Confessions of a born spectator

I need this world, yes, because only it can provide me the peace & detachment I need.  

Yes, I do take my existential swings way too seriously. It may be, that time in life, or that point in season, or that time of the month, or that day of the week, or that hour of the day, or, it may be not. 

Hosseini described  a man - so close to myself - a man who had spent his life sitting in the backside of a car, watching as the world went by in a blur - never taking the steering himself. Thats me. The observer sitting behind.

One infant grows up and becomes a jockey
Another plays basketball or hockey
This one the prize ring hates to enter
That one becomes a tackle or center
I am just glad as glad can be
That I am not them, that they are not me

Maybe answers don't exist. Maybe I know the answers already, but the search is just too much fun, too liberating - like a trance. But one still needs an audience. An observer seeking attention, because that is what he does best.

There is  something about despair - it gives you depth. It gives you a pedestal and the strength to stand on it alone, and rejoice. Happiness on the other hand is always conclusive...fulfilling. It fills that hollow, takes away the depth, it makes me forget - I would rather not.

Jezebel

Reach for the top she said
And the sun is gonna shine
Every winter was a war she said
I want to get what's mine…

Jezebel
Won't try to deny where she came from
You can see it in her pride
And the raven in her eyes
Try show her a better way
She'll say you don't know what you've been missing
And by the time she blinks you know she won't be listening

And another one

If ever the Devil was born without a pair of horns
It was you, Jezebel, it was you
If ever an angel fell
Jezebel, it was you, Jezebel, it was you

I came across the character Jezebel yesterday through Sade and the character clicked at first sight. I searched about her on net, but somehow before searching, I knew what I was going to find. A princess. Not necessarily a pretty one but a princess by birth and by heart. An Israeli princess, Jezebel is condemned of acting against god in one version and for dressing in finery and putting on makeup before she goes to death in another one. In modern usage, not to my surprise, Wiki says and I quote, “In modern usage, the name of Jezebel is sometimes used as a synonym for sexually promiscuous and sometimes controlling women”.

Sexually promiscuous. There is something inherently scary about a woman being sexually promiscuous. For an animal form, who by nature is supposed to be giving and nurturing, there is something so unsettling, so shocking, so unappetizing when she wants to be at a receiving end. Not supposed to ask, Jezebel is supposed to seduce. Not to take lead, but to charm and direct, less the princess be cheated or worse judged.

But nature has its own wonderful way and its design mocks this very social concept of hating and curbing Jezebels. Men are supposed to be direct and simple creatures. They have been provided in this way. The concentric set of nerves around their happy organ is designed to respond to even the most basic and routine stimulations. 
For women – the complicated ones, they say, the gift is that each one is wired as differently as the design of a butterfly’s wings. You need to work your way around. There is no wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. The nature’s design provides for a prolonged effort, for foreplay, for theatrics, for the knowledge, for the chase, for patience and for the eventual gratification.

Technically they say woman can have multiple orgasms. Factually 80% never climax from intercourse.
Socially, you are not supposed to be reading this. Psychologically, am not supposed to be thinking this.

From a culture where volumes have been written about pleasure, where scientific works are written on seemingly most insignificant  topics like techniques of perfuming of body in order to be prepared for the sexual act we have come so very far at our own loss. Reference here

Stay an angel; do not become a Jezebel, less you want to be called painted and immoral.

Casanovas be crowned, Jezebels be damned.

Reach for the top she said
And the sun is gonna shine
Every winter was a war she said
I want to get what's mine…

Its the way you make me feel

Don’t travel alone. Stay hungry, stay in dark, don’t go to school, don’t work, don’t step outside your house; if you have to, never do it alone; and while you are inside, watch out for cousins, uncles and fathers.

If you are a girl thinking this is one of those exaggerated feminists posts, try getting somewhere by taking a cab after 12 am in your city. If you are a guy thinking such horror stories happen in a parallel universe and you are not a part of it, good for you.

For the background, am staying at a reputable hotel in Churchgate, Mumbai – a well known posh and hence intuitively a safe area. A place with a good reputation. I am also a person of good reputation. So far, so good.

