A Travelogue: From Bokaro To Delhi

“Train number 12801 from Puri to New Delhi is shortly arriving on platform number one”, a loud, hurrying voice boomed and echoed at Bokaro Steel City station. The train had arrived half an hour late at 10 AM, I, on the other hand, was an hour early of the scheduled time. Being early sucks as much as being late. The wait was annoying. I was alone and every minute yawned like an hour. The announcement came as a great relief. With Indian Railways, a delay of 30 minutes is no delay; I would take that happily any day.

I checked my ticket for one last time, “B4/33”, and I boarded the train. My coach was crowded and I, practically, had to jostle my way out to get to my seat. While on my way, I was praying in a rather beseeching tone- “Dear God, Please. No kids, of any age, of any gender”. Holy fuck! You wouldn't believe, seated in my section of the bogey were two newly-wed couples with two babies. My atheism got redefined, God doesn’t exist. And if He does, I’m sure He looks away when we pray.

By now, you must have guessed where this is going, haven’t you? The two ladies looked quite pretty. Here’s a confession- I like married women. There‘s a tenderness and completeness about Indian women, draped in their sari-attire, which is more intimating and fascinating than some skimpily dressed young girls. Their men were stocky and well built. As I took my seat, one of them gave me a don’t-stare-at-my-wife’s-tits look. The 19-hour long journey thus started.

The kids have an uncanny knack of drawing attention. No matter how unfunny and mundane they behave; their parents always find it uproariously hilarious. Every time something similar happened, I, as in all my niceties of conduct, had to pretend as if I was interested. One lady kept telling her baby, named Yuvika that she shouldn’t shout otherwise the lady would give the chocolate to me instead of her. And believe me friends, that Dairy Milk eluded me throughout the journey! The bitch never gave me one. Unlike what I had apprehended, the journey was less noisy amidst the ridicule of the people around.

“Where’re you going?” asked one gentleman.

“Delhi” I replied.

“Do you work there?”

“Yes, I work at TCS” I said, anticipating the fact that he would have next asked for the company’s name. His wife looked up at me. I paid her the attention. She looked desirable, voluptuous and rosy in her dark blue sari. I got a crush on her. Her eyes had so much eyeliner that it created a variety of pleasing illusions. Her slim appealing lips, like wet cherries, kept closing over her teeth. (You see, I am slowly moving down, from eyes to lips. What next?). I, slyly, leered at her curves. Oops! God is an artist, and good at Geometry.

“Ah! Great, I have heard TCS is a very good company” he interrupted at my romanticization.

I grinned and nodded in disbelief. "A very good company?" Somehow I resisted the urge to ask how far his planet from the Earth was. “How much ignorant can one be? Or is he being sarcastic?” I mumbled to myself.

“And your berth is?” he dished out another question.

“Number 33, Lower berth” I could almost guess his next question. He, then, requested me to shift to the upper berth, the reason being his wife and their kid.

The world knows Rajesh Choudhary is generous. “Alright, not a problem” I said. And thank God, he didn’t ask any other question. A talkative co-passenger spells as much trouble as a muted one does. I plugged in the earphones. Music can transport you to a different world. It is that faithful friend to whom one can come to, anytime- for it works as a healer and provides a soothing ambiance. The train had crossed Koderma. Everyone became inactive and sleepy. By the time lunch was served, the train had crossed Gaya Junction at around 2 PM. I had few snacks, cupcakes and I climbed to the upper berth. A nap after the meal is most recommended.

The noise of bawling kids woke me up. It was 5 PM. I have learned a thing or two about baby care now. Like, I know how often is one supposed to feed a baby in a span of 19 hours? How often does a baby pee in 19 hours? And how much does it stink when shit happens (and quite frequently) right in front of your nose? What goes in must come out. Getting married stinks!

The dinner arrived at 9 PM. I had ordered for a chicken meal. The food reminded me of ILP days at Haldia. It was unhygienic, yucky and not enough to fill one’s tank. I was at home 24 hours before and this fall from grace landed me right where a fall from grace should have landed me. The train was slated to reach Delhi at 4:30 in the morning. The good part was I could skip the morning ablutions in the train. I hate using public lavatories; even the thought of touching the door-handle to open and to get out is creepy. And let us not talk about how much it reeks. Nonetheless, I made a brief, habitual visit to it before going to bed. A long held piss, when released, gives an orgasmic pleasure. Almost everyone was ready to sleep. Arranging bed-sheets has always been quite a task for me. I was at the Upper berth, the farthest those men could keep me from their wives. I just stare unabashedly, otherwise I am a gentleman.

