Serendipity of Nonsense

I've been thinking, about nothing in particular however everything in general. The outlook is rather grim, for some reason. I'm not very clear as to what that reason is. I suspect it is because of self indulgence than any concrete malady. So, now I obviously have to over-analyse it. Goodness, this blog must be the most mixed up collection of pap in the world. Maybe not. Let's not be presumptuous this early in the night. I almost never blog in the morning. That's because I'm almost never up. That doesn't mean that I can't, does it? Sorrow, pain, misery.  It has some sort of strange glamour attached to it. The songs that touch us the most are the ones that speak of loss and unrequited emotions. They speak of what could have been. I've heard people talk of migraines as if just the act of suffering a migraine is one of martyrdom that somehow makes them deeper, more intense people. I suffer from it. I used to think it makes me superior to others. Ta...

Men, I'll say this again: you have it easy. In school, in college, even in offices. Male bullies stand up and practically announce that they're bullies. They shove you on the playground, trip you in front of girls, tell everybody how you got shit-faced and threw up at the last office party. Girl bullies are different. Tina Fey got that bang on in Mean Girls. Girl bullies play mind-games, pretend to be your friends and then, when you've let your guard down, they swoop down and crush your self-esteem with one quick barb. I don't even mind the overtly bitchy type. Like male bullies, they broadcast their pettiness and that can be easily taken care of. She: "Wow, that top is not looking good on you." You: "Funny, your boyfriend didn't seem to think so..." Badambambhish. It's that easy, but the underhanded bitches, them I can't stand. Their bitchiness is disguised. Sometimes as well-meaning concern, perhaps even as jollity or sm...

Disclaimer : It is a long post. Very Long. Some where it will feel I am talking to myself, kindly ignore. In our times, the most inaccurate and overused word is a "mutual breakup". I am an expert at this because I've had multiple  mutual breakups, we are friends now because I initiated those.  Save it sweethearts, there is nothing like one. There is nothing mutual about a breakup. You can go through the dusty, never touched archives in the history of relationships and see for yourself; never have two people realise  spontaneously that they want to call it off and expressed it at the exact same moment. Never. It's always one person suggests it and then the other one, seldom with a smile, often with a simple shrug, other times with a lot of drama and more often with a lot of waterworks, accepts the suggestion. Some don't, well then you can't even call it a breakup, can you? There are times of course; when one person suggests breaking up, the ot...

           I have to claim I have amazing friends. You may be hearing this quite often from me (oh wait! you don't! I don't write quite often), but yes! I am surrounded by all the amazing people. Apart from bearing with me when I am PMS'ing to a plethora of other stuff they do for me and ask nothing in return, today I mention them because they are such sweet cushions. Whatever I write, whenever I write I feed it to them and pat comes the reply "Its awesome"! So everything I rant comes out awesome to them. :) SO now you know, the reasons for my tantrums! I am unconditionally pampered. Last week was a girls week. No work. No phone calls. No role-playing. And mid-week I made a short touch and go trip to the maximum city because we had nothing to do. Oh yes! there are days like that. And off course, it was a train ride. Six a.m, ladies coach, window seat (Oh God! why did I even think travelling without reservation was a good idea?), I was reading   "...

A hiatus of almost 4 months and I finally had to give in to publish this post! Better, call it clicking the "publish' button at a gun-point. At this moment, I have 153 posts in the draft section. Thank heavens for Blogger to include such stuff. And why I decided to publish this is not-so-a-random reason. A was bored. He wanted to read something from my blog. So I got extremely annoying calls and texts from him until I decided to give in and publish it. Also, H for being so sweet she is told me I should be writing so as to let off my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder for calling up random people at random times and forcing them to talk to me. Add to that, she mentioned she needed a reason to get online and read something, now that she got a LIFE after deactivating her Facebook account. Few urges and I am good to go. Oh yes! I am that gullible. Say yay!! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------...

