Chronicles of an Eclectic Life

Thursday, July 21, 2011

The little space around my mind

Goodbye my old hag of a Zippo. Your end finally cometh.

In a state of despair over forgetting a day (I believed it was Wednesday today, until the evening) I set about setting things right, as I am doing right now. My process was less of a organized thing, and dependent, rather, on disorganization to have me strike things on my list. Throwing everything down on the bed I set about with 'gaming' myself to a game where one clears the unkempt bed of all these pieces of debris (work-to-do debris) and wins. Childhood still works.
There was plenty, trust me - clothing, a helmet, a book, a lock, a tire, nuts and bolts, a camera, bicycle clamps, an unfinished grand unified theory, a lighter, and THE laptop (which basically means the universal set, but I'm discounting a billion smaller things right now).

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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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Sunday, July 17, 2011

It has been a long while that I last wrote. I lost my hands, you know, or I'd have already written about an avalanche or two encountered while trekking forward on "Mt. Personal Life" (23000 meters). Just got my hands back yesterday, my identity the day before, and my thought process few hours back sitting on the footrest of Awadh Assam Express hurtling at a thousand kmph. Besides the glum talk, there were also world-appointing moments where everything seemed nice and perfect. Things gained, things lost.

It is hard to sum up the past month (and a a week or two). Going through cyclical turns in fortune, much like Ignatius' Wheel of Fortune (as imagined by Boethius in his Consolation of Philosophy). But in another respect, I'm not good enough to be compared with any protagonist, not bad enough to be compared with any antagonist either - heroes and anti-heroes have long since been forgotten in this core; the virtues and the morals have been biting the dust; the extraordinary, the deplorable, and the quotidian have been dissolved in a random gravy of whatever simmers to the top at the moment of sampling.

Brain pops at the question of longevity. Brain fumbles at the question of a quick suicide. Brain inverts at the question of social acceptance. Brain drifts away at the question of occupation. A lot to let you down, a lot to make you hurt.

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Saturday, July 16, 2011

Ich Liebe Lucknow

So you get to learn that girlfriend trouble could be sorted through with a convenient murder. And that arranging for a murder would put you back by 3 lakhs. And that the assassin would be handpicked by your friend - also your middleman - from Jaunpur. And in case your friend is well acquainted with the assassin - who will have 5 or 6 pending cases in this dark city, so another murder in his hands won't be a big deal - then it would be reduced to a lakh; but the money would have to be given upfront. No shortcuts allowed - slicing off a limb or two, or simply sending your enemy to the grave, both are equally priced. Again, I assert, payment through cash only.

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Tuesday, July 05, 2011

Creature diaries

Somewhere close to Balu Ka Gera - beyond the exploited hills of Manali - a slender blotted figure steps out from his den as the moon moves into its latter half of this night. There's nothing to claim for novelty today, as always. Life has been routine; rains have been hard and troublesome; prey has been playing the vanishing act. "Thing are not sane," he begrudges to his own self in a moment of soliloquy. His tiny cushioned paws distort the fabric of the damp Earth and his insignificant choice over his direction leaves a significant trail - one which he hopes some nihilist deer would follow to feed itself to this beast in these hard times. He has not been particularly hungry, thanks to his lately-sedentary lifestyle, but seeing the bounties nature has the herbivores stocking on, he is tempted into hunger in sheer envy.

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Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Travel puritans prefer TCS

Don't so-much admire the wrong parenting being parted to some dicky kid in the train birth opposite to mine by his dribble of a dad to put him to sleep around this time when our train is about to commence its journey. Remaining elements aren't that revolting. Cool, conditioned air through the vents of my 2-Tier AC coach to keep me cool, and clean white linen (with only a narrow possibility of transparent fluids smeared over) to cut my insinuations against the Indian Railways short. Hardly anything to motivate myself to be caustic. Hard days.

In my imagination, the only worth of such non-interfering, curtained nature of 2-Tier AC coaches is to push forward the amateur auteur pornographer cult, but I don't find these perverts traveling onboard either. It is time that I write my fervid support and appreciation for TCS.

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Monday, June 27, 2011

Insecurities put upfront

Jolly way to start the day...waking up from a dream where you were inches from being bludgeoned to death. Its not strange, but outright mental, waking up to the gore of frantically clutching your cellphone in hand awaiting one of your friends to pick up, as a gang of goons corner you in the bathroom, and are to the last of their kicks that will smash open the door, following which they will drag you out and mercilessly decorate these spaces with your keen warm blood. Your nemesis - the commanding officer to the goons - watches leisurely in supreme silence. The first call to a friend fails. Now you try another friend. Meanwhile, the doors have been breached, and the gruesomeness transitions from the realm of imagination to a real stimuli (under the shower jets), while you still dearly clutch your phone, hoping to find some help.
Subconscious fears are the worst - they are fed by external images, and create an ultimate version of the sinister.

