Empty pockets never held anyone back. Only empty heads and empty hearts can do that.

There's a coup going on in this blog. A regime change is highly probable.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

So they think they can dance...

and why not?
This is one nation where people break into a dance faster than the blink of an eye...Yessir and madam, I'm talking about Philippines...and to prove my point I present the average ordinary Filipino in his/her moment of glory...bombs away!!!!

#1 Traffic Enforcers : Slick moves!!! Never mind the traffic or the cameras zoomed in on him...this guy can't help dancing...From the city of Cebu, Philippines...Dancing Traffic Enforcer!!!

#2 Nurse : What are the nurses upto when not attending patients?? Simple...they get themselves videoed dancing...Check them grooving...All the way from Lyceum of the Philippines Univ. Batangas...The Dancing Nurses

#3 Engineering students : "What's the big deal??" u might ask...well, its far better than the ones i have witnessed (@ PESU, Zhibpur)...Anyway check 'em out...from mechanical engineering mathematics society, Univ. of San Jose, Philippines...the dancing engineeeers!!

#4 Workers : Daily wage workers are not the ones to be left behind...behold!! workers of Philippines swaying  to some stupid lady crooning over a rusty PA system....the SAFE WORKERS of Philippines society presents....the Dancing Workers

#5 Army: So Philippines Army doesn't train soldiers only in mortal combat but also upgrade their dancing repertoire...please be patient initially...kindly wait for the soldiers to finish their customary military drill...so put your hands together for ...the Dancing Army

#6 Air Hostess : Yeah baby!! won't say a word on this...I'll shut up and let them bounce...keep your eyes peeled for...the Dancing Flight Attendents of Cebu Pacific Airlines

#7 SWAT : Special Weapons and Tactics...but over here dancing is one of the many tactics these Law enforcers master...or atleast make an effort to do so...for your viewership...the Dancing SWAT (SWAT, Santa Rosa City, Laguna, Philippines)

#8  Doctors : Doctors are in a class of their own...these doctors at the PSG-PSDE annual convention showed that they are as skillful at ball-room dancing as with scalpel...presenting the Dancing Gynaecologists

#9 Prisoners : These guys are amazing!!! Led by the choreographers of the gr8 Michael Jackson...these life inmates from a maximum security prison , the Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center (CPDRC) , pay a grand tribute to the king of pop...

#10 Tax Collectors: Whatttt?? After eons of tax collectors being compared to grim reapers, the last thing I expect is to see them dance...that's precisely what's happening...all the way from Cebu Tax collection office, the Dancing Tax Reapers

So what's keeping u guyz from Grooving??
Get with It....

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

She cried, how and why...

She took out rouge and liner from Hidesign purse and went on to refurbish her tear-stained face.
Tears…probably the deadliest weapon a woman can unleash on a guy who cares about her…each drop which rolled down her cheeks were hitting me hard … I felt as if my heart was being pierced by acupuncture needles…one by one...from the inferior to the superior vena cava…Yup, she's my lifeline…has been so for quite some time now. So, I was with her in the kitchen of my one bhk apartment, preparing a modest dinner for the two of us. I thought doing this together was a great way to bond better, gotta admit that "91/2 weeks" kitchen scene had a lot to do with this plan of mine. She helped me by fetching vegetables from the fridge, stood by my side as my knife made precise dices and slices.
    She was no better at cooking than I'm at dancing. The intent of showcasing my culinary skills was inherent in this exercise. I got off to a good start, deboning the fish, all in one go.
The showman inside me felt I could do one better…so to display my multi-tasking abilities, I went on to tell her some 'incidents' from my college days while chopping up the items for fish curry, vegetable korma and green salad. I won't be unfair to her by saying my stories were good; she had to really put some effort in appearing eager to hear my corny tales. She stood there leaning against the fridge trying to make sense of the confusion otherwise known to me as my college life. It's said that a good listener usually comes up with a good question, she was no exception…in the pause I made to recover breathe, she fired a quick one, "Do you still love your ex?"
Like a shot from a well-concealed sniper, this question came from nowhere…(I did, however, mention my ex in the stupid stories I was serving her for appetizers) The cucumber, about to be decapitated slipped away from the edge of the blade I was wielding, proof enough that I was shaken up by this poser. She moved to a strategic position next to me and whispered over my shoulder, "I'm waiting...tell me"
Bluffing my way out of this was immediately ruled out by the one in front of the left lung while the one between my ears told me to skip the question altogether. "She will know sooner or later, it's better to settle this once and for all", some other chum (with a halo over his head) advised.
With supreme effort I managed to utter these very words, "To tell you that I don't would be lying through the teeth so I would rather say that I'm trying to un-love her" meanwhile my hands were busy chopping. Probably a few micro seconds later I realised the implication of these seemingly ostentatious words...THIS IS NOT SOMETHING ONE SHOULD SAY TO SOMEONE SPECIAL AS IT DENTS THAT "SPECIAL" IN A SPECIAL ONE. My body stiffened waiting for a reprisal.