I fell asleep very soon. The shrill of horns and the cacophony of noise filled the apartment. The train had arrived. I checked my watch, 5 AM- half an hour late. Time flies when we sleep. It, otherwise, crawls. I took my only luggage, looked at “that lady” for the last time, she reciprocated; I could see a tacit affection in her eyes. I wanted to kiss her. No words of praise can express the affection that a passionate kiss can do. But I killed the thought and stepped out. Oh my girl, my soul, my all, but not mine! Metro service doesn't start before 6, means I had a job to arrange for an auto-rickshaw. The weather, as in October, was so like Bangalore, a gentle cool breeze followed my skin. Why do we love someone to the extent that it starts hurting? Why can’t the love be unconditional, selfless and forgiving? Oh, how much I loved her! Believe me friends, there's always a boy who loves the girl more than the boy she's actually with. Anyways, I took the auto. It was already carrying two people, a girl and her father. The girl was stunningly gorgeous, as like most of the Delhi girls. It was then I realized that the lady in the train was just my infatuation; and the girl in the auto was my true love. Yes! Love never ends; it only changes its partner.

Yes, No or Maybe

Apparently, everyone who has read JD Salinger’s “The Catcher In The Rye”, would feel the epiphany of what I am going to jabber about. For those who haven’t read- the book is a decent and intricately honest presentation of a teenager’s cry of anguish and his behavioral tendencies midst myriad thoughts. While reading, I, for most of the time lost myself in the pages and felt like a protagonist who could sense the indecisiveness and egotism of the character. It is a recommended read for all the book-lovers and for those dunderheads as well who, for some reason, believe that every novel has to be written to serve the purpose of a banal Bollywood script (CC: Chetan Bhagat).

Of course, the book jogged my memory back to the days of my irresolute behavior as well. I once wrote a piece “Not Happy” on the similar lines expressing grief and angst when I was in Final year of Engineering. That was the time when I used to dodge responsibilities, procrastinate, and often ignore reality. I feigned and lied to make my version of reality seem logical. I sulked when confronted about my inability to live up to my promises and obligations. I wanted people to be there for me and at the same time didn’t like them to come too close and burden me with their needs or expectations. The other post that reflected the quirks and foibles of my character was “Just A Zilch”, when I was at home waiting impatiently for the call letter of TCS, getting restless and apprehensive about my career, and being absolute heedless of what I actually dreamed to be.

Doesn't it happen with everyone? I mean, living with a certain hesitancy, thereby, creating an abiding sense of insecurity and doubt in one’s mind? Ask a kid and he is never sure of which flavor of ice-cream he wants; a Black Current, maybe? Girls live with a doubt of what dress they should put on for a date; a mini-skirt or jeans, plausibly spending half an hour or more, preening themselves in front of the mirror. Boys, on the other hand, (See, I am not being a sexist) are always uncertain of their choice of career. What about engineering, maybe with Computer Science or IT? (I would say, “No”). Team Anna doesn’t know what it wants; the Government doesn't know what it doesn’t want; thereby leaving people of India bewildered. Cricketers, coupled with their ambiguousness, half-revealing and half-concealing, don’t know whom to choose, IPL or the nation? Dhoni doesn’t know when to take Batting Power-play and BCCI has no idea what governance is about. Politicians like Manish Tiwari, Kapil Sibbal and Digvijay Singh babble foolishly and apologize. Chetan Bhagat tweets foolishly and apologizes. Everyone is in a muddle. I used to believe that the vague sense of insecurity accompanying a conviction of ignorance fades with time- for prudence comes with age but the fact is we live with our idiosyncrasies and we’re always surrounded with the questions, the answer of which could be any of the three; Yes, No or Maybe.

7 Facebook Futilities

Disclaimer: If you are bashful, get easily offended and don't understand sarcasm, please move your ass out of this blogpage. If you're still reading it, I take no responsibility if you get hurt.

This post is slightly inspired by my cousin Rajeev Choudhary's Tips to get popular on facebook. Here are 7 things you must try on Facebook before you die.

