LRU (Least Recently Used) is an algorithm in Computer Science used in many places. We were interviewing a candidate for a development position. My colleague quizzed the girl sitting across the table.
“Ok, what is the Least Recently Used algorithm?”
Immediately came the reply, “The algorithm which I have used least recently is … blah blah blah”
We didn’t know what to ask next.
Priyanka Chopra had a haircut and it made news. I kept a small beard on the chin. I thought I was looking super cool and wanted to exhibit myself to my girlfriend. I was scolded for being in hurry and not shaving properly. Girls think so differently. That’s why I respect them so much. Later, Amir Khan did the same and got free prime airtime on all the TV channels.
I was walking down an empty street. I know brother, it’s a song. But you don’t be scared. I won’t sing it all.
Moving ahead. I was walking down an empty street. What u said? I started again? Ab tu beech main mat bol, mujhe aage badhne de.
So, I walked down … okie, moving. Suddenly a ball dropped in-front of me. What you said? From where did it drop? Abbey failure, padha nahin kya about gravitational pull? Koi cheez kahan se girti hai? Upar se hi na?
I looked around above. A few kids were playing cricket on the terrace of their house (I don’t know about the house, it might have been their neighbor’s also. If you need exact details, then mail me on my personal email id). Before they have said anything, I started bending down to pick the ball and throw it back to them. But just before I could have touched the ball, someone from those kids shouted, “Uncle, ball de dena”.
I got straight again and walked down the empty street. I mean, man I had just joined college and was in my first year. I know that you know that a new joined will be in first year only and not in second year. Patience man, let me create a little suspense, melodrama and confusion. That time was a perfectly legal age for a more polite name. Who says things look smaller from above? They made uncle out of a brother.
(Stay away from three things)
Teen cheezon se khud ko door rakho:
· Kaam
· Krodh
· … (I don’t remember this third one, and it is not significant for the purpose of this post)
The first time I have read this graffiti on the wall of a British Raj school, I was very glad. I need not have mentioned what was the age of that school; that’s not important, but who said I write any important things on this blog? Anyways, someone supported me in staying away from work. So the next time my uncle asked me to bring something from market I recited him my new learned mantra. He looked at me in a strange way as all those about to be assaulted women in Bollywood flicks looked at Shakti Kapoor and Ranjeet. I thought he was amazed at my profound knowledge. I grinned at him and immediately got a kick on my butt. He had behaved really weird. A saying on a school wall is as sacred as hymns written on temple walls. Why was I rebuked for saying it took a long time for me to grasp. (for angrezi people; work is kaam in hindi, and in english kaam means seduction).
Early episodes of epic serials have always roped in this belief that a certain God raises his hands and kids sprouted out of nothing. This was quite a simple process and it didn’t need any human effort. Later I heard of a certain story in which a lady traps a God into returning him her husband when the God had given her the blessing of a kid. Now my understanding was questioned and when I asked this question to the fellow pupils and friends, I was subjected to more confusion. It took a lot of time for all that confusion to wear off.
Finally, I came in high school and was introduced to the wonderful subject of biology. There I learned about reproduction and I remember it was the tenth chapter in the text book. I never read beyond it. I was not alone. The whole class refused to go any further. Even the most reticent students found themselves engaged in fierce discussion, debates and arguments. Everyone enjoyed the topic. One more thing; reproduction in botany was totally ignored. After all, we all were humans and to think about humans was our first duty. Although I have written the previous sentence in past tense, we still are humans and to think about humans is still our first priority, though today we have become a little gender biased. And yes, everyone has his own bias.
~ Nov 26, a news article in the sports section of a major south daily (I would have given the name of the news paper, but then I don’t want to be sued ;-)
“India to fight for the ninth position”
I mean, is it ? really? still FIGHTing ? for the NINTH position ? what an achievement would it be !! What a desperation to beat? If only there was this same enthusiasm towards a win …
~ I am desperately waiting for Himesh Reshamiya’s new movie – RADIO. After Ashutosh Gowarikar, one man is adamant after historic movies … in the times of LED, LCD, satellite TV, TATA Sky, Broadband, DISH TV, etc., Himesh’s RADIO feat! It is his tribute to the 10 something radio channels in Delhi and UP that kept blaring his songs since his appeareance.
