'Peeche Aao'

DELETED POST 1

A couple of posts were deleted earlier. One of them (the one below) was available in draft and is being republished in original. (First published in late 2009)
 
10-0. It is the scoreline of a football match I was involved in last weekend. Although it seems exaggerated, it is not. And what might seem even more phony, this wasn't the first time I had the fortune or misfortune of playing in football games with such ridiculously one-sided score lines.

*Winding back the clock*

Name: Madhu Varma

Position: Center Forward/Trequartista

Role: Captain

Team: Goka Juniors

Well, that was me and my team back in my engineering days. And while the rest of the students were doing whatever they were doing in the afternoons (typically attending lectures), the members of Goka Juniors would be crazily running around a ball (an exercise which vaguely resembled what the Americans refer to as soccer) in a woefully inadequate rectangular piece of land, which by the way was supposed to be the playground. Braving the weather, risking rebuke, we would religiously play the game, with a dedication and passion one would associate with an Olympic Gold Medal winning team.

The 'blood and sweat and tears'

[blood: I perennially fell down while playing and hurt myself.

sweat: We played football. So obviously we sweated.

tears: Well, I suppose I am getting a little carried away.]

we put in, would gain relevance when we participated in tournaments and played against opposition teams. This was the time when all of our investment (time and pressure) would be put to test.

# A typical scene after a match in the tournament#

Uday and me are laughing like maniacs for no apparent reason. Reddy is shaking his head in disgust. Varma is giving the post-match analysis to Srikanth, who is ruing everything that happened before and during the game. Aashish and Rishi are frowning. Muddam and Putchu have blank expressions on their faces and seem disinterested about life. Bharan is looking around for food. Vamsi is wondering, what just happened, while Rahul is abusing him and everyone else.

The scoreline: Goka Juniors 1-11 Opposition

* Winding the clock to the present *

MDI 10-0 FMS. I am finding it quite difficult to digest the score. The scoreline has an all too familiar feel to it, but for the first time I am not on the wrong end of it. I am on the winning side which mauled the opposition and not the other way around.

Those who watched the game were quite amused to find me celebrating during the game as if I scored the winning goal in the World Cup finals. And I celebrated like that 3 times. The home spectators found it hilarious and the away ones found it condescending. But then, they didn't know how much the hat-trick and the victory meant to me. But then, they didn't know about Goka Juniors.

Acknowledgements:

->The MDI football team. Especially Tushar (for sharing my penchant for crazy, peculiar goal celebrations) and Ikam (for the countless times he set me up, only for me to incredibly miss the simplest of sitters).

.

The hat-trick is dedicated to:

To my beloved Goka Juniors, the best footballing team ever. And to 'Peeche Aao', of course.

Note:

*To those who aren't aware, Boca Juniors is a world famous Argentine football club team. And the first half of the first word of the name of my engineering college is Goka. So that's how the name of our team, Goka Juniors came about. (How original and creative!)

*During the matches, our defenders never used to let Adnan (who played the position of defensive midfielder) go up. Whenever he would venture a little forward, they would shout to him, 'Peeche Aao'. And that used to irritate Adnan a lot and was a source of silly humour for the rest of us. It is difficult for the readers to appreciate this, but take my word for it. It used to be really, really comical.

.

Anyway, whatever.

IL CORVO

Contrary to what it seems like, the pigeon is not my favourite bird. I was gleefully fascinated by its ways in Europe and more particularly so in London, but that wasn't enough for usurping the top position which was, is and will always be occupied by the crow (the common raven). So, there wasn't an iota of doubt as to what I would name the second beast in my life (the first one being Adolf).


'IL CORVO'


Well, getting it wasn't exactly the easiest of things. If there was one thing, my mom would never let me have, it was this. Convincing her that I wasn't going to get killed by the 'monster' was awfully difficult and is arguably my greatest achievement ever. It is amazing what time and pressure can do. And a whole lot of cribbing, of course. This entire episode has given me so much confidence that I now feel that I can even convince the British to stop employing the word 'royal'. (I would never do that, of course. All I am saying is that, I beleive I could do so, if i wanted to).


Everyone I have spoken to regarding it, have tried to reason with me and appeal to my rationality. And when I didn't change my stance, the conversations typically ended with me being labelled, senseless and/or crazy. (A certain few were too polite and called me brave instead). If there ever was one thing for which I was unwilling to listen to absolutely anyone, it was this. Like they say, I was as 'obstinate as a mule'.


Taking a slightly different approach, Praveen made me feel inadequate to have the 'monster'. He said, one had to be bulky, wear white 'khaddar' clothes and be adorned with thick gold chains, bracelets and the like to deserve it. I appreciated his humour, but there was no way, I was appreciating his point of view.


So, as I paced around in the hall restlessly, the phone rang and this time it wasn't a friend who just called up to say 'What's up?'. As I went down the lift, all the trouble I had gone through over the past few weeks to have it, flashed in my mind. The endless hours of dreaming, arguing, defending, selling and convincing had finally borne fruit and here was I asking myself,
'IS IT WORTH IT?'.


At 21:01 on the 24th of September 2009, I laid my eyes on it for the first time. It was darker than the night. As deadly as sin. Royal and regal.
I brought it to life. 'Thump..Thump..Thump..Thump..Thump..'


