One night @ My room

9.53 p.m.

Tommorrow , I have my "Retail Management" exam.When I opted for this course , I wanted to learn about retail chains , franchise system , merchandise management ,retail communication mix and other such terms which are complex names for things which are common sense.I took this course so that I can pick up these complex terms and throw them around when I start working. That should make me look learned even if the number of meaningful suggestions I give are comparable to the number of Gandhi Peace awards in Osama Bin Laden's collection.

So tomorrow is my exam.I plan to jot down general observations as the night progresses. My hostel stay shall end in four months from now. So I want to record random moments from my hostel life. I have downloaded the course presentations and chapter slides our professor uploaded on the Institute online board.So now I am going to minimise this notepad window and study.Wish me luck.

Between , isn't this "wish me luck" a stupid thing to ask ? I do not think you will fold your fingers into a fist , pump the air thrice , clench your teeth and mutter "Go blast the exams.Best of luck". It is strange why people say such things .Now I am going to study.

11.27 p.m.

Imagine an Ambassador car.1985 model. Red colored. Dusty. Old. Imagine a fat and dark guy with a grumpy face in the driver's seat. Imagine a fat lady with bright red lipstick on her pouty lips and her hair tied in a big bun , sitting in the seat besides him. Imagine their three kids quarelling in the back seat. Imagine yourself pushing this car for the length of a football field. Imagine how tired you will feel after doing that.Right now , I feel that tired.

Because I spent the last half trying to let out a baby bat that had found its way into my room.The dense vegetation and all the lakes in the campus makes it an attractive place for fish , ducks , snakes , bats and criminals looking to dump deadbodies. So at around 10.50 , I noticed a little baby bat flying in vicious circles just below the roof of my room. I got up and opened the door and the windows. But the little bat had learnt no other shape except the circle in his geometry class.

I folded a copy of businessworld in a makeshift baton and waved it at him. I yelled "Hoosh Hoosh" ,"Bhaag ja" ,"get lost" , "its my exam" ,"please leave" , "wo dekh window" and "saale kutte" at it . I played 'Dholna extended -Ila Arun remixed' , a song I find disturbing enough to make a lion vacate his cage , but the little bat kept at showing me his circular flying skills. Five minutes ago , he realised that I was not going to give him any Air Force medal or even a 'nice flying' remark , so he shot out of the window. Between , studies are ok.

1.05 am

Just found the album "aadat" on the LAN. It is by the pakistani group "Jal". My tastes suck. I choose maroon trousers at a clothes store and always pick the cheapest flavor at an ice cream parlor. But trust me on this , the track "Aadat si hain" , "Dil Haray" , "Panchhi" ,"Woh Lamhey" , infact all the tracks in this album are beautiful. Their numbers evoke a sense of nostalgia and dig up all the black and white memories about that pretty girl you could never talk to without stammering , about dried rose petals placed between yellowed pages , about all that sentimental memories which earns big bucks for mushy mushy movie directors and wrecks the 'retail management' exams of business school students.

3.42 am

This is a snapshot of my desktop a couple of minutes back. You see this music video playing , I swear on Sharmila Tagore's dimples , I found it in the folder containing the chapter slides uploaded by our professor. I thought it was the "Trading area analysis" chapter , but it turned out to be this. Do not believe this . Chill, just taking a 15 minute break and watching random music videos.Can you identify the one playing ?

3.52 am

I feel very tired now.I think I will go downstairs with P and have a cup of tea.P usually makes me pay for his tea too.But that is all right , much better than asking a baby bat to leave my room. Between , studies are on track. I learnt a few things.Picked up some retail jargon . And it makes me feel good. Imagine this :

*Six months from now*

Me in a business meeting.Polished Round table.Me and other team members sitting around it.

Lily ( my imagined boss ) - I am so confused . I am so troubled. I do not know how to boost profits for our product ! Someone help me !

John ( my imagined colleague ) - Err..ummm...

Michael (my other imagined colleague ) - Cough Cough Cough..ahem..cough cough..ahem...

Julie ( my another imagined colleague ) - Err..I think...I think...

Me :

*flashes a superior smirk* *flicks back a lock of hair falling over the forehead*

Piece of cake guys.We just need to implement dollar control which involves planning and monitoring a retailer’s financial investment in merchandise over a stated period .I could have suggested unit control , which relates to the quantities of merchandise a retailer handles during a stated period , but then according to the George Keller framework of analysis ,valuation errors are reduced when conducting a physical inventory since merchandise value is recorded at retail and costs do not have to be decoded.So it is clear , L Hospital rule is the way to boosted profits .

*again flicks back a lock of hair falling over the forehead and flashes the smirk*

John ( with his mouth open so wide so as to allow a Tata Sumo in it )- Holy cow !!!

Michael ( cowering in shame ) - Someone flush me down some toilet.I dont want to live when we have such genius people roaming the planet.

Julie - Man !! You are a genius !!! Will you marry me ?!

Lily - Guruji !!! You are promoted to the CEO position !!!

8.48 am

Shucks.I slept off.Just got up five minutes back.Exam in few hours.I must forget all about toothbrush , newspaper , breakfast and other morning activities and just study now. Over and out. And now if I flunk , you know you have to blame a baby bat , a dream about an office meeting ,and a pakistani music band.

Random Insights

I feel very disorganised right now.So expecting me to put down something organised would be like expecting Udham Singh from District Jharsa , Haryana to win the International Crossword Championship held at Los Angeles .So it is tough to expect something sensible from me , more so right now .But I just want to blabber.I can chat with some of my friends here.But they are in the class and I am the only one on my hostel floor to bunk the class.So I am alone.So I will just put down random things in my head -

~~I have exams in three days.And I do not care.The grades for the first four terms matter for the placements.This is term 5. So I do not care about these exams.I will study a little .But at a broad level , the only thing I am taking to the exam hall is myself , and a pen.Or maybe I will borrow the latter in the hall itself.

~~I feel tired of all these submissions and deadlines and reports.Here in IIM , a deadline is never like 12 am.It is 11:59:59 pm.And over the last week , I have submitted papers on Co-branding , launch strategy for a hair oil , a analysis of the Indian Film Industry , a case about some gujarat gas company , a 'detailed look' at the Indian pharmaceutical industry , and a lot of other perfectly uselss and yet graded assignments I do not even want to remember.But yeah , FMS , Delhi organised a contest where we had to design a strategy for selling a "mosquito attractor".I submitted that a couple of days ago and that was fun.Even if we do not win , me and my pals had a great time laughing our intestines out working over this one.Meanwhile , you got any ideas on how to sell it ? As a snippet , our proposed strategy included launching the Mosquito attractor in three variants - Dengue Deluxe , Malaria Masti and A No-Frills variant.

