Dear “Helpless man “
I hereby tend my resignation from the organization. I am getting married in a couple of months, and intend to relocate to join my spouse, who is settled abroad. I would like you to respect this decision, and release me at the earliest. I am ready to fulfill my notice period, and also give adequate knowledge transfer to my replacement, as required of me.
I appreciate the organization for providing me this valuable opportunity, and although the resignation is a painful decision for me, I would request you to process my formalities at the earliest.
Thanking
“ 2010 woman”
The reply
Dear “2010 Woman”,
I acknowledge the receipt of your mail. I regret to inform that your resignation is not accepted, for the primary reason, our organization has a global presence, and you can try and also be assured of getting an opportunity to work in the same location where your spouse would be. I am putting you on to the correct personnel who will help you find the opportunity, and also help in the settling process.
In the event of the same not coming through, which is unlikely, we have one more option to help you with the dilemma. We would love to have your spouse in our company, because we are always in need of great talent. So we would try our level best in giving a suitable offer, to your spouse, which will help you both settle very well in your post marriage life.
I wish you great luck in your new innings in your personal life.
Thanking
“ Helpless Man”
The counter reply
Dear “Helpless Man”
Let me take the opportunity to thank you sincerely for trying the option of getting a work in the location of my spouse. Also, it is a commendable initiative to try an option for my spouse in the organization. I regret to say that, I do not intend to continue working, as my in laws are not keen in me working post marriage, and I would like to adhere by their point of view.
Although I take pride in working in this organization and also feel obliged that the organization is willing to accommodate me in getting an opportunity, I am very clear and am in no dilemma. I feel, I should go ahead with my decision.
I would appreciate if you could let me know a suitable release date.
Thanking again
2010 Woman
The reply
Dear “2010 Woman”
It is by far a greatest truce, primarily because you, with all your education cannot convince your in laws in changing their point of view. Today, women are there everywhere and the main reason for their presence and eradicating the inequality is their willingness to contribute to the cause, and independence is their tool of choice.
I am again rejecting the application, because we can go ahead and discuss the same with your in laws, with your permission of-course. We have a separate women counseling cell that will take the onus and will help you come over the obstacle convincing your in laws.
Do not worry, as we know that you would love to continue working, and also the independence and intellectual maturity that the work offers you and we would try our best to have your right with you.
Thanks
Helpless man
CLIMAX
Dear “ Helpless Man”
I REITERATE, this is getting a bit overboard. It is not only my in-law’s choice, but mine as well. I do not intend to work anymore. Although working was exciting and a good learning, I think I should be at home, and also take a BREAK. I need a break from the hustle bustle, work activity, and post marriage, it would be beneficial to all parties involved, including myself.
I would be able to concentrate on my personal life, and in no way willing to sacrifice on that.
I would appreciate if you are sensitive to my concerns, and let me know my release date.
No Thanks
2010 Woman
The Reply
Dear “2010 Woman”
It is a pity, and absolutely against altruism that you intend to take a break. Well for the same break, we give you annual leaves and what not, but here I find absolutely no relevance to any for the cause of recreation.
I wonder if this is all that you perceived for yourself in the future, why did you even pursue with zeal and vigor your engineering studies ? It would have been better to stop at HSC, and learn about family and sacrifices, post that.
I intend to let you know, that we invest the same amount in training, invest the same in getting you a good opportunity, and why do only you have to take a break? I have never had, or will never have a male counterpart walking and telling me, that he intends to take a break post marriage.
I accept your resignation, but please note that, I would never ever want to hear from you about gender inequality at the top of the corporate hierarchy, when educated women like you do not want to contribute to the same.
No thanks
“Helpless Man”
Anti Climax
Dear “ Helpless Man”
I have been offended by this mail, and I intend to escalate this to higher authorities on unethical behavior.
This is an open case of insult, personal defamation and also mental trauma and I want to let you know that you would have to face the music.
2010 Woman
The end
Dear “Helpless man”
We are in receipt of a complaint against you for unethical behavior, and you have been charged for discriminatory comments and personal defamation. It is with restraint and unfortunate that at this position the comments are totally derogatory.
We hereby issue you a stern notice of warning, and would want you to issue a written apology to the party involved and also taking an adequate step to not repeat the same in the future.
Thanking,
Whomsoever it is concerned
The nail in the coffin..( Whose coffin ??)
Dear “whomsoever it is concerned”,
I hereby tend my resignation, because I intend to take a break. A break from fate, and also a break from the fateful repercussions if I tend an apology.
Thanking,
Helpless Man
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Elvis has left the Building
Elvis has left the building,
It all started with the phrase by a very good friend (Credits to follow in the end), “The louder the music, the older you are”.
The writing of-course has nothing to do with the Notre dame of Music and the king of rock and roll. Being closely related to marketing field, I thought it might catch some eyelids for otherwise usually a dry response to my blog post, but of-course it holds some resemblance to the great man, Elvis.
This write up is all about “Legacy”.
Well I never imagined, If, of all the People, I would be writing about getting Older or to cut short, AGE. But here I am, at – years of age ( Reasons for not disclosing will also follow ), writing about the most important, albeit controversial topic (Specifically for the opposite gender ) AGE. It is not a well thought event, but is just like a sudden wake up on the “other” side of an island, and just trying to have the prerogative built with a transition from one island to the other, if there was any transition. Sorry, I never had a transition.
This was inspired by some random set ofevents, some shocking, intriguing conversations with friends, and of-course how to forget the visit to Saloon and Usage of Gillette in the monthly bill.
I go back to the phrase where it all started, “The louder the music, the older you are” and this took a new imperative turn on me, because it was all going to well at a house party, Loud music, lots of food, friends frolicking, yelling, where in I pitched in first by reducing the volume, and also commanding the troops to follow decorum by reducing the decibel levels.
Will it be termed under a non cognizable crime? Well not really, but given the topic under discussion, I can’t even manage a parole.
The same week, was followed by another shocker. Well honestly, you never think you are old enough till the time, you get into a gully, where the future Rs 200 crore, brand ambassadors are playing our one day would be National Sport. I was not left behind, and I did enter a gully. And just like how the alarm gives you a rude awakening on Monday morning, I woke up. Nowadays, even gullys are filled with cars parked in all geometrical shape. So Terrace is where the sport is, but would still term it Gully cricket. The ball landed on my feet, and I bowed down to pick it up, there was a call, “UNCLE, sorry, please give the ball back”. Woah, Did the kid even look at me properly to address me in such rude manner ? Or did he look at me with eye to detail like the CIA agents in another Hollywood flick, to address me like that ? I really didn’t have an answer, I threw the ball up, (thrice to be honest) so that it has the thrust to reach the terrace, and the worst was to follow, three throws, and the arm already ached.
Working with colleagues who have great sense of humor is a blessing. Especially, when that is the only thing that keeps you afloat. But sometimes overdose of it, leaves you with no choice but to sulk. It was another one of those discussion on how you are going to shape your future where in my dear friend ( I Told you credits to follow suite ) commented, dude “we” have reasons to worry. We have 56 % of our life pending to live, and in that what can we do justice to ? WOAH 56, God help me break the mystery derivation of the number, but if it is true, with Medicinal blessing, I wonder where did my 44% of life vanish?? I vaguely remember laughing, spoiling plans, puncturing tires, throwing tantrums, breaking windows, fighting, brawl etc or even the first viewership privilege of soft porn.
Was I in selective amnesia and suddenly woke up to the fact that I have only 56 % of my life ahead ???But the realization of the no of age wasn’t the shocker, the shocker was to decide on priorities for the remaining 56% of my life. I am wondering, if I really would be able to make justice to the remaining part ?