TOTALLY.


Anyway, whatever.


I usually end my posts with the 'Anyway, whatever' or ta da (or some other version of it). Since the 'Anyway, whatever' is done with, the reader can put himself or herself out of his or her misery at this point, by navigating away from this post and doing something else or something better. (Anything would be better than reading this rubbish, so essentially there is no difference between 'something else' and 'something better').


But in case, you have read up to this point, you might as well read the next few sentences and waste a little more of your time.


As a certain someone asked me, "Why did you get a bike? You don't even know how to ride it?".
I replied,
" It doesn't matter that I don't know how to ride.
And for the sake of everything under the sun, it is not a bike.
It is a motorcycle. It is a Bullet. It is a Royal Enfield Bullet Electra 5S.
It is. My 'IL CORVO'. "

Anything and Everything under the Sun

The following conversation, (which took place at a devilish time of half past 7 in the morning the other day) has been replicated (as much as possible) as it actually panned out. Minor alterations may have been made, taking the sensitivity of the readers into account.


Index
*.......* : Action
#........# : Comment


Udayan: Wake up, you bastard!

Me: Huh!

Udayan: *Whacks me with a pillow.*

Me: Mother fucker!

Udayan: Wake up. How much time will you sleep for?

Me: Dude, I just slept for like 8 fuckin hours. And I got up a couple of times in between.

Udayan: Fuck you! You sleep like a pig everyday and then you crib.

#We associate pig with gluttony, greed, sloth and every other vice, since it is convenient#

Me: Fuck you! *Wakes up with a groan and curses everything under the sun.*

.........................

.........................

Udayan: Dude, I was just wondering as to why people celebrate birthdays.

Me: #Comment deleted due to its inappropriateness.#

Udayan: I mean, with every passing year one only gets closer to death। So the birthday isn't
actually an occasion to celebrate.

# A brief note on the author at this point would help the reader better appreciate the rest of the conversation. I have an annoying habit of countering opinions (and sometimes even plain facts), just for the heck of it. The low general awareness necessitates me to come up with unconventional (or ridiculous, according to most people I know) arguments all the time.#

Me: Screw the ‘celebrations’ part. But well, I am not too sure about the ‘getting closer to dying with every birthday’ part.

Udayan: What are you blabbering? Let’s say one has a life time of 70 years. Isn’t he closer to 70 when he is 40 than when he is when he is 39.

Me: Dude, but it is not decided beforehand as to how long one is going to live.

#I don’t believe in destiny, fate and other gay stuff like that.#

Udayan: Let us not get into whether it is pre-decided or not. Irrespective of everything, one is nearing the end as time passes.

Me: Not necessarily. Doesn’t the passing of every year alter one’s chances of further survival?Isn’t the time one has survived till date a factor which influences how much longer he would live for?

Udayan: Dude, cut the crap. *Shakes his head in disgust.*

Me: The probility of one living till the age of 70 when he is 40 is different from the probability of his living till the age of 70 when he is 39. The fact that he survived for another year should increase his chances of living till 70.

#The usage of the word ‘probability’ elicited laughter from both parties as we reminisced the idiosyncrasies of that wierdly strange professor who lectured us on probability during our 11th and 12th standard years.#

Udayan: I will slit your throat open right now and then we will see how probability works.

Me: Whatever. Fuck you!

Udayan: Fuck you! *Goes to the wash room.*

Me: *Lies down on the bed again and curses everything under the sun.*



The following are certain things I wanted to report:

1) Luthra is on a roll in snooker. He recently thrashed my opponent (who, if you remember from the earlier post, thrashed me) by a margin of 40 odd points with 3 balls remaining. This makes me look even worse. Bloody relativity.

2) Keshav is carrying 4 mobile phones with him these days. When I asked him, ‘But, why?’, he replied that using 4 phones would give him expertise in multitasking. I shall refrain from commenting on this.

3) And finally and most importantly, Atul ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck-for-anything-under-the-sun’ Jain has secured arguably the best internship of the MDI PGPIM 08 batch. His status message on Google Talk now reads as ‘CITI NEVER SLEEPS’. Killer!


Anyway, whatever.

Why I hate Relativity. And the Beastly Beauty.

1) Damn my mind for not being able see the Absolute

The other day, Luthra and me had gone to a snooker parlour to catch a game or two. All the tables were taken up and since we weren't too keen on waiting, we agreed to join others. The dashing gambler that Luthra is and the egoistic, arrogant prick that I am, we individually agreed to the challenges posed by our respective opponents (who we realised by then were bloody good at the game) with monetory stakes.

Luthra lost by the margin of a few points, but gained the respect of his opponent.

Although the following account might suggest othewise, I am not too bad a player (courtesy of the fascination with the game during my 11th and 12th standard). Here was my opponent who seemed like snooker was the only reason for his existence and here was I, having not played the game for quite some time and it being my first time to that particular parlour and therefore that particular table(for those, who aren't very accustomed to the game, note that prior playing on a table gives a slight advantage).