~~I am changing the look of this blog and my blog identity because I feel bored of the black color of this blog and I feel bored of same old name I have had for 24 years .And I get to pick the name of my most favorite character , who is almost an idol - Jughead.I love and respect Jughead.When I was a kid , I forced my mom to stitch a 'Jughead Hat' , if you know what it is.I even wore it to school a couple of times .All the kids pointed at my head and laughed.But I love Jughead.

~~My movie watching frequency is dipping .It scares me.A movie is to me what a bone is to a doggie and what google is to an engineering student - indispensable.I was an engineering student too , and I used google for all the C codes.In my opinion , a major part of the education system is supported by Google. Anyway , I want to get my movie watching ways back to their vintage and glorious standards.Two nights back , I watched "The Terminal".With Tom Hanks in it and the entire movie shot in an airport terminal , I found it delightful. Finding Nemo and Crash lined up for tonight. I just hope no deadlines come up tonight.

~~I talked to my sister a couple of days ago.I asked her how she was.She said she was feeling a little upset.I told her not to feel that way , and told her that I would be coming home soon.She said that she felt very very upset on knowing that.

~~The european students who studied here for some months as part of a exchange program , are about to go back to their universities in a few days.I have become friends with a french guy .I taught him a little hindi over his stay here .When he came out of the hall after a class test , he is reported to have uttered "Man , this test was Ullu ka Pattha".I am proud of him.The Indian heritage of its foul words shall travel to France soon.

~~There is some problem with my Yahoo Messenger .So I am chatting to this friend at 2 in the morning.He is telling me about some girl who rejected his proposal and almost slapped him in a crowded mall.He is upset and down and heart broken.My YM gets stuck.The friend thinks I have went away without even telling him.I go to sleep and wake up and login to YM to find these offliners from him-

"Bastard."
"Do you IIM snobs want a fat salary for saying a simple goodbye too?"
"Bastard."

Perfect start to my day , I think.

~~I think I should study now.After all , I have these Ullu ka Pattha tests in three days.

Linkin Park

I want to share a couple of links.

You may find this a load of words with no practicality.But I have read this a lot of times.And yet , I want to read this again , partly because my IQ level requires that I read a thing many times to understand it , and partly because reading it helps me keep my perspective in place :

http://www.saigon.com/~anson/ebud/ebdha063.htm

A fellow IIMian was murdered.But more importantly , a fellow human was killed. Maybe India mein kuch change nahi ho sakta , but then , I got to do what I got to do.Please follow the online petition link and sign it if you want to :

http://manjunathshanmugam.blogspot.com

I am disabling comments on this thing , because I am just serving as a medium here.But in case you really need to let me know about something , mail me at abhi844@yahoo.com.Even if you hate me , do not send any virus.

Broke Bloke

Suddenly , I find a lot of deadlines in my life .Submissions and papers and reports.So I spent the last night preparing a presentation on the analysis of the movie “Remember the Titans” for a behavioral course of mine. I forgot most of the things during the presentation in the class . I said stupid things such as “This movie is not about just football. It is about motivation , leadership , and…and…well , a lot of things” and “The central character in this movie is Coach Boone , who is a coach” . Life is a little hurried these days.

But everyday, after chomping on some unidentified un-flying object for breakfast at our mess, I fill a cup of hot steaming tea, and go to the little ‘terrace’ kind of thing we have in our hostel. Do not have visions of those Rs.57 lac apartments which have terraces and owners with French poodles as pets and three ultra long cars down in the parking lot. The terrace at our hostel is a very poor cousin of those blessed terraces .Our terrace is much more unglamorous . It has got some empty beer bottles stacked in a corner and a couple of dominoes pizza cartons thrown in another and even a broken washbasin lying in another . But every morning , I go there after my breakfast .The sunshine feels warm , and I sip the tea , and I flip through a copy of the Economic Times and say “Hey ram , these guys are as boring as a radio on mute , where is the filmy gossip part ?”. I find ET boring. There are so few pictures, and the few it has are of currency notes and smiling executives and sensex charts . But that is not the point right now . I liked this terrace thing, until around 10.15 am today morning.

Because as I stood in the sunshine and stared at the horizon and lazily sipped the tea and wondered why a lovely girl like Kajol married Ajay Devgan , our hostel washerwoman passed by . I looked at her , she looked at me , and somebody in a room nearby , started playing “Humne tum ko dekha , tumne hum ko dekha , aise , hum tum sanam , laakho janam , milte raho ho jaise.” Ok , nobody played the song .Instead , this followed –

Washer woman – “ Aaj aap paise denge kya ?”

Me ( looking straight down in the cup of tea)- “ Jee…umm..actually..”

Washer woman – “Saab , pichle mahine ka bhee rehta hai 200 rupya….”

Me( thinking that the tea should have had more milk in it )-“ Jee , main samajhtaa hun , but main kya karu….”

Washer woman ( looking amused ) – “Saab , main saamne hoon , chai ke cup mein nahin.”

Me (looking up at her) – “He he…umm , dekhiye , main aapke paise pakka dunga , and jaldi hee dunga , please kuch time de deejiye.”

She let me go with a “Theek hai saab , but please jaldee paise de dena.”

24 carat gold. That is what her heart is . You can make a dozen gold biscuits by melting her heart. She let me go. Because she understands the plight of a man who is broke.

Yes , I am broke. Kangaal. I was not this way since my birth . I was born in a financially stable family. My dad is a doctor and mom is a doctor and though things would have been much better if they were into selling kidneys and other money making ventures , things were ok .And so they were till a amavass ki raat , couple of weeks ago , when my dad called up. My dad is as predictable as a hindi movie , when he calls me up.

Dad – “Haan bete”

Me – “Haan papa”

Dad – “Everything fine ? ”

Me – “Perfect , papa.How is everything at home ? ”

Dad – “Perfect , bete.”

Now , I swear on Hema Malini’s eyes , Dad always asks about the weather in Kolkata after this. But this night , he did something else .

Dad – “Munnu, you withdrew more cash from the ATM , did you?”

Me-“Yeah , went out to eat some popcorn , and needed the money for that .”

Dad – “So you bought some popcorn with that money.”

Me – “Yeah, salted popcorn , and a little ticket for the movie I watched while eating it.”

Dad – “Ok. See, munnu, you shall be managing a family of your own in some years”.

