Of blogs and writers

Yeah.. Yeah..

Today am gonna write about writers

Some about my friends and rest about strangers

Lemme give a shot on it at middle of this night

On this piece of shit, I'll throw some light.

That's what happens when I listen to too much of rap music. Anyways, recently I have been following few blogs and couldn't resist myself from scribbling on them. Although my reading habit is as poor as Andrew Symonds' manners, in the last one month I have gone through a considerable number of blogs written by my friends, their friends and a few celebs. I noticed that almost all the blogs that exist (or I should say, "that I read") can be categorized in 4 ways:

Technical/Knowledge/Gyaan Baato blogs :

Reading these blogs is like watching a half an hour show on the Discovery channel or sitting in a Knowledge transfer session in the office. The posts in these blogs normally explain (or try to explain?) how an engineering device works, or a few lines of a computer program does the unbelievable job or how the earth can be saved by closing water taps and banning plastic bags. Some even take the spiritual route and explain how by devoting 5 minutes of your day to some external force, you could turn up into Hrithik Roshan from Harman Baweja.

My experiments with life blogs :

Most of the blogs that I follow, fall in this category. The posts in these blogs are filled with instances like how the author struggled to bring his/her new laptop, how he/she learnt to ride a bicycle 16 years ago and how he/she had sex without using condom. OK the last bit was an overdo and pardon me. The writers "key" down all the interesting and uninteresting things that happen to them. Some writers even write about the office, like how the supervisor was staring at Ms.Nice Legs when she was in her mini skirts, or how Ms.Fat Ass shouted at the author for a mistake which some one else had done. Based on these, they try to create a picture of the human behavior.

Celebrity blogs :

Although this and the next category of blogs are a part of the 2nd category, I feel they are still worth of being on their own. Celebrity blogs is all about the life and profession of celebrities. From big Bollywood stars to cricketers, these people command a huge fan following even on the computer screen. I found the most boring articles on the webpage in this category of blogs. Especially the posts written by film stars. But then, the number of comments for each post easily reaches 4 figure mark. But I have never seen any response from the author for those comments.

Am K..O..O..L guy kind of blogs :

These are the kind of blogs written by people who tried hard to become a stand up comedian in their pichla janam but failed miserably. They write posts which try to make others laugh but ends up irritating. The authors make fun of rich and famous people and pretend themselves as the coolest assholes walking on the planet. The person who guesses to which category my blog falls into, will get a special look into all of my posts. Yes I will be personally mailing him/her all my posts before putting it up here. So hurry up my friends.

Now its time for me to goto bed. And I don't want to spend time thinking about the last paragraph. So I am going to end this post now..... 1 2 3 THE END

I am serious folks.. 1 2 3 THE END

Tch Tch.. You are so thin

I have heard the above sentence as many times as you have seen Emraan Hashmi kissing girls on screen. From the dudhwali aunty and the istriwale bhaiyya near my home, to the managerial people in my office, everyone has only one reaction when they see me “Tch tch.. You are so thin.”

Everyday I look into the mirror and search if I have built some meat in those arms; a search for which even Google would put its hand up and accept defeat. My body can even make Kareena Kapoor run to gymnasium and rediscover what is size zero. I just wonder what my wife would think of me when I take off my clothes on my wedding night.

You do not need much of a taunt to make me lose all my confidence. Just switch on the TV and you will only see men with abs placed as though they are bricks neatly piled up one over another and veins sticking out from the biceps. These are the only kind of male species who you see in the movies. They beat up the bad boys, impress all the women in their colony/college and finally run away with the most beautiful chick in the planet. If you don't have 6 packs, you don't deserve to exist.

Perhaps the biggest obstacle for my existence arises when I enter a branded showroom to buy clothes. You can tame blue whales and take them for a morning walk with you, make Harman Baweja deliver a hit film before 2050 but you won't find a single piece of cloth that would fit and suite me. Even there, men with 6 packs walk away with all the attention and a “tee shirt for a mosquito like you??” look from the salesmen is what I end up with. Fashion designers don't read my blog (in fact, no one reads my blog) or else it would have been of some help.