Work place is where you spend 70 % of your time that you are awake. And All the happening in the work place has more than double the impact on how the remaining 30 % is going to be spent. Well there was a time, when I was a toddler in the corporate life, where I used to be addressed as a kiddo, a youngster, etc. Well honestly, it did vacillate my school of thought and forced me to sport a moustache and a French goatie, But the plan backfired, now the same facial reincarnation is what makes the new joins in the corporate world who get a rude welcome by having to meet me first in their new world , address me as “Sir”, and of course the perception that “I am very serious and senior person” from people I just spoke to. Well talk about oxymoron.
The last, but the pinnacle of frustration is your trip to saloon, or get ready for one exhaustive trip to your friendly neighborhood saloon. How you might wonder? But honestly, the last time I went to a saloon to have a hair cut it was some good 3 months back. Now that will go as Quarter expenses in my P & L statement, because there was a time when it was almost a monthly visit. The catch 22 here is a very fact that am shelling out oozles in the Gillette to upkeep the goatie, will take care of the monthly or expenses. Well it aint really about the money here, but woah, but the fact that the growth in the head is taken over by the face is unnecessary intrusion in the transition. The white silver lines here and there, amidst a balding oval head, and face looking like, a prisoner out, does not really auger well here. I hate to go to the saloon for the reason, he might laugh that I am trying desperately to have the trimming done, or he would not take money for having to do so less or NO work, or worst, if he would have to ask “ Sir want a dye ?”.
I agree that age is a painful number, and now am really empathetic towards all those elderly boisterous gentlemen, retired , who still come to jog, drive and walk, and still want to be considered amongst the crowd. Or the ones who say, oh good Lord help your generation. I am sure they would have gone through the bell curve, or still reeling through the syndrome.
But the realization ain’t that. The realization is, do I really have to care on that number that helps me in getting retirement benefit ?
Am I not still the 6 year old Calvin, that my friends address me as? Well why spend the remaining 56% of the future worrying about the 56% or lesser or say more? We all know that our age will be as part of a quadratic equation for kids, and CAT aspirants. And it really will help them score some brownie points.
While writing this piece, I have already entertained two complains about LOUD music from my place, sitting in a room, with a round neck t shirt, with Gelled Spiked hair, and with facebook on. Talk about being young.
It doesn’t matter to me as I have realized I have sailed to the other side, while failing to realize, even if the boat didn’t move, the water was flowing. Age is just a number, and the kids will call me UNCLE, and I did the same to aplenty during my time. Its just natural. I would not carry the number in my head, or even in my heart.
For the comment on the music, I would give credit to Mr Pavan Bhosle, who being couple of years elder to me, was still younger on that day
And o fcourse for giving the numerical data of 56 % I thank Mr Abraham, Oh good lord wonder how you managed that equation.
I finally apologize for flaunting too many of numbers here and there, but that is what I wanted to portray. It’s all just numbers, taken seriously, will result in another numbers in Medical biils.
I am not cutting down the sweet intake, although will be responsible in usage. Aint cutting down on the calorie, because not impacted too harshly. I am Only cutting down on frivolous idiosyncrasies that made me look like a retired Colonel. Cutting down on all those nonsensical things, to make me look cooler with gentlemen I have to put up with everyday.
I am sure, I would follow the curious case of Benjamin Button way, and am sure I would have you for company.
After all,
Elvis has left the building
It all started with the phrase by a very good friend (Credits to follow in the end), “The louder the music, the older you are”.
The writing of-course has nothing to do with the Notre dame of Music and the king of rock and roll. Being closely related to marketing field, I thought it might catch some eyelids for otherwise usually a dry response to my blog post, but of-course it holds some resemblance to the great man, Elvis.
This write up is all about “Legacy”.
Well I never imagined, If, of all the People, I would be writing about getting Older or to cut short, AGE. But here I am, at – years of age ( Reasons for not disclosing will also follow ), writing about the most important, albeit controversial topic (Specifically for the opposite gender ) AGE. It is not a well thought event, but is just like a sudden wake up on the “other” side of an island, and just trying to have the prerogative built with a transition from one island to the other, if there was any transition. Sorry, I never had a transition.
This was inspired by some random set ofevents, some shocking, intriguing conversations with friends, and of-course how to forget the visit to Saloon and Usage of Gillette in the monthly bill.
I go back to the phrase where it all started, “The louder the music, the older you are” and this took a new imperative turn on me, because it was all going to well at a house party, Loud music, lots of food, friends frolicking, yelling, where in I pitched in first by reducing the volume, and also commanding the troops to follow decorum by reducing the decibel levels.
Will it be termed under a non cognizable crime? Well not really, but given the topic under discussion, I can’t even manage a parole.
The same week, was followed by another shocker. Well honestly, you never think you are old enough till the time, you get into a gully, where the future Rs 200 crore, brand ambassadors are playing our one day would be National Sport. I was not left behind, and I did enter a gully. And just like how the alarm gives you a rude awakening on Monday morning, I woke up. Nowadays, even gullys are filled with cars parked in all geometrical shape. So Terrace is where the sport is, but would still term it Gully cricket. The ball landed on my feet, and I bowed down to pick it up, there was a call, “UNCLE, sorry, please give the ball back”. Woah, Did the kid even look at me properly to address me in such rude manner ? Or did he look at me with eye to detail like the CIA agents in another Hollywood flick, to address me like that ? I really didn’t have an answer, I threw the ball up, (thrice to be honest) so that it has the thrust to reach the terrace, and the worst was to follow, three throws, and the arm already ached.
Working with colleagues who have great sense of humor is a blessing. Especially, when that is the only thing that keeps you afloat. But sometimes overdose of it, leaves you with no choice but to sulk. It was another one of those discussion on how you are going to shape your future where in my dear friend ( I Told you credits to follow suite ) commented, dude “we” have reasons to worry. We have 56 % of our life pending to live, and in that what can we do justice to ? WOAH 56, God help me break the mystery derivation of the number, but if it is true, with Medicinal blessing, I wonder where did my 44% of life vanish?? I vaguely remember laughing, spoiling plans, puncturing tires, throwing tantrums, breaking windows, fighting, brawl etc or even the first viewership privilege of soft porn.
Was I in selective amnesia and suddenly woke up to the fact that I have only 56 % of my life ahead ???But the realization of the no of age wasn’t the shocker, the shocker was to decide on priorities for the remaining 56% of my life. I am wondering, if I really would be able to make justice to the remaining part ?
Work place is where you spend 70 % of your time that you are awake. And All the happening in the work place has more than double the impact on how the remaining 30 % is going to be spent. Well there was a time, when I was a toddler in the corporate life, where I used to be addressed as a kiddo, a youngster, etc. Well honestly, it did vacillate my school of thought and forced me to sport a moustache and a French goatie, But the plan backfired, now the same facial reincarnation is what makes the new joins in the corporate world who get a rude welcome by having to meet me first in their new world , address me as “Sir”, and of course the perception that “I am very serious and senior person” from people I just spoke to. Well talk about oxymoron.
The last, but the pinnacle of frustration is your trip to saloon, or get ready for one exhaustive trip to your friendly neighborhood saloon. How you might wonder? But honestly, the last time I went to a saloon to have a hair cut it was some good 3 months back. Now that will go as Quarter expenses in my P & L statement, because there was a time when it was almost a monthly visit. The catch 22 here is a very fact that am shelling out oozles in the Gillette to upkeep the goatie, will take care of the monthly or expenses. Well it aint really about the money here, but woah, but the fact that the growth in the head is taken over by the face is unnecessary intrusion in the transition. The white silver lines here and there, amidst a balding oval head, and face looking like, a prisoner out, does not really auger well here. I hate to go to the saloon for the reason, he might laugh that I am trying desperately to have the trimming done, or he would not take money for having to do so less or NO work, or worst, if he would have to ask “ Sir want a dye ?”.