~ day before yesterday – the day is really not that important, I just happen to remember – a friend wrote me a scrap. “Shilpa Shetty has not invited Akshay in her wedding”. I thanked that guy for providing me with such an important piece of information. So sad buddy, he is your favourite actor. Your heart must be aching on such an atrocity. I sympathize with you.
I realized - people really lend their ears to such gossip and then discuss it too.
~guess who has not felt recession? Bappi Lahiri – I still see him loaded with a bridefull of jewellery just around his neck. If he is to be kidnapped, they won’t ask for any ransom. His bridal garnishings would do just fine.
~a friend just asked me on chat – “offc main gals hai?”. Humne ek sher hi arz kar diya –
udasi ka sabab hi yahi hai
ki bandiyan nahin hain yahan ...
uspe saara din yahin rehna hai
jayein bhi to jayein kahan ...
~for the past whole week now I have been sleeping at 6:00 in the morning. Finally, I think, I can diagnose myself with insomnia. An imsomniac never gets any sleep. But did I mention that I keep pouring coffees inside my system to keep myself awake in the office. Why this whole cycle has went upside down? And it is also not that that whole night I keep awake to write blogs…
~feeling very very sleepy now … time for coffee with Karan … err … I mean Gaurav.
~ adding at 3:47min 20secs a.m. 10.5 milliseconds (how precise…)
At last I have find a society that can rescue my blogging career. Its true – there exists a bunch that call themselves – “Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Blogs”. How nice of them to even exist. You don’t know guys how grateful I am to you. Half of the posts I have written are just to cajole people into writing some comments on this blog.
~How addicted are you to blogging? find out your blogging quotient
Dilli ki jawaan sardiyon ki shaam ho,
Hamare haanthon main jaam ho,
Ho unka suroor,
Ishq main dono hi hon majboor …
Romantic verses. 1% mine. I mean hundred % mine. Zero key on my keyboard is not working.
That is how I have conjured my first date to be like. Pretty crazy though. Most of the girls look at me with suspicion when I suggest this. Candle light dinner, blue skies, deep blue ocean, far from the maddening crowd, on some weird island, a gentle breeze - is what they mostly expect. But I only expect her and expect that she will only expect me on a date. Amid a maze of expectations, love is lost.
What usually follows after a break-up? Apart from tears and pain, a few more important things, without which the once lovers won’t find it easy to move ahead in life -
~ first things first. All the sms are deleted from the mobile. In those non-techinal days, there were love letters which might had been brutally burnt during cold winter nights. The last warmth of the dying love!
And during the days of Akbar badshaah, the pigeons ferrying the love messages might had been cooked for dinner. Poor birds.
~ all the snaps are deleted. From email boxes, from mobile, from the computer. Would be in much trouble if it is found later by your next love interest. And yeah, you don’t forget to take the snaps out of your wallet, and to remove the ones hoarded between those thick books in which though there were no pictures, yet they had been treated as graphic novels.
~delete the phone numbers. This is solid confusion. Should delete or should not? Now this is the only connection left. What if you could not come out of this breakup shock and just want to hear her the last one time? Or you just feel that strong urge to message her. And along with her, there are 1, err ten more numbers of her girl friends. You find it hard to delete those numbers this easily. No way. You do one thing. You write them down in some sacred diary and hide it in some remote corner of your home. you can always look out for this diary later. and now you can easily delete the numbers from you phonebook.
~ she is added to your friends list on social networking sites. What are you going to do? Can’t delete even if you want to. Once in a while you would want to take a sneak peek into her life. The secret lover in you can’t let her go so easily.
~you tell all your friends that you had a break-up. No one should mention her again. Mention some other girl. You want to move ahead in life. Is it?
~anything else???
Bhot bakwaas likh di. An apple a day keeps doctor away. but a post a day, drives good thoughts away!
The use of drinks in those opening verse (opening verse !!, as if this is an Odyssey carrying many more compositions) is a perfect lie. The only alcohol I have tasted in my life is what comes in those cough syrups. I am 1% non-alcoholic. I mean hundred %.