1. Open Lifebox or Luckybox. It has become a cult among my friends and somehow they assume that they are playing it cool. I promise I will like that post the day it asks you to "Get A Life".
2. Copy and paste Love quotes or some insipid philosophies of yours. It will earn you likes, 90% of them will be girls. And, you'll feel that your chances of getting laid with any one of them has doubled.
3. Use more and more applications. This is my favourite. You will know who likes you most and who admires you most. And I bet, it would not show my name. Ever.
4. Tag friends. Download a funny photo from Google and tag your friends whom you think would like and comment. Most of them would go a step further and will share it. Before this, I thought there's a limit to stupidity.
5. Update Shayari, jokes or lyrics of songs. The number of likes will tell you why stereotype movie like "Ready" was a runaway hit. Or even MTV Roadies. Oops, did I hit a nerve somewhere?
6. Ask questions, answer questions. Yeah friends, how should I tell you that I always wanted to know whether you like Maggi or Sandwich most.
7. Make Groups and add your friends. Anyone remembers creating Communities in Orkut days. Should I say, Facebook is the new Orkut?

If you have missed any of the aforesaid things, you haven't lived a Facebook life. And, I am one beleaguered soul who doesn't have a life on Facebook. God, I don't want to try, I want to die.

Rants And Raves

Five months. Yeah, it has been five months since I put pen to paper. Instead, I have been tweeting but sometimes things get too heavy and jagged to be burdened upon 140 characters (sorry I can’t help your ignorance if you ain’t Twitter friendly). At one point, I thought of shutting down this blog as it has invaded my privacy to a certain extent, but then what’s the fun in writing something and keeping it secret to oneself, without letting others know about one’s views and experiences. This post contains some random scribbling and I would deal with one topic at a time. I don’t consider myself as a writer. To me, blogging is just a way to draft my memories into texts to embrace forever, before I get too old and my memory falters to serve me right. At the age of 60, when I will retire from TCS just after doing night shift for the last time, I will sit on my armchair surrounded by my grandchildren, and when I will have no story to hark back to, then I will go through some of my old posts and would tell them how overjoyed I was when I became the branch topper in college, how fucking freaking was the TCS-Training in Haldia, how captivating it was to fly for the first time, how I cried when my first love broke my heart for the first time and how petrified I was when the people, I never thought from the start, showed their fake side in the end.

Facebook Is Spambook

For the last 20 days, I was temporarily quiescent on social sites. Facebook has become spammer’s paradise and those who can’t recognise a spam link, I believe, are the serious case of dyslexia. Dear spammers, Osama's death video ain't luring me to click it. Show me what he did with 70 virgins up above and maybe I'll change my mind. And how come none of the spammers have yet come up with link of “Leaked honeymoon video of Prince William and Kate Middleton”? Besides this, people who are desperate to know who visits their profile often shouldn’t actually be on Facebook, get back to Orkut nerds! And then we have people who want to know whom they would look like when they get old, I say Wayne Rooney. Now, fuck off. Enough said.

Not Just Another Birthday

This June, I turn 24. Had I been in Maharashtra, I would have been denied alcohols. On a serious note, the last 12 months were as bitter as Barista’s double Espresso coffee. I was happy till 23 and I wanted time to swing back. No, I am not going to get all sentimental now and go reflecting over the whole year, but when you been through a lot and look back on all the craps you pulled yourself out of and all the sufferings you lived through, you suddenly realise that it has built your character to undertake adversities and hardships. Every time when I queried, “Can it get worse?” I got an affirmative response from life, “Yes man, it always can.”

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

I was on a road to recovery. But lately, I have interacted with some people who do a volte-face oftenest and for the little time that I have observed them, they ostensibly tried to cook up a persona of decent, caring, extremely polite and impressionable person but the fact is they define the word ugly in the true sense of its meaning. They are so obsessed with their culture, caste and region that one fails to give a damn. And what is more perplexing is the false facade they put on, pretending to be a well-wisher. These people are, first, the young minds and talking so cheap in this era is so fucking passé and unacceptable. Why hang on to old things – old thoughts? They must clear their head of unreal philosophy that just doesn’t work anymore. The second, they judge people on the basis of culture; not by character, a weirdo or an Indian mumbo-jumbo as it may sound. The last, they are the canker in our midst and ruin of many relationships; which, in process of time, breeds immense hatred. Those people don’t exist in my world. I put an end to such relationships as soon as I sniff disloyalty. The way I perceive people dictates the way I treat them. I may forget what they said but I will never forget how they made me feel. I don’t repent, I live with my injuries. Dear God, if you have sent me to respect those mindsets, I decry. I will let you down.