I wanted to tell you that how my life is full of random moments. Why? because it's a better thing to start than saying "yes! I am back again" Yet again .  Well, it doesn't take the wits of a rocket scientist to figure out that this blog has been dysfunctional for quite some time now - very much close to FIVE months. And I have no idea why did I stop scribbling on this blog and when? It just happened. Like falling out of love. Somewhere it felt like a chore and I grudgingly dragged my feet along. all so much so that I did keep up the charade of constantly reminding myself that such a space existed and my regular readers (yes! you can laugh to that) would be missing me. With time, washed away many disillusions, for no one actually missed my constant banter.  That is what pushed this space into an existential crisis and I had no time to figure out answer to any of the questions it asked.  Now that I have explained well about my absence, does this cou...

Nostalgia is an odd thing. It garbles your hindsight and does weird things to your mind's eye. So that no matter how heinous a time you've had back in the sulky past, all you remember is a warm glow of contentment, bathed in a soft golden-yellow twilight.  Look at the past through sepia-tinted glasses and you don't see the jagged edges that ripped your emotions back then. You don't hear the false notes that ran fingernails down the chalkboard of your soul. You start forgiving people for minor personality flaws. All you remember is the good times, the cheer, the frolic. You remember how this one time, so-and-so said this-and-that to whats her name and how you all laughed together. You remember that prank you guys played on Professor A, how that one and this one were caught and oh, the times you all passed out shit-faced after a night of binge studying. Good times, good times, you think. The problem is that nostalgia is a lot like alcohol. It can only make...

I confess I am not a man hater. I surely am not; and I have references to prove that. But, I am jealous of men.  I surely am. Of the many things for which I'm jealous of men ( lack of fear of cellulite, capacity for alcohol, ability to travel anywhere anyhow, guaranteed orgasms, license for immaturity, capacity to burp anywhere and so on) the one that gets my goat vote is the way they handle their friendships.  It doesn’t take much for two guys to be friends. A beer, a shared passion for a game or loyalty to a particular team, similar music tastes, whatever. For men, a friend could be the guy they drink with, smoke with, bitch about women with, watch a game with, play a game with, do lame-ass shit with, and even borrow shit from.   Piggy once told me while returning from I-Rock one evening, her guy friend had stopped a random stranger smoking a joint and asked for a drag. And eventually got one. With the directions on where he could score good s...

   Yes! apart from my last post I have not been writing. Because I have been thinking. It is a very very nasty habit I picked up recently while working on the college magazine.        I being perversely introspective, do not use my grey matter to ponder over the Big Bang theory or the origins of The God Particle. Instead, I spend my time thinking about what would I do after two months. I have to leave this tinsel town. Leave all the friends I have here. I can crib about this tinsel town, but it has grown into me. Well the other day, over cups of countless expresso shots and cappucinos, my friend and fellow left-hander, whom I shall call Dilbert, told me one basic thing about men, "We are all commitment-phobes when you think it's actual LOVE." Well, he said that pretty casually and in turn his girl actually hit him with her new, new clutch. I pity that piece of stitched cloth and sequins.. "Unless the girl pushes us, we'd be perfectly happy ...

Has the kind of music you dive into, ever changed your world in any way? Have you ever ever thought harder or felt stronger after your favourite lines? Have you ever been left with cold feet, weak knees, a pounding heart or a dazed expression? Has the music ever entered your ears and then taken a short-cut directly into your soul without stopping to bother your head or heart? Or has it ever taken involuntary control of your body like a polite note? How would have life been if you had never heard of  "Kashmir", "Smoke on the water", "Pyar hamein kis mod pe", or "Wish you were here"? Can you remember the time when you did not really know the words "Fade to Black" or even "I am the highway"? How about those time when a song made you sit up and proclaim, "Hey! I know that feeling and that's exactly how it feels!"? Do you remember your first song dedication and the reaction it caused? Do you recall ever b...