Midnight, night or early morning – 2:30 A.M. and salma aaga’s poignant voice filling up the room – ‘zindagi ek pyaas ban ke reh gayi …’ it’s a very depressing duo. I was on the verge of tears when someone gave me a ping on gtalk. - “bhai, free ho ke?”
This further irritated me. “abey free tu hoga. Main anmol hoon… :-X”
Oh. Why do they have to ask wrong questions in the most vulnerable mood. But how could he know? I tried to patch up. “just kidding buddy. I have written a new post. Why don’t u check it out?”
He again asked the wrong question, “okie, what’s the url?”.
Grrr … I have already given it to you three times man. Every time I have to plead and drag you to it. Get lost. Oh, but anyways no one visits this blog. I have to maintain some minimal readership, even if I have to bring them by the neck. Feels like after writing every post, I have to regularly do this post-production work they do when a movie is to be released. Writing up special invitaion cards and promotions.
I checked my temper, “ye leh … walker-writeups.blogspot.com and add it to your bookmarks and visit it everyday”.
I have added a counter and I will keep a check on you, I thought. what a pity? This guy could not have ever read beyond those little horny 2 rs blue books which the back benchers bring to the school classes. I will mentor his reading habits. I pledged.
Ten minutes gone. No reply. Slept or what? I tried to dig him out of his slumber. “hey, what happened?”.
“Yeah, just read it. Good one”.
Even if I had asked this question five minutes back or an hour later, he would still had just managed to read it. Trying to avoid any bad thoughts, I immediately refreshed my browser to see if he has put some comments. None. Useless guys, free main padh lete hain … abey kuch padha to kuch likh bhi deta … %^@#^*
It was enough, I craned up salma aaga’s neck and was about to log out when he further annoyed me, “dude, what if someone reads your post?”
What do you mean? I am not coaching for civil services here on this blog so that someone will be benifitted reading it. Read humour and have a good laugh, what else? I echoed him my thoughts.
“no, I mean what do you get when your post is read?”
Aaahhhh…. Money minded morons. I know you must be thinking if I am making some money writing these posts. And even if I am, the rate at which you visit this blog, yeah sure, I will earn a dollar for charity in a year or two.
“If people leave comments, I feel connected. Criticism motiviates and appreciation pleases. You play guitar for yourself. But if someone appreciates your chord play, you feel good, right?”.
He nodded.
Time to sleep.
Beep …beep… a sms on my mobile. ‘shaadi ho rahi teri’.
me too was very glad to hear that I was getting married. I got up from my system, congratulated myself and broke the news to a few close friends. Badhai ka mausam came. And kisi ne unka naam poocha. I coyed a little, creating an atmosphere of suspense in which I would tell these mortals the name of that angel. But oye, even I don’t know the name. when suddenly the reality struck me. someone insisted, but abey naam to mujhe waqai nahin pata. Who knows before me that I am getting married.
Certainly, the message was not from my mom-dad. Shaadi ko leke am not so frustrated that they have to address me like that and have to break the news over sms. And definetly it was not God, I don’t know if Reliance has put a tower in heavens too or Nokia has setup shops there. Anyways, pehle to aakashwani hoti thi. Kalyug hai, but still, God has other stronger means to be heard.
I asked the wedding party that was fuming up around me (because I have told them so late about my marriage) to cool down and checked the message again. Then I understood that it was not an assertive statement. Indeed it was a question. People still behave like class two boys, fooling around with punctuation marks. Question mark missing. Don’t message on an empty stomach. I know, old joke, but universal truth hai. Needs to be keep reinforced. Ek to waise hi short message, usme bhi why do you have to miss the necessary ingridients? am I supposed to read the message or play Da Vinchi Code with it? Yeah yeah, I know you too use No Marks to rub the scars off your face, thought it is meant to wipe some other hangover, but bro spill some marks where they are needed.
Anyways, I didn’t put much attention into why this guys was so shocked hearing the news of my marriage as if I have broken his heart and have proposed someone else. And if he was, I am better a bit distanced from him. Though who might have spread this rumour about my marriage interested me a little. Ma pa, jaldi se shaadi kara do meri. If not me, then my friends are getting impatient of waiting for the good news. Look, they are having delusions and shocks!!
