You the Rascals

So it was yet another crappy day, my salary was overdue by 15 frigging days, my train-pass had expired 2 days back, I was cash strapped (nothing new) and was rhyming every slogan with jung and saang. To top it all I flamboyantly splurged on an extravagantly tacky road-side jacket that will go straight to my maid after a week.
Pondering on the greatest truth about life being a bitch I got my bhel and sneaked into the railway station trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. I did not bother with the ticket as the queue was gloriously humongous. So I dutifully stood back at the ladies dabba section (gwaad second class) unlike my earlier elbowing self and kept my head down. But as the train approached I could not resist and elbowed to the front and got the most reverend spot near the door…yay!!
What happened next was godsend for entertainment starved me. Two women who boarded the train on Lower Parel station got in a tiff.
It was minor in the beginning like you watch your step kinds but got major fun after Dadar.
Woman 1: arre tu samjhti kaya hai aage dekh
Woman 2: aare jaa main kyun dekhoon aapna kaam kar
1: tu kyun nahi aapna kaam karti
2: (In a way you mutter to yourself but as this is local you literally think aloud) pata nahi khud ko kaya samajhti hai, (n to no one in particular) itna hi tha toh first class mein jane ka tha na! yahan kyun aayi?
1: Kaya boli! Kaya boli? Agar tere ko itna hai toh tu jaa, paisa nahi hoga na!
2: (again think aloud mode) bluddy ghatti pata nahi kahan kahan se chale aatein hai indecent, insober (I swear she said that)
1: kaya boli jayada Engliss maat bol, I know Engliss too, saali 3 raat se soyin nahi kaya ( it was a real WTF?!)
2: (real pissed off, turns back n attacked as much was possible with a handbag and 3 ppl in between them) kaya boli tu nahi soyi ..Bam Bam… tere ko himmat kaise huyi ghar tak jane ki abhi tere ko yahan se nikaloon saali mere pati tak jane ki dare kaise ke
By this time the random women in between were really tired of the two so even they bitch/ pimp slapped whosoever they could lay their hands on.
Bandra.
Another rush now 1 and 2 got a bit separated for any slap contact.
2: (think aloud mode) jaane kahan kahan se chalein atein hai! Rascals
1: kaya saali know the meaning of the rascals?
2: Yes! You the Rascals.
Woman 1 is in fits now she tries to elbow her way to 2 to pull her hair and in the process leans on random women and gets elbowed and slapped.
2 is also closing in for action, soon they are pulling hair and mouthing obscenities.
Somewhere after Ville Parle and near Andheri.
1 and 2 interlocked in hair pulling.
2: chal police station
1: haat baal chhod, aare tu mujhe police ke paas kaya le jayegi, baal chhod
Andheri
I got down so did the women.
Life is not that much of a bitch.

Fake

Everything is leaving a bad taste in my mouth.
People/ things seem so great at one moment and when you really go deep they are shallow.
But I guess that’s just how things are.
We all strive hard to be acknowledged by someone; anyone, actually not anyone only people whom we acknowledge. Standards.
Fake
I am not an anti-social person
Maybe theories… why cant there be one unquestionable philosophy
One truth suspended in time motionless always there
Maybe there is
Solomon Grundy
We are here and then we go
All that we do is not imperative
Non-consequential

My obsession

I am quite obsessed about transvestites, actually they have always held an aura of intrigue but these days I am obsessed about being one. I mean you can’t have vicarious thrills about their adventures; it would be like watching Easter Island on discovery. Too much of information has left me with no sense of adventure; every place seems like déjà vu. India gate looks like India gate in real and best buses look and feel like best buses when you travel in them. That entire crowd you keep seeing in bombaiya films is for real and you become a part of it, feels like a movie extra when you think about it. I mean you don’t feel it immediately, but after a time when the novelty wears off you start feeling like a low-life extra. I live in a world of cheap vicarious thrills and clichés.
I am not into “meeting new people”, places much, but I am fascinated by lifestyles of so many people like tramps and what they do. I followed one for 3 days; they don’t do much, even they have a routine. Everything is fixed, like this tramp I followed he had a precise route and always asked for jute rope from a particular shop he never did anything with it just half meter rope and he always hoarded, straight into the bag it went. As a matter of fact he never once collected plastics or anything he always collected ropes or strings. Maybe he wants to fasten them all and take it around equator to bind the earth.
I don’t know why I am being obsessed about transvestites though, I mean about being one. I want to be a man transvestite, women never get much importance and anyways I don’t want to look like a dyke if I do become a transvestite.

Chameli

Well sometimes when you are in the mood even the most cheesy bollywood song seems infinitely insightful, not that Chameli’s songs are cheesy, but damn it I am a little high and they seem so so insightful. Songs can be cathartic. When you are in a mood they really hit you, first you get a funny feel in your tummy then a shiver and next your eyes sting and before you know it …tissues are flying all over the place!
Btw I have a fool proof theory it’s tested on 3 people I know and I don’t give a flying rat’s ass to anyone who contests that. It’s unconditional truth that can very well be documented in the annals of empirical facts.
To get over someone you need two buckets of tears and “Jhoonka hawa ka” is a catalyst to that.

Bye...

Sometimes I just wish I could forget myself. Like take me to a forest somewhere real far away, lose myself there and come back knowing no one will find me. Ever.
If I wish I can remain lost forever or maybe if I wish I can socialize with other forest animals. But I won’t definitely exploit them like Tarzan or jump from one branch to another. I might use a cave or maybe live on tree top or maybe just wander around. If I keep a home then I would have to make amendments, one will follow another and soon I will be where I started from.
When you have home you are not lost.
If I nail myself for security I will miss the whole point of the excursion. As a matter of fact I will wander around, there is no point homing in when I am already lost.

Dreams and Reality

Today I realised how far I have rubbed the lines of reality, for various reasons, my alter-egos are running a parallel competitive race with each other. Life is frozen on some days and on some; the sun never sets. Swinging between the two a new me is formed – confused, hating to be questioned. The state of inertia is seeping in and things are changing for worse, the pen moves on the paper but the writer is dead.
In the transitions of day and night people blur out, dialogues turns to monologues… for those who walk on dreams reality is minefield.

Where has my dear diary gone?

Dear diary where, oh! Where have you gone?
Has my mother hidden you under the dark caress of mattress?
Or has my little sister taken her revenge?
I miss you so
My little black book

<>

I am so fucking B O R E D