My ears picked up a sniff, I slowly turned my gaze to her...she had just pulled a hankie out of her purse...her eyes were swelling with tears...

"Take evasive action !!", alarms went off in my head. Tears!! Oh no! tears are not on menu for this dinner date!!

"Hey, hey...I was only suggesting that she doesn't matter to me anymore"... "She's as good as gone"... "I really care about you, that's why I said what I said and please, right now, you are my only object of affection"... "Ahhh, that witch is gonna haunt me even in my afterlife"........

  I released the trigger to observe the effect of my covering fire....But, it was too late...my defence had been breached already...I dropped the knife in despair....

"I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to hurt you in any way..."
It absolutely wreaks me to see her eyes moist...Her tears start in drops, soon turn into a drizzle and a li'l later, depending on the magnitude of her emotional burden, torrential tears may come along with thunderous wails. Sometimes it bothers me so much that I end up questioning my moronic existence; For making her cry, somebody line me up in front of a firing squad, please!

Thankfully she managed to cork her outpour and said something that caught me napping.
"It's perfectly cool, it's understandable, had the same experience with one of my ex, much worse actually", she said in a wobbly tone.

Imaginary arms started scratching my head, "I reminded you of who?...your ex?"

"Then....what explains those tears?"

"Them...I can't stand them...."
I looked at the direction indicated to find the culprit... finely chopped onions on my chopping board.   

Considering the plight of my abso-f**king-lutely baffled intellect, I made it a point to purchase the book displayed below. 

Note: This has got nothing to do with me... fiction as pure as cow shit...the entire episode takes place within a span of 10 minutes.Just so you know...


Friday, July 30, 2010

charting my way by streetlights...

The 6th of April, 2010 is definitely going to leave some impression in my mind. That evening i did something stupid yet got satisfaction out of doing it ( Kindly keep the temptation of thinking something entirely out of place, at bay , for the time being :). In one of my quite frequent mood-swings, i challenged myself to get off the bus someplace near the Victoria Memorial and to walk all the way home navigating through lesser known streets and lanes.

A requisite of this challenge implied me not asking anybody directions; only taking cue from the landmarks i encountered and the use of billoards or glo-signs to get my bearings. Cellphone use was obviously out of question.This was agreed upon subconsciously to make sure that i have only the sense of direction to help me get back to my crib. My conscience was entrusted with the responsibility of officiating this weird deed. "Weird" cuz i don't think u would come across many who would waste time trying to get lost willingly.
So, I plugged the ipod in my ears and got off the bus. As my feet hit the tarmac, the eardrums began vibrating with coldplay's "cemeteries of london", sending a wave of vitality through my body. The fatigue (reminiscent of the hectic time i had back in the college) vanished and all i desired was to get moving. Now, to keep walking is one thing but to get somewhere I had to proceed with purpose...That means basically to pick one of the four directions...So the place where I stood, south (my home's in south kolkata) was to my right. But there were so many streets to choose from.

The thing about neighbourhoods in Kolkata is that the lanes are serpentine and have plenty of dead ends...worse, if you loose track of the places you passed, it's probable that you may take a wrong turn cause at night time the buildings hopelessly similar. My strategy was to follow the streetlights...to avoid lanes with less or dimly-lit streetlamps and stick to properly illuminated path with considerable traffic...As a result the streetlights became my waypoints; I was wary enough to align the streetlights such that I keep heading south following them.

