Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

I'm in the friends room. Its a room I specially made for the people of my imagination. They come in all structures, sizes, and ways of hanging out (even literally). That is why there are chairs on the wall and hooks next to the chandelier. There are hot and cold corners of the room, too, built much like an organism that burns at proximal and shivers at distal ends. So to feel closer to nature, or 'outside' you sit closer to outside, near to the window. If you feel like escaping into a warm comfort, you come closer to friends (or the boulder demarcating the geographical center).

Well, so much for all I don't say. I have been saying a lot of late. I have been foisting myself on people, and been gratified well. Relationships feel stupid to confine yourselves to, in that sense. Friendships are better value propositions - they have been around for the longest time, and you get them and they get you well, and that's all people need. I might smell like hippie culture - but hey, we are celebrating the golden jubilee of the 60s in the (20)10s. And I'm not exactly talking about a commune here, but being compatible with a lot more people this way.

Still I can't stop feeling violent about this thought in some way.
End.
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Sunday, October 28, 2012

First Shaadi of the Season

My cerebral tubes are probably choked with Manchurian, Chaap, and Shahi Paneer, in multiple servings to satiate this evening's foodie that had been eager to attend his first wedding of the season. Finally, after committing to two other weddings (as a guest), where the wedding couple itself broke off commitments prematurely, I get one to attend in all fanfare. Disclaimer, that being in my league means almost commenting from a cave - social events are rare, rarer still are the ones I do attend.

One thing for sure, is that being abandoned is no fun (aka being a guest on behalf of yourself, as against the earlier routine when it was the parents we used to tag with and everything used to be 'on behalf of' them). I am newly-abandoned, so I could be led to confuse my unethusiastic impulse for inexperience, and linger on in the hope that there is some silver lining. But really, the only silver lining, as I've come to find is just that palpitational feeling of rubbing shoulder with lardbags in suit.

There is the assurance of food, if nothing else, but trust me, I feel like going on a pilgrimage every time I return from a wedding - not to forget the paradoxical situation of my stomach the next few days, that will not let me leave home. The course of 6 meals accommodated over a single hour is brutal for anybody, regardless of whether they deny it.
This guy, has his eating quirks - still no different from 12yr olds who are ignorant of propriety, skipping main course to accommodate more space for ice cream... which nets me even more lubber than I think.

Of note:
- New fat deposits. They will be useful WTSHTF.
- Dysmorphic body structures.
- People growing into their parents. But I hold negligible appreciation for any parents (mine included) in the first place. So this adaptation is of little use.
- The era of silence, when silence dominates congregations, is still faraway.

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Saturday, September 01, 2012

Nasty Hurt

I worry about my phone. It offends me that the device, which had once produced some of the most beautiful voices and frank admissions in my life, could now sink so low as to become a mere receptacle for the futile and perhaps angry remonstrances of my friends.
Some of them call up to say they hate me; some of them call up to say they hate me even more. Collectively, they share the responsibility for the present condition of my pyloric valve, which I need not elaborate upon. Oh how they forget that soon, they will hate all change, much like they hate me - me, who intends no hurt.

Speaking of hurting... featuring me, twice in the past week.
First to come was my leg, banged against a cliff (in an attempt to scale it). Left me with a deep bruise.

Next to come was my left toenail, in a moment's excitement of indoor football with my bro. Its probably uprooted, and hurt a lot. I'm gonna wait till it falls off, then keep it in my uprooted nail index.
Gruesome!




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Tuesday, July 24, 2012

In motion with food

Here's to today's discovery - that those MTR over-the-shelf ready-to-swallow meals are worth the kick. It's not too costly for 3 guys to gorge out on Palak Paneer, Navratan Korma, and Dal Makhni for 300ish... A string of discoveries like these are sure to keep life feel in motion. Unarguably the motion needs the perfect aural accompaniment too, and it is Third Ear Band's Ghetto Raga to do that, which freezes me with the scratching of the strings. I also nominate the company of weed, and likewise Y probably nominates the presence of a female companion, to add to the flow. [In my right mind I can't get why has to feel so vulnerable, sadly even that doesn't get him anywhere.]

I'm weak in the true sense of word, as in 'physically debilitated', as it was only now at night that I'm having anything - the entire day it was a living on water and coffee and the raga. Tomorrow I'll be up early as promised, and ride out early as promised, and make code as promised, and at evening be there to see mum dad at CP, punch Shiv, and grab my chocolate cake. Important final decision on the home situation will see things for the good.
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Tuesday, May 22, 2012

This is where it starts

It takes no courage to start with something as natural as personal writing. But it takes a bag of other adjectives when one does start with it. For one, metaphors slowly start crowding around your mental space as you put your thoughts into bits that travel around the world through wires, or see your daily musings coagulate into words, or have your subconscious manifest on a wall in the cyberspace. Metaphors... you get what I mean.
And second, like how the barber starts with jacking up the headrest for his customer, one jacks up their imagination, as their personal life translates into public space in words they have complete control over. It also gives an understanding into the levels of personal access hardwired into that person's psyche. And the levels of forging one can subject their written account of life to. Extroverts and introverts are easy to catch here.