I wish I could write that I fought the good fight and emerged victorious against all odds. But sadly that wasn't the case. I was losing by 50 odd points with the last 3 coloured balls to be potted. Like one of those losers who try to salvage whatever little they can, I thought to myself that I should keep the margin under 50. And in the end, I lost by 32. It wasn't as bad as losing by 70 points, but 32 is pathetic enough.

And disgustingly, I was happy.

I had a gleeful smirk on my face, although I had just got embarassingly outplayed and my wallet was a couple of hundred bucks lighter.

Fuckin relativity.

2) The Beauty and The Beauty

Beauty, 'they' say, lies in the eyes of the beholder. ['They' incude the self-important dorks who make such well-sounding (but totally retarded) statements and the 'dull' people who quote them to validate their opinion. I shall be quite 'dull' myself here and do the same. I will show the applicability of this proverb in a certain personal context and then generalize it as a universal truth].

Adolf, to Udayan and me is the most beautiful thing ever. There is nothing which is even comparable. But that is not exactly the opinion anyone who has had the 'privilege' of laying their eyes on him have . In fact, it would be the exact opposite. It scares the day lights out of everyone and we are quite confident that certain people, when in close proximity to him would actually faint. The sadists that we are, we plan to test our presumptions.

Adolf, by the way is Udayan's rotweiller. I am Adolf's godfather (I christened him). I had left him as a 4 month old 'puppy' (I am using the word 'puppy' out of lack of other words. He was quite a beast even back then.) only to find him become a fearsome monster 5 months later. It has been around a couple of weeks since I have been around and I am still skeptical of 'fooling around' with him. For everytime, he has the chance, he ravages me. His ramming with brute force, pricking of my feet and gnawing at my arms (fortunately, he still doesn't know how to bite forcefully) could be construed as friendly playfulness or ruthless hatred. I like to believe that it is the former. And actually hope as well.

All in all, Adolf is frightening (there are few sights scarier than that of Adolf in the dark with his glowing eyes), destructive (the broken windows in the house are a testament of that) and untamable (he is not taken for a walk, he takes the holder of the leash on an unpleasant ride).

But then, he is the most beautiful thing ever.

Anyway, whatever.

Beyond the scope...

The first sentence of any post of my blog is the only one which needs some thought. The rest of the post writes itself. The reason I am mentioning this is to escape even that minor inconvenience.

Now that that has been taken care of, I can now move onto other things. What other things? I can’t think of any other things. I am at my ordinary best these days. So what the heck? I will just fill this post by mentioning the awfully uninteresting events and things in my rather boring life over the past few days.

29/7/09 and 30/7/09: The return flight from UK to India.

I just can’t get myself to sleep on a flight. And add to it an annoying co-passenger sitting beside you, the TV screen in front of you not working and having a 4 hour transit stop. Can you script a more perfect disaster?

31/7/09 and 1/8/09: Can’t remember.

I would most probably have been glorifying the Queen’s country and rubbishing my very own (UK is so clean, India is so crowded and other idiotic statements like that). How I wish someone just punched me in the face during this time!

2/8/09 and 3/8/09: I re..re..re..really love gaming [Ladha style].

There are few things more beautiful than FIFA 09 on the X-Box 360. With updated summer transfers, my beloved Juventus FC team looked strong on paper (or should I say, screen) and I went wild with all my crazy formations.

4/8/09 and 5/8/09: Things getting back to being exactly as they were always.

My criticism of my mom’s cooking, haunting coffee shops, obsessive following of football news, rubbishing everything and everyone under the sun. I even performed my routine ritual of torturing myself (which is watching a Telugu movie). [Telugu is the funny-sounding language, I speak at home].

6/8/09 and 7/8/09: Something else and the gentleman’s game

It’s been quite some time since I played cricket, but as always I came across as someone who has a good batting technique. I typically achieve this by tapping the bat on the ground and playing classy, imaginary shots in the air after every ball

8/8/09 and 9/8/09: A visit to the zoo and something else

The reasons for us going to the zoo are beyond the scope of this blog. Anyway, the sloth bear did gross injustice to its name by running around like a maniac in its enclosure. I was disappointed. The hippo was absolutely delightful, though. The next day was the 9^th of August 2009.

10/8/09 and 11/8/09: qwertyuiopasdfghjklzxcvbnm

Posters of 'The Godfather', debates over and about ice creams, bitching about my engineering college were the common themes. A few words about the mundane things like life and future might have figured in the discussions, but were promptly discarded and forgotten.

Oh, boy! I am disgusting myself now with all this rubbish. And so I shall put an end to this.

Anyway, whatever.

Before I forget, I just want to mention unlike what some might suspect, Ta Da is not a stylised form of Ta Ta (which means bye). What Ta Da means is beyond the scope of the reader.

At long last!

This post is by the guest.

To give a brief introduction, the guest blogger is a certain Monsieur Louis Costamagna. He is a thinker.[Always has a profound expression on his face. I suspect that he does that intentionally to trick people into believing that he is wise]. He also considers himself to be a 'global leader'. [Has taken the lectures of 'Leading Globally' back in MDI a little too seriously]. Louis is also the authority in the profane usage of the Hindi language. [I totally envy him for that].