Dad went on to mention terms such as money management , kid’s fees , life insurance policy , money management , family budget , house loan and money management. But then I decided to join in the conversation and before I knew , Dad was mentioning phrases such as “how dare you reply to me like that”, “what do you mean” , “shut up” , “shut up I say”. And I ended the conversation with a “Ok , main aapko apne pairo pe khade hokar dikhaunga”.I hate it when I remember dialogues from hindi movies.

So now I am standing on my own feet , without any money .Things between me and dad are fine again , and he has been asking about the Kolkata weather with no mention of ATM card over the last six calls. But I feel I have been spending too much , it is like my “andar ka accha beta” has woken up and decided to save daddy’s money .

So I have kept away my ATM card and decided not to touch it before a specified date. And the side effects have been quite stirring. I have seven rupees as my cell balance now. I am fine as long as I talk to people who call me up. I am fine as long as I do not call back boys who give me a missed call and expect me to call back. But I get restless if some girl gives me a missed call and expects me to call back. In such a situation , and with seven rupees as my cell balance , I am unable to call back and am left watching my interaction with the female species drop to abysmally low quantity.

The hostel departmental store wallah observes the change in my eating habits.

Me – “Woh ‘Hide and Seek’ pack kitne ka hain ?”

Store guy – "12 rupya"

Me – “Oh , who Bourbon pack kitne ka hain ?”

Store guy – "15 rupya"

Me – “Ok.cool.Ek Parle G de do.”

Store guy – “Kya dada aap bhee , IIM mein bada paisa wala naukri milta hai aap logo ko , tab bhee Parle G ?”

Me – “Swad bhare , shakti bhare , barson se .Parle G !”

I wish I could tell you I love Parle G , but I cant tell you this , because I don’t like Parle G . But with a three rupee price tag , it looks like a juicy pizza to me these days.

I have to buy a gift for my sister and send it to her as promised. I have no money to buy that right now. I researched on the internet.A survey said that less than ten percent of shoplifters get caught .I plan to make my move next weekend .I be in the ninety percent , and my sister gets her deserved gift.

And I have been participating in a lot of business school contests who have these big monetory prizes.So half the day , I am mixing up a lot of stuff in a word document and writing my name on its cover and sending it as an attachment with a mail that sound like this –

Hi,

Please find attached my submission towards the marketing paper writing contest being organised by your institute.Thanks.

PS - I am unimaginably poor."Ghar ka karz" , "chote bhai ki fees" , "behan ka dahez" , you name it , and I have to pay for it.So Please help me win.I need it.I shall gift you a dry fruits pack if I win.Promise.

I have not won any contests till now.But a couple of NGOs are willing to sponsor me after some of these business schools forwarded my mail to them.

And in case you need some help in preparing power point presentations, writing reports or applications , editing images , leaving comments on blogs , googling information , hacking your company website , sending hate mails or any other kind of appropriate cyber activity , I am your guy .At very reasonable rates. Completely secure online payment facilities. Now I shall go.I have to work on a essay called “What I want to be when I grow up” for my seven year old cousion.He needs to submit this essay at his school by this weekend.This essay is not so challenging , as every child thinks he wants to be a pilot or film star , till he grows up and daddy tells him to be an engineer. . It is rather easy writing this essay .But tell you what , he is paying some damn good money . I just hope that somehow , someday , when the washerwoman asks “saaab , paise denge kya ?” , I wont have to look down into the teacup.

Nattu bann gaya CD

Hi , I am 21 , Male , Single .I want to know you more .Please Please Please talk to me !!! Mail me at Romantic_bandar @ single-apes.com

Like a good masoom seedha saadha Indian Citizen , I should warn you beforehand – Highly senseless and Hindi ridden post ahead. You better watch TV instead. Or listen to backstreet boys instead . Or take a bath instead .

This post is inspired by the numerous cyber guys who would give their pancreas , large intestine and liver to talk to a female. Some facts have been modified to protect the privacy of some individuals. The views expressed are entirely and stupidly MINE , intent is not to offend anyone , but just to express my amusement. But if you are actually offended , I can’t help it. All I can offer is an apology in anticipation.

*****************

There is a blog which is maintained by a girl. Some days ago , I find this comment to one of her posts -

*****
hi ,

Blah Blah Blah ( you know , all that nice blog , cute blog , sweet blog , mast blog , coochie coochie blog types formalities )

I wanted to know u more, plz drop in a mail to me

Cool_dude231@aao_chat_kare.com
*****

So I was like “Hmm , must be from a boy’s school .Theek hai , itne saal ladko ke beech , thoda sa direct hai…fine.”

Two days later , I find this comment on the same blog by the same guy –

****
Blah Blah Blah.

aur haan , agar time ho , then i wud really like to chat with u.
*******

So I was like “Oh , must be from a boy’s school and must be having no girls in his colony. Theek hai , na school mein ladkiyan , na colony mein , thoda chipku types organism hai…fine.”

Two more days , another comment .Same blog.Same guy.

********
hey, sach , i want dosti .
Can we chat sometimes on yahoo etc

Cool_dude231@aao_chat_kare.com

************

So I was like “Whoa ! Is it a bird ? Is it a plane ? No , wait ! It’s a CD !”

CD ? Now before the techno geek in you thinks Compact Disk , let me explain. And in a tribute to all the dadi ma log of this world who have long serenaded the colony kids pappu , gappu , pinki and dinky by their stories , let me explain in the way of a little story.

Ek CD ka janam :Ek ladke ki tanhaayi ki sacchi kahaani

Once upon a time , there was a boy called Nattu , who lived in the remote village of Ramgarh in some remoter state of India.

Now Nattu had a very deep interest in girls .Nattu cut out pictures of bollywood actresses from Hindi Newspapers ( primarily Punjab Kesri , and some other ‘chatpati khabron” wale papers ) and kept them in a little wooden box and dreamt of having a girlfriend of his own . He spent 25 minutes before the mirror on a daily basis and moved a comb in his ‘chameli ka tel’ oiled hair to grab the hairstyles of Ajay Devgan or Anil Kapoor or Mithun Chakraborty. But haye yeh bedardi zamaana, uske gaon ki kisee kanya ne Nattu ko nahi daala daana .

So Nattu kept to cutting out pics of Mamta Kulkarni and Juhi Chawla and Kimi Katkar ( Kimi who ? Abbe HUM nahi dekhi ? The Jumma Chumma kudi ) from Hindi newspapers and wondering when he would find some girlfriend.

Then one fine day , Nattu’s Dad – Chaudhari Kartaar Singh , and their neighbour Chaudhari Lalkaar Singh were sitting under the village Banyan tree in their baniyans .Over long and gurgling blows on the wooden hukka they were sharing , Chaudhari Lalkaar singh bragged about his son Lallan finally moving onto class 3 after spending three years in class 2 . Chaudhari Kartaar Singh felt offended at this unwanted bragging .