If you are slim, forget driving fancy bikes. Those machines are again, for the guys with large amount of flesh, not for guys with large percentage of bones. So even if I dream of owning a Hayabusa one day, I know I only have to adjust with a Splendour or a Discover. Chill out my boy. You will never be able to afford even the exhaust pipe of Hayabusa, leave alone owning it.

Well well well.. These are just some of the problems encountered by me for being slim. The actual list will run down to several volumes of books but above three are the ones that makes me freak out. Being slim is not the worst thing in the world but to make things easy for the Health Ministry, 6 pack abs will not be too bad. So I, Anil Kumar H.S, swear on Parvez Musharaff, that I will work actively to get half a dozen packs under my chest.

Monkey business

Dhan Te nan.. No.. this song is in no way related to the current post. But its just that,it keeps circling inside my head like flies do on a piece of shit (yuck.. what a "shit" comparison). But I recite the whole song "dhan te nan" either in my mind or sometimes loud enough to scare the neighbours, atleast twice a day. You dont get to hear such songs often do you?

Now, last week, I had an unvited guest at my room, that too in the form of an animal - a hungry monkey. Well, no need to use the adjective hungry because it seems they always are. Before describing my encounter with how our ancestors were some thousnad years ago, let me first describe how the maginficient house is built where I live.

This house has 2 rooms plus a room where we dump the dirt in our body (aka bathroom) and the room that we always like to keep dirty (aka kitchen), all in the 2nd floor of the building. It is followed by lot of open space in the front with no roof, for what the owner calls as "hall". Wonder if the owner was thinking about Mallika Sherawat stripping when he built this house, taking the inspiration too seriously, he decided to "strip" the roof!!! This gives an open invitation for crows, pigeons and recently bandar babu, to use our kitchen and bathroom in case we forget to lock it.

OK.. When this bandar (or is it bandariya?? I never had the guts to check that) decided toenjoy its weekend at our kitchen, I spotted it just like journalists spot the celebrities meeting secretly. I went to scare it with no weapon in my hand. Seeing an unarmed man with no stick but who himself looks like a stick, bandar babu decides to pounce on me. Frightened, I ran for my life into the room but the monkey had no ideas to give up its revenge. He promptly followed me to the room making me jumpon the bed. After all its a monkey and decides to showcase its talent and he too jumps on the bed. The distance between us is just 4 feet.

I had never seen a monkey that sat so close to me. For 10 seconds, I went completely blank. Later I realised that I had been cornered and had no space to escape. A cornered animal is dangerous but a cornered Anil never is. I just stood there with my legs shaking. The monkey decides to attack me but I somehow manage to stop grabbing a pillow in my hand. It opened its mouth wide as if it was saying "look at my teeth you little peacock". Yes boss. Its teeth were surely sharper than mine, so if its succeeds to get my meat in between its teeth, I would certainly lose some good amount of weight. I then realised that Harbahjan Singh had rightly referred Andrew Symonds to this animal.

3 minutes passed and all frightening thoughts started bubbling in my head. What if the monkey pounces on me and scratches all over my body? Not a problem.. there is a clinic nearby and a quick treatment is somewhat assured. But whats the worst that can haapen? This monkey can take a bite of my flesh and at the worst, can kill me. Thats all isn't it?? Its OK man. We all have to die one day or the other.

WHAT THE $#%&??? Did you just think you will be killed Anil? 24 and a half years of struggle and this is the way I end it? Bitten by a stupid 3 foot tall monkey. Common. I still haven't lost my virginity and here I am, staring at my death that is 4 feet away. My death is going to be as uninteresting as my life. I would rather die due to swine flu than like this. What would tomorrow's newspaper talk about me? 'Monkey tears a man to death'... How timid that would be.

Meanwhile bandar babu decides to have another go and tries to snatch the pillow from me. I took a step forward to scare it and aila... that worked. Then I realised, this world only scares the fellows who get scared and animals are very much part of this world. With all the courage that was hidden deep inside my soul, I took a deep breath and shouted "ssshuuu ssshuu manga" (manga is a Kannada word that means monkey) and there it goes. He runs for life this time showing his back. In no time he was on the terrace giving me the look of a defeated soldier. And I, like a cunning winner, showed my middle finger to it. Huh.. That was not so difficult mate!!!