I too felt a little bad because of the false rumours on this sensitive issue, but consoled myself off the thought that, chalo babu, koi ni, you saved some bucks. Otherwise, these guys dancing around you were not discussing your wedding present, but were looking up that most princely restaurant in Gurgaon deciding the menu based on the reversed Big Bazaar motto that – sabse mehnga, sabse accha.
This sms guy caught me on chat a few days later. He was still furious.
Guy: ‘you didn’t told me you are getting married?’.
Me: ‘where did you got the news from?’.
(I could be very argumentative at times. A simple NO, AM NOT would have ended the chat then and there, but as I said before, I too was keen on knowing the sources.)
That question from me raised more doubts in him about my marriage. He might had been a little skeptic, now he would completely disbelieve me whatever I tell. Either a yes/no would count as a wrong answer. I am in a predicament now.
Guy: ‘tell me, is it true?’.
Me: ‘No you tell me, who gave you the news?’
Guy: ‘its someone I cant reveal, but you must have told me.’
Me: ‘I would, but who is that someone whom you can not reveal, but he certainly knows a lot about me’
Guy: ‘I have promised, I wont tell you about him’
This is now getting cheaper than a melodramatic scene from a bollywood movie. Nahin, kabhi mat batana, kasam mat todna, chahe dosti toot jaye …
Me: ‘ok, if he knows so much about me, trust him only.’
Guy: ‘I want to hear it from you.’
Emotional blackmail ab, sounds like the heroine who has just heard that the hero is dating some other hot chic. Am enjoying it now.
Me: ‘nahi bhai, you cant tell me who is discussing my life, I cant tell you anything now’
(some more dhan te nan goes on …. )
Finally…
Guy: ‘okie, live your life, you don’t care for good friends. You have not told me. still I am wishing you a happy married life’.
Bang … this guy logged out.
Final break up. Climax. Girl and boy seperated. Not a happy cool ending. But emotionally paisa vasool …!
He has a tummy coming out and with that ever present pleasant smile on his face I don’t feel the need to put an idol of laughing Buddha on my desk. Chennai has increased his grin many folds as he starves, err, I mean on a diet, and there are no food options to fascinate his appetite. I have to drag him down to the cafeteria in the name of few girls he is watching these days.September, I was alone in Chennai. No, the Chennaites have not abandoned the city but I mean that my ears starved for some Hindi. I was left virtually alone at my room. Television is there but you can’t talk to the television. My roommate is there. A college friend, but he prefers talking to his girlfriend now. Believe me, the major network operators in India who cut such huge revenues are running healthy because sleep deprived, socially nonexistent people like him never feel sick of talking for hours on phone. Office was also at the same side of the coin. A team of all Tamil speaking people, who I guess must have proved a miserable failure in their Hindi classes.
It’s very natural that when people from the same community collide they resort to speaking in their mother tongue. Ideas always float more efficiently and succinctly in the natural language of the people. So in boardroom meetings, it was always Tamil that took the upper hand over English, and I was just left clueless. Finally, I came up with a suggestion. I told them that before starting a discussion or argument, however they might want to phrase it, just inform me on the topic. Then they can continue brainstorming on it in any language they want. If I would have something to contribute I would do so. And after they are done, just read me what was the conclusion. This proposition proved to be a breather in the coming meetings.
The only positive thought that made me survive among these people was that I am polishing my communication skills in English. Whenever I had to say something, I had to tell it in English. I have discovered in the process that I have a very weird problem speaking English. Whenever two consecutive words start with an s, my tongue falters. As an example, if I have to say ‘she sits’, it always comes out of my mouth as ‘she shits’. I hope I do not ever have to tell anyone about the movements of a lady!
Going for lunch and evening snacks with these guys is always amusing. The team here is super cool, and I would have enjoyed it a lot but only if I knew Tamil or they knew Hindi. So even if I enjoy their company, sharing laughs always turns out to be an exercise. By their gestures and context I have to make out the joke and have to match my facial movements with theirs. I have to follow their eyes which are busy following a girl, and though their glance return to each other after a while, mine continues to stick with her, following her all over the place till she disappears inside a lift. But then another one comes out of the lift and she is stalked, and the cycle continues until my reverie is broken by their guffaws and I become conscious that I am not part of the group anymore and need to concentrate again.
