Saturday, January 23, 2010

New Year Diaries

Amid several things that happen late in my life is the month by which I get a New Year diary. I have never got one before it starts raining in July and sometimes even the rains had given way to winters. The phenomenon can be easily understood once you consider that there is nothing very distinguishing about it. The same things happens with government grants and scholarships which takes plenty of time to reach from the government cash box to the pocket of the common man.

I sense that I had a hidden passion for diaries. Every time I got a diary, I hoarded it. I was never scared that anyone might read my diary, not because it was hidden somewhere but it was always kept clean and tidy. And by clean, I mean, my diary never knew the soft touch of a pen to its smooth pages. I remember in school, teachers used to dictate homework and we wrote it in our school diaries. Once my history teacher in 5th grade asked everyone to get ones diary checked. No wonders I was scolded for not taking down homework since the start of the term. Whatever she had dictated ever was written on the back pages of the note copy.

Things have changed now and with blogging I have also cultivated an active interest in writing. Also, this time planets changed their positions and I got the diary very early in the year i.e., 14thJan only. Though the same gift a month later, fourteenth of Feb, would have marked it as unforgettable, it is ok. Anyways, I have never heard of a girl who has gifted her boyfriend a New Year diary on Valentine’s Day. And I can’t imagine that poor guy to be happy who might receive such a gift. Because if such a diary is gifted I know what it would be scrapped with? – Lines and poems in the ode of the lady. No matter if our guy had faltered while writing even a five line essay on ‘The cow’, he would have to learn to be creative – either think original or steal lines. Love changes you.

Coming back to my diary, I am thinking what I am going to fill it up with. As a beginning, I have filled up the About Me page in that with my name, email ids and mobile numbers – and I have got several. I got a sms a few days back – “How do you know you are in love? – Answer: When you start looking for the cheapest mobile connection.” How true – I must say.

I will prepare a list of all the plausible things that I could jot on my diary. Meanwhile, as you already know, two great poets were born one lonely, horrendous, moonlit night in Chennai, with silence broken only by the crying of wolves. Or were they dogs? Here is an offering from one of those poets …

Raat ki tanhaayee main,

Waqt guzarne ki bhi awaaz sunaayi deti hai…

Din main hum zindagi se ladte hain,

Andhere main beeti hui ghadiyon ka hisaab karte hain.

Thursday, January 21, 2010


Friday, January 15, 2010

2010 Wishes

To begin with, wish you all a very

Happy New Year 2010
I wish you Peace, Love, Health, Blah Blah Blah for 2010.

Fuck the shit!

I wish you

  • Sex,
  • Alcohol,
  • Orgasms, &
  • I hope you win the fucking lottery!

Happy times ahead.

Have a fabulous 2010!

*** Clouds ** Aakashwani ** Clouds ***

After a long time (or after all the time I had been in Chennai), I saw a movie in a multiplex.

This time I am not carping about Chennai; no one has stopped me from watching movies in Chennai. I was in Delhi for nearly two weeks and had to fly back to Chennai. I got this bad news and since then till the day I came back to Delhi, I suffered from acidity, loss of appetite, sleepiness and dandruff.

Don’t give much thought to the dandruff talk; there is not much connection between it and Chennai. Read ahead.

I had this manager, Mr. X, in my previous company. He qualifies among those typical bosses who would like to disparage every effort of their subordinates but would take the credit themselves anytime a team member does something worth a good remark. Needless to say, such managers are not looked at with much respect and ways are found all the time to settle scores. Most of the time he could be seen walking around, glued to his mobile phone answering clients calls. Rest of the time he could be spotted at his desk, working silently without oozing out his ominous presence, except uttering out one or two monosyllables once in a while which reminds everyone around him of him (what an end of sentence construction?).

One fine summer afternoon, he relaxed in his chair, stretched himself, threw his hands in the air, yawned and called out loud, “kya karoon … !”

Someone in the office blared, “jiyo aur jeene do…” .

Everybody started laughing on the verity of this response. Our guy felt a little embarrassed and demanded who had raised his voice, ‘Kaun bola be… ?” .

A guy sitting behind me blurted out, “aakashwani hui thi… !”