Have to leave the cyber cafe . No time for title.

The frequency of me spewing my venomous thoughts on this blog has gone down with the speed of a female cheetah being chased by a very excited and clearly , not well intentioned , Gulshan Grover. I wish I could say things like "Oh , I was busy . You know how these multi million business deals eat up the time , don't you ?" or "Come on , I was so occupied watching movies and coochie - cooing with my girlfriend , who incidentally , looks like someone from hollywood and has a dad who looks like a millionaire and has a brother who looks like a victim of malnourishment. " But as luck ( Luck . I thank nature for teaching me this word . It's so nice to blame luck for everything . So now you know whom to blame for getting you to such a disgusting blog ) would have it , I was busy with things which are significantly less glamourous. And then of course , a series of developments culminated in my company taking away my internet enabled laptop . Let's avoid the details here , but the series of developments was composed of events which made my company realise that internet in the hands of a 25 year old guy is not such a good idea after all .

And I have been travelling a lot . And it's not the poverty stricken train travel where I spend time looking out of the window and hoping the driver brakes so hard that the girl sitting three seats behind me flies through the air and falls in my muscular arms . It was the glamorous , perfumed and 'Oh-so-IIM-ish' air travel where I spent time looking out of the window and hoping the forty seven guy sitting next to me is not gay , and even if he is , he finds me as attractive as a Mulayam Singh Yadav in a sleeveless night gown.

Infact my 'Reebok'* ( See Note ) travel bag looks like it's been beaten up by Sanjay Dutt and Suneil Shetty combined . It's bandaged with tags and stickers from all the airlines flying around in India . As a friend told me yesterday , such information makes me look a 'show off' as big as the leaning tower of Pisa . But mere bhai , ab jab sacchi mein aellopilane mein travel kiya to kya kahun , kee 1984 made rickshaw mein ghoom raha hoon ?

Note- I thought it was original Reebok till some ten days back . Then I had to carry the red coloured bag through pouring rain . Now I have a bag which is red coloured , and has passed on its redness to three shirts , one pair of trousers and numerous items belonging to the unmentionable category . (You know , the one with the little , chote-chote kapde ).

And as someone brought to my notice recently , some guy has copied stuff from this blog and posted it on his own blog as his own . First of all , I thank the guy / gal who brought this to my notice . ( Uee ma , not that the person does not have a defined sexuality , but the person just left a comment on the last post , and it is kinda hard to guess sex looking at the font size and type ) . Also , I am impressed with how people are able to identify and zoom down on such things on the internet . Ask me , I have been searching for some pictures of some well known and well endowed female over the last fifteen minutes .Have managed to find pictures as exciting as the software engineering textbook I had in college .

But coming to the issue of people copying stuff from this blog , I am confused . I mean , why would I run out in the garden and pick up an ugly dead squirrel , run back in , and keep it in my refridgerator ? ( Waise some very hungry and sadist type of guys can even do this , but let's not get into my past activities )

But seriously , arre bhai , copy karne ke liye we have a zillion guys , from Shakespeare to Munshi Premchand . Copying stuff from this blog is like stealing '101 fresh and exciting ways to get healthy hair' written by Anupam Kher . ( For those angrezi type bhai log who don't know who anupam kher is , he is bald . That's all you need to know , bloody leftovers from 1947 ). So in a nutshell , I would have never copied stuff as mundane as this , so don't know why anyone would . But karna hai to karlo bhai , I don't write anything anyways . I carry myself to little shady cybercafes , balance myself on rickety cheap chairs , and I just talk . So what you see here is just me talking , like I would to anyone unfortunate enough to be around me in the physical world .

That reminds me . At a distance of two feet from me in the physical world , there is a friend of mine who can get very physical with me ( and in the dangerous sense of the term ) if I don't leave now . So till next time , chill maaro , and kuch copy karna hai to kar lo , but seriously , copy this crap ?

I rise like a phoenix...or is it the porcupine ?

It’s been some time since I typed on this blog . 5% of my friends who still don’t know me well enough to hate me were concerned and thinking “Abhi ko kya hua ? Cancer ? AIDS ? Limfusircoma of the intestine ?” , while the rest 95% were running to their neighbours with laddoos and shouting “It’s over ! He is gone !”. But like a phoenix , I rise again ….phoenix hee hota hai na ... the creature that comes back again and again …or is it the unicorn…or porcupine maybe….pata nahi yaar …kitne saare jaanwar hai…..

Things over the last month have been as fast as a Shoaib Akhtar riding a sports bike . I have traveled between cities , made some never-seen-before changes to my life and my self ( Nothing involving preferences and surgeries on strategic parts of the body , you dirty mind ) , been through some personally challenging times , did things which altered my opinion about myself ( I am more handsome than I thought I am ) , and even downloaded Bappi Lahiri songs during a particularly intense moment of emotion . And I need to talk about all that as much as a scared girl needs a nightgown clad Shakti ‘auuu’ kapoor , so I won’t . But still , I need to let out something .

I made a promise to someone. And then I shattered it .As simple as that. I need to write about it because good or bad , I need to face myself .I need to accept what happened , I need to accept what I did . I don’t analyse what I did , I don’t analyse why I did it , but I need to accept and face myself.

Anyway , it was a Sunday today and I spent time at office ( Kya mast social life hai na ?). Work is going to explode from tomorrow as we are launching a new biscuit .So there will be a lot of stocks going out into the market and promotional activities and fighting competition and all the jazz. But office feels good on Sunday. I can sit with my shoes off and search for Dilbert on the internet while K plays quake .

K is another guy from IIM who joined work with me. We share an apartment. He prepares breakfast , clears the dishes , finds the remote when I can’t, and makes up all the reasons ranging for accidents to cancer when we are late to work . The male version of a sundar , susheel and tikau bhartiya wife .

It’s been almost five months since I joined the first job of my life. Most of my batch mates from IIM have settled into their jobs , bought swanky gadgets with the new found moolah (I bought a cellphone for dad .21st century ka sabse shareef beta .), and settled cozily in the corporate world with their laptops . As for me, life over the last five months has been composed of seven flights , a lot of train travelling , a few kilograms of lost weight , mallu distributors , eating things I didn't know existed , and a lot of hotels .( I even stayed at a little known hotel called ‘Hillarious Guest House’ . No waiter cracked jokes and the receptionist wont smile even if Osama came down and placed his rocket launcher on her temple and screamed “ Smile , you indeean infidel receptionist !” , and the hotel wasn’t even on any hill. Don’t know why the name was ‘Hillarious’). I feel all this has been much better than a desk job where I sit before a screen all day and pretend to be busy with huge excel sheets while solitaire waits on a minimized window. It’s been rough , and it’s been different , but it’s not been boring .

I look to be handling life pretty ok . I am 25 , earning decently ( And without doing anything which would upset mom or the cops ) , have a doting family , and I can cook maggi . I have made my mistakes , more so in personal life , but then , brooding over things is something I am not very capable of . But if I look beneath the surface , behind all this , I am still walking on a road with no idea of my destination . Not that it troubles me too much . Maybe there is no destination at all , maybe the destination is not important . Maybe it’s only about living each day as you want to live it . But still , it feels like I am still searching for something .Like I am still waiting for a feeling of homecoming .I am told this is not the case . But I can’t deny this feeling . I am still not home. And I don’t know if I ever will be . But then , I live this life .I live whatever it gives me.

So now I log off .To all those who have actually been concerned, do not worry. And those 95% who celebrated my going away , you go to your neighbours and get your laddoos back .