I agree that age is a painful number, and now am really empathetic towards all those elderly boisterous gentlemen, retired , who still come to jog, drive and walk, and still want to be considered amongst the crowd. Or the ones who say, oh good Lord help your generation. I am sure they would have gone through the bell curve, or still reeling through the syndrome.
But the realization ain’t that. The realization is, do I really have to care on that number that helps me in getting retirement benefit ?
Am I not still the 6 year old Calvin, that my friends address me as? Well why spend the remaining 56% of the future worrying about the 56% or lesser or say more? We all know that our age will be as part of a quadratic equation for kids, and CAT aspirants. And it really will help them score some brownie points.
While writing this piece, I have already entertained two complains about LOUD music from my place, sitting in a room, with a round neck t shirt, with Gelled Spiked hair, and with facebook on. Talk about being young.
It doesn’t matter to me as I have realized I have sailed to the other side, while failing to realize, even if the boat didn’t move, the water was flowing. Age is just a number, and the kids will call me UNCLE, and I did the same to aplenty during my time. Its just natural. I would not carry the number in my head, or even in my heart.
For the comment on the music, I would give credit to Mr Pavan Bhosle, who being couple of years elder to me, was still younger on that day
And o fcourse for giving the numerical data of 56 % I thank Mr Abraham, Oh good lord wonder how you managed that equation.
I finally apologize for flaunting too many of numbers here and there, but that is what I wanted to portray. It’s all just numbers, taken seriously, will result in another numbers in Medical biils.
I am not cutting down the sweet intake, although will be responsible in usage. Aint cutting down on the calorie, because not impacted too harshly. I am Only cutting down on frivolous idiosyncrasies that made me look like a retired Colonel. Cutting down on all those nonsensical things, to make me look cooler with gentlemen I have to put up with everyday.
I am sure, I would follow the curious case of Benjamin Button way, and am sure I would have you for company.
After all,
Elvis has left the building
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
A letter from Vincy!
Dear Neighbor
I the undersigned am hoping that this letter reaches you at the best of your health and best of your mood. Best of your mood probably because, I have not seen that in you all the time I have been in front of you. I write this letter because I know that the relationship between us both neighbors is strained and not in best of terms, and I heard everyone makes resolution for the same, so I have one of my own.
Before explaining my complex resolution I want to thank you for acknowledging this letter and reading it till here, and hope you read till the end. I also want to warn you that I am not blessed with too much of literary skills and might waver from point to point, because I want this letter to be very informal.
Ok Let us come back to the sardonic Resolutions. I heard from my house owner, that resolutions are always meant to be broken. I thought to myself, why on earth are human beings so weird? But I decided I will have one of my own and will see to it that I fulfill the same with flying colors. I want to thank you for inspiring me to have a resolution.
The resolution is to improve our relationship and have a benevolent neighborhood. Neighbors cannot afford to be in cold war all the time. I have had this thought from the beginning that something inside you always hates me or loathes at my behavior or is it jealousy? And if you intend to reply, I would love to hear from you the reasons on the same. I know what is going on your mind and I can sense the frown through radioactive waves even here. I know you would ask for justification as all of your kinds do. SO here it goes.
I come for a morning stroll, and I see you leave for your work early, probably in a hurry or worry of going to miss something. You are still dangling out your bag, and trying to fix things inside the food carrier, which smells yum, that is trying to get inside. I am extremely good at picking smell you see. I observe that your shoe laces are untied, and I try to tell you politely, and you give a snarling look to freak my helter shelter in the morning. I worry, on how many times you might have had a fall. All I get for my good intention is a nasty little stare.
The next time I see you in the day is when you come back from work, I am excited with the darkness after the dull day, and revel in the cheer of my house mates of coming back, at the verandah. I see the little snobbish smile in you as well, and I greet you and welcome with you and you gave me that snarling look again making me contemplate of something severely wrong that I would have done to get the treatment from you.
At the night, Yes I knew I was too loud sometimes, but wouldn’t you like a sound sleep for the rest of your life than suffer a minor 1 minute delay in sleep ? Because All I do is just ensure that all things are safe and sound and no one takes the street for granted.
I remember, when you were almost about to get me beaten up when All I was trying was to help your mom from stamping the dirt behind her. I take complete responsibility of leaving my dirt there, but was genuinely trying to help your mother, when she walked ahead, but you thought I had malicious intention and scared the hell out of me. Trust me the whole evening I waited for you both to come back so that I can ask for forgiveness, and when I saw you coming, I couldn’t utter a word, because I heard you giving “inspiring comments” about my behavior. I wailed the whole night. You wont remember, but I did not utter a single word the whole night
You were away for 3 weeks, and I missed you. Although there were many instances, that I would have been loud and nasty, but the whole street was happy, and no one really complained, there were no estranged personals, no hawkers, no frills no brawls.
Trust me I hate brawls. Oh that reminds me of a brawl that happened in the street. I know both were intoxicated, and you thought I was too loud in the brawl and assumed I was part of the brawl, where as all I was trying to do was to scare them away for rest of you to live peacefully. I was successful, but failed in your eyes again.
Yes I remember on two days of the week, sorry I don’t know which days fall when, but two days when you try to sleep at a weird noon hour, I disturb you, Again your assumption and accusation, but I was just conversing with my friends which doesn’t go well with you. I do that every single day, but just because you experience only a part of the time and cant digest the same that I become a misnomer in society and a menace for you. How terrible is the feeling of un-acceptance.
Enough of accusations, but let me come to a conclusion. I do not want to continue with this crazy little cold war between us. I want to be a good, friendly, well behaved neighbor, and I think I have enough capacity for the same. My life span is limited and I want to live by making my neighbors happy. I know I look ugly, although some find me cute, but I will assume I look ugly to you, but let me tell you nothing will give me more happiness than seeing my neighbors and nearby people happy and it doesn’t really matter how I look. It was Nature’s choice of creating me and I completely respect that. Ask my housemates, I entertain them with those single choices every moment.
So I am ready to change, for your benefit although some concepts are imbibed. Like I cannot converse with you, like others do, because I don’t have blessed conversation skills as well. But doesn’t mean I don’t talk. You need an open mind to understand my language of love.
All said and done am waiting for your reply. You might consider my language as loud and the term you humans use is bark. Bark it is, but please understand that when I wag my tail that is to get your nod for my affection and the BARK is when you wear those skimpy colored shoes, that does not go well with the jeans.That was my last offensive statement, I thought I could use my right on you.
If you can come out in the balcony, you can see me wagging my tail and trying to sniff out the bad goons in the street. So hope to meet you as a friend once and go for a friendly walk.
Yours Sincerely
Vincy, BOW BOW
I the undersigned am hoping that this letter reaches you at the best of your health and best of your mood. Best of your mood probably because, I have not seen that in you all the time I have been in front of you. I write this letter because I know that the relationship between us both neighbors is strained and not in best of terms, and I heard everyone makes resolution for the same, so I have one of my own.
Before explaining my complex resolution I want to thank you for acknowledging this letter and reading it till here, and hope you read till the end. I also want to warn you that I am not blessed with too much of literary skills and might waver from point to point, because I want this letter to be very informal.
Ok Let us come back to the sardonic Resolutions. I heard from my house owner, that resolutions are always meant to be broken. I thought to myself, why on earth are human beings so weird? But I decided I will have one of my own and will see to it that I fulfill the same with flying colors. I want to thank you for inspiring me to have a resolution.