Join a software company and the first few months are a little light. The expectations of your manager hover around your getting acquainted with the product, your learning of the system and ice breaking with the team. Unless you are not of the types who want to do it all, you can stretch yourself a bit and enjoy the work and learn at a leisurely pace. Many people call this honeymoon period. But once this honeymoon period (typically lasts for 3-4 months or so) gets over, the pain of pregnancy and delivery is also very unbearable. Like a girlfriend turned wife changes within a few days, your boss no longer remains the same person. The demands grow and you wonder whether that honeymoon could have lasted a few more days. Social life comes to an abrupt ends and rest of your evenings are confined in office. Very tough time, it is like a triplet is born and you have to toggle yourself between all of them efficiently unless you do not want yourself under a load of piss and shit.
I remember one Filmfare Awards. Radio Mirchi, the spiciest (it has mirchi in it) FM, was covering the felicitations for the bollywood aficionados. After listening to the monotonous chant on the technical awards for half-an-hour, I wished had my geography lessons been aired so repeatedly, I might had got better ranks.
Anyways, the thoughts turned me nostalgic of my school days, so I tuned into another channel which had went on air recently. This RJ exhibited some real marketing skills. She amusingly said, "Filmfare is going on somewhere. But you've got nothing to do with it. So be with me and listen to ...” The channel sold whatever it had (or didn't have?).
Gr8, isn’t?
Sometimes when I look at life,
I see there is so much strife.
Have I made it myself so complicated?
Or is it something that fate decides.
I am not satisfied, but then no one is.
I don’t want to accept and justify mine with this.
But then how long should I put up a fight,
With the battle that is life.
Life is all about taking the right decisions
But how can I know wrong from right.
Advices pour in from everywhere,
But all I end up with is taking a chance with life.
When things go wrong we say the decision was not right,
And while deciding we had said the future is bright.
What happened to all the hard work I had put in?
When will be the payback time?
The fruit of patience is always sweet,
I agree, but then it should not be too late.
What’s the use of getting the food,
When you have lost all the appetite.
As I came out of the aircraft, a sudden gush of very humid wind touched my face. Welcome to Chennai, I told myself. While we were waiting for the ground staff to pick us from the airstrip, I looked around. A few of the gentlemen who have boarded the aircraft with me from Delhi were in their very traditional dresses; meticulously white kurtas and lungis. The white of their dress glowed against their dusky complexion. Their uncovered body parts were hidden in the dark of the night. Women were wearing embroidered saris heavily ornamented with the work of gold. Even if the whole airport was to fall under a sudden black out, the luminous dresses could easily make out for the lack of electricity. I don’t know if some people are so dark in this part of India or are burnt and reduced to charcoal by the sun. No idea.
I had asked the person sitting next to me in the airplane about how to go to Guindy. He could not tell but he advised that I should refrain from asking the same question to an autowallah and better should not think of taking an auto. One of my friends had recently visited a girl friend in Chennai – I mean his girlfriend from Delhi studying medicine in Chennai – and I remembered his experience. He asked his girlfriend to a movie. She suggested taking the local train. He insisted on hiring an auto. Of course, every boy would have. How can you agree to take your girlfriend on a cheap local train, when you have flown from Delhi, staying in a hotel minus stars, and sporting all branded accessories? Isn’t all this spending is what makes a girl feel pretty cool? But I guess before Chennai auto’s one should better heed to a girl friends modest advise because these guys make you feel like you are earning nothing. All his enthusiasm evaporated when the autowallah sounded costlier than the whole movie trip. Imagine paying 600 bucks for a 10 km ride to the City Center Mall. He had to revert back to the local train.
I took a prepaid taxi to Guindy. It was so humid like I was sailing in sea. The weather was very different from the dry heat of north India. I stopped by at my friend’s office in Guindy to get the keys to the room and from there I took an auto to Perungudi. It charged me another 170 bucks. This auto driver was, I am sure, had been expelled from an F1 race for driving too fast. My room was nearby one Life Line Hospital in Perungudi and I had to emphasize this fact to the driver that I only have to go to some place near to the hospital and not into the hospital. He drove like maniacs, flying over flyovers as if skaters in adventure sports. He justified the speed telling me that if he was not to drive so fast someone will hit the bum of the auto from behind. I watched the traffic and saw everyone driving in frenzy. I don’t think there were any lanes for regulating speed.