To know more about Louis Cos*whatever* [and I thought I had a terribly difficult surname!], you can visit the following link:

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=527362798

Below is the post:

Laziness (no other word came in my mind)

I have to admit that I accepted to write this “guest post” because my friend Madhu lost his brilliance for sure. I have never seen a lamest thing such as writing a blog. But this is not the topic of today. I am here writing about my Indian friends in a European context.

First I have to apologise because I am late. But important people do not lose their precious time to write in a lousy blog, do they? However as I promised to be able to say stupid things about my Indian friends in Europe, and the way they live, I am doing so.

What is quite funny about this blog is the expression “Anyway, Whatever” because I think that it describes quite accurately the behaviour of some of our Indian friends. They do not really care as long as you do not bother them too much.

Indeed for European people like I am (even though I like to consider myself as a World citizen), saying yes –and I do not even talk about the way Indian people nod the head, would be too long- to a question like “will you help us to do the group work? “ will mean that you will do it. In fact, Indian people never say no, they just usually do not do it. But as I see my friend Madhu (pronounce Ta Da, and I mean Ta Da) I would consider it as “these European fellows do not know how to do and manage things” or “anyway we are the next Big Thing”.

For us –please understand the old fashioned occidental people – the most astonishing thing about our Indian counterparts is their internal clock. For our dirty and intelligent minds, Day is used to work, chill out, see friends and all these social, vital or whatever things. On the contrary Night is usually used to do the useless thing on earth: Sleep.

My Indian friends are used to do it the other way. This has raised a lot of debates among a group of European people. Is the world divided into two separate parts where people consider Day and Night differently? Or is it just pure laziness? The second proposition has curiously held the majority of opinions. Or maybe we could include it in the Figin index (the most stupid theory on earth), that will be the real nobel prize winning work… I could all tell you the numerous theories we have settled in our minds concerning this matter but would be uninteresting, so I leave it to your suggestions that I am waiting for in comments.

After that I could speak again about the reactions in front of a big engine car or a small piece of cloth on a big piece of skinned body (a.k.a. a big engine woman)… But I won’t do so in order to avoid troubles with the readers (I know that they are numerous) and the people concerned.

I may forget a lot of things but this is it.

I have however to mention some stupid things that have been written in this blog. First, I have to tell you that Madhu is still considered as being a shitty football player, what we would call in French a lemon cutter i.e. the guy who’s staying on the bench in order not to trouble the real squad. Second, if one day Madhu obtain knighthood, it will be because the King has become an Indian and has invented the laziness Knighthood.

To finish as the blog rules: anyway, whatever.

Ta Da (a.k.a. LC your French servitor)

PS: Please excuse my poor English, French people are more famous for other things.

TIME, the grand illusion

Don't worry. It is not another gay post in which I talk about the things I would be missing or the leaving of the house. I have had enough of that rubbish.

I felt like this blog isn't doing justice to it's core purpose of 'educating' and 'enlightening' the readers and therefore I thought I would remedy the situation with this post.

Guneet, Ikam and me had taken a boat ride from London Bridge to Greenwich (for some unfathomable reason, it is pronounced as Greenich) the other day. GMT. Does it ring a bell? The destination and the journey made us think about the concept of time. Deep discussion resulted in us understanding the logic behind the measurement of time by combining whatever little knowledge we had with some of the tid-bits the guide on the boat announced. Or atleast we thought we did.

Standing on the prime meridian line (0 degrees longitude) at the Royal Observatory of Greenwich, I felt like I found my true calling: 'Study of Time'. My ignorance of longitudes and latitudes till a few minutes earlier wasn't much of a dampener. I am independent of the variable of time and therefore I believe would be able to give an outsider perspective to this enigma.

Among the other intellectual conversations we had, included Guneet contemplating the possibility of changing the positions of the hands of the Great Clock Tower of Westminister (apparently the Big Ben is the name of the bell of the clock and not the tower or the clock). We agreed that the Clock Tower showing the wrong time, would shock and confuse people and it would be great fun.

Also I wondered as to whether all birds could float in water. We were victims of the availability heurestic and watching the sea gulls float around on the Thames, conveniently concluded that all birds could. If anyone knows for sure, do post it in the comments section.

I always felt that I was the laziest thing on Earth and no one could sleep as much as I did, but Ikam shattered my false sense of superiority by mentioning that the koala bear moves like in slow motion and sleeps for around 20 hours in a day. Damn the competition!

This is my last post in London. My next stop is Hyderabad. (Actually not. I have a painful 4 hour stop over at Bangalore, making my total journey time a frightening 15 and a half hours).

Sticking to the topic of time, I gained 5 and a half hours on my arrival to UK, only for the evil 'day light savings' to gobble up an hour and leave me with 4 and a half, which I would be losing on my return to India. It seems like it is a return to status quo for me in every sense of the term. Or is it?

Anyway, whatever.

Remember, Remember

29th of July 2009. Remember, remember the 29th of July 2009.

There are certain things my MDI classmates in London, who have gone back to India are and those who would be doing so in the coming months would be missing. High in that list are the rather generous display of skin and the sexy-looking automobiles, both of which almost always elicited oohs and aahs. Also the clean streets, cleaner air and the cleanest parks were well appreciated. I am not sure if I would really be bothered about these things. But I would certainly miss the London pigeons, my heroes.