The resolution is to improve our relationship and have a benevolent neighborhood. Neighbors cannot afford to be in cold war all the time. I have had this thought from the beginning that something inside you always hates me or loathes at my behavior or is it jealousy? And if you intend to reply, I would love to hear from you the reasons on the same. I know what is going on your mind and I can sense the frown through radioactive waves even here. I know you would ask for justification as all of your kinds do. SO here it goes.
I come for a morning stroll, and I see you leave for your work early, probably in a hurry or worry of going to miss something. You are still dangling out your bag, and trying to fix things inside the food carrier, which smells yum, that is trying to get inside. I am extremely good at picking smell you see. I observe that your shoe laces are untied, and I try to tell you politely, and you give a snarling look to freak my helter shelter in the morning. I worry, on how many times you might have had a fall. All I get for my good intention is a nasty little stare.
The next time I see you in the day is when you come back from work, I am excited with the darkness after the dull day, and revel in the cheer of my house mates of coming back, at the verandah. I see the little snobbish smile in you as well, and I greet you and welcome with you and you gave me that snarling look again making me contemplate of something severely wrong that I would have done to get the treatment from you.
At the night, Yes I knew I was too loud sometimes, but wouldn’t you like a sound sleep for the rest of your life than suffer a minor 1 minute delay in sleep ? Because All I do is just ensure that all things are safe and sound and no one takes the street for granted.
I remember, when you were almost about to get me beaten up when All I was trying was to help your mom from stamping the dirt behind her. I take complete responsibility of leaving my dirt there, but was genuinely trying to help your mother, when she walked ahead, but you thought I had malicious intention and scared the hell out of me. Trust me the whole evening I waited for you both to come back so that I can ask for forgiveness, and when I saw you coming, I couldn’t utter a word, because I heard you giving “inspiring comments” about my behavior. I wailed the whole night. You wont remember, but I did not utter a single word the whole night
You were away for 3 weeks, and I missed you. Although there were many instances, that I would have been loud and nasty, but the whole street was happy, and no one really complained, there were no estranged personals, no hawkers, no frills no brawls.
Trust me I hate brawls. Oh that reminds me of a brawl that happened in the street. I know both were intoxicated, and you thought I was too loud in the brawl and assumed I was part of the brawl, where as all I was trying to do was to scare them away for rest of you to live peacefully. I was successful, but failed in your eyes again.
Yes I remember on two days of the week, sorry I don’t know which days fall when, but two days when you try to sleep at a weird noon hour, I disturb you, Again your assumption and accusation, but I was just conversing with my friends which doesn’t go well with you. I do that every single day, but just because you experience only a part of the time and cant digest the same that I become a misnomer in society and a menace for you. How terrible is the feeling of un-acceptance.
Enough of accusations, but let me come to a conclusion. I do not want to continue with this crazy little cold war between us. I want to be a good, friendly, well behaved neighbor, and I think I have enough capacity for the same. My life span is limited and I want to live by making my neighbors happy. I know I look ugly, although some find me cute, but I will assume I look ugly to you, but let me tell you nothing will give me more happiness than seeing my neighbors and nearby people happy and it doesn’t really matter how I look. It was Nature’s choice of creating me and I completely respect that. Ask my housemates, I entertain them with those single choices every moment.
So I am ready to change, for your benefit although some concepts are imbibed. Like I cannot converse with you, like others do, because I don’t have blessed conversation skills as well. But doesn’t mean I don’t talk. You need an open mind to understand my language of love.
All said and done am waiting for your reply. You might consider my language as loud and the term you humans use is bark. Bark it is, but please understand that when I wag my tail that is to get your nod for my affection and the BARK is when you wear those skimpy colored shoes, that does not go well with the jeans.That was my last offensive statement, I thought I could use my right on you.
If you can come out in the balcony, you can see me wagging my tail and trying to sniff out the bad goons in the street. So hope to meet you as a friend once and go for a friendly walk.
Yours Sincerely
Vincy, BOW BOW
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Two Women & a paradox called Love!
The first time I got her glimpse, I was screaming right in highest decibels. There was a pain, which was not flatulence. But the first glimpse was enough to fight off the pain. It was the most beautiful sight, since I saw an angel so pure.
I was crying out loud, I didn’t know where I was, why I was here. This place looked strange. I didn’t know who everyone was. I cry. I realize I was crying, very late.
If god created piece of art, it can’t get better than her. She was the most beautiful feeling and it is not an occult to anyone about her. My mundane corsair was suddenly turned into Garden of Blossoms because she was there. She made me smile, made me cry, made me moan out of pain when she bit me ruthlessly even though I fed her with my all with no brevity.
She fed me, she kissed me. I yelled cried when it was all dark, but none other than she could understand my expressions. I was still shocked in the world, but she made the portents vanish like thin air. She was there always. I knew she was my savior.
She grew quite fast. She grew up to be very intelligent, very notoriously cantankerous and a vociferous rage. As the day went by, she wanted to make full of it. She wanted to learn. She wanted to jump, yell, dance, run naked, trouble neighbors, pick up fight with the boys, get hurt and hurt them even more but act she got hurt more. Suddenly it stopped. She bled. She became a woman. She grew up. I grew younger.
I was a rage. I punched boys. I was stronger than them. I broke windows of neighbors. I swallowed mud. I chewed dirt to solace. I kicked dogs. I hit them with stones. I ran, with nothing on, my world was my cosmos. Suddenly, I was hurt without knowing. It all stopped. She culminated my rage into ashes. She poured water onto my flaming hopes. I Changed. It all changed.
She became the talk of the town. Her marauding beauty never went unnoticed. I waited all the time for her. Be it to get a bar of soap or for an ethnic day outing from the social club called College. I waited. From 4 am to 4 am, for her to come. I gave her a device to call me in need. It never served the purpose. For once I hated God for creating boys, or boys who whistle, or boys who form their own cul de sac. I waited for her to be back. For every second the world seemed to be far away and I felt lonely.
I had a time of my life. Ethnic day was fun. I got myself drunk. I danced like there is no tomorrow. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t have to know does she? What difference does it make? I told her my agenda for the day and it isn’t distorted. Hookah was special so was smoke. I felt cool. I felt courageous. I felt I was a rebel the world would never get a chance to victimize. 11 pm became 4 am, courage and fun does not come in time tables. Oh my device battery ran out, so what? These are not my priorities.
The only time I admired her beauty was when she was asleep. The rest of the time, I was paranoid. She thought I was jealous, she thought I wanted to see her as me. No, that is an accusation, a crime charges hung upon me. She was the most beautiful person ever alive. When she cried when she could not take the pain, the days I would pamper with love and care, I loved it. I loved myself. But the irony is being myself for 3 days in a month is more than a crime. It was flatulence, a fraud. She was becoming a rebel. She wanted to prove me wrong. But she was young. She was growing up and I wanted her to grow in the right way. I didn’t know how to react when I read her sms’es. She thought I invaded her privacy. I am sorry for that. But I wanted her privacy to be hers. She had to be safe in the world of victimizations. She cannot handle it. She is sober. She is a kid. She can’t treat herself with profanity. This hysteria kills me. I want her to be at home, locked. I want her sensous, long and flying eagle legs, to be crystallized and locked with each other.
The short skirt was the coolest thing I ever attired. The comments in face book, even better. It is a shame; I use the college loo as my dress change dormitory. She is old, she can’t get over Salwar. Has she ever admired my beautiful legs?