Within three minutes , Chaudhari Kartaar Singh and Chaudhari Lalkaar Singh resorted to physical fighting and were rolling in the dust while tearing at each other’s clothes with elaborate referrals to each other’s sisters and mothers in their native language. Villagers managed to separated them , but not before they had broken the hukka , torn apart each other’s baniyaans and threatened to murder each other’s cattle .After this , Chaudhari Kartaar Singh went home , beat his wife Laajwaanti , gulped down three bottles of Haywards 5000 and yelled “Mhaara Beta bhee Sakoool Jayega !”.( My sonny boy shall attend school too ! )

So Nattu hoped he would be able to work his imagined charm on the girls in his class now . But Nattu was heartbroken again , to find that he was being sent to “Ramgarh Senior Boys School”. So even though Chaudhari Kartaar Singh could now sit proudly under the Banyan Tree and proclaim about his son spending years in the same class , Nattu was all the more frustrated . He tried to woo the RaamPyaari , who sold cheap ice creams near his school gate , but was promptly beaten up by the Pappu Muscle , brother of RaamPyaari and the reigning champion at the “Ramgarh wrestling tournament” organized by the local Hanumaan Akhaada on an annual basis .

And then , it happened.

Nattu was introduced to a computer in class 9 .And with it came internet .The revolution.

Messenger. Chat rooms. Orkut. Blogs.

The world was his playground. And the world’s cyber girls were his potential girlfriends.

Nattu picked up Salmaan Khan’s image for his profile pic , learnt some basic “ hi hello how are you thank you” English , stretched his fingers on the keyboard and unleashed his desperate fury …..Nattu bann gaya Cyber Despo !

*****

And the cyber world is bubbling with such Cyber Despos right now. I am not talking about the thing where guys and girls around the cyberspace log on , indulge in harmless banter , a bit of leg pulling , silly talk and then log off . It happens all the time and isn’t anything too freaky for me .

I am talking about this exotic breed of guys who continue to amaze me with their amazingly low sense of self respect and amazingly high need to talk to a girl. I mean , the way they sound desperate , I guess they must be going around pleading “please talk to me” before electric poles in some time . I mean, I don’t know if girls like such guys , but I would have been a girl , I would have been like “Abbe , itna desperate kyun hai mere laal ? ”.Before I end , some real scraps left by guys on girl’s orkut scrapbooks -

Salaam... u look so cute...u look sort of simplicity...wana be my friend...

( No thank you , and if I look ‘sort of simplicity’ , you look ‘sort of stupidity’ )

friend so sweet as me
u wont have else 2 see
wanna have an awesome twosome rap
then drop a word in my little scrap.
hi, love to have me ur friend?
u'll be gettin such sweeties ,i send

( Arre Baba Sehgal jee , aap orkut par ? )

hey hi hw r u du hve any yahoo id of urs

( Yess yess yess I have a yahoo id : sis_of_tyson . Wanna chat ? )

Hi....hand of friendship......wanna hold? :)

( Hand of friendship ? Uee ma ! What happened to your own hands ? )

hello mam u havent told me abt what ur doing....
i m not like all guy present here in ur scrap book.....if u r intrested in reply then only i'll write u scrap more....otherwise i wont write u ny more...
so dear just like a good frd tell me something........

( Hai allah , kitna self esteem se bharpooor ladka hai , subhaan allah ! )

hi
what r u dooing now a days bcoz u stopped scapping me please reply i'll wait four your reply

( It is so moving to hear that you would wait four me. I will wait five you )

Twenty aur Troubly

I am a very rude boy , the type who pushes old ladies off escalators , but I have to say this . I think if anyone takes out some time to leave a comment on this blog , even if the comment is about some Russian Matrimonial Website , it is my responsibility to reply to that comment .I mean , its like someone says "hi" to me , so I need to say something back to him/her.But one fine day , I come back from my class , kick off my shoes , log on and see 55 comments on a post of mine.So I forget my responsibility and choose to say a combined THANK YOU to all those who left a comment to the last post.I am grateful to all of you.It's not that I am like "Seee , I got a comment !!" . It's like when you left a comment , you spent some of your time saying something to me , even though you could have saved that time .So thanks to all those who commented on the last post and to those who mailed me --

ashu , sayesha , ruchita , meena jee , nidhi , viv , divya , mani , viveka , zarine , neetie , samir , ajay , vidya , handa , hari , karthika , fathima , senorita , aastha , phoenix , kanika , cactus , vidhi , deepako , rusted , shreyansh , vikram , tinkerbell , antonio , rana saab , entrance exams wale bhaiyya , myth , rinku , the dq , pratik , ck , ruchika ,all the anonymous angels and devils , stuti jee , sunshine and of course , yossarian .

****************************
If I say I need more time to blog , it’s like Bill Gates saying “Hey, can you lend me a dollar?”. My typical day is made up of a couple of classes, some Business school contests, some table tennis and movies. So I can fit in blogging. But blogging is like making a baby pee , you cannot force it , it just happens. I don’t want to make anyone click on this blog and find no new post and be like “Kalmoohe , khud ko kya Vikram Seth samajhtaa hain ? Naya Post karrne mein itne nakhre !” , but what do I do ? The baby decides to pee when it does. Anyways , now that baby says “Uwwaan Uwwaaan ( Remove my diaper idiot , I want to peeeee )” , I shall blog .

Now I see Miss.Zarine has tagged me. And the tag is kind of troubly. ( I know Troublesome is the right word , and ‘Troubly’ is no word ,but I used ‘Troubly’ in the topic for Filmy reasons ).

I wish Miss.Zarine had asked for one of my kidneys rather than tagging me with this. I have to write 20 random things about me. Now If Shahrukh Khan says he loves Chocolate Ice Cream , some thirty three hundred girls would sigh “Oooooooh , you heard that ! Shahrukh loves Chocolate Ice Cream , how cute !”. Or if Sushmita Sen says she likes men with impeccable english , ‘Rapidex English Speaking course’ will be a bestseller overnight . But even my mother won’t be interested in facts about me. Anyway , what me worry.

1. As a kid , I was very violent. Almost a mini Suniel Shetty or something. In class sixth , I broke a tooth of one my classmates. Maybe it was already loose , but I still am sorry for doing that. Then I changed schools. I hear that guy grew up into a big guy and is a regular at some Hercules gym now and still smiles a toothlessly wicked smile and is hunting for me . It’s rather nice he doesn’t read blogs and doesn’t surf the net too much .