Talking about the magnificent species, I must share a particular incident I had the privilege to witness the other day. There were two ladies walking and there was this big, fat pigeon ambling towards them in the opposite direction. The two parties approached the point of collision. And then the most amazing thing happened. The pigeon wouldn't change its course and the two ladies had to step aside and make way for the majestic beast. (Trust me. I am not making this up). I was astounded and at that moment my respect level for the bird soared at a staggering high. Ha. This wasn't plain laziness. This wasn't plain carelessness. This was much more that that. This was outright arrogance and snobbery, bordering on condescension. And this begs the question, I posed in one of my earlier posts regarding Pluto. Does size matter?

I would also miss the references to The Queen. [ Did you know that the national anthem of UK starts with 'God Save The Queen'? And a number of products, including the Ferry dish washing liquid in my kitchen, prominently display the message 'By appointment to Her Majesty, The Queen'. ] Ha. Fascinating, isn't it?

Did I mention that I would also miss the insanely amazing double chocolate chip cookies at Subway, the delightful ducks at Hamstead Heath and the moody London weather.

Boy, am I a becoming a victim of the human emotion of attachment or what? Oh Brilliance, where have thou disappeared?

29th, it finally is. 29th of July 2009 is when I would be flying back to India. 29/7/2009. The jerk in me is making me emphasize the date, as if it were something one would need to take note of. Remember, remember the 29th of July 2009.

For certain reasons I won't go into, I am feeling quite worthless and my misplaced sense of pride and ego is hurt quite bad. So I now resort to my usual coping mechanism of making tall claims to make myself feel better. Here I go.

1) I have become a very skilful and a highly impactful football player now. Not that I was a bad player earlier, but I now play like someone 'who one doesn't get to see everyday'. I think I can get away with this claim. Tushar has only recently learned how to use his email account. It would take him ages to understand the concept of a blog and comment on it. Ikam, please refrain from sharing your opinion on this.

2) The next time I come to this country, it would be for accepting knighthood from The Queen.

So until then, it is a 'Royal' goodbye to the United Kingdom.

Do you think, my second claim is unrealistic? Do you? Do you? Think again. Ha.

I would like to thank my good friend, Chinmay who shared an interesting new dimension on the 'Figin Index'. As a token of my appreciation I shall present you the first copy of my book, "Why the frog shouldn't leave the well", specially autographed by yours truly, Sir Madhu Varma.

Anyway, whatever.

Not ta da. TA DA.

4 and all its GLORY.

525

'525' or 'The House of The Dead' or 'Maison de la Mort' is, as I have mentioned a million times already is where I 'exist' along with my other 3 flatmates. But that won't be true, come the 8th of this month. So I write this post with a heavy heart, extolling the virtues of the place which filled the void left by IDPL (arguably the most uninhabitable place on Earth). I will talk about IDPL in another post. I keep reserving a lot of topics for later posts. The '2+3=5 theory', how I intend to regain my fast-depleting brilliance, the name of my first dog when I shall get one and now IDPL. [To the uninformed, IDPL is my hostel campus during the first semester at MDI, Gurgaon]. I think I shall adress all of them very soon.

THE TRANSFORMATION

I have posted about 'The Nest', 'The Crib', 'The Ghetto' and 'The Madhouse' in an earlier post (refer to the post 'Crib. Me? Come on.' of 23 April 2009 for the details regarding the 4 rooms and the 4 residents), but I never spoke about our kitchen. The kitchen is a completer disaster. If you ever wanted to see a horror show, you should have had a look at our kitchen. Although, that is not the case now. That is because we cleaned it a couple of days back. No, clean is not the right word. We made it 'shine'. It is now spotless and sparkling. I guess I am getting a little carried away but compared to its previous state, you wouldn't blame me for thinking that it now seems like heaven itself. This was possible by the concerted effort of the 4 of us and we are all genuinely and pleasantly surprised at what we have accomplished and truly deserve a pat on our backs.

IMPOSSIBLE IS NOTHING

This was how we achieved the 'plutonian' task. Colonel Raaj took the lead. He was in one of his ebullient moods, barking out orders to us. Chadha was uncharacteristically purposeful and did a major part of the cleaning. Tushar's penchant for the to and fro motion was especially helpful with the mopping of the dirt-stained floor. He was the destroyer-in-chief of the kitchen over the 4 months but he more than made up for his 'sins' with his contribution. Seeing the 3 men toil away with such grit and determination, elevated their status in my eyes and I almost had tears. All I had to do was play second fiddle and play a supporting role.

COPING MECHANISMS

Anyway, the point is that we would be leaving the house in a few days. And everyone has been shattered by that fact. Colonel Raaj has been trying to drown his 'melancholy' (the only word I remember from 'Merchant of Venice', which we had in its damn original text for our 10th standard) with JD but to no avail.Therefore he chose to go to the 'liberal' and liberating land of Amsterdam. Chadha is so inconsalable that his mom is coming to London tomorrow to comfort him. And Tushar has gone crazy. He has been trying to keep 'The Ghetto' clean, as if that is going to prevent us from having to leave the house.

