An Interesting Conversation

The protagonist in this composition is our Mr. Not So Perfect, a guy who has a tendency of falling for everything that is female and moves. He claims he's got taste but I'd not testify that for fear of being ostracized. He's waited too long and now he longs for his somebody. He is fed up of waiting for a miracle to happen, so he's on the road, with the hammer of nervous impatience to break the ice of his solitude. He's looking everywhere but nobody looks at him. He means business but he's not the best in the business. He is sick of being a nobody, but above all, he's sad at having a nobody. He's more impatient than ever but is not a patient of love. Fortunately he's found a date but unfortunately she's engaged and still more unfortunately, she's brought her swain and now Mr. Not so Perfect is in pain. What a mess!
He's not known for his patience but the girl's beau happens to work out slightly more than his gym instructor, a fact which his bulging arms bear a testimony to. So our hero slips out with the pretence of using the men's room.
As soon as he finds himself alone, he unlocks his Nokia 1600 keypad lock and dials the last dialled number, which happens to be his roommate’s. Oh I forgot to tell you that our protagonist is a sophomore in a reputed Engineering College. Well, following is the conversation that took place between the nervous wooer and his confidante. I hope you wouldn’t mind one last interruption from me when I add that our hero has a name but I prefer calling him John Doe and his roommate will be called good old Roomy.

Here it goes:

Roomy: What ? Done Already ?
J.D.: Yeah man. I’m done for.
Roomy: Are you kidding. It’s been only three goddamned minutes since you hung up when you saw her entering into the café.
J.D.: She killed the mood. She’s brought her boyfriend. She’s engaged.
Roomy: Blast your red whiskers! Why did she agree on coming in the first place? Had she seen a caring brother in you?
J.D.: Don’t know mate. Girls are so very unpredictable. You can’t say what they mean merely by listening to what they say. Why can’t they be damn straightforward?
Roomy: It’s us guys who expect a lot, sugar. Is this not the same word she used for you in the party?
J.D.: I now guess she wanted some sugar in her coffee that night. But she should’ve clarified when I called her honey.
Roomy: She’d have thought you needed some honey in your shake.
J.D.: Blast your sense of humour! Can’t this talk be more sombre? I need some help.
Roomy: So what can I do for you Sir? Yeah your Pizza will be there in half an hour sir. Would you like extra cheese? Maybe a drink to wash that down sir?
J.D.: Look at me, I’m laughing. Enough of your PJs for the day chum. How do I get out of the café without facing them?
Roomy: Try digging a tunnel right from the toilet to our hostel. Or maybe with that sissy figure of yours you could dive into the commode and swim your way out through the sewage pipes. Or wait right there, I’ll order for you a Spider Man’s Costume to be delivered inside the lavatory of Lover’s Lane Café.
J.D.: No papa, I wanna be the Batman instead. F*** you. Come up with something practical.
Roomy: It’s your run-away-attitude that causes you to be such a loser. Go and join them. Try to act as if everything’s okay.
J.D.: How can I? As if everything’s okay? Well, things were looking pretty okay until that jerk showed up. He’s like a hole in a million dollar, gold brocaded, diamond studded briefs.
Roomy: Yeah he is. But remember, diamond studded briefs are not meant to be worn. They’ll leave scars all over the goddamned place. Diamond is the hardest of all substances and can cut through all other hard things.
J.D.: Cut the crap.
Roomy: Who started it?
J.D.: Okay. Now what. I’m not going back and paying the bill which will include a shot of vodka that would have gone down that sonofabitch’s f***ing throat.
Roomy: Then ask him to order for a beer instead. That way you’ll not have to pay for the vodka.
J.D.: As if that ox will listen to me. He didn’t even nod back when I said Hi.
Roomy: Apparently the ox’s got attitude.
J.D.: Attitude or not, I can’t stand that sonofabitch.
Roomy: Then keep standing in the urinal until he dies of old age.
J.D.: I thought we had already established that this was no time for jokes.
Roomy: Who’s joking now? I’m dead serious, junior.
J.D.: The thing on top of my agenda. What about that?
Roomy: You mean running away from them without them noticing it? Right?
J.D.: Either that or getting rid of the out-of-place bone in the kebab.
Roomy: You need a second opinion dude. I believe you are the bone in the kebab and not him.
J.D.: I’d really appreciate if you let me be a judge of that. It’s my date, my girl, my money and my me. Whose side are you on anyways?
Roomy: Yeah if every goddamn thing’s yours then why is it that you are hiding in the lavatory? The only thing that belongs to you is your shit and that too will cease to be once you use the flush.
J.D.: So what do I do? Walk up to the bar and holler out “Drinks to everyone from my side in the honour of the beautiful couple “
Roomy: Not a bad idea. Could you wait till I come? It has been time since someone paid for my drink.
J.D.: I feel like socking that madcap and you are only helping me decide in the favour of executing my plans.
Roomy: Go ahead. I’d have one private ward reserved for you in the Apollo.
J.D.: Can’t you talk sensibly?
Roomy: Okay. Here’s the plan. No more buffoonery. I’ll speak and you’ll listen.