Now I wait to see how far this one person can one let the others into the labyrinth of their daily existence. The only start to the previous resolve for the same felt more of an end to it. Is this where it starts?
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Friday, April 20, 2012

Why I’m not on Facebook

The convention about something unconventional would be to prove that you’re in the “cool” part of the unconventional - something that sets you apart is the real deal, and that you gotta have a neat philosophy behind it. However I personally share an uncool fact about myself.

I am under-social (as compared to un- or anti- ). The curious case of my missing mumbling head on the social networks has been taken up in questioning a few times, only to see some loose-ended answer(s). It didn’t strike me, that this had a connection with my inner romantic. It is simple once you read the previous line in context. If it isn’t, the connection being: that why I connect less with people is because I connect more with the images of people, some sort set profile in my head. Yes, typical of an introvert. And mind you, not the same as a deranged person, who invents people in his head. This, being a notch away from reality, yet not constructed reality.

So in a way, people become "my people". These "my people" now live a virtual life, inside this giant head of a sim. Talk about a museum, and you could see me a curator. Talk about parenting, and you could see me a parent. So my people are an ongoing process in optimistic thinking - with my belief in reformation, even the black heads get a polish. Sometimes that seems the only way of staying happy around everyone.
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Thursday, July 21, 2011

The sticky raging silliness

Allow me to ‘roll’ back to this same day a week back in time: Camping under an adolescent moon at Balu-ka-Ghera, a trek of 2 days on foot beyond the exploited hills of Manali. Allow me another 3 hours of rewind, and you will find us all crammed inside our little 2-man tent: the 5 of us tossing about in search of a warm, spacious foothold asshold to station ourselves permanently for the evening Panchayat, a war in verbiage, a war to out-cool each other; scraping away any baked beans or peanut butter we could find in their respective cans, to layer it on our bread slices and savour the only worthy taste we would find for most of our trek; the magnetic flux of whiskey bottle (Royal Stag) at my end drawing everyone closer, tempting us into opening its plastic lid; masala one-liners that seem to stimulate our tastebuds; illuminating misconceptions that would go into our travel accounts; banter without stop. There’s not much audience this evening for music, owing to blown-out aging JBL speakers, plus a narrow collection of music on the iPod – Sigur Ros, Kraftwerk, Beethoven, Delhi Belly, David Bowie, Dev D…
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Friday, February 18, 2011

Mystery caller at 3AM

The other gender has me surrounded - from funny interludes in the physical world, to externally controlled subconscious physical stimulus much like 'Inception' (I never imagined even Ms Padukone or Ms Kaif had their eyes on my prized parallel worlds theory), to this [which follows]. Hollow pride, perhaps; but it's worth recalling the fact that I was woken up at 3AM in the morning to a tender female voice.

Being woken up from my early sleep, I wasn't pleasantly surprised, but surprisingly displeased. The voice itself escaped my memory. The people I had always assumed to be calling at this hour couldn't set the diaphragm vibrating this way. Initially perplexed, my attitude tuned to being blunt and blithe. I inquired.
She introduced herself to me as Sameera, a college student who had been new to the city, and had been unsuccessful at finding a social circle. In her moment of need she's ringing random numbers, looking for a friend. Her story smelled of those caller scams. "I would've talked even if there was a girl on the other side," she replied to my inquiries.
Over the next few hundreds of seconds, humdrum followed. Being woken up from a sleep is irritating, unless there's a tiger sitting at somebody's doorstep or a flying saucer swallowing up cows at somebody's barn or somebody who just accidentally set their pubes on fire. After a while my casual unconcern made itself evident upon her, and we decided to hang up.
I missed on having ended it with a killer dialog
You have pretty much hooked up with the guy of your dreams, only that he had been too busy in his own dreams. FAIL.
I've been trying to list out scams that could follow, but probabilities seem little. Only one - that somebody calls back only to find themselves losing money at a Rs.10/min hotline - seems possible. Has anybody else had such an experience? Has 9920272065 (Vodafone, Mumbai, GSM) ever disturbed you?
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Thursday, December 23, 2010

Your closest friend is yet to arrive


250,000 years back, in the Pleistocene Era, evolution decided to fix the limit to our social relationship capacity - the radius of people and relationships that we could keep a track of. 25 years back, the nuances of genetics further narrowed the same capacity for me. 18 years back, research put these facts public, and their observation on our social dynamics further limited and cleaved the extents of our relationships within those capacities.
So it happens that our neocortex volume determines that capacity, which averages to about 150 for us human primates (mine should be lower, as empirically observed). A mesh of 150. Among these, a narrower - say, 50 - that hang dearly; 20 that stick close; and a mere 5 or 6 that resonate at our exact frequencies and talk our talk, whom we call our closest friends.