Life is a lousy teacher. Love is over-hyped. Relationships are lemons. Friendship is a caveat emptor. People change, from a sweetheart to an ungrateful friend, from a confidant to a mere acquaintance and from a believer to a cynic. Things allure, they elude much more when we are in dire need of a particular thing. Some people have the uncanny knack of pulling things back together out of chars and ashes, out of dust and coals but some rely on destiny for redemption, and this attitude eventually demarcates the winners and the losers.

PS: Always put a comment otherwise the author will never know that readers didn’t like the post.

Q & A

The way 2011 has started, it has left so many questions unanswered in the mind of people. I am taking this pain to answers few of them to the best of my ability.

Q: Why Ravindra Jadeja was considered the smartest bid at IPL Auction?

A: Because he is the best man to blame for a loss.

Q: Dada was snubbed by KKR. Apart from politics, what else do you think can take Ganguly out of cricket?

A: Some short and fast bowling.

Q: Why wasn't Lara picked up by any IPL Franchise?

A: Because Lara was already picked up by Mahesh Bhupati.

Q: What's the similarity between participants of Mumbai Marathon and Australian batsmen?

A: In the end, all they could manage was a run.

Q: Who was the only person not allowed to run in Mumbai Marathon?

A: Jet Airways pilot Vikas Agarwal because he doesn't run, he just runs over.

Q: What's new about Sania Mirza losing out in First Round of Australian Open?

A: She won the first set.

Q: Hrithik celebrated his birthday last week. What were the gifts he received?

A: His fans gave him flowers bouquet, critics - DVD of Guzaarish.

Q: Mayawati also celebrated her birthday last week, third time in three years. What's so good and bad about that?

A: She has become an year older but her statues haven't.

Q: Fincher's "The Social Network" got 4 Golden Globes. What does this mean to Inception team?

A: A robust kick.

Q: Why was Nehra preferred over Sreesanth in the 15 member World Cup squad?

A: Because the former provides the extra "teeth" to the bowling line-up.

An Intended Pun

If on any day Congress fails to embarrass us, chances are BJP will do. Here's a sarcastic view on why Congress outplays BJP :

• Congress was formed in 1885 and is over 100 years old. The BJP in turn was formed in 1999 but its leaders are well over 100 years old.
• The Congress has young and dynamic leaders like Rahul Gandhi, Sachin Pilot and Milind Deora. The BJP on the other hand has only one youth icon - Rahul Mahajan, a huge star!
• The one point where the BJP could have an edge, of course over the congress is the fact that Congress leader Sonia Gandhi is born in a foreign country - Italy. Unfortunately, BJP leader LK Advani is also born in foreign country, the worst possible kind of it - Pakistan.
• Congress has people who have nothing sensible to say and they do just that, sensibly enough. No, I'm not talking about Dr. Manmohan Singh this time. Ain’t nothing funny about a joke that falls flat.
• Above all, Congress has BJP as an opposition party which makes them look good regardless of all flaws.

Politics is not within my domain of interest but sometimes lack of topic over-weighs the lack of interest.

My 10 - Take 4

Disclaimer: Dear readers, if you think you are wittier than me, read this. By the end of it you'll know you were right.

Here's my take on the people who ruled newspaper headlines and covered most part of breaking news in 2010 but for wrong reasons.

1. Yaana Gupta : She did it Hollywood style and people raised fingers at her. Not sure for what purpose.
2. Lalit Modi : You cannot lead the field when ICC President is the Agriculture Minister, if you know what I mean.
3. Rahul Gandhi : Another Wikileaks cable has revealed that the number of tigers in India is more than those who see him as our future PM. His genes are certainly in doubt.
4. Manmohan Singh : Much ado about Nothing. My blog is the only place he is in news this year.
5. Nira Radia : Radia tapes is as famous as Reshma ki Jawani in the porn market. Guess who is more bothered, Tatas!
6. Suresh Kalmadi : CWG was as exciting as Sex. Those who made it were as happy as those who pulled out. And this man enjoyed all the orgasms.
7. A Raja : It is only after 2G scam that people came to know that he was our Telecom Minister. And see, he resigned and we again don't know who the new appointment is?
8. Ricky Ponting : There are two kinds of people in this world : 1> those who hate Ponting, and 2> the Ponting himself.
9. Sania Mirza : Advantage Shoaib. Pakistan, you can take her but you won't get kashmir ever. Fuck you (I mean, Pakistan).
10. Digvijay Singh : Instead, I was planning to include Ratan Tata. I called both of them. Digvijay obliged gleefully, Tata didn't. Privacy, you know!!

PS: You are free to disagree and criticize. God has given me all the right to delete discourteous comments put by you.