To appear a little friendly or honestly to regain my own composure after having landed in a very alien state , while taking the auto I had told him to tell me all the places that we will drive through. Now I regretted saying that. I just wanted him to keep his eyes on the road and concentrate on driving. But he was like solely interested in telling me about the city and its places. As we drove past a local train station, he took up the task of making me acquainted with all the stations that this line connects. He mentioned several unpronounceable places, two or three I tried to repeat after him but then I gave up. He continued with his rant while I was lost in thoughts of how I would ever ask anyone for directions in Chennai when I can’t even pronounce the names. In between he told me that he has been driving auto for the past twenty years and has never met with an accident. I don’t know if I was relaxed to hear this or was apprehensive to think that the counter would not start today.
Finally, I reached my destination safely. The auto driver gave me his mobile number and left off with a smile. And I retired to my room and slept.
Anyways, despite being presenting a very dull picture of Chennai, I have found after a few days stay that Chennai is not so bad after all. I am not saying this to placate the chennaites, but this is what I have felt. Yeah there still are language problems; a lot of people don’t understand a word of Hindi despite it being the National Language. But since most of the public can understand bits and pieces of English, I guess literacy rate here is better than north. It’s very warm and humid out here, but so is Delhi. It’s just that Delhi has very dry heat. Crime I have not much heard of here. Petty thefts, daylight robberies; nothing so far – touch wood! In Delhi, these are as common as breathing. Delhites have learned to live with this misfortune. Then some say Chennai is too traditional. But then what is wrong with it? On national platforms we say we need to conserve our cultural values. And when some culture tries to preserve itself, we term them as backwards and outcast them. Why this double standards? Though a few things look real amusing; like someone walking in the office of a multinational company wearing a lungi. But if it’s on the eve of a festival, it should be perfectly ok. Don’t in north India we observe traditional days during festivals? But only here I have seen women with shaven heads. No fun intended though, may be some religious or cultural thing. I have not prodded. Now I don’t want to put off my Delhi friends, so the comparison will end here.
This place is best suited for people who
· Don’t enjoy or are averse to the chilling Delhi winters (anyways, winters in Delhi don’t prolong now.)
· Don’t drink; do not look out for a pub and disco, or indulge in other similar activities in the weekend.
· People who are silent and reticent types, having a very reserved nature, who like to take long silent stroll along a beach, keep to themselves, can thrive on a book and can sleep off their weekends. Such people are not always boring, though however boring the previous statement might have sounded.
· You grow up a family, you can stay anywhere. A few of my friend’s friends have bought houses here and have settled here. And yes, they were from Kanpur and Delhi.
· You love south Indian food. Punjabi food is a rarity here, though in the dinner I have an arrangement for a north Indian Tiffin service, but then you know outside food even in Gurgaon can be disaster at times.
· You love the smell of sea. Mariana beach, they say probably the biggest publics beach in Asia and a lot others, though they are not very clean or serene. But a few miles out of Chennai and you will find vast amount of clean water and sand with no foot marks.
Just as an aside, since I have come to Chennai, four people have asked me for directions. And in gym, I met a guy and he told me that I resemble a Tamilian. And it has been only a month here. At this rate, a few more days and soon people will start finding a family in me.
My first day in gym
I felt like a frail stick in an iron and steel mill
Everywhere muscles flexed and shone
On my scrawny body even the basic ones are gone.
I felt really ridiculous standing amid Arnolds
Until I saw one puny body taking stroll
He came around and looked at me
I felt at some ease and I bet he was as glad to see me.
He was doing warm-up
Sit-up and sit-down
I joined him in push-ups
After I did five, I went down.
He urged me to get up, and run on the tread mill
I asked him why to cut unnecessary electricity bill
I tried explaining I will famish, running
He insisted I should stop begging.
I perched myself on that floor in motion
While everyone stopped and stared at me with varied emotions
Probably they were thinking what I was doing
As I ignored their glances and took off like a Boeing.
I ran for a few minutes before getting down
While they disbursed with a little frown
They were waiting for some magic, for my thin frame to fade
But I stood there like a swine, sweating heavily, and swayed.