MY MISGIVINGS OF 525

The radiator in my room is malfunctioning and as a result my room has been unbearably hot over the past few days. And I continue to burn the food, despite my best efforts. Whatever I do, the food and the cooker get burned almost every single day. It is very mysterious and strange. It is as if, I am cursed. The house in general and 'The Crib' in particular has been a source of deep embarassment for me. I have aplogised to everyone that came to our house over the past 4 months for its shabby state.

WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS

All in all, I would still miss The House of the Dead. And so would the others.

Gulati is moving into a crazy house called 'LadhaLand' to join Sayyam 'Faux Pas' Ladha, Guneet 'Come On' Kwatra and Ikampreet 'The Jewel' Singh. Chadha would continue with his mad ways at his uncle's place in Moor Park. Tushar and me would make the short journey to the house on 591 Finchley Road(The House of the Dead is at 525 Finchley Road). And so it continues.

Follow Ups: 1) The guest poster hasn't had the time to 'grace' my blog. I shall post a hate essay on him if he doesn't do so soon.

2) The blank in 'fill in the blank' of the previous post was to be filled with 'Anyway, whatever'. I guess none of you could be bothered to give the answer, but I would like to think that you didn't get it, since you are, let's say dull.

Anyway, whatever.

ta DA, not TA da!

Does SIZE matter???

I always keep tabs on the happenings all around the globe and beyond it. Courtesy of this wonderful habit of mine, I got to know recently that Pluto is no longer classified as a planet. I must admit that this fact has emotionally crushed me. They are calling it 134340 and they say it is no longer one of the 9 planets. Sigh!

In pre-primary school, drawing the 9 planets was a common exam question. I always used to mess up the order and colours of the other 8 planets, because back then I couldn't tell green from brown or yellow from red. I mean, I knew how these colour looked like and all but I just couldn't remember the names. Well in those days, I had more important things to worry about that stupid colours.

But I always got the far-away,lovely, little white planet right. I particularly enjoyed drawing the miniscule circle. The best part was that I never even filled the circle with any colour since the background was white, much to the chagrin of my, let's say 'dull' teachers.

I have been told that Pluto has been stripped of its status,mainly because of the discovery of some bigger, crappy peice of rock, which they are calling Eris. Eris? Eris sounds like the name someone would give their stupid pomerarian dog or something. Talking of names of dogs, do you know what I would name my first dog? Some of you do, don't you? And its revolutionary, isn't it? Well the genius of that idea can be discussed in another post.

Anyway, Pluto might have been demoted to 'dwarf' status since it doesn't 'clear the neighbourhood', but it was, is and will remain the distant enigma with matchless aura and charisma and my personal favourite planet.

It is deep wish that Pluto be reinstated into the elite division and I shall do whatever little I can towards that end. Henceforth I shall use the word 'plutonian' to refer to anything that is big or huge or giantly. You get my plan, don't you?

The post from the guest (remember the previous post in which I invited posts from you guys) would be the next one. Since you might be dying to know as to who this lucky guest is, I shall give you a clue.This person is from a certain planet, which you would have been told as kids to colour green by your,let's say 'dull' teachers inspite of the major presence of a certain liquid which you would have been told as kids to colour blue by your, let's say still 'dull' teachers.

I had also said that the first post in June would see the return of ....................................., and as always I stay true to my word. Anyway, whatever. I tend to believe that you guys are, let's say 'dull', but here is a chance for you to prove me wrong. Please post what you think I am talking about(basically fill the blank).

That's brings an end to this 'plutonian' post.

tA dA

'Pan Chod'

Another post.

I spend most of my days here(London) eating and sleeping and chilling. And all this lazying around is making me feel useless. So just to feel better about myself, I was wondering as to what I have learned so far during my 'soporific sojourn' in London. I genuinely have no clue as to what 'soporific sojourn' means. All I know is that it can be used in this contest. I am trying hard as hell trying to remember where I came across this, but I can't. 

Serious introspection has revealed a number of learnings which I sincerely believe are of utmost utility and would serve me well for the rest of my life. So I present the 8 most useful learnings below. (8? Why not 5 or 10? That's exactly why.) 

1) I have become quite an expert in scrapping off grime of utencils using a butter knife. I actually pride myself in this.

2) I have mastered the art of sleeping in the bathing tub. Trust me. It is really tough. A lot of hard work went into it and my persistence finally paid off.

3) I now know that one 'takes' and doesn't 'give' a test, thanks to Colonel Raaj. Although I still keep using 'giving' instead of 'taking', I now know that I am wrong.

4) My level of culinary skills has increased by the factor of infinity. (0.76/0=infinity ; 0.76 on a scale of 100). Burned, inedible, scrambled eggs is my speciality. It is commonly accepted in the 'Maison de la Maut'(that's what Chadha likes to call our 'House of the Dead') that I am the best cook in the house.

5) I am more socially clumsy that I ever was. I have managed to blurt out 'I am good' before the other person enquired about my well being, every single time I was introduced to someone.

6) I can now walk like a normal human being.  Having walked alongside my brother over the years(who walks as if his pants were on fire), I tend to hurry. But that has been rectified.