I am a person and I am entitled to have my dinner at 11:50 pm or whenever I want. I call up room service but due to pest control activity the kitchen is closed. The nearby Mc Donald delivers till 12, I call them up, register my number but its 11:57 now and they take orders only till 11:55. Sacrosanct deadlines, sure. Ok, McD is hardly 1 km away, I can take a cab. Its Mumbai after all.

Lesser traffic on roads but still people are there. I see a girl happily chatting, but she has 2 guys to give her company. Men, such a brave species!  I am already all alert with heightened senses, sixth included. A police jeep passes by, I feel relived – of what? So much trust can only be a mark of a weak or of a fool. Subconsciously I scan the drivers of the cabs lined up ahead. This one looks old and genuine.

“Colaba, Mc Donalds”, I feign a strong stern confident voice. I am petrified.

Meter down, yes am going okay, roads are emptier, but I just saw a Jaguar. That is reassuring – why!?

The taxi is at a decent speed, If I have to jump down will I be hurt a lot…why did I lose my pepper spray…he interrupts.

“Madam aap Colaba rehti hain?” Is he trying to figure out why am I traveling alone at this hour? What if am not going home? What if I am going for a party? Will he judge me? Should I be going home?

“Nahin bhaiya, vapas aana h, 5 min ruk ke” I talk in straight and crisp voice. “Aap rukenge?” May be that’s  why he had asked me. See, old he is, he is a good person after all. Its Mumbai remember, and I just saw a Jaguar on road. It all fits, I must be safe.

“Koi ni mein wait karlunga, aap khana le aaiye. Kaam ki bhi baat karni h”

“Accha. Kya kaam ki baat karni h” I am near Mc Donalds now. I fake a respectful and curious voice. I don’t want to warn him, I don’t want to sound scared. I want him to let me get off the taxi.

“Madam mein film story writer hun”  my alarm bell goes off. I still can’t afford to offend or warn him. Who knows.

Does he think am a prostitute, does he think am some struggler new to Mumbai and he can use me or something, but I boarded taxi from a reputable location…aren’t these people found in some fixed red areas..

 Am out of taxi, I feign a phone call.

“Yeah I am just outside, McD…coming up 2 minutes”

“Bhaiyya tym lag jayega, aap nikal jaiye”  see am being reasonable. So please if you are a rapist, don’t hold any grudge against me, and don’t lurk in the corner when I go back.

I take my parcel from McD, now I should cross the road and get a taxi from the other side. I must be looking really vulnerable with this packed McD bag and drink, I cross the road. There are still some people on the road, it is not that eerie. 2-3 people are standing over there and chatting near cars, they look alright. Should I walk near them and wait for a taxi. Why are they looking at me weirdly? A taxi comes and stops in front of me. A quick look at the driver and I shook my head and tell him to move ahead. Second cab driver came, he also stopped without me giving him any signal. A blue cab – a cool cab – safer?

“Churchgate?”

“Vaise to VT ja raha hun, but thik h baitho” You are not supposed to be on road, I will do a favor , am going VT, but still I will drop you. Or just get inside, I will rape you.

“Nai aap jaiye, koi ni” Polite again. I am already pleading, for what?

Another taxi  is coming, I stop this one waving my hand and exuding confidence.

“Churchgate”

“Signal se hi left nhi lega churchgate pe, only right”

“Koi ni aap signal pe hi utar dena” See I know my way around here, I am not new, beware!

I sit in the cab and take out my phone. Another feigned call.

“Yep I got the cab, and food too, come at the signal I will meet you there. Hardly 2 minutes. Yes, just took a left now, coming coming” See am on phone, somebody knows where I am, beware!

I dial 100 on phone, just one button and there will be call, just in case…

He drops me at my place and I in my head I thank him with all my heart. I cross the road and walk quickly to my hotel. I am inside my room. Its only 12:20. Its been only 20 minutes. Not feeling hungry anymore. I am shaking.

I have only one thought in my mind,” I am not supposed to feel this way”

If only men were this scared of letching and committing sexual crimes.

I wonder, if I go out every day after 12 am outside, how many days after which I will be eventually raped.