She went by. She quarreled. She gave up hope on me; she thought I was her villain. How her life has become a pirates corsair where in the only play that happens is of gluttony of vehemence and vicious poisoned phrases. She went far by. I cried. I cried, I prayed. The glimpse of her wet blooded body, on the day she came out, when Death was staring right in my eyes, giving me an option. Why did I ignore Death to catch a glimpse of her? I know she will be back. But my old eyes seem to have lost vision. Did I do wrong? I will be proud of her always, does she know that? Did she know that I want myself to change to be a friend of her, but I am unable to help myself? I felt lonely. I am her friend. I am her shadow. I am her. Does she know that?
I won. I am independent. I am no more suffocated by the whims and fancies of her. She cried. But I don’t feel bad, because someone had to lose. I won. I had no angst against her. I want her to be proud of me. I will make her proud by the decisions I make. Why doesn’t she understand that I am grown up. I can take care of myself. The world is cruel, but I have enough sanity to face the cruelty with my weapons called brains. Why does not she understand, she needs to change with the times. She is old, and that is not applicable. Life is not a list of boundaries that one keeps encountering. I want to fly high, and she cant clip my wings. Why doesn’t she understand, I am not her villain to deliberately disappoint.
She called me, she said she is fine. I cried. I only cried. The same crying when she left me to be herself. The same yelling when I got her out into this adolescent world. I wanted her to be with me. I needed her touch. I wanted to wake up at 4 am to admire her beauty when she was sleeping, to catch her through an eye when she was admiring herself for long in the mirror. To admire her eyes that felt like an ocean. I never admired myself so much the way I admired her. She was a goddess’ incarnation. I wanted her to be mine. I want to be her child. I want her to pamper me and tell me it is all going to be fine.
I called her. She is disappointed with me. She did not talk to me. She kept on crying. She felt I let her down. I blame myself for that. But I know I can work out things. It is just that I wanted to meet her once. I want to feel the sanctity of her food. I wanted her to tell me I am the most beautiful woman alive. I want her to admire me at 4 am in the morning sneaking on to my room. I wanted her in my lap. To caress her troubled head. I want to be her mother. I want to tell her, Its all going to be fine.
I was crying out loud, I didn’t know where I was, why I was here. This place looked strange. I didn’t know who everyone was. I cry. I realize I was crying, very late.
If god created piece of art, it can’t get better than her. She was the most beautiful feeling and it is not an occult to anyone about her. My mundane corsair was suddenly turned into Garden of Blossoms because she was there. She made me smile, made me cry, made me moan out of pain when she bit me ruthlessly even though I fed her with my all with no brevity.
She fed me, she kissed me. I yelled cried when it was all dark, but none other than she could understand my expressions. I was still shocked in the world, but she made the portents vanish like thin air. She was there always. I knew she was my savior.
She grew quite fast. She grew up to be very intelligent, very notoriously cantankerous and a vociferous rage. As the day went by, she wanted to make full of it. She wanted to learn. She wanted to jump, yell, dance, run naked, trouble neighbors, pick up fight with the boys, get hurt and hurt them even more but act she got hurt more. Suddenly it stopped. She bled. She became a woman. She grew up. I grew younger.
I was a rage. I punched boys. I was stronger than them. I broke windows of neighbors. I swallowed mud. I chewed dirt to solace. I kicked dogs. I hit them with stones. I ran, with nothing on, my world was my cosmos. Suddenly, I was hurt without knowing. It all stopped. She culminated my rage into ashes. She poured water onto my flaming hopes. I Changed. It all changed.
She became the talk of the town. Her marauding beauty never went unnoticed. I waited all the time for her. Be it to get a bar of soap or for an ethnic day outing from the social club called College. I waited. From 4 am to 4 am, for her to come. I gave her a device to call me in need. It never served the purpose. For once I hated God for creating boys, or boys who whistle, or boys who form their own cul de sac. I waited for her to be back. For every second the world seemed to be far away and I felt lonely.
I had a time of my life. Ethnic day was fun. I got myself drunk. I danced like there is no tomorrow. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t have to know does she? What difference does it make? I told her my agenda for the day and it isn’t distorted. Hookah was special so was smoke. I felt cool. I felt courageous. I felt I was a rebel the world would never get a chance to victimize. 11 pm became 4 am, courage and fun does not come in time tables. Oh my device battery ran out, so what? These are not my priorities.
The only time I admired her beauty was when she was asleep. The rest of the time, I was paranoid. She thought I was jealous, she thought I wanted to see her as me. No, that is an accusation, a crime charges hung upon me. She was the most beautiful person ever alive. When she cried when she could not take the pain, the days I would pamper with love and care, I loved it. I loved myself. But the irony is being myself for 3 days in a month is more than a crime. It was flatulence, a fraud. She was becoming a rebel. She wanted to prove me wrong. But she was young. She was growing up and I wanted her to grow in the right way. I didn’t know how to react when I read her sms’es. She thought I invaded her privacy. I am sorry for that. But I wanted her privacy to be hers. She had to be safe in the world of victimizations. She cannot handle it. She is sober. She is a kid. She can’t treat herself with profanity. This hysteria kills me. I want her to be at home, locked. I want her sensous, long and flying eagle legs, to be crystallized and locked with each other.
The short skirt was the coolest thing I ever attired. The comments in face book, even better. It is a shame; I use the college loo as my dress change dormitory. She is old, she can’t get over Salwar. Has she ever admired my beautiful legs?
She went by. She quarreled. She gave up hope on me; she thought I was her villain. How her life has become a pirates corsair where in the only play that happens is of gluttony of vehemence and vicious poisoned phrases. She went far by. I cried. I cried, I prayed. The glimpse of her wet blooded body, on the day she came out, when Death was staring right in my eyes, giving me an option. Why did I ignore Death to catch a glimpse of her? I know she will be back. But my old eyes seem to have lost vision. Did I do wrong? I will be proud of her always, does she know that? Did she know that I want myself to change to be a friend of her, but I am unable to help myself? I felt lonely. I am her friend. I am her shadow. I am her. Does she know that?
I won. I am independent. I am no more suffocated by the whims and fancies of her. She cried. But I don’t feel bad, because someone had to lose. I won. I had no angst against her. I want her to be proud of me. I will make her proud by the decisions I make. Why doesn’t she understand that I am grown up. I can take care of myself. The world is cruel, but I have enough sanity to face the cruelty with my weapons called brains. Why does not she understand, she needs to change with the times. She is old, and that is not applicable. Life is not a list of boundaries that one keeps encountering. I want to fly high, and she cant clip my wings. Why doesn’t she understand, I am not her villain to deliberately disappoint.
She called me, she said she is fine. I cried. I only cried. The same crying when she left me to be herself. The same yelling when I got her out into this adolescent world. I wanted her to be with me. I needed her touch. I wanted to wake up at 4 am to admire her beauty when she was sleeping, to catch her through an eye when she was admiring herself for long in the mirror. To admire her eyes that felt like an ocean. I never admired myself so much the way I admired her. She was a goddess’ incarnation. I wanted her to be mine. I want to be her child. I want her to pamper me and tell me it is all going to be fine.
I called her. She is disappointed with me. She did not talk to me. She kept on crying. She felt I let her down. I blame myself for that. But I know I can work out things. It is just that I wanted to meet her once. I want to feel the sanctity of her food. I wanted her to tell me I am the most beautiful woman alive. I want her to admire me at 4 am in the morning sneaking on to my room. I wanted her in my lap. To caress her troubled head. I want to be her mother. I want to tell her, Its all going to be fine.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
I chose my independence
It is a morning again, I know for sure that is one more dawn that I need to live, may be by force, not by choice. The cuckoo seems to be overtly euphemistic about the day for it. It can’t resist living with the fact that it is another day it has got to see. I wonder if It would ever feel it was a misery to live another day, just like it’s so called “master” with whom it doesn’t have to put up a freedom struggle.