2. I desire fame as much as you desire a dead dog. If you are the kind of person who dreams of getting on the cover of Business World , send me an X ray of your brain . I do not understand the way your brain works.

3. I hate arguments. People are like “Your blog puts me to sleep.” , and I am like
“See ? Who needs sleeping pills now.”. People are like “You are a pig” and I am like “Grunt Grunt Grunt” .People are like “You are a little boy who is lost and has no idea about life” and I am like “Can you take me to the “Gumshuda Talaash Kendra” and get me admitted please. ”. I don’t want to irritate people.But they wont stop judging me.And I wont burn my fuel on arguments.

4 .The day my hair straightens out , India would beat Brazil 9-0 in soccer , Osama would open up a Flower Shop in California and start handing out white daisies to little kids for free ( with a smile ) , and Brad Pitt would star in a Bhojpuri movie. In short , it keeps curling itself into locks and wont keep straight even if I use an iron comb on it.

5 . I am short . I meet people and ask “Hi. How is the weather up there ?”. Ok , maybe not so bad. I don’t need binoculars to see people’s heads , but you won’t dream of me playing basketball even if you have the IQ of a Miss.India.

6 . I like shy girls. Girls who keep looking at the floor and think forty one times before uttering a word.No I am not making fun of them.I really like shy girls , there is something so Indian and elegant and pleasant about them.

And haan jee , for the anonymous guy who left the “Seedhe Saadha bol nayi ladki chahiye life mein” comment to the last post–.

“Bhai sahib , tussi to gajab ho , bheje mein ghuskar thoughts ko newspaper ki tarah pad lete ho .Very good. Aapne jeeta hain ‘Cheap and Anonymous Limited’ ki taraf se 50 rupye ka gift hamper !!”

7 .Take away my small intestine , take away my marksheets , take away all my Aishwarya’s posters , but don’t take away my winamp and my music collection. I need oxygen and music to live.

8 . I cannot dance. I tried once. It was my cousion’s wedding and some fat aunt pulled me to the ‘dancing area’ and yelled “Naach munnu , naach !”. I started doing my moves. She looked at me in horror. Then she yelled “Someone help ! He is having a concussion !”. She killed my self confidence. I cannot dance ever again.

9 . So now we present the ‘Outsider’s View’. Last week , we had this personality exercise in one of our classes. Some of the adjectives my classmates gave me – Down to earth , humorous , never loses temper , great attitude to life , trivializes issues , natural ,undisciplined , low on sincerity , hard working , Fun loving ,unambitious , too much chilled out. Guys who stay with me said that , so I need to be a politician to deny what they said.

10 . I sleep between 3 and 4 in the morning. My biological clock has had its frame crushed , all its springs pulled out ferociously , its dial smashed and its hands twisted .

11 . I speak a lot and I speak nonsense ( Hai na jee ? ). As I explained to a dumbstruck friend “Yaar , I don’t think my tongue is gonna be placed in some museum after my death , so I better use it enough.”

12. I do not drink. I do not smoke. Mommy , I am a good boy.

13 .In my class nine , a girl from my class took hold of my collar , shook me to and fro as if I was a toothpick and growled “What is your problem ?”.Wait.I guess it was “What is your bloody problem?”.Yeah.She said bloody. I swear on Rani Mukherjee’s eyes , I look at my collar even now , and I see her hand clutching it. Psychological long term scarring is the phrase I think.

14. I faint at the sight of blood. Mommy nicked her finger in the kitchen once. I was in a coma for three days. Ok. I love exaggeration. But I did faint.

15 .I cannot get away with lying to my mommy. Have you seen a walking Lie Detector machine ? I grew up with one in my house.

16. I am beginning to hate Miss.Zarine by now. Someone get me a pistol.Ok , I haven’t got a licence.Someone get me a baseball bat .

17 . I hate lights. Most of the time , the lights are switched off in my room , with the computer screen being the only source of light.Could not Edison invent anything else ?

18. I can maintain a deadpan face and say weird things .There was this foreign national student who had just joined the class through an exchange program. And he wanted to approach a girl asking for some class notes. And I was sitting next to this guy.So he asks me –“Hey man , what is that girl’s name ? The one in the pink shirt .”.And I say – “Rani Mukherjee”.And he goes over to her and says “Hi Rani Moo-ker-jee”.As time went by , that firang guy met kajol , urmila matondkar , sushmita sen and a couple of others through me.

19 . You need to be amazingly bad to make me angry. I don’t believe in messing up my peace of mind because someone else got pissing me off on his ’50 things to do before I die’ list.

20 . I don’t believe in forcing people to do a thing. I pass on the tag to Sunshine , Mani Raj , Ruchita , Lakhotia and Ashish. Take your time to complete it.I am not forcing you.But do it , or I will kill you.

Happy Diwali :)

“Chetan Bhagat graduated from IIT Delhi in 1995 and IIM Ahmedabad in 1997. He currently lives in Hong Kong and works in a prominent investment bank . Chetan’s first novel , “Five Point Someone” was released in May 2004 and continues to top the bestseller lists across the country ever since , over seventy weeks after its release.”

And last Sunday , I met Chetan Bhagat , listened to him tell about his life and writings , and bought a personally signed copy of his recently launched second book .

That’s another good part about being at an IIM. You get to meet people who get clicked by pesky reporters and can be seen smiling on NDTV and smiling a little more on page 3 of glossy newspaper supplements . Over the last few months , we have had Lillete Dubey , Harsha Bhogle , Shyam Benegal on campus , to name a few.

Chetan told us the bosses in corporate world can be real bad . And in spite of the fact that the employee stood first in every contest held around him , from the leg tied frog race in class three to the entrance exams , the boss can make an employee feel like a perfect ten scorer on the uselessness meter . And he said his boss did just that to him. And he needed to do something which he enjoyed, and made him feel slightly more useful than a ladies perfume in a boys hostel . So he wrote . And wrote Five Point Someone.

Now I do not if this like a god given gift or something , but I can feel things coming. And I can clearly visualize my boss, yelling in a Americanized accent – “You goof !! When are you going to submit that report ?! Sometime after the next Hailey comet sighting happens ?” , while I stand apologetically and mumbling something to prevent an immediate firing from the job. And I would love to do a little rebel act then , and come up with some novel called “I am not a goof. My Boss is a goof.” or “Kidnapping my boss’s daughter” or something which goes onto become a bestseller and is talked about at all the parties my boss attends and is discussed by my boss's in laws .

Chetan pointed out a thing. A young , pretty , shrill voiced Nursery class teacher asks a classroom full of bumbling little kids , “Tell me how many of you can draw ?”. Rahul remembers the Giraffe he drew in his last class and sticks up his hand. Shreya thinks about the drawing she drew of her pet dog , and even though her depiction looked more like the corpse of a dog ran over by some three trucks , she sticks up her hand. And most of kids in a nursery class would say “ I can draw.”