7) I can now swear 'Behen Chod' in a way which would make even someone like Vinod (I mean, Veenudh) seem like an amateur. I am still working on my 'Pan Chod' though.   

8) And I now know that LUCK is a slut. 

I am still waiting for some stupid suggestions on topics to write about from you guys. And I would let anyone who is interested, to write the next post on my blog. Confirm your willingness in the comments section of this one.

Another thing. I just can't resist myself from saying that we(Deccan Chargers) are the champions and all the other teams in the IPL kind of suck donkey balls. 

One last thing. I believe this is the last post for this month. The first post in June will see the return of ................. So anyone wanting to write the next post have the extra incentive of being graced by .................

tA Da, not tA dA!

Fuckin slut...

Life is a bitch. Sunday was arguably the saddest day of my life. Most days in my life are quite sad but this one has to be the saddest and it was sad in a sad sort of way. Usually I am sad and angry, but this time I was sad and sad. I didn't get to watch the game between Juventus and Atalanta LIVE because of a stadium ban. I stood outside the Stadio Olympico Torino like a helpless, little girl with a sorry expression on my face. Luck, which was always turned on my side, turned out to be a traitor. Fuckin slut...

Anyways, enough of the gay shit. I have other things to talk about as well. I would be revisiting my poential Nobel-prize winning work: the 'Figin' Index in this post. The pigeons in Italy are fairly fat and well fed and of course lazy. But there are noticeable variations of characteristics among the pigeons in different places in Italy. The ones in these places, Santa Margerita and Portofino (Santa Margerita and Portofino;these places are as exotic as they sound) were the fattest I've ever seen. They didn't give a damn about most things in life. 

Check out the following video for evidence:

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=80452484614&ref=nf

The fat bitch moved around at its own sweet pace with me right behind it. It almost even refused to acknowledge my very presence. I present another dimension here to the index. The fatness of the pigeons in a place is directly proportional to the joblessness of people in that area. Jobless people do things like feeding pigeons. The places I talked about are holiday destinations where people come to 'chill'. They laze around at the seaside, walk about and feed the pigeons. 

The pigeons in Turin and Rome were slightly more active, but still extremely lazy. They are comparable to those in London.

Another random thing. I learned that Rome was built by someone named Romulus or something like that who grew up sucking the tits of a female wolf. To quote Cartman, 'The fuck. Come on. I mean, seriously, the fuck'. 

I never got to watch Lara LIVE. I will never get to watch Nedved LIVE as well. Sigh!

!@#$%^&*()

I haven't posted for the past couple of weeks since I intended to play on the 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' syndrome (made up that shit). I am sure all of you have been having sleepless nights, wondering as to why I have not been posting for so long now. Its ok. You can talk about your traumatic experiences in the comments to this post.

I haven't got the slightest clue about what to write in this post. That's the case with all my earlier posts as well. I suppose it is the story of my life. Am I admitting weakness? I will be one of those 

irritatingly, optimistic (read phony) pansies here and say that I like to live life as it comes. I am a happy-go-lucky person. Heheheh. I crack myself up.

Anyway, I think there needs to be some direction to this stupid blog of mine. I just can't keep writing mindless, random garbage all the time. So, if any of you is hopeless enough to suggest something, go wild. I will hate you for the rest of my life if you recommend writing about places or trips or MBA or any other lousy stuff like that. Although there is a good chance that I might talk about my trip to Italy in my next post. Before you come to any judgement about me, listen me out. Or should I say, read me out. 'Read me out'? What the fuck is 'read me out' supposed to mean? I have no clue, but I suppose you get the idea. 

I would only write about my love, Juventus FC and their game against Atalanta. Not my minute by minute recordings of the entire trip. Wait a minute. People write about places and hobbies and their lame lives. They probably do so because they are passionate about it. Just as I am passionate about football and plan to write about it in my next post. Does this stink of hypocrisy?And what makes ME different from them?  

For one, football is not gay unlike most other things. And secondly, the post would only be for a couple of friends who are ardent Juventus fans as well and would actually be interested. And thirdly this is a one-off thing. 

Why the fuck am I justifying myself? Isn't this my blog and can't I write any trash that takes my fancy? I guess so, but then I wouldn't want to come across as a phony. To quote my idol Eric Cartman (and slightly modify it for appropriateness): "I hate phonies. I wanna kick em in the nuts."

Why is this post titled, '!@#$%^&*()'? Good question!

of pictures, WORDS and a truckload of bull 'you know what'

Some schmuck had said sometime that 'A picture speaks a 1000 words'. What shit! And bigger schmucks quote this lame line. I was wondering about the truth behind this statement. I am absolutely convinced that I would be able to tell much more about anything in a 1000 words than a picture could ever convey.  

Not that I love words or anything but I always had an affinity for the weaker 'player'. A picture has many inherent advantages over words but words aren't totally useless either. Words when spoken well can create an effect that a picture can't. A simple 'f**k o*f'' is much more effective than a show of the middle finger. In case you stopped to think about this and tend to disagree with me over that, I can only say that you need to improve your swearing. 