Resident Evil

(for Devansh, my kid bro)

Its just a damn almirah. Its not even cursed, its end of the day now, I have had a fucked up day , which is not rare thing to happen , coz am just 17 and the whole world seems to be plotting against me all the time. 

But still it was just a holiday, and the least you expect is from a termite ridden, antique stuffed, god forsaken almirah...

So morning happened, the almirah had to be repaired, seriously how much big deal it is really to take the books etc out and keep it back? The mender guy is supposed to come and fix it then. Where is the crazy part in this? Sounds like a perfect weekend chore to me. But then, all the nonsense. The utter urgency of making everything so big and complicated and task and issue and what not. Didn't someone tell them that there can be more than one right way to get the books out right. OMG! its just books!!

Anyway, I had had just enough quota of  baseless morning growling, i decided to get to a friend's place...you see I have to device such cooling down techniques , because I am not allowed to shout back or even react to the craziness of it all!!!

But wait, the shouting doesn't stop haunting me, even if I cross the perimeter of my house. And didn't I just mention, am in "the 12th standard" also. Bite me!! So how can i possibly perceive the idea that I'l be allowed to visit my friend's place and get to watch the movie on the very same date!! Here comes the phone call with some more bashing. Another fun fact. I had plans to watch Resident Evil 5 on that very blissed day. 

Anyhow, i left my friend's place and took the metro to watch the movie as planned. Mr. Murphy in all his glory, decided to tag along. One thing i don't understand, what is it about making plans with friends that you always mess up your metro stations?? Why  does it become so confusing, where to get down, which friend will join from which station, why all the halla ballo?? Anyways, I got down at the wrong station, doubled back, god help me, took a detour even at the metro station coz of some closed gate....reached Satyam cineplex finally.

The evil follows.

"Wait you can not go inside. You are carrying a hard disk". What really! Okay take it, let me go. But the curse will not let me  get to the movie on time. 4 gaurds against me, and none of them had the sense to keep it with them. They can carry apples and chocolates and water bottles but not a hard disk! Why thou evil ! why!!?? Anyway i had the special, "I will fix it" friend. He talked to him , the hard disk was settled and the dearie handed me my ticket.

Wth!! I already had  bought my ticket!! What!! I had already bought two for us, while I was waiting!! FYI, it was worth 200. God help me now.

We finally made it to the hall, watched the last 30 minutes of Resident Evil @twice the rate.

Am home now. Accused of loafing the whole day without studying. What more am all grumpy, and am accused of typical teenage broody behavior. Who the hell invented this theory! The almirah is still not fixed and my room is a mess.

No i did not miss the movie. The resident evil is right here.

Just a thought

Just a thought…

(the following was written during my second week at IIMA, for entry into the prestigious Media club.
Now when I read it again, after spending 3 months here, and just one month before placements,
I am pleasantly surprised by the over optimistic tone of it all. Probably the reason it was rejected.
Its surprising how the mental state has shifted within this time span; instead of being more aware,
I find myself all the more narrow minded, targeting "consults" and what not, and forgetting, what I 
actually used to think and believe before coming here. Read on.)

I always thought I needed an eight hour sleep. I thought I could not and would not do without it.

I always knew there were super achievers out there, people with a sense of purpose, the work
hard- party harder lot – I thought I never bothered to be one of them.

I thought MBA was just a rat race. I thought IIM A was just another branded college.

One WAC, Two quizzes, Three weeks, dozen interactions and innumerable deadlines forward I
feel different…well I also feel tired but, but most importantly I feel capable.

For the ones who have lived in hostels before, they will realize that there is something about
the hospitality of the dorms with that fridge and that oven; the luxury of these rooms with that
white board and intercom facility; something has come around, it says you are no more just a
bachelor degree holder now, you deserve better things, once here…you are someone important
now, someone capable.

The place disregards all. With the tucchas gymming and playing tennis at 12 am, lecture halls
being used for ppts at 3 am in night, fucchas flocking CT for group assignments at 4 am, there is
an utter disregard for the sense of time. Then there is utter disregard for dressing congruously.
In the place where one would expect a batch of 400 students crisply dressed in formals
attending lectures, one finds shorts and tracks and beige capris. But then the realization comes
that the disregard is only for the things which are trivial. If you have work to do, the ticking of
clock has got nothing to do with it; the guy attending class in those ragged shorts is perhaps- as
far as the definition of student goes- the most ideal student, the next big CEO. The place gives
you an option to have a completely new view of what is trivial and what is important.