Summer of 09

Now, I know there isn't anyone out there who is eagerly waiting to see something new on this web page. I know that the number of people who read my blog are less than the number of fans Tusshar Kapoor has in 7 continents. The fact that I myself, the owner of this blog, has looked at it after 87 days, explains how popular my blog is. I must thank the management of blogspot.com, its technical administrators, its watchmen, sweepers and toilet cleaners, for still finding my blog worth some existence.
Anyways, I don't write blog for someone else. I mean, I would like if someone reads and enjoys, but on the contrary, if he/she feels my writing is absolute bullshit, I don't mind. I will still continue to scribble so that, when I am 62 years and 7 months and 18 days old, I can sit back on my sofa and show to my wife how I have been all through my life. She deserves some torture does she?
Oh.. By the way, coming to the topic.. What an extraordinary summer this has been, like every other summer ( I saw this line on a guys T-shirt, you see, that's how I make my posts more readable). My family has shifted over to Gurgaon and mummy, daddy and the little boy are having the party of their lives.
My mom is nothing much different from all the middle class Indian mothers. These moms have only two missions in their lives: a) to watch their sons grow and get a job in some company so that they can pack their lunch boxes when their mama's boy goes to work, b) get a traditional typical Indian bahu for their young lad as soon as he starts to earn a decent income. I can understand the sentiment behind the first one but I scratch my head for the b part, knowing what consequences one has to face.
And coming to my dad.. I find it difficult to put all middle class into one category but one thing where my dad stands out is his love for reading. I guess he loves books more than he loves my mom!! Thank god you don't get Kannda newspapers in Delhi, or else our home would have been..... damn.. couldn't find any suitable metaphor this time.

24 years ago, a disaster happened

When the world lay asleep on a winter night, the dogs at the end of the lane kept barking on the silhouettes, the time during which the kids wet their beds silently, the time at which even the bravest bunch of people fear going near the sepulchral, the time was for the ghosts to roam around rather than the humans, a baby started yelling in a contrastingly silent environment. The people around were as amused as you would get when you see a hot girl in a mini skirt.

But with every smile, there comes a frown, like with every cheap underwear that you buy, you get holes in it too soon. That little trouble grew up to bang its sister’s head on to the wall at the age of 6, wet its bed till the age of 8, pierce a pencil into its cousin’s bottoms at the age of 12, and secretly watched adult movies from the age of 15 (some may think that’s too late?). If you are still squeezing your eyes wondering who that trouble is, go dig a hole and bury yourself.

I will be turning 24 in a few days time, and I am sure the number of people who will call and wish me would be less than the number of hit movies given by Amisha Patel. I do not blame anyone for this. I know it’s because, I haven’t been a best friend to anyone, nor do I have any best friend. When I began to list out the reasons for this, I created a hair pulling 8784 byte notepad file (which included "writing a blog that no one reads"). I know it’s silly but that’s what you do when you neither have friends around you nor any work.

Coming back to my birthday, I will be 24 now, when some of my friends who passed out along with me are still 22. And that’s what makes me feel older than I actually am. Many times, I have had these nightmares that I am getting too old without doing anything in my life and one day, it’s all over for me; that I come out of my house with a walking stick for a morning walk, when I see one of my friend returning home after enjoying the night in a disco. I just googled to find out that it’s called Gerascophobia.

Inspite of all these, I don’t know why I look at myself atleast 10 times a day in the mirror and smile (at my foolishness?). For me, the most lovable thing in this world is I; one thing that I would like to know more about is I. You may call this ego, but I follow the saying," Love yourself if you want to love others ". Next week, doesn’t matter if anyone wishes me or not, I will still look at the mirror and say "Happy birthday Anil".

Those 30 minutes

In what has been one of the most bizarre "moves" of my life so far, I have "moved" from a pretty calm, far less polluted Noida to a costly, cosmopolitan cyber city Gurgaon; a move more stupid than jumping from a frying pan to fire (a famous Kannada saying). Although now I stay just about a kilometer away from my office, the journey from my room to my office is not at all short of description.