My chores for the day are pretty simple, albeit a bit unconventional for the middle class reader right now, who would be with their diet coke to check their calorie intake.
I go to the well, it is parched with thirst. Probably I love going to the well just before the sun throws its full might with full beauty, because it saves me the look of my own self in the left out water in the well. I take stock of the water left and off to my asset, to my friend I go to work it out. My asset as they call is 2acres of land. On paper it says 8, but 2 is where I get to my daily business. The remaining 6 is with one of the zameendar’s right from my birth, which was kept as a mortgage by my, self dependent father, gutsy father, the same day when he went to never return.
My land looks just like me , as it attires the same unclad dirty look that I possess. It is covered with some reclusive sartorial. It is dry, dusty, and sometimes gives me a feeling even the nature has given up on hope on its own self. The wind never seem to blow its way, depriving it of a friend, Clouds were last seen when it cried for 10 minutes. I sit with it, both in silence, because of the shame within both of us that we have been of no use for each other, when the world thinks we are best of friends.
My daughter is cooking, and I am lost in thoughts, as to how am I going to marry her off in the next week to Radhe Shyams elder son. The groom is about 16, Radha, the bride is 11. It is already late for her and I am contemplating the amount that Radhe Shyam will quote as dowry for my daughter as she is already 11, and how am I going to honor the commitment. But the thought that I have my dry, handicapped friend to back me off gives me a sigh of relief.
My son is just 7, he is not yet ready for the profession, because of his fragile and under nourished body mass. Yes I take the responsibility for his malnourishment. He is fit for education, but that is not on the priority for me, because, I will save that much of money, for Radha’s wedding. And any way education is for city dwellers, not for us. There is a school in here, but that is open only for wedding of rich Zameendars, or for free lunch that gets organized, when there are flags all over the places, lights speakers, when great people in envious clothes come and speak and address us. When they say, they will give us free water, electricity and fertilizers. All that might come or might not see the light of the day, but the day is special because we get drinks and food.
My wife, Banno died recently, although don’t know what was wrong with her. She never woke up, and there was a small, empty glass bottle, that accompanied for the last night. It has been a regular sight of mourning in the village, where people never woke up, and all that was left behind is the bottle. May be that is why the bottle is called, Salvation.
I sit with my land, thinking probably this would be the last time, I get to be with my lost friend as it would be friend of the same Zamindar, as I am in need of the money to marry Radha out and also to repay the Exorbitant sum of money that the Zamindar has lent me. But it gives me satisfaction that my handicapped friend will regain its lost parts of body, which were in the custody of the Zameendar. It will again be 8 acres. A Whole body united.
White cars, lot of them drive through the lanky and dusty fields of my village. I follow, thinking it might be beneficial for us, because it is a ritual as always, twice a year they come, they talk and they make us think after all they are there to help us. I run, my lungs do not cooperate with my legs, but I do not give up. The venue is already filled with people like me. Their odor reminds me of my own self. Greatness of this place is where people do not show off their new clothes or attires, because no one wears them, but where people show off, the ribs and bones sprawling out of their skin, to prove their misery. “More the misery, the more help you might receive.”
The promises are made, Loan has been waived, for us, no one is elated, because all eyes are on the verandah, where they give us free food and drinks.
I take the drink and take the food back home for my Children.
Amidst all this, one thing I saw was a cloth fluttering. I have experienced this sight twice a year since I have attained adulthood. They said it was our Country’s flag, but there was also another flag fluttering nearby, which kept changing every time. It was such a beautiful sight to see the flag flutter at its whole pride. I ask them, why today. And they say it is Independence day for us today, when we got independence 62 years back from the “Angrez “
I laugh at myself for being so ignorant about the fact that we are “Independent”, Independent of the misery of dictatorship of Angrez.
It was at stroke of midnight that we got our independence.
Independence means, freedom, independence means freedom of your own choice, freedom of your act, freedom to do things you want to do. Independence means being selfish for once and to chose your own way. I laugh again.
I am reminded of my wife, Banno. I am proud of her, as she understood what it means to be Independent. I am also reminded of the freedom struggle and the weapon in the glass bottle that gave her the independence.
The glass bottle is not only her weapon but also mine, the food reaches home, dusk sets in and the day is over.
For once, I laugh at nature and its surly “Night”, because I am not going to witness another misery and another dawn.
I laugh out so loud although my muscles ache by that.
I have a new friend to accompany my freedom struggle, the glass bottle.
At stroke of Midnight, I will choose my own INDEPENDENCE.
My chores for the day are pretty simple, albeit a bit unconventional for the middle class reader right now, who would be with their diet coke to check their calorie intake.
I go to the well, it is parched with thirst. Probably I love going to the well just before the sun throws its full might with full beauty, because it saves me the look of my own self in the left out water in the well. I take stock of the water left and off to my asset, to my friend I go to work it out. My asset as they call is 2acres of land. On paper it says 8, but 2 is where I get to my daily business. The remaining 6 is with one of the zameendar’s right from my birth, which was kept as a mortgage by my, self dependent father, gutsy father, the same day when he went to never return.
My land looks just like me , as it attires the same unclad dirty look that I possess. It is covered with some reclusive sartorial. It is dry, dusty, and sometimes gives me a feeling even the nature has given up on hope on its own self. The wind never seem to blow its way, depriving it of a friend, Clouds were last seen when it cried for 10 minutes. I sit with it, both in silence, because of the shame within both of us that we have been of no use for each other, when the world thinks we are best of friends.
My daughter is cooking, and I am lost in thoughts, as to how am I going to marry her off in the next week to Radhe Shyams elder son. The groom is about 16, Radha, the bride is 11. It is already late for her and I am contemplating the amount that Radhe Shyam will quote as dowry for my daughter as she is already 11, and how am I going to honor the commitment. But the thought that I have my dry, handicapped friend to back me off gives me a sigh of relief.
My son is just 7, he is not yet ready for the profession, because of his fragile and under nourished body mass. Yes I take the responsibility for his malnourishment. He is fit for education, but that is not on the priority for me, because, I will save that much of money, for Radha’s wedding. And any way education is for city dwellers, not for us. There is a school in here, but that is open only for wedding of rich Zameendars, or for free lunch that gets organized, when there are flags all over the places, lights speakers, when great people in envious clothes come and speak and address us. When they say, they will give us free water, electricity and fertilizers. All that might come or might not see the light of the day, but the day is special because we get drinks and food.
My wife, Banno died recently, although don’t know what was wrong with her. She never woke up, and there was a small, empty glass bottle, that accompanied for the last night. It has been a regular sight of mourning in the village, where people never woke up, and all that was left behind is the bottle. May be that is why the bottle is called, Salvation.
I sit with my land, thinking probably this would be the last time, I get to be with my lost friend as it would be friend of the same Zamindar, as I am in need of the money to marry Radha out and also to repay the Exorbitant sum of money that the Zamindar has lent me. But it gives me satisfaction that my handicapped friend will regain its lost parts of body, which were in the custody of the Zameendar. It will again be 8 acres. A Whole body united.
White cars, lot of them drive through the lanky and dusty fields of my village. I follow, thinking it might be beneficial for us, because it is a ritual as always, twice a year they come, they talk and they make us think after all they are there to help us. I run, my lungs do not cooperate with my legs, but I do not give up. The venue is already filled with people like me. Their odor reminds me of my own self. Greatness of this place is where people do not show off their new clothes or attires, because no one wears them, but where people show off, the ribs and bones sprawling out of their skin, to prove their misery. “More the misery, the more help you might receive.”