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J.D.: Blast your Red Whiskers.

The Analysis of A Statement: Blast Your Red Whiskers

I seldom write about things I don't understand. But when I do, I turn my brain into a bowling alley with pins of sanity falling with every strike of the ball of attempt. And the result of the exercise is a preposterous masterpiece of utter NONSENSE. At times people who try to comprehend such literary crap end up with a sore psyche and suicidal tendencies. Why I involve myself in this life threatening exercise is a tough question. I reckon I consider myself a creative thinker and being some sort of a loner I tend to seek some sort of a companionship with my perceptive abilities which stay with me and are always faithful to me. My mind, being my companion and friend often talks to me. And sometimes, it talks nonsense - like all friends do , in an attempt to stir up humour and put up a show of its unparalleled jocularity. But believe me, I hardly understand its jokes and stuff. And consequently the rest of this document marks my genuine efforts to analyse this statement, " Blast Your Red Whiskers ", which happens to be one such statement which makes me nervous each time I think about what it means.
I heard this statement several times in a hollywood motion picture once, and by the mercilessness of chance I don't have the complacency of remembering its name. The particular actor who was hollering out this particular line did so in times of great personal anguish, in an attempt to imply to his co-characters that they needed to get lost, get out of his sight or go to hell. That was what I guessed he meant, but its hard to be absolutely certain of what someone other than yourself has in mind. So rather than trying to plunge into the deduction and interpretation and rendition of the statement, I'll try to confine myself within the bounds of semantics. In other words, without even bothering myself about WHAT THE HELL THAT JERK MEANT, I'll only try to get an idea of the meanings of the different words used in the sentence.

Being given to dealing with first things first, I'll start with the first word first. Now "blast" here doesn't mean an explosion or a blow. In this context it is used as an interjection, an abrupt emphatic exclamation expressing some emotion. "Blast" here stands for an exclamation of annoyance. As far as my knowledge of the usage of such words is concerned, I believe one could've used the term "damn" or "goddamn" or even "curse" as a safe altenative. So the statement could well be reconstructed as " Goddamn your red whiskers ".
The next two words in the combination are well understood. "Red" as an adjective could also indicate the property of something characterized by violence or bloodshed. However such a usage is ruled out by the presence of the last word in the sentence which happens to be "Whiskers", a noun in the context. Whiskers are the hair growing on the lower part of a man's face - that is the moustache ( and not beard, as most would conclude ). Moustache can definately be coloured red but not be violent or sanguinary. Therefore the "red" in the statement stands for the colour and not for anything else.