But when a lecture hall full of IIM students was asked the same question, just three hands went up. Are we scared to free ourselves and see what happens ? And who knows , whom you may have within you , a writer , a poet , a painter , a singer , a kuchipudi dancer , a caberet dancer .

And in other news , imagine a big mental asylum. Imagine all the crazy inmates there who drive imaginary cycles and swim in imaginary pools and spend hours calculating the distance between New York and USA . Now imagine taking out all of their brains and fusing them together to make one combined brain.If you think this brain would be crazy , the class schedule here at IIM C is going crazier. I attend classes at 7.30 in the morning and some classes end at 10.45 in the night. Mom calls me up at 10 in the night and I say I am in the class and she says a three year old kid can think of a better excuse to avoid talking to his mom.

And before I close this post , I wish all of you a very Happy Diwali. It sounds a little strange to wish someone I don’t even know. But , whoever you are , whether a jealous you stole your rich classmate’s expensive pencil case in class two of school , or you still bitch about your boss who drives a Lancer and makes you work overtime , I know you are good at heart . Everybody is good at heart . So bring out that goodness . Be good. Do good. May you get all the good things you want , except Aishwarya Rai.

I would miss being at home and the Diwali aarti session where we sit down before the little temple at our home as a family , and sing all those aartis . Its more like yelling though and god must get real pissed at all that noise . If someone asks “who can sing ?” , no one should from my family should put up a hand.

Happy Diwali .

Road

Ram Gopal Verma is a kind man , so I steal the title of his movie for my title to this post. Now for the post. The day began just the same. The same wonderfully “appetite-killer” breakfast which was an insult to the hen who laid the eggs that went into its making. If that hen tasted that omelette , she would spit it out and ask the cooks, “you killed my kids to make this piece of crap ? ” . Even the newspaper was the same. Man kills wife. Woman kills husband. Then both of them kill themselves. The same old Hum Vs. Tum battle, but without the songs and the happy and safe , Saif – Rani ending.

And then I came to know that Nidhi, who is just like a sister to me, had rammed her kinetic in some kind of school bus a day before. The kids got late for their classes maybe. And the little girl landed up in a hospital. Apparently, she is relatively ok now. Some bruises and scratches . And an improved knowledge of the way the underside of a bus looks. Get well real soon , sister .

I used to have a bike when I was in my engineering college. My dad and me had made a kind of pact – “I get into an IIT. Dad buys me a bike.” I could not get into IIT. Dad still bought me a bike , though it was not presented in the “Kodak moment” manner , where dad comes up from behind and covers my eyes and asks “guess what?” and I say “bike ?!”. It was a more practical manner , where dad was like , “Ok , Ok , you bugger ! Now eat your lunch and stop slamming every door in the house.” Emotional blackmail. Harmless and effective. Try it. Girls already use it. Boys can make a start now.

So I got it , and used it for almost four years of my engineering , after which it was sold .So these days , the poor thing works hard to carry around Mr.Bhatia , Mrs.Bhatia , their kids Jaspreet -Manpreet and some particular woman from Mr.Bhatia’s office , whenever Mrs.Bhatia is not in town.

But I have never been involved in a big accident . I have driven into a vegetable cart , into a bicycle , into a group of college going girls , into a stupidly parked scooter , into a thick sardaar ji whose idea of asking for a lift was jumping in the way of my motorcycle in a rather sudden manner. But no buses or trucks. On a personal note , driving into the pack of girls was most embarrassing but most enjoyable too. Sardar ji episode comes a close second , just due its impressive score on the enjoyment barometer. To listen to abuses in a pure punjabi accent , it was good and pleasant .

But I have seen a friend spend a year in bed , when he should have been studying in USA. He chose the wrong night to test his bike’s capabilities , and spent many a night regaining his own physical capabilities.

You have seen those advertisements on doordarshan. Use iodized salt to prevent swollen necks , feed ORS to munna when he shits a lot , wear a condom all the time , and the rest .You know how boring those preaching advertisements are. So I won't make this into another “drive carefully , your kids and your dog are waiting at home” advertisements. Just that to imagine a bruised and hurt nidhi makes me feel like doing a traffic policeman act . So whenever you take out your car / bike / scooter / moped / bicycle / truck / bus / auto onto the road , just remember that a lot of people want you to return alive , primarily , all those guys whom you owe some money .If you drive some vehicle , please drive it carefully. It takes a moment to ruin everything. Do not allow that moment to happen .

And just as a little sidenote , I know the “To be continued” still waits uncompleted. And I owe you that one. But trust me , I would have done it if I could. I am really sorry for this.But believe me , I would rather marry Mamta Banerjee than acting pricey.But I got a reason this time .How is “Due to unexpected and unavoidable circumstances” for a makeshift excuse ?

And as far as my experiments with accelerators and clutches are concerned , a new chapter beckons when I start work next year. Again , me and Dad have made a pact – “ Son gets a good job. Son gets a car.” In case I get a good job , it shall be all peaceful with dad handing over the keys to me and white doves in the background. Else , emotional blackmail. Harmless and Effective.

Nidhi , wish you get well soon . And please deliver pleasant newsflashes to make my mornings more eventful. Till then , I can try to love hen-insulting omlettes and murderous spouses.

Bunny , your memories shall live on.

Hey ! How are you doing ? If you are doing great , that's great. If you are not doing great , do not make me fall into some depression by pouring your sob story , and just keep quiet. Ok. My exams are over.I do not have anything to do.Not even a dog to take out for a walk. By the way , talking of depression , do you think animals fall into depression sometimes ? I mean , would Johnny the parrot fall into some depression if Julie the sparrow broke up with him after their romance and all those songs they sang in the trees ? Or would Bruno the stray dog fall into depression thinking of all those french poodles who are bought dog food from supermarkets , get a sweater to wear in the winters and are carried around in big and swanky cars by their owners ? No ? You think animals do not fall into depression ? Then why is bunny the rabbit trying to kill himself here !

"Uhm.I flunked my physics exam.Dad would feed me to the dogs.So I built this to kill myself.Tell mom I love her .And tell my physics teacher I hate her"

"Mom does not let me watch TV.I am killing myself.And see , I got the remote now"

"Eee.I hope this won't be too electric a way to die."
"No one loves me.Happy Diwali"
"Aah.This post is too stupid.How do you survive this blog ?I don't wanna live now".