There is no room for procrastination, the place is alive 24 hours, and it demands the same from
you. Doesn’t matter in what heights or depths of self-esteem you hold yourself, this place does
bring out the best in you; it makes you capable and it makes you feel it. It tells you every day
that you are -as the campus tee-shirt rightly puts it - not just another brick in the wall.

Yes it’s a rat race, but it’s not just a rat race. It’s as much about Frisbee @LKP and Ram bhai’s
chaai as it is about placements. And if you cannot find the balance now, perhaps you never will;
all IIM A does is, it gives you a chance every single day. A chance to choose, to prioritize, to
learn.

You decide Phoebes.

“But time…how time first grounds us and then confounds us. We thought we were being mature when we were only being safe. We imagined we were being responsible but were only being cowardly. What we called realism turned out to be a way of avoiding things rather than facing them. Time…give us enough time and our best-supported decisions will seem wobbly, our certainties whimsical.” – The sense of an ending.

Sounds correct, feels logical, what do I know, might as well be true. So if time has such ways of creating illusions and be the bitch in our lives, what really should decide the right and the wrong of a decision because whatever you decide, time will play its card just at the wrong time.

One of my friends had said, “No decision is wrong”

How lovely would it be to agree and adhere to this thought!

How liberating…from relations, the concept of career and materialism (or luxury as I laud it).

Even a layman has the sense to say, chuck it if you don’t like it…but what do I know about what I really like or not. I mean spend enough time; habit gives way to tolerance, acceptance, then dependence and then…then time out. There…you have completed your exile in your safety zone.

The demarcation between courage and idiocy; maintaining a positive attitude and being a perpetual idiot; working on a relation and being dragged by it; your dreams and those shown by the others; love and sex; is nothing but a cruel joke played by time. You think you are on your preferred side of that line….only time would tell where you stood.

Times like these the only safe thing to do is to perhaps find comfort with a novel in a café…

Aww Man!

I like men. Love some of them too. Some I despise. Others I don’t bother about. For the rest, I maintain my prejudices.  With the Harper’s , as the phrase goes, I have done it all, didn’t bother , then liked, then hated, then loved , laughed, and slept,  as I finally got bored of them all! 

6 seasons forward, I am not claiming myself to be an expert on the series, and this might not be a complete and objective and critical and analysis of the series; just a blog to bitch about the banality of it.

A person grows in a breakup or ruins himself, Allen harper, lives in a Malibu beach house, gets himself a hooker when bored. His failure is perennial. Divorced Allen, Allen living in his brother’s house, Allen with no money, Allen not ‘getting any’, chiropractor Allen, oh give me a break. Or give me more punches in the show.

Jake Harper, I had really believed would grow up and bring some sort of spark to the show. But no, if any man, i.e. a jerk with a penis as they have defined it, is worth glorifying, it’s Charlie Harper only.  It does show utter lack of creativity on the part of show makers, that they have totally wasted the half man’s angle. I mean yes, a dumb farting glutton teenager is funny, but more so is  a Jake grown up to be charming Charlie’s dates away from him. Point being, looser is funny, but not every time!

The endless series of blondes in the show suck, Evelyn Harper is repeatedly ignored, called “soulless” and “not nurturing”, oh well, please check how nurturing these guys are to Jake, anyways, so the same striped coffee mugs, even the breakfast table conversation is same; it’s like watching the same episode again and again, sometimes even the dialogues and the phrases used are the same, the only variety being in the design of the negligees of the blondes.

The hedonist lifestyle of Charlie is supposed to be the backbone of the show, so it’s about a lot of action, but then just sex it is. Unless you really are showing something, tell me what should I watch for on the show, and how hilarious should I find the contrast between a Charlie, sapped of his bodily fluids and an Allen, making himself a cup of hot chocolate on a Saturday night.

Apparently Charlie dying in the coming seasons will be a big twist in the show. I hope Ashton Kutcher  brings more to the show than his looks and “you know what”.  Awwmen.