In case you are wondering as to why I am talking about pictures and words and lame stuff like that, let me give you the reason.  It is same as the reason as to why 2+3 is equal to 5 (You need to have an IQ greater than 275 to understand my impeccable 'why 2+3 is equal to 5' theory. So, don't be too hard on yourselves).

I am going to make words 'sexier' than pictures if that's the last thing I do. Ok, that seems a little far-fetched even for me. I shall prove that a picture speaks lesser than a 1000 words. 957 or 981 but lesser than 1000.

Let me give you 2 simple words and I challenge you to give me a picture that beats these words. 

'tA dA'

Anyway, whatever.

Tushar, my flatmate has cleaned up his room. The 'GHETTO' doesn't feel like one anymore. I am mentioning this because he promised me a sum of 359 pounds if I did so. 

Crib. Me? Come on.

Hmmmmm...........

I was thinking and I realized that it is extremely difficult for me to continuously publish new posts with my extremely limited vocabulary and even more extremely limited knowledge. Also the fact that I am not too keen on boring everyone with my everyday happenings isn't helping the cause.

But I am not someone who cribs (this is something which certain people refer to as 'sarcasm'). Anyway, I am posting this one 8 days after the previous one, just like I said I would (Quote from my previous post: 'I shall post the next one tomorrow or day after or a few days after that or whenever I feel like it'). And people say I am unreliable. Ha. 

I suppose I am going to talk about the house in this post. I co-habit Flat 6 of the apartment on 525 Finchley Road, London with 3 other beasts (Tushar, Chadha and Gulati) . The address of my college is 527 Finchley Road. It takes us lesser time to get into college than it takes those living in the college hostel itself. Its not something to be proud of or anything. I mentioned this fact for no reason in particular. 

Colonel(Retd.) Raaj  [also known as Mohit Gulati] has come up with cool names for all the rooms. His is called the 'NEST', owing to the fact that this one is relatively small and cozy. All of us are of the opinion that this is the best room in the house. 

Chadha dwells in the 'MADHOUSE'. It is quite disorganized, like the man himself. 

Tushar's room is the 'GHETTO' because of its perennial not-too-tidy appearance. 

And mine is the 'CRIB'. (How ironic?) The b******s like to refer to it as the 'common room' since it is the hangout room for all of them. I hate it when they call it that since I like to think that I have my privacy. [Will I lie to myself to be happy? I suppose I will. My room is not the common room]. 

Anyway, whatever.

Duh

I haven't read any blogs (only losers read blogs) but I suppose those who write them, write about the apparently 'interesting' things happening in their lives. [Interesting to the bloggers themselves and their extremely useless 'close' friends]. Duh!

I would try to avoid that, but I cannot promise. Give me credit for atleast admitting that my life is particularly boring and uninspiring. Or is it? Ha.

In my second post, I am going to talk about the pigeons in London. They are fat and lazy. They are quite arrogant and reckless. When you chase them, they move at a leisurely pace instead of flying. They are quite reluctant to use their wings. I totally adore their behaviour (not the pigeons themselves, since I believe adoring birds is gay). And I totally identify with them. 

My brother observed the same behaviour of pigeons in the US as well and the pigeons in Hyderabad fly away when you so much as tap your feet at a distance of 5 metres. So I was wondering if the fatness and laziness of pigeons could be used as a parameter for measuring the economic prosperity of a country. The fatter and lazier the pigeons the higher could be the prosperity rating of that country. I would name it the 'Figin Index' (A certain chap in my stupid engineering college used to pronounce pigeon as figin). I would get a Nobel Prize for my remarkable  work and in my acceptance speech I would say 'Duh!'.

I just hope I haven't disappointed in my 2nd post. I hope it is atleast as annoying if not more than the first one. I shall post the next one tomorrow or day after or a few days after that or whenever I feel like it.

Anyway, whatever. 

Me to the London pigeons: 'I think you guys rock and all but I have something else to say to you. Aaaiiii, you fat bitches. You are eating up everything in your sights and inflating while your malnutritioned cousins back in India are starving. Have some shame.' 

What else could the title be but tA dA?

It is 3 fuckin 42 on the 14th of April, 2009. I was never one of those losers who stayed up all night and felt cool about it. I am still not that. I have become nocturnal, but I don't feel cool about it. It is just that I am sleeping through out the day and staying up in the night. 

Anyway, I have started this blog to announce (as if anyone is going to read this shit.ha) that I have become a commoner. I always prided myself in not doing stuff that all you guys do: online chatting, writing blogs, uploading pictures online and lame stuff stuff like that. I am systematically doing each one of them and I feel disgusted. But I shall have my redemption. I will go into the details in a later post.

I have heard the song 'Politik' by Coldplay for about the 79th time now and I still don't feel sick of it. Why did I mention this fact? For the same reason that 2+3 is 5.

The self obsessed prick that I am, I suppose I would be talking about myself now(3 I's in one sentence). Is it even legal to do that? 

Hi. My name is Madhu. I am 23. I am doing my dual degree MBA in International Management in ESCP EAP, London and MDI, Gurgaon. ......................

I would kill myself before I give an introduction like that. 

To be brief, I am self centered, egoistic, cynical and highly prejudiced. I have a bad attitude and I like to think that that is cool. 

Anyway, whatever.

tA dA