My little friend asked me to sit down and relax
I wanted to tell him it was enough for the day, thanks
But as if reading my mind he picked up a weight
It gave me instant motivation to stay and wait.
After I relaxed for more time than the earth took to revolve round its orbit
He shouted, “Come on, work out and don’t just sit!”
I dragged myself by the collar and stood up
There I was again amid bulldogs, terrified like a pup.
He brought me near the bench press
And asked me to stretch myself on the recline
He helped me to hold the rod above my head at a certain line
I was cautioned to breathe correctly or I myself would pay the fine.
I was breathless as I counted ten
My chest was heaving like those of women
A two minute rest was suggested by my little friend
Only if those two minutes I could have extend!
But time runs away when you want it to be with you
And soon my buddy returned and whew!
He brought two weights and gave them to me
Since my school bags I had never felt so much mass on me.
I did one complete set, which was some achievement
But he decided to be hard on me, “Do two sets more”, and went
Like intermittent torrential rains I somehow did the job in parts
Instead of two sets I did many albeit with a few farts.
Music was loud and no one heard my ass
But my buddy was relentlessly watching me and he won’t let me pass
As I tried to sneak out to the door, he came running
Chided me for being such a lethargic being!
I was put to inaction again, a two minute rest
He showed me around the machines for building biceps, triceps and chest
As we moved to the shoulder press, I saw it coming
He asked me to take position and pull the string.
In light of my need of some stimulation, music was not right
So I pulled the weight down with all my poetic might
Swiftly and slowly I pulled it against gravitation
But the other way, it took me up with a sudden motion
Body-builders around me burst into laugh while I was grim
Grins, sneers and cheers filled up the gym
Music stopped and everyone rushed in to devour the scene
And the public went hysterical and more mean.
Gradually the assembly melted away
And I saw myself walking out clearing the way
It had been enough of a day at kill
That was my first experience at the muscle minting mill.
By the way, I guess GYM stands for 'Get Yourself Muscles'
I said so many beautiful things to you
But they all turned out to be far from true
Believe me; I had never wanted to hurt you
But only if I had seen it coming and had got the cue
I would have never brought myself so close to you
Books are my best friend,
But why have they turned aloof.
How much I love you, can’t they give you any proof.
I have read so many pages,
But have understood none of them.
Just read your name in every sentence, and in every word.
The smooth pages and the glossy covers,
Dear, they mirror your face.
Often you come out of them, dancing with that suave grace.
The sweet scent in the new books,
Hint the fresh aroma of your hairs as they sway and unfold
I breathe it, I feel it, and it melts in my soul.
The soft murmur as I flip through the leaf,
Is it the swift echo of your voice?
Or is it you talking to me, across time and space.
I bought Richard Branson’s autobiography Losing My Virginity. Then I remembered I already had that book on my shelf in Delhi. Before you ask me how can I be so forgetful, I queried myself why? The last time I had seen this book in the Sunday book market in Daryaganj, Delhi, I was tantalized by the title itself. I bought the book without haggling over the price. But since the title was so bold I couldn’t gather enough courage to read it at home. The book is also very thick that I can’t read it hidden within another book. So I shoved that book at the back of a swelling bookshelf and gradually the memories worn out.
This time I found it again in Higginbotham, Chennai, albeit under a different cover. For a second time, the title appealed the virgin inside me and I bought it instantly without any second thought. But as I came to my desk, I was in doubts. The thought of spending money on something I already had and had again and that I haven’t read it the first time and probably might not read it the second time too made me restless until I fished Amazon for the book. The book appeared in its old cover and left me doubtless.
So I went to the bookstore downstairs and took this chap with me. There I got to know about a whole new perspective on buying books. I have told him that to replace the book would be a difficult chore as books appeal my mood and I never go to a bookshop with a book in my mind. He gave me a discourse on how to get value for my money as we roamed around the book store, checking each and every book. Here are the pearls of wisdom:
Thankfully, I was in no mood to pay any heed to his suggestions, and another long search brought me to this book – Go Kiss the World by Subroto Bagchi. I had the book in my possession now, but the titles I have bought today made me smile. Check them, aren’t you amused?
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