Even if we stretch our limits, or you claim to have a larger Neo-cortical region than I do, you could take your active social relationship limit to 250. Beyond that, new relationships are either futile, or end up displacing the existing ones. But even that calculation is weak, as we never know whom we might bump into and find endearing one of these days of our remaining lives, and have the need for inclusion in our nexus. That one person could potentially be your life partner. Or your best friend. Or your idol. Or your second-born's Godfather. Or even your third life partner, if you've divorced twice. Or your fourth, if after your third marriage you realise you really have an affinity to the same sex which is why your earlier commitments failed... you get my point.

Henceforth, how do we even begin to reserve space for our future relationships that would blossom, sans the guilt of pushing another to an inferior level, and also one on the fringes of that 250 limit completely outside? We need a 'Tatkal' quota - where one could just find a seat in our Neo-cortical Garib Rath.

The mention of our railways brings the fact to mind that this is India, where the great Indian art of 'adjust' has had the people cram their social lives with faces and more faces and the warmth of a thousand handshakes that they would never remember. Everybody claims to know every third person in a social setup, which makes their claim all the more dubious, or only hints at how degraded they assume a human social bond to be. More likely that person's just bluffing; their claims would fail on the mere premise of the time budgeting problem involved in maintaining anything like that monstrous social circle - we could be spending up to 42% of our lifetime in mere Social Grooming, which is highly disadvantageous in today's post-tribal societies. Imagine the drudgery when you find it all wasn't worth. "The lesser the merrier" seems to be apt for this age. I don't wonder why I respect my reclusive friends, who maintain a narrow social group - its only an appreciation of their humbling and evolved mean gene strategy. Everything else is petty subsistence.
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Saturday, February 27, 2010

Don't curb your enthusiasm

So there are days when you have a fixed routine, 9 to 7 kinda work, a sad lunch, only chips and coffee through rest of the day, you know ... ending up with a general lowered expectations about your own self.

And there are days when you start on a positive note, take chances with your bosses in the heirarchy, think about expanding your horizons in your personal time, think nervously about those others, rationalise your being, soothing your ego.

And there are days when you beat all perspectives, being like water, start out with stalking wild deer, take chances with your bosses and stick it to the man, have an extravagant day with the code, expand your horizons, expand your circle, feast and enjoy the beauty of an urban existence, get into trouble with the cops, feel the thrill of the night, setting record times on your bike; and you feel the wafer-thin layer of all apprehensions and high grounds giving way.

Let's call them the day before, yesterday, and today.
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Wednesday, April 01, 2009

But I Don't Feel No More

A girl comes up to me in an inviting manner and wants me to 'feel her up'. In a dismal mood, with a heavy voice, I reply: "But I don't feel no more"
Because you don't feel. You know that its more than just contact. Why would you reward anyone with your affection if you don't genuinely feel for them...
pwnt. The former was one of my trifling inventions that I msgd around. The latter was a concerned reply from a friend who thought that I'd just been through an intense moment. He called up a few minutes later to provide me emotional support, only to find a very amused me. Now I felt guilty at having msgd it; but then I didn't expect that from the most twisted person around.
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Sunday, June 08, 2008

Good to start from the beginning



"Sarath explaining his stomach upset - being as graphic as he can - to derive sadistic pleasure from our contorted faces has been the high point of my trip this far. Rest falls pale. The day hasn't started off good. Our journey is into its 12th hours and there are defeated expressions (which, though, I'm sure a light nap can cure). Our first leg of the journey didn't go without flaws. Of the kind that nobody would've expected, really. We went past Hardwar to reach Rishikesh in the wee hours of the morning. We were expecting to stay awake all through the bus journey, only to fall asleep half an hour before we zipped past Hardwar..."

My recent acquisition of the complete sets of photographs from everybody's cameras marks the culmination of the Hardwar-Rishikesh-Kedarnath trip. Now that the memories are fresh again, I shall make attempts to put it all together.
Also ended up with a fractured journal from the trip, which might be helpful. Missing gloriously on the full moon about which I was looking forward to did plenty to dampen my urge to write when on the move.

The accompanying photo is deceptive, except for my outright blasphemy. This was our only relation to the great Kedar shrine. Neither did we attempt to queue up in the long lines, nor give any offerings. Piyush and I got busy seeing beyond the religious side of Kedarnath - in the spirit of traveling and on the fringes of exploration - while Anikesh and Deepanjan made the most of the room rent by staying indoors.

More chronicles to follow (sooner than you'd contract alzheimer's).
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