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fringe dream fringe nightmare

Motorbikes: Check
Spiders (Venusta Orchard): Check
Assholes (fingering of): Check
Housewives: Check
Cricket: Check
Children: Check
Eunuchs: Check
Floating on clouds: Check
Semi-Incestuous advances: Check
Shrill screams: Check
Dream inside a dream: Check

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Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Living is a tiring process. Each day brings new mysteries and wondrous things to ponder about. Then, like a detective, we set about solving those, eternally digging for clues and eternally unsatisfied with the answer.** And in between those times, on the more ambitious nights, the ghosts of acronyms you once dreaded surround you - NYU, UCLA, TAMU, CMU, THISCRAZYANIMA...

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Friday, June 17, 2011

reviewing nicorette

~~Nicorette: Doubles your chance to quit smoking~~
Nicorette: Doubles your chances to quit Nicorette.

Being experimental is in vogue. Loll your tongue around in your facial cavity (also popularly known as the mouth), and you might dig up some lost saliva housing the sensation of all those shitty restaurants you have been to, or the bland lemon sodas you forced down. Feel your hair for that shampoo (now with SuperShine TM)or the hair gel that you thought would have 50 people pressing the Like on Facebook.
On that same note I bought a packet of Nicorette gums - coated, mint, sugar-free, "for light smokers". Now, I don't smoke, so there's nothing to give up on... (it reminded me of the absurd situations in Catch-22) On that outlandish premise I locked down my free will, and paid INR 50 for a pack of mere 10 gums to find out what sticks.

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Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Under the same canopy

It is through the iron grille that we see the full moon tonight, through the floral concrete patterns that we smell the cultured, sieved, and polluted air tonight; we see the trees in a deprived state of solitary abandon; and then mix these images with the drone of the electric wires above, the cacophony of human commotion, the sight of admonition of towers towering above these trees and lurking as a challenge to the yet-unconquered skies, the sight of human needs, the sight of right angles that menacingly threaten to pierce through the chest of the thin air and wipe out the fractals, of things both harmful and tender constructed together, a pervading wail that comes from the crores of dead souls underneath the tarmac and the concrete, of a smell of a large funeral pyre of all that we produced for all that we burnt away.

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Wish You'd Come Here

"Why don't you come?"
"!?"
"Come. Advance. Approach."
"!?"
"Forward. Channel. Downstream. Zip. Trickle. Recollect. Decamp. Displace! Oh Sweet Buddha, she's got the brain of a crow."

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Don't bug me about your incest

Did anybody tell you I rank high on the incest scale?

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Sunday, June 05, 2011

je ne veux pais travailler

Bob Dylan, Lou Reed, Je ne sais pas (while I actually wanted to convey 'je ne veux pais travailler'), Le minimum... these fill the air dense with the smoke on this evening as I study the kinetic theory of gases, right out in front of the hotel room, with a Frenchman, and a young Japanese who either is multilingual, or is speaking as garbled an English that it sounds like French. Another Jap - an older lady who seems in relation to Mr. Miyagi guy from the Karate Kid movies - sits in the verandah by herself as she lays engrossed in a book, and occasionally notices and greets passerbys, one of whom was that Jap I am with, another a Sadhu-Baba in saffron, and one primitive-man-Bob-Marley hybrid with long crazy locks and a तानपुरा (Tambura) in hand.

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Friday, June 03, 2011

Seeing androids in action

Instant boner. Not her age or her opinions, that is. You figure out what it is.
She's liek the Justin Bieber of the spiritually-inclined India, innit? Discordant and irritating, yet an intriguing study.
I believe there is a fleet of Androids developed by a coalition of evil world scientists deployed to control the masses. Age and size doesn't matter anymore.

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Friday, May 27, 2011

The Crusader (against literary abortions)

Cute, bespectacled, slender, tender gal gets onboard the metro at Akshardham as the everything merges into a dull gray outside now that its beyond dusk, holding a copy of Paulo Coelho’s “The Alchemist” in her left, as everyone admires her dark hair and black outfit – a tee with horizontal parallel embroidered golden patterns, and gypsy track-pants (those belly-dancing harem things, whaddever you call it); everyone but the two defeated horse-necked middle-aged men with a prominent Adam’s Apple next to me, that match the generic telephone department employee profile - ones who talk more, work less, and make commitments sound like curses.
Seeing the girl that way was offensive.

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Thursday, May 26, 2011

Meat, mass, spit, dickless folds in pants - defines what my present creature of hatred sitting bang opposite on my train's birth is about. Lies, lethargy, deceit, aloofness, and blankscreen is also what he's about. Dirty toe nails, callused base of feet that occasionally brush against my forearm. A horror. Too good it ends soon.

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