Watching out for these waypoints closely, I stumbled upon a small discovery of sorts...No two of the streetlights I came across were alike...the streetlight posts were like the totem poles of the locality they were in...the profile of people living there could be read from these posts...
In the posh colonies, the streetlight poles were mostly devoid of any grass/moss at the base, no hand painted message or posters glued to the body...just glow-signs/kiosks for anything from pizzas to dance classes...cars and bikes parked near them...some elderly people and mostly buddy-gangs sharing experiences from the day that went by, taking up position beneath those posts soaking in the soft light from the sodium vapor lamp lighting up a small patch of the tiled pavement...

Distinctly different were the lamp posts in shoddy, less privileged neighbourhoods...
Most of the posts had hawkers sprawling around it...be it tea stalls, tit-bits or even ayurvedic medicine stalls...only the posts near open air lavatories were spared...the posts were covered with coloured posters/ flyers for more practical purpose say tutions, income tax consultants and of course, consultants for sexual problems...urchins alongwith kids from housing societies playing unmindful of the autos and cars incessantly horns honking jostling to weave through the dingy lane further constricted by the overflowing street side canal. Countless accounts of love affairs were scratched on these posts by lovers who wished for a public acknowledgement.

 I kept moving by following the streetlights lined towards the south till I got my ass over to Jadavpur Thana having walked a good many kilometers on a way one wouldn't come across while using public transport. I convinced myself that the terms of the challenge had been fulfilled and took an auto to get back to the coziness of my bed. Lest my mom began doubting my sanity, I didn't give the actual reason why I got home late that evening.

In case, the whole concept of trying to get lost in city (of course, premeditated) or the purpose of writing a blog on it appears beyond reason, then I say give it a try and let me know.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Lafangey Darindey and likes....

Be it "Creativity" or "Artistic Necessity"...the keen and the curious will always find strange titles(movies and serials/daily soaps*) being hurled at them ...Did you hear "Dabangg", "Teri Bin laden", "Lafangey parindey", "Milenge milenge" by chance?? or you may have come across the biggies; "Once upon a time in Mumbai" , "Agley Janam Mohe Bitiya Hi Kijo" yada yada yada...
KISS formula is now a passe....Keeping It Short n Sweet is no longer the concern.
The new norm is that titles should either have rarefied, iterated words or half a dozen word stringed together. Got this in your formula then rest assured, attention is sure to follow and attention spells money...so to all you perverts having the hots for a complicated name...Cheers!
As for me, i still prefer "Ziddi" & "Zor" for a Sunny Deol movie...Certainly works much better than "Kal kissne Dekha" for a Jaccky Bhagnani (Pardon me if the spelling's wrong).

And the trend if far from over because even fresher, infinitely more challenging and intellectually taxing titles are waiting to be dug up from the graves of modern lexicon.....subtitles bearing the meaning or interpretation of movie, soap etc. will soon have to be provided for the "not so learned' audience....The whole frenzy will get so intricate that the multiplex guys will be compelled to hand out flyers justifying the film-makers motive behind going for such tiltles...as for TV, pilot promos bearing the context and explanation for the titles will be composed and aired prior to their premiere...
India's on the verge of vocabulary overdose and as always pre-empting the future, I've come up with some really hep names meant for books like "1001 Baby names"...should people get the idea of going for a long and complicated (i.e. names which leak IQ in between letters)
for your eyes only...
Sample "Ms.GkG.Saxena" or "Mr.MdL Balhara" for a change...attention guaranteed!


"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."........

Shut thy f**king mouth, you imbecile!
U game for name??

* Daily "Soaps"...now where did that come from??

"The name soap opera stems from the original dramatic serials broadcast on radio that had soap manufacturers such as Procter & Gamble, Colgate-Palmolive, and Lever Brothers as sponsors and producers.These early radio serials were broadcast in weekday daytime slots when mostly housewives would be available to listen; thus the shows were aimed at and consumed by a predominantly female audience and hence the name Daily Soaps was coined for serials."
-- unceremoniously ripped off from the Wikipedia...