So in a layman's terms the statement could be put as " May god curse your Red Moustache ". It makes complete sense from the perspective of a student of semantics, but it hardly makes any from the perspective of a student of metaphysics.
The statement has an asthetic value as well. Each time I read the statement, the phrase "red whiskers" succeeds in creating an impact on the mind's eye whose vigour doesn't seem to lessen. How beautiful and soothing is this picture of Red Whiskers the mind creates. Red Moustache has something manly about it that one often relates with the masculine street hooligans from the West who are found on their Harley Davidsons loitering about with no particular purpose. How the idea of a white or a black or yellow-skinned man having his moustache coloured red fascinates us, no one can fathom, not to leave out the red heads. It has a hint of metrosexuality but that is OK in the modern times.

Although this statement is not so popular in the east as the traditional "f*** off" and "go f*** yourself" are, but I am quite sure it will definately be used a lot more in the times to come and will emerge as the hands down winner because not only is it less offensive but also is a newer concept and more esthetically pleasing to the ears.
So folks! Stop using the prehistoric obnoxious reprimands and start using the user friendly " Blast your Red Whiskers ".

The Unusual Story

Hi,
I am 20. I am married. I have a kid. And I am happy. I work hard. I study. I’m in college. I’m in the second year of my course. Nobody at college knows about my marriage. Only my family, relatives and a few close friends know about it. Strange as it may sound, ‘tis true.
I was 18 when I first met her. It was raining heavily. There was a chill in the air and the clouds were as close to earth as they ever have been. I was sitting at my favourite table (the one that faces the street) in my favourite café. And then I saw her coming towards the café. She was all wet and shivering. As she entered the café , her eyes looked searchingly everywhere for a place to rest. All the tables were taken. However I was alone and there was a chair vacant on my table. She asked if she could sit there. Any guy in my place who had his heart in the right place would have given the same answer to that rhetoric question. I was a generic guy. I was no exception to the standard rules. I was glad to have her company. We exchanged names. We talked a bit. Soon the rain stopped and it was time for us to part. However, god had his plans and she asked if “we could talk”. I said, “come lets take a walk”. That very moment we knew (or atleast I knew), we were made for each other. She promised to meet me there the next day. I went home. It was the happiest day of my life. But good things in life don’t come to you that easy. Through the illness of chance I wasn’t able to make it to the proposed place at the proposed chance. And it costed me dearly. She had probably left (if she had come at all). From then on I went to that café each day, for a week, in the hope that she’d come there. But she didn’t. I reflected sadly that it was the end.

But it wasn’t. A month later I met her at an Inter Institutional function in a college. I told her I had missed her and she told me that she couldn’t stop thinking about me. We found out that we had nothing in common, but nevertheless we kind of liked each other’s company and felt attracted towards one another. The law in Physics, about unlike things (poles or charges ) attracting each other had manifested itself in the biological domain of two specimens of the species called homo sapiens. Exactly seventy two days after our first meeting, we confessed we loved each other and soon this love found ways of expressing itself, like in the case of the birds, the bees and the butterflies. It is only human to err. Carnal sins seldom go unpunished (or unrewarded ). A month later she started having doubts of carrying our child. Girls have their means of knowing what is going on in their bodies. With the aid of a P-Kit we confirmed the doubt. I was deeply distressed but not even for a nanosecond did I feel the urge to leave her alone or ask her to undergo an abortion. We talked and decided that we’d give birth to the kid. We decided to get married. Initially our parents were against the idea and very adamant to have the abortion carried out. But she popped a few pills and it changed the parents’ perspective. Women can be irrational at times but they are the best judge of what’s to be done, for what they do produces quick results. Fortunately, she was entrusted to medical care before any harm could have reached her or the baby. And we were married in a quiet ceremony in the presence of our relatives and a few close friends. It was decided that she could live wherever she wanted. I thought it better that she stayed in her house. Having her in my home would have required a lot of explaining to a lot of people, most of who don’t think good for you. Unfortunately, because of all this I didn’t do well in the competitive exams that year. She however secured a seat in a good college. It was my decision that I let her join college and I dropped to prepare for the exams.