I am sorry.I sound like some three year old , right ? Maybe even a two and a half year old . And if you are really frustrated by this stupid post , you can punch some wall , or yell "aaaarggghh" real loud , or call your ex girlfriend and tell her she is crap or just send me some hate mail with scary lines like "I am coming for you" or "You are dead" or " I am cleaning my rifle". But please do not fall into depression.Do not be another bunny the rabbit.

Say No to clothes ?

Flashback – I write the last post , do not complete it and scoot off into the sunset with the words “ To be continued”. Flashback ends.

No , don’t give me the “Cruel guy of the Month” award yet. I know I have been cruel , something like Hitler and Mussolini combined. Now I know how difficult it is to leave something hanging with the words “To be continued”. It’s like , you write “to be continued” and go back to work but this thought stays at the back of mind – “man , I promised to complete that , I gotta do it , god is seeing me , I gotta complete it.” My sympathies to Ekta Kapoor. She got a tough job.And my apologies to all of you for making you come back to check and think – “ Ok. He has still not completed it.I want to chop him into 836 pieces now ”.

You seen the Bajaj Avenger advertisement ? Where the guy says “ I forgive them all. I feel like god”. Here is your chance to feel somewhat like god , by forgiving me. I am really sorry. And you know the best part ? I still haven’t completed the last post. Ok . Thank you for the “Cruel guy of the Year” award now. But in the meantime , my exams got over. And I found this picture somewhere.

“Hi.I am Mallika Sherawat. Remember Murder , naughty boy ? As you can see , I have been made to wear a saree , and that too with a “pallu” as big as a curtain , which is covering most of my body. This causes me a lot of mental agony. I hate wearing clothes . Even when not in the bathroom. But this photographer won’t understand. I wish he clicks the camera now so that I can take off this damn saree and get back to my natural and open state ”.

In the photograph , Mallika Sherawat is actually wearing something which could be called decent. And it is more disturbing than the fact that I have screwed my exam so bad , that the only way I can pass it is that I kidnap the wife , daughters , aunts , and grandmother of the professor and then call him up and growl “Don’t flunk me or else….(sinister laugh in the background)”.


But my mental /physical/social/economical agony pales in comparison to the pain Mallika aunty must have felt in posing for this picture. I mean , anything more than a bikini , and she feels over dressed . I wonder what made her wear a proper saree and on the top of that , pose for a camera too. That can shred her image , which she has pain stakingly built wearing shreds of cloth.

Now now now , I am not the type of guy who hates too many people. I don’t hate many people. I do not hate our neighbour , Mrs.Kocchar , who drove her maruti van into my bicycle when I was seven. I do not hate the senior who made me sing “Kaliyon Ka Chaman” , complete with belly button thrusts and gyrations , as a part of my ragging. I am the sort of person who finds traces of cuteness in even a Gulshan Grover with all his evil activities. But I don't like Mallika Sherawat. Boom Boom. Those were the hand grenades lobbed at me by “Mallika Fan Club” members.

I mean , in all her movies , she does three things , in a loop. Get in bed , be in bed , get out of bed. Repeat loop. And at the alarming rate she goes around kissing , I wonder why haven’t her lips fallen off by now. So when I saw this photograph , for me , it was like I had spotted a snake in my soup. Mallika in a saree. I was like “Man. Someone needs to record the exact time .This is a historic moment. I saw Mallika covered up”.

They say she represents the “maadern-bold-indian woman” , who is unafraid of expressing herself and flaunts the “in-your-face” attitude. They say she is unafraid of being bold. Bold ? What does she do , wrestle with crocodiles or chase criminals or something ? To my underdeveloped greycells , she is someone who uses her body to achieve what is meant to be obtained through more decent means.

Girls are like “ Whoa ! Those Shiv Sainiks ask us not to wear short skirts ! What is this , the stone age ?” I mean , women liberation is not in women being like “See , I am taking off my clothes now. And you can't stop me.Got that ? See , I am taking off my clothes. I am the liberated woman. I have the power to do what I want.”

I feel women are made by god to be much more sensitive and mature and complete than men. And that’s their beauty.They are elegant and caring and have this delicate sense about them. And their liberation lies in being able to do what they wish , but not in disregarding the modesty and elegance which is the essence of feminism. I mean , if a girl thinks her freedom is in wearing minimal clothes in public , she needs to see the thousands of ordinary girls all over India , who wear cotton salwaar suits and may be termed “behenjis” or “orthodox” , but have an inner confidence to go out and work as teachers and nurses , instead of being a Mallika .

I must explain my position. My exams ended a few hours back and its almost 4 in the morning and I am real low on sleep and I feel like a log of wood right now. So in case you are wondering why I am typing what I am , even I do not know.

But to think that Mallika is just all over , from the cover page of cosmopolitan to the movie with Jackie Chan to interviews on CNN. That makes me feel strange. I don’t hate many people.I don’t even hate the spammer guys who leave comments about their health insurance sites and bike repair sites and ceiling fans sites on blogs. But I don’t like Mallika Jee.

I hate post titles

Ok.Now , I am not so bad usually.But I was at home and I did not have a computer there.I know that makes it look like I stay at some remote village in Bostwana..But that is why I did not complete the earlier post.I know , its not like the issue of my incomplete post was covered on NDTV or something , but just for the handful of people who asked , I would complete it right after I handle my exams now.Thats it.I am not so bad usually.

Me , grandpa and girls

I am going home.Wait.I am "flying" home.Aeroplane.I am so kiddish and stupid.
I would be there for some eight days.And thanks for the wishes.You people just add to my belief - Life is good.People are good.World is good.

Now for the post.It really happened to me , once.

********

Scene 1.

"Shall we meet ?" - The words appear on the screen.

My eyes shoot out straight.My tongue falls out.I do three and half somersaults in my chair. And then the golden words of my grandfather resound in my ears - " Munnu beta , ladki ko jyada bhaav nahee dena !.I remember my grandpa , calm myself , then type back "Umm..im not sure..ok , ill try..".She types back -" Ok , if you are not free , we can meet up later".I wish my granddad was with me , because I really want to tell him "Sir , your theory sucks like a vaccum cleaner".I hit the damage control button.I type back - "Ah..not really..I think I can make it. Sorry , grandpa".

****

Man Man Man , I am meeting up with a girl I met on internet !This is it.This is "When Harry met Sally" happening.Uee ma , I am Sally , she is Harry..err..I mean the other way round.You see , I am so excited , I hardly know what I am saying.I am just so excited and flushing..err..blushing.

