnight. Her hostel was very strict about letting people stay over, so we had to get special permission from the person in-charge, the kommendant. The guards just wouldn’t let me in. She went into the kommendant’s office, while I stood outside, waiting in anticipation. I was too tired to go home and it was too late. When she came out, I was told that he had granted permission, but he would be visiting her room in an hour, just to check. I was relieved, if anything.

As we made ourselves comfortable at her place, she got an idea. As I didn’t have a washing machine at my place, she suggested that I change my clothes, put them in the washing machine at her place, and wear the clean clothes in the morning. I had my doubts about the dryer, she didn’t have any masculine clothes except a t-shirt and shorts. After her assurances, I changed and put the clothes for wash. We then began watching a short video of her sister’s wedding. Someone knocked at the door at around 12.30am. It was the kommendant, just as he had promised.

“I’m sorry”, he said, “but I don’t think you’re friend can spend the night. My superiors will be coming tomorrow morning and they will question me about this.”

“It’s so late”, she protested, “he lives way across the city. How can he go home now?”

“The last train is at 1am. He can easily make it. I can’t let him stay, bottom line. Goodnight!”

At such a point many things could have popped into my head. Would I reach home on time? Would I reach home safe? What if I don’t reach before my hostel main door is locked?

But the only thought that washed those away, obviously, was “My clothes!!!”

I was speechless for a minute, thinking how I would survive in minus ten degrees celsius with shorts. All I had was my underwear (luckily), my shoes and my winter jacket. Quite an interesting situation, don’t you think? There was no option, we raided madam’s cupboard to find some decent-enough clothing, while we cursed the kommendant for his time-keeping. The winners were a long-sleeved t-shirt which looked like something a boy could wear, a dark blue jean pant which only came upto my ankles (looked like a bloody three-fourth denim pant) and a pair of white socks (or should I say mini-socks).

I was aware that I didn’t have time. If I would miss the last train, I would either have to walk home (which would take at least an hour) or I would look like a cross-dressing beggar on the streets of St.Petersburg. Hence, I didn’t protest about the clothing.

All I said as I left was, “See you in church tomorrow”

And all she said was, “Please wear something different”

Yes, the woman had a sense of humour and so did the hundreds of people who walked by me on my way to the underground metro station. I got more attention than the hot girl with a short skirt and high heels standing with a cigarette in her hand by the curb. The train driver, too, noticed me standing at the platform while the train approached. I was so baffled that I thought I heard him say, “The doors are closing. Please be careful. Next stop – Vladimirskaya. What the hell was the guy who entered the train wearing?”

Well, I reached in time at my hostel. Luckily for me, very luckily indeed, there were six more guys in my room including my roommate. They were watching a movie. When I entered, they were in awe. One guy didn’t notice a thing, some were laughing, one of them said, “what kind of socks are those?” and another even said, “Damn, I need to try this.”

If you come back...

I came across an interesting statistic a while back. It said that around 60-70 % of the romantic pop songs in the past two decades have come from boy-bands and girl-bands. I guess groups like the Backstreet boys, Spice girls, Boyzone, Michael Learns to Rock are responsible for most of it. Even recently, many new bands have come up with some really excellent tracks. Blue, Westlife are just some of them.

So, another romantic song by a boy-band. This wasn't one of the famous tracks but it was well appreciated. A beautiful song! My 'song of the moment'.



"If You Come Back"
- Blue

For all this time I've been lovin' you girl
Oh yes I have
And ever since the day you left me here alone
I've been trying to find, oh, the reason why

So if I did something wrong please tell me
I wanna understand
'Cause I don't want this love to ever end

And I swear
If you come back in my life
I'll be there till the end of time
(Come back to me, Come back to me, Back into my life)
And I swear
I'll keep you right by my side
'Cause baby, you're the one I want
(Come back to me, Come back to me, Back into my life)
Oh yes you are

I watched you go
You've taken my heart with you
Oh yes you did
Every time I tried to reach you on the phone
Baby you're never there, girl you're never home