For about ten months I didn’t see her. I wasn’t with her even when she gave birth to our daughter. The kid stayed with my parents. That year I got selected in all the exams I appeared in and she completed her 1st year at college. So she became my senior (we had different fields of study though, not to mention that we were in different colleges). And then my parents and hers started treating us normally. My performance placated them. Time passed and we completed another year at college. We met only briefly the last year in December when our winter holidays clashed. She stays only a few hundred miles away from my college but we don’t have the time to meet. Right now we are focussing on our education and have nothing else in mind. My parents are looking after their grand daughter pretty well.

This year, finally I found time to spend with her. Both of us had long summer vacations. And she came over to stay at my place or rather our place. Neither of our parents had any objection to this. After all we’re married and doing well in college. Now we are both back to our colleges, but we can’t wait to get out of college. The day I graduate and get a job, telling my colleagues about my life and my wife will be the first thing. It’s sad that I have to keep them in the dark, but telling them about it will be another happy moment.

[ Fiction ]

There is Water in the Eyes of Bihar

Bihar was recently hit by a force majeure. For those who haven’t heard the term before, it refers to a natural and unavoidable catastrophe that interrupts the expected course of events, an act of God, a vis major. There was devastation, there was mayhem, dreams were shattered and lives were lost. The agent of the destruction was water, the life sustaining liquid and the universal solvent which caused many humans and their hopes to go into solution. It was a flood. A literal flood. And now, the eyes of those affected respond to the external stimulus.

Bihar has been battling with floods for about a month now. The ‘Sorrow of Bihar’, the river Kosi, which flows into India from Nepal, broke through an embankment changing its path and flowing on a course that it had 100 years ago. This caused the release of a large amount of water into the proximate villages. And because humans are not gifted with gills, this forced two million people to abandon their homes in six districts, where they were unprepared for such a disaster. The people who’ve lost their homes can’t expect to move back for two or three months or even more. Changing the natural course of a river takes time. Doesn’t it?

When the floods hit Bihar, the people swam through the torrents to seek survival, leaving their entire properties behind. Consequentially, hunger has become a tough challenge for the victims. Besides, people have incurred crop losses worth millions which implies that the struggle for food will remain even after flood waters recede. Besides, there has been a heavy loss of lives. According to rediff news, the death toll had reached 76 on the 30th of August. The living conditions of those who survived aren’t good either. They are falling prey to diseases. The possibility of an outbreak of epidemic can’t be ruled out either. Besides thousands of people are missing.

The whole of Bihar is affected by the floods in one way or another. The worst affected districts are Supaul, Saharsa, Madhepura, Purnia, Araria and Katihar. The Government of Bihar has taken and is still taking steps to provide rehabilitation and support to those victimised. Various NGOs are also monitoring the situation closely and are chipping in with significant contributions, but we must realise that it is not easy to recover from a calamity of this magnitude. According to New York Times, it is the worst flood in the area in 50 years. Due to the extent of the devastation, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh declared the floods as a national calamity. We must understand the gravity of the tragedy.

What is done can’t be undone. Being humans, we can only help those affected recover from the plight. And if all of us stand together and help those affected stand, the effort will be worth being called human. And it is not to be viewed as an obligation but as our responsibility to our fellows. After all, we belong the same species: we all are homo sapiens.

The Psychedelic Song

Getting Random is the key
To writing a song abstruse
I’m falling into the deep
The nations out there call a truce

The time is passing
I see the clock ticking
Is it Halloween today
People are trick or treating

My name’s just a word
With little meaning tomorrow
There are bombs everywhere
Humanity’s engulfed in sorrow

But giving up is not my style
I want my battles fought
The hero is in every one of us
The saviour we always sought

Green blood runs through their veins
Its redness lost in the greed
Is there someone who answers us?
And pays us for our deeds?

The road’s clear now
It’s wet and cold for treading men
I’ll rather take a walk through the woods
And write about it with my pen

Reaching milestones is easy
Erecting them takes courage
Long lost is the path of honour
Evades the endeavours by this age

I sink deeper and deeper
Into the blue and black
Going forever is easy as hell
The toughness is in staying back