As I put on my jacket and leave the room, I put my hands deep into my pants pockets to avoid them from getting frozen. My initial phase of this 30 minute journey makes me inhale a lot of carbon dioxide mixed with dust, thanks to the construction works happening around my room. I walk past these half built buildings, taking care that no brick or stone hits my head.

Now I reach the city’s one of the most crowded and dirtiest roads. I need to cross to the other end, a stunt which can only be performed by Akshay Kumar and that too, after you pay him a handsome amount. For a minute or two, I stand there looking at the cars racing away in front of my eyes. The BMWs, the Mercedes, the Audis, you name it, I can see it. Those cars which I used to see only in auto magazines an year ago, have now become an obstacle making me difficult to go to the other end of this highway. After raising my palm to stop the cars, having a few narrow escapes from motorcyclists, listening to a few gaalis in Haryanvi accent, I finally manage to accomplish the intimidating task.

Now comes the best part of my journey as I enter the premises of Infinity Towers, a tall flamboyant structure housing some of the leading multi national companies of the world. As soon as I cross the gates of this dashing building, I slow down my walking pace. Not that my legs are tired, but there is a feast waiting for my eyes. I turn my head and look upon the people moving, just can’t help noticing the tall, fair female species with huge sunglasses on their eyes, stylish designer bags swinging on their shoulders, heading towards their destination on high heeled shoes, straight silky hair bouncing on their back and lots of other things that I can’t mention here. Why isn’t my office just opposite to this "lovely looking" building?

As I look at my watch, I realize that I have spent just a little more time in looking at this building and the people working in here. I switch on to the top gear and start moving fast. In the process, I hit an electric pole, rubbed shoulder with a guy having a red turban on his head and almost got banged by a Honda City car. In the meantime my cell phone starts ringing. With one eye on the phone and the other watching out for the automobiles trying to send me to hell, I pick the phone just to discover that it’s from one of the banks who are willing to grant me a loan.

Crossing all these hurdles that would threaten my existence on this planet, I finally reach my office, exert all my force on the elevator button after waiting for a couple of minutes and find that it’s already overloaded with people. Giving them a smile, cursing the elevator in my heart, I climb up some 70 steps to reach to my cubicle and say to myself, "Wait… The day has just begun!!!"

Finding Friends

Life without friends is like a Bollywood movie without a bikini scene. Both are very essential in making the environment refreshing, sensational, unforgettable and in spicing up the moments. Recently, all those actions have been terribly missing from my life, feeling like being marooned on a city of more than 1 crore people.

The number of friends I have, has dipped down like the stock markets in recent days. The count, which was more than the number of hairs on Andrew Symmonds’s head (and maybe other parts), has now dried up and looks like that of Virendar Sehwag (’s head). Though some of my extremely patient friends have taken the pain to keep in touch with me, don’t know if they would be feeling like a kid being compelled by his teacher to sit in class, when he urgently wants to drop his pants and sit on a commode. Some even feel that watching Karzzzz for three hours is better than talking to me for 30 seconds. To make matters worse, I don’t know the reason for this. Yes I have been a bit insensitive, rude, negligent, miserly, arrogant, stubborn, foolish kind of a person, but… why am I losing friends???

I had a mild shock when one of my “used to be good friends” honored me with most of the above adjectives (add the term egoistic to that which my dear friend later accepted to cancel it from the list). Yes I have a few terribly frank friends, more terrible than Himesh Reshamiya and more frank than Rakhi Sawant. And I am sure there would be few who would like to add some more terms to that list.

Friends are like undergarments. You may wear a Tommy Hilfiger shirt and a Denim jeans below it, look cool by wearing expensive eye and wrist gears, gel up your hair making yourself look like a porcupine, but if you do not wear your undergarments, you miss something and you miss them very badly. Friends are equally essential. So all you boys and girls who take trouble to read my blog, in the spirit of friendship and brotherhood (latter one not meant for girls), please take some more trouble and get in touch with me, or else I will make you sit and watch Aag, Phoonk and Drona all alone, back to back.