****
Ok.she wants me to turn up at Music World at 1 pm.That is romantic.Grandpa used to say " Munnu beta , a girl has a very unstable mind.She would always keep changing things".Grand dad ,what do you know.Now she wants us to meet at 2 pm.It is still great.Of course , grandpa can be right sometimes.Now she wants me to turn up at a Metro Station.It is fine.I really love the idea of waiting for her sitting at some metro station , surrounded by sweaty office goers , paanwallahs and urchins in striped chaddis.It is so close to real India.It is all right.I am feeling ok.And grandpa can be right sometimes.

*********
Scene 2.

The Metro Station

I stand leaning against a big pillor.I knew I should have been a little less eager.I reached the station 45 minutes before the appointed time.And after half an hour of waiting amongst screeching metros , rushing people and a stupid TV which is belting out stupid bengali songs which would put a bus full of hyperactive three year olds to sleep , I am feeling not-exactly-euphoric.But just 15 minutes more , and a cool breeze will come breezing into the station , white clouds will waft in and float around my ankles magically , rose petals will fall from above , four well fed violinists will jump out of a metro and start playing "My heart will go on" and then she would walk in , with the breeze playing with her hair and a shy smile on her lips.Suddenly , my grand dad crops up in my imagination.He is wearing a white kurta pajama and has a dull brown shawl wrapped around his shoulders.He is sitting on a rocking chair.He looks at me with a deadpan face and says "This kinda stuff happens only in movies".

No way grandpa.What do you know about girls.Ten minutes to go for the violins and clouds.

*********
Scene 3.

It is time.She should be here any moment.I stand up straight , check if my clothes look ok , if my shoes look ok , if I look ok.Nothing looks ok.My tee shirt is crumpled after I had to sit between those gorilla clones in the metro on my way to here.My shoes have got so dirty , it looks like I am just back from playing soccer , and scoring two goals too , in some african mudland , and I dont look ok due to natural and biological reasons.I look around for a beauty parlour and a plastic surgeon in this metro station.Grandpa zooms back in my imaginations.His back is towards me as he waters the plants in some garden.Then he looks back and says "You look like god's mistake ,munnu".

Grandpa , you just dont know .Girls dont fall for looks.They dig inner beauty.I am a Miss.Universe , internally.My intestines and kidneys are beautiful.

*********

Would munnu find love again at this station ? Is this the start of yet another love saga ? Can munnu prove his granddad wrong ?

( To be continued )........Am I watching too many of those "to be continued" soaps now ?

I am dumb.Real dumb.

The distance between the moon and earth is pretty long.And the distance I have to go , before I can be called a "responsible member of the society" , is longer than that. But still ,one thing which is pumping in some kind of meaning in my life these days , is some work I am doing for the Indian Institute Of Cerebral Palsy (IICP) , an NGO here. It's noticeably better than downloading data about the textile market of Indonesia from the internet , and putting it together to make some report and submit many such reports and getting an MBA degree at the end.

Yesterday , while returning to the campus from IICP , I stopped by at Cafe Coffee Day.And sitting there and chomping on a vegetable sandwich , I looked around at all the "couples" who sat around me.Holding hands.Shy smiles.Loud giggles.People in "love" maybe.

Love. As in , the "boy-girl" love.Ok.ladies first.As in the "girl-boy" love .

If you shifted to earth very recently , its another matter.But if you have been around on this planet for anything more than 15 minutes , you would have heard this word.

Love.It is as overused a word as a public toilet in a dysenteric locality.For a bollywood director , "love" must be the greatest invention ever , right next to fire and wheel.To spot a UFO while on your way to office tomorrow is easier than spotting a movie which does not involve the deadly trio - boy , girl , love.A typical bollywood director can do without his underwear under his pants , but not without "love" in his movie.And if you missed the love component in movies , its usage is quite abundant in real life ,as is the usage of guns in Iraq.

My friend says he is in "love" with the girl who works at the second floor of his office.I am told the punjabi girl in my class is in "love" with the hairy south indian guy in the next class.The other day , I saw the boy who hands out the food in our hostel mess , with the girl who does the dishes.Maybe , they are in "love" too.Even the cyber world is bustling with desperate flirts who hope to find "love".

And then this boyfriend-girlfriend thing.Its like a toothbrush.You got to have one.

" Hi , I have brain cancer."

Thats ok , we all gotta die anyways.

"Hello , I got limphoosirkoma of the intestine."

Chill , Rajesh Khanna in "anand" had it too.

"Namaste , my house burned down last night."

Arre tension nahi yaar , these things happen.

"Hey , I dont have a girlfriend."

What ! Why did not you tell me about this ? Oh poor boy , everything will be fine.God can be real cruel sometimes...

So love is like the neighbourhood gossip .Everybody knows about love.Talks about love.

And the way this "love" word is used with the abandon of a drunk monkey , leaves me feeling strange.

I feel there are two different aspects.To love someone.And to be loved.It is said "to be loved" is a natural need.And for me , its a need and not love.As long as you want this person or need this person , you dont love her , you love yourself and want "to be loved".Love is not meant to be a selfish thing.Love is much harder and selfless than that.To love is not to wish for someone to be with oneself , but to give up oneself for that someone.Love is not in sharing coconut water on some beach, but in staying thirsty if it helps her.Love is not in her coming to you , but to care for her when you know she would not come to you.

For me , true love is not about the scene with your lady , where white clouds float around your ankles , and a cool breeze flows across the screen , well fed european guys play violins in the background , and you do a salsa with her and kiss her.For me , love's beauty is in being so consumed with it , that you forget your pains and smile , just because she smiled somewhere , aware of your existence no longer.

Love is not about wanting her , but wanting her happiness , with you or without you.

I wonder if the word "love" is used as a sweet cover for selfish desires , needs and wants.Its like dressing up osama in a monk's robe.Its like putting up a "St.Mary's charitable clinic" board outside a tantrik's camp.

I am no authority.I am no love guru with the sagacious face and the halo around my head.I am no headmaster of the "Institute of Love Matters" ( ILM.doesnt sound bad ).Infact I am more like someone who flunked thrice , was demoted for two years and then thrown out of ILM.But the way love is seen as some "coochie-coochie-valentines-gift-holding hands" concept leaves me feeling funny.Love is hard.Love is not a punishment which leaves you restless.But it is something which makes you feel a bliss in a punishment , just because she is happy.

I am not looking at any roses placed between yellowed pages.And I do not wish to insult anyone's feelings.Just that I feel, that to love someone is supposed to be something very deep and heartfelt, that when you say "I love you" to a girl , realise the responsibility and commitment it stands for. Its not about you anymore.Its about her.And I am not trying to preach anything here , please.Just that I felt something ,and wrote it.And if I dont make sense , and you wonder what's the problem with me - see the title to the post.