The Great Gatsby

What do you do when you have a carton full of awful smelling deodorant in your wing.
a) you use it to ward off the seasonal insects 
b) you spray it on someone who annoys you (locking the room from outside and spraying through the window is a classic finishing move)
c) you conduct incineration and pyrotechnical experiments on every material known to man.


M, K and Chacha embark on one such experimental mission. Having exhausted all possible objects of minimal utility, they scourge the wing for something unique, something that, when put on fire, shall be a sight to behold. The Boomer Boy latches up his door afraid that trouble may soon find its way into his room. But the trio are persistent. The decade old cult trophy in chacha's room catches their eye.


M makes a lunge for it. The sudden impulse is too much for the poor trophy and it dismantles. The heavy brass plate attached on top flies across the room, bangs Chacha in the forehead, deflects, and lands on G's laptop, ripping of 3 keys in the process. G is a sight holding his head in his hands and looking dazed as he usually does. The laptop with an eyepatch is now officially handicapped. And yes Chacha's forehead is a bloody mess.


What follows is a mad rush to arrange for cotton, dettol and a good quality camera. Chacha, meanwhile has burst into a fit of inexplicable laughter. A course of action he often resorts to, when put under duress (case in point : Birthday). M on the other hand is in shock and awe. M helps chacha on his way to the bathroom, stares wide-eyed at his hands and shakes his head, "Fuck! i have Chacha's blood on my hands!"


The awesome threesome are busy stringing words together, oblivious to the pandemonium outside. The hero lights up a smoke and mutters something about a premonition.An ambulance is called.


The Doc in the emergency ward might never have set her eyes on a more jolly bunch. Chacha, with his million watt smile and blood on his forehead presents a study in contrast. Thinking K mite be the more responsible of the lot, she asks him for details.


Doc: How did this happen?
K : (a nice little story)
Doc : yeh smell kaisi hai?
K : er..Dettol?!
Doc : That doesn't smell like Dettol
K(sniffs around) : Oh that! Deo.
Doc (aghast) : Use Deo lagaya?
K : No doc use nhi khud lagaya.
Doc : Itni raat gaye?
K : nahi, pehle lagaya tha.
Doc (flustered) : freshies ho kya?!


The formalities are done. Chacha decides to get stitches to avoid scars and a depreciation in his market value. But a bit of hair has to be cleared away for that. The ward boy walks in with a swagger and groggy eyes. Not trusting him with a razor, the nurse hands it to the floor sweeper, who does a pretty decent job. Chacha demands a pic to be taken (again!).


M and K request to be present while the stitching took place but are shooed off. With nothing better to do they snigger away and finish the grub meant for Chacha. Instructions and medicine are handed over. The nurse while clearing away the clutter, inadvertently, pokes the anesthesia needle into chacha's leg sending him into yet another laughing fit. They make it back to the ambulance without further mishaps. Returning back from the hospital, the gravity of the situation finally dawns on chacha and he exclaims, "abe, Sophia's jana tha yaar!!"


Its almost 4am when they get back. The awesome threesome is still busy stringing words. The Hero is up and watching a soap... The quizzing season has begun
:)

bombay rains

Kalyan. 16:55. Its June. I have just had a harrowing, thirty hours journey on a waiting ticket.(Most of my train journeys have an amazing knack of becoming eventful enough for an anecdote. Only a few days back my train got delayed by...wait for it... 27 hours! But that was still bearable. This one stood out for its sheer boredom and discomfort).I get down from the train. The open albeit filthy platform looks inviting. My limbs seem to be crying with relief as i stretch around and almost break into a jog. I crave for a cold shower, a meal at the subway and a dip in the pool.

I snake my way through the crowd to the ticket counters. Long queues await me here too. I forage through my bag. I have some local train coupons left. The day is improving for me i guess. I put one of them in the slot machine. It momentarily whirs into action and then suddenly goes kaput. There's been a power failure. The entire station is enveloped in darkness...too dark for the evening. The lights come back on. I put another coupon in but as if on cue the lights go out again. This game of cat and mouse is getting on me. I have half a mind to bang the stupid tin box.

I somehow manage to stamp the little scraps and come out on the platform. The wind has picked up and rather swiftly. A storms approaching. I shield my eyes against the dirt. Out on the platform, everyone's running about. I stand still. The wind has brought some respite. Its cooler now. By the time i cross the bridge, the pitter patter has begun. The wind is howling now.

And then without any warning, the clouds burst open. Its raining in torrents. A deafening roar rises up as sheets of rain crash against the corrugated top of the platform. The cacophony seems musical. The announcements have died down. The bustle has stopped. The locals are grounded. People are no more running about like zombies. The haggard, glazed look is gone. Its as if a switch has been thrown off. People just stand and stare, with childish wonder, amazed at the show nature has put up for them. Suddenly, the ticking hands of the clock don't matter. The deadlines, the appointments, the worries, the mad rush...all washed away in one bold stroke. The canvas is bare again.

People huddle together as rain swishes in. Small conversations pick up. Minutes trickle away. The long drawn faces have lit up. Little urchins are out, dancing on the tracks. A group of school girls shrieks past as the rain lashes on. I'm still halfway down the stairs. Something's amiss and i realize its dry up here. I move down. The drops sting. Each one more pleasing than the last. The downpour slowly ebbs. The reverie is breaking. The vada-pav vendors get busy.

As the skies clear, the city seems to have found a new lease of life. A shot in the arm. Little puddles have formed all over the station. I slosh my way through one, befuddled at those who skirt around. A local rambles in. As I get on to it, a reflection stares back from a wet metal board. I find myself smiling. Bombay's love affair with the rains continues...

mrig trishna

I've just woken up. I log in. A friend pings me on gmail...
G: abe tere ko pata hai lyf me kya krna hai.
me : O_o... sochne de shaam ko batata hun...
later in the evening...
G: kuch socha?
(man, this guy has the perseverance of a bull terrier!)
I crack jokes, cite a few aphorisms and bid him good night. But it sets me thinking...

Life's pretty much been a game of tagging along. I often find myself flummoxed when people ask me what i want to do in life and feel envious of those who seem to have it all figured out. The pitiful all-knowing stares and cockiness only adds to my despair. Its not that i haven't tried reflecting...what with the huge rigmarole of "find a passion to live for", "do something meaningful"... big words brandished in our face without the slightest bit of thought for poor souls like me.. I mean seriously, the way the world sounds today it almost seems like a social imperative that you should have a clue or you are deemed totally worthless. Well, i have tried...it's just that, every time i try, i hit a wall. So i have resigned myself to waiting for the moment of epiphany that perennially seems to elude me.

I have been accused of brooding(especially over the mess table, the food they serve doesn't help either). The thing is i get lost too often. My eyes glaze over bang in the middle of a conversation, something i get away with by nodding my head and smiling. I like having conversations with myself, conjuring up entire worlds and scenarios and obliterating them in the blink of an eye. This blog is a continuation in the same spirit. A means of intellectual self gratification if you say so.(wow! big words, i feel smug already...damn! i cant help myself here too)

I had always wanted to write something original, so thought of making a decent start, albeit a little late(time played a fickle bitch). Now most of my earlier forays have been smaller bits n pieces so i'm not expecting anything fancy here and neither should you. May be, and i know its too optimistic, just maybe, writing it out will help clear the fog. Oh eternal sunshine, where art thou? Well be wherever you are, i guess i'll make do with a little rain... Its too hot here!!

Its way past midnight. The song in the playlist changes to 'up in the air'. Reassured, i cant help but smile. I suddenly realize i'm hungry. Its time for some cheese Maggi and a donut.