The promises are made, Loan has been waived, for us, no one is elated, because all eyes are on the verandah, where they give us free food and drinks.
I take the drink and take the food back home for my Children.
Amidst all this, one thing I saw was a cloth fluttering. I have experienced this sight twice a year since I have attained adulthood. They said it was our Country’s flag, but there was also another flag fluttering nearby, which kept changing every time. It was such a beautiful sight to see the flag flutter at its whole pride. I ask them, why today. And they say it is Independence day for us today, when we got independence 62 years back from the “Angrez “
I laugh at myself for being so ignorant about the fact that we are “Independent”, Independent of the misery of dictatorship of Angrez.
It was at stroke of midnight that we got our independence.
Independence means, freedom, independence means freedom of your own choice, freedom of your act, freedom to do things you want to do. Independence means being selfish for once and to chose your own way. I laugh again.
I am reminded of my wife, Banno. I am proud of her, as she understood what it means to be Independent. I am also reminded of the freedom struggle and the weapon in the glass bottle that gave her the independence.
The glass bottle is not only her weapon but also mine, the food reaches home, dusk sets in and the day is over.
For once, I laugh at nature and its surly “Night”, because I am not going to witness another misery and another dawn.
I laugh out so loud although my muscles ache by that.
I have a new friend to accompany my freedom struggle, the glass bottle.
At stroke of Midnight, I will choose my own INDEPENDENCE.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
10 point No one :(
A conversation with an intelligent mind can always inspire and elate you to epitome of self satisfaction. I underwent something similar. A plethora of self satisfaction, or to say self dissatisfaction.
And who better than my mom to fill in the boots of intelligent mind?
It was a very gloomy evening, in fact similar to my most working day evenings. I came home tired, exhausted as if I just came from the war, and the worst part is not being aware if I won or lost. But it is always oblivion, albeit high on emotional feeling to get home. You feel safe and secure and you can be at your crazy best and where you can throw away your grotesque pretentious mask that was worn throughout.
Mom was in the kitchen, I see her do her chores with a beautiful smile. I experience her freshness, and am put to shame, as she has worked more than what I have, and she has seen much much more wars than I can imagine. But this smile is for the satisfaction of me being there around, it makes me feel happy. She knows there would always be a crazy conversation and I didn’t disappoint her.
“Mom I Need a car” was the abrupt beginning. Probably I expected her to attire a fake shocked expression or a surprise, or at worst possible scenario a satisfied expression. But nothing, her smile got bigger, making me contemplate a strategy to face her criminal notion.
I repeat “ Mom I need a …” "Write down 10 reasons why you need a car", comes the reply. Now Dumb stuck I was. It was 10 reasons that was going to decide my fate, my bank balance, my future ( min for 5 years, till loan is out), my esteem, my standard of living etc. I do not argue, and here I am writing the reasons, 10 precious reasons. 10 points
I need a car because;
1) I have a girlfriend
2) I get tired commuting by bus
3) My friends have it
4) Because my parents are getting older and it would be convenient for them.
5) I can travel to places on weekends, ( Temples, Big Bazzaar included )
6) I want to save the world, by car pooling and reducing the carbon footprint
7) Because Driving is an art, and I am an artist
8) I can save tax by taking the loan
9) I love cars and know a lot about them
10) It will help me plan my time better
10 reasons, 10 points and I thought we would be having a discussion about the bank to choose for loan and the parking place and the make and color of the car. But destiny had its own game. If you want to share my irony, the replies are as below
1) I have a girlfriend – “She never asked you to get a car, did she ? In fact she was impressed by you before even you had a car.”
2) I get tired commuting by bus – “ You sleep in bus, you read, you listen to music, you talk on the phone with “point one your gf” with ease, you do all the things you love.
3) My friends have it – “ Depends whom you are comparing with". Now I thought I could have done better here
4) Because my parents are getting older and it would be convenient for them – "If we are old enough, why would we go out anyway at odd times? And even if we “old” parents go out it would be for a “walk” .
5) I can travel to places for weekends – "You do not club late night, neither can you afford a movie in this city to go for a movie, and neither does point one apply here on weekends, and you lazy bum need to be at home with your violin on weekends".
6) I want to save the world, by car pooling and reducing the carbon footprint – This is where I screwed it up. “ Probably your friends in point 3 share the same feeling, car pool with them”
7) Because Driving is an art, and I am an artist – “Why not glass painting?”
8) I can save tax by taking Car loan – “ You can save more money by not taking loan at all”
9) I love cars a lot and know a lot about them – “ I still am aware about how you explained the fission bomb experiment in Discovery channel”
10) It will help me plan my time better – “ Not at all, it will worsen, thanks to the attitude I have car to back it up”
I gave up.
I just thank my stars this was just a one off exercise, and is not going to continue if I have to get a book, a shirt or simple other important things.
One thing I learnt is,
If you need something, first have a 10 reasons exercise done appropriately.
By the way, Can you help me frame 10 reasons to get myself a bike?
And who better than my mom to fill in the boots of intelligent mind?
It was a very gloomy evening, in fact similar to my most working day evenings. I came home tired, exhausted as if I just came from the war, and the worst part is not being aware if I won or lost. But it is always oblivion, albeit high on emotional feeling to get home. You feel safe and secure and you can be at your crazy best and where you can throw away your grotesque pretentious mask that was worn throughout.
Mom was in the kitchen, I see her do her chores with a beautiful smile. I experience her freshness, and am put to shame, as she has worked more than what I have, and she has seen much much more wars than I can imagine. But this smile is for the satisfaction of me being there around, it makes me feel happy. She knows there would always be a crazy conversation and I didn’t disappoint her.
“Mom I Need a car” was the abrupt beginning. Probably I expected her to attire a fake shocked expression or a surprise, or at worst possible scenario a satisfied expression. But nothing, her smile got bigger, making me contemplate a strategy to face her criminal notion.
I repeat “ Mom I need a …” "Write down 10 reasons why you need a car", comes the reply. Now Dumb stuck I was. It was 10 reasons that was going to decide my fate, my bank balance, my future ( min for 5 years, till loan is out), my esteem, my standard of living etc. I do not argue, and here I am writing the reasons, 10 precious reasons. 10 points
I need a car because;
1) I have a girlfriend
2) I get tired commuting by bus
3) My friends have it
4) Because my parents are getting older and it would be convenient for them.
5) I can travel to places on weekends, ( Temples, Big Bazzaar included )
6) I want to save the world, by car pooling and reducing the carbon footprint
7) Because Driving is an art, and I am an artist
8) I can save tax by taking the loan
9) I love cars and know a lot about them
10) It will help me plan my time better
10 reasons, 10 points and I thought we would be having a discussion about the bank to choose for loan and the parking place and the make and color of the car. But destiny had its own game. If you want to share my irony, the replies are as below
1) I have a girlfriend – “She never asked you to get a car, did she ? In fact she was impressed by you before even you had a car.”
2) I get tired commuting by bus – “ You sleep in bus, you read, you listen to music, you talk on the phone with “point one your gf” with ease, you do all the things you love.
3) My friends have it – “ Depends whom you are comparing with". Now I thought I could have done better here
4) Because my parents are getting older and it would be convenient for them – "If we are old enough, why would we go out anyway at odd times? And even if we “old” parents go out it would be for a “walk” .
5) I can travel to places for weekends – "You do not club late night, neither can you afford a movie in this city to go for a movie, and neither does point one apply here on weekends, and you lazy bum need to be at home with your violin on weekends".
6) I want to save the world, by car pooling and reducing the carbon footprint – This is where I screwed it up. “ Probably your friends in point 3 share the same feeling, car pool with them”
7) Because Driving is an art, and I am an artist – “Why not glass painting?”
8) I can save tax by taking Car loan – “ You can save more money by not taking loan at all”
9) I love cars a lot and know a lot about them – “ I still am aware about how you explained the fission bomb experiment in Discovery channel”
10) It will help me plan my time better – “ Not at all, it will worsen, thanks to the attitude I have car to back it up”
I gave up.
I just thank my stars this was just a one off exercise, and is not going to continue if I have to get a book, a shirt or simple other important things.
One thing I learnt is,
If you need something, first have a 10 reasons exercise done appropriately.
By the way, Can you help me frame 10 reasons to get myself a bike?
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Relationship - Meant forever or to end to weave a new one ?
“A beauty of a relationship is only known after it is severed”
I wonder if that is too good to be true, and why is it that I was chosen amongst the cadet to be honored with the privilege of experiencing the myth?
I had a beauty of a relationship, in fact, the world seemed to be “at my feet” with the relationship blossoming, amidst the crowded idiosyncrasies which kept crawling within my head. I always had a perfect place to land, Never ever got cold feet, and in fact in Calvin’s terms, my toes never went numb.
We shared a lot of things in common, including skin color, not that it is a racial comment and that’s why the relationship was altogether an experience to be cherished, recollected and boasted to the core. It was like a perfect fitting sartorial between both of us..
Although our communication was always through a mediator, which would have given up by the end of the day with the brink of sweat stink, because god did not gift her with as much of ability to talk as like her beauty, ,Yet Language of communiqué was never an issue. She had the intelligence I believe and perfectly understood, what my mind desired, and took me to the destination, with no hassles and with no argument. The beauty of the relationship was “I called the shots and she lovingly obeyed”, leaving envious and pious eyes across my known beings, vying my relationship.
Day in Day out, the mediator kept changing, because of the tiresome work but the relationship between us was intact, in fact, it was becoming a gesture by itself, to lead me through the chaos and sufferings of the world.
The relationship, came at a price that was 5% percent of my monthly income, It was in fact perfect fitting for my budget, because this relationship did not have any entertainment budget, no gift budget, no post fight make up budget, no dad impressing budget, in fact no maintenance budget at all. Yes I know it is too good to be true, and I was luckiest of the lot. I can still imagine the vibrancies that vacillated across through me, when our bodies met every “morning”. Similar was the feeling of relief, when our bodies parted, at the “night time”, I can still replenish the white smile at that time.
But now, all that exists is a memory. A gloomy thought that she really existed in my life. There is a sudden vacuum and my feet did get cold, my toes did go numb. The Sartorial that pre existed remains a myth again. It lasted for less than couple of months. What went wrong? Well I guess nothing much. Just that I had left the marauding beauty all alone. And in the world, where it can prove to be a costly mistake to part even for a second with your loved one, I paid the price. She was gone. She left my feet to take me nowhere. I had no destination to cover. Someone drooled over the beauty and she became theirs in a jiffy. I was helpless; because I am yet to figure who the slayer was but am sure they did not deserve the piece of beauty. I gave up even before trying to win her back, because I knew that she had all that it required to reach far far away from the world with her new master. I was for once disappointed because I felt she needed her voice to at least warn me of the danger she went through.
My feet still has the smell of her skin, the fresh canvas aroma, my mediators although different every other day, seem to miss their friend, their aficionado, But All I can do is give them a new friend to call their own. It was a weeklong gap, as I was waiting for the month to end, and a new month and fresh currency to come in my way.
It did, and there I went to the Adidas shop, armed with a new hope and inspiration to fall in love again, to get into a new relationship. Instantaneously I found someone with an edifice charisma, similar aroma of canvas, and all the more fresher than my previous love. We connected within seconds, love at first sight they say. And with that in mind, and the happiness my mediators will have by knowing their new buddy, I paid up the cost for the pair of “shoes”.
I know, it is another relationship that wont last forever. But I can be rest assured, that as it lasts through with my feet, I can be of calm mind, knowing that the eyes of the world would be on my feet, and I would own wherever I land upon.
The beauty of it, I will call the shots again
I wonder if that is too good to be true, and why is it that I was chosen amongst the cadet to be honored with the privilege of experiencing the myth?
I had a beauty of a relationship, in fact, the world seemed to be “at my feet” with the relationship blossoming, amidst the crowded idiosyncrasies which kept crawling within my head. I always had a perfect place to land, Never ever got cold feet, and in fact in Calvin’s terms, my toes never went numb.
We shared a lot of things in common, including skin color, not that it is a racial comment and that’s why the relationship was altogether an experience to be cherished, recollected and boasted to the core. It was like a perfect fitting sartorial between both of us..
Although our communication was always through a mediator, which would have given up by the end of the day with the brink of sweat stink, because god did not gift her with as much of ability to talk as like her beauty, ,Yet Language of communiqué was never an issue. She had the intelligence I believe and perfectly understood, what my mind desired, and took me to the destination, with no hassles and with no argument. The beauty of the relationship was “I called the shots and she lovingly obeyed”, leaving envious and pious eyes across my known beings, vying my relationship.
Day in Day out, the mediator kept changing, because of the tiresome work but the relationship between us was intact, in fact, it was becoming a gesture by itself, to lead me through the chaos and sufferings of the world.
The relationship, came at a price that was 5% percent of my monthly income, It was in fact perfect fitting for my budget, because this relationship did not have any entertainment budget, no gift budget, no post fight make up budget, no dad impressing budget, in fact no maintenance budget at all. Yes I know it is too good to be true, and I was luckiest of the lot. I can still imagine the vibrancies that vacillated across through me, when our bodies met every “morning”. Similar was the feeling of relief, when our bodies parted, at the “night time”, I can still replenish the white smile at that time.
But now, all that exists is a memory. A gloomy thought that she really existed in my life. There is a sudden vacuum and my feet did get cold, my toes did go numb. The Sartorial that pre existed remains a myth again. It lasted for less than couple of months. What went wrong? Well I guess nothing much. Just that I had left the marauding beauty all alone. And in the world, where it can prove to be a costly mistake to part even for a second with your loved one, I paid the price. She was gone. She left my feet to take me nowhere. I had no destination to cover. Someone drooled over the beauty and she became theirs in a jiffy. I was helpless; because I am yet to figure who the slayer was but am sure they did not deserve the piece of beauty. I gave up even before trying to win her back, because I knew that she had all that it required to reach far far away from the world with her new master. I was for once disappointed because I felt she needed her voice to at least warn me of the danger she went through.
My feet still has the smell of her skin, the fresh canvas aroma, my mediators although different every other day, seem to miss their friend, their aficionado, But All I can do is give them a new friend to call their own. It was a weeklong gap, as I was waiting for the month to end, and a new month and fresh currency to come in my way.
It did, and there I went to the Adidas shop, armed with a new hope and inspiration to fall in love again, to get into a new relationship. Instantaneously I found someone with an edifice charisma, similar aroma of canvas, and all the more fresher than my previous love. We connected within seconds, love at first sight they say. And with that in mind, and the happiness my mediators will have by knowing their new buddy, I paid up the cost for the pair of “shoes”.
I know, it is another relationship that wont last forever. But I can be rest assured, that as it lasts through with my feet, I can be of calm mind, knowing that the eyes of the world would be on my feet, and I would own wherever I land upon.
The beauty of it, I will call the shots again
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