Best Friend

I had a best friend.Then he decided to pack his suitcase and move to the stars.All he carried was a bone and my heart.Now all he does is is he sits up there,chewing on his bone and wagging his tail everytime I miss him.Its not fair that he left without even saying goodbye.

Nibbles, you totally suck for ditching me,not being on the other side of the door when I'm opening it,not there below the bed every morning when I stretch out my fingers to caress you.You're not there,when there's a dirty sock I'm throwing into the clothes hampers,you aren't there going sniffity sniff when I unwrap a chocolate.You do not jump on my lap when I go '1-2-3 Go'.You aren't there.

But,heartless,that I am.I left you too.Left you alone wondering where I had gone.So many times I walked out the door without saying goodbye.So many nights I pushed you off my feet because you were heavy.So many times I did not take you out on a walk because I was lazy.All those times I should have given you a bath and brushed your fur.I'm sorry I was so spineless,I walked away.I'm sorry that sometimes somethings became more important than you.You took care of Papa and maybe saved his life.Thankyou for being there for him.I think the only reason you ever were here was to be there for all of us.You were equally there for all of us even when the three of us stood with our backs to each other.Mummy's sorry for what she did.Maybe,you deserved a better family and we didn't deserve you at all.

But you'll always be my best friend.The only person who overwhelms me.I love you.

Fatty

So I've finally made it.You know,the place where that word sounds..cute.Not offensive or insulting,just cute.I don't quite know whether this is a place I should be,but I made it.Scratched,tired,hungry and fatigued after the hours of NOT gymming,of NOT being on a diet,of NOT doing Yoga.At a very sorry end of procrastination basically.
But it's good right now.You know,I always thought that being called fat would one day  make me lose it and I'd projectile on everyone until I was sickeningly anorexic.One day,I'd show the world I could be thin too,conform to the stereotype of beauty.But,no..infact,all the ridiculing,the name calling worked like ether and made me go into a slumber like state where all the name calling just became a known melody I swayed to.It's like the sweet release of death.You get so angry so angry and so depressed that you self implode.And then you focus out and  float.
So here's to icecream and cake and pasta and butter chicken.But most importantly,here's to Fatty until my hormones go crazy again and I crawl into bed in a foetal position every night,hoping to not wake up.
Depressed,confused or in denial?Until my next ventout,Cheerios,all.

The Bohemian

"You've battened on me for a bitter-long day;


But I'm driving you forth, and forever and aye,

Hunger and Thirst and Cold."

~Robert William Service;  1914.

Letter to a Whore

Dearest fat whore,

Through blurry eyes and alcohol seeped heart,I see you loving that pole.I see your breasts gliding against the steel,the glitter clumping on your aged sagging skin.The world belongs to you while you gently skimble through the land of the downtrodden.

You danced for me,once.Your roomy hips swaying to  my heavy breathing.The intensity of your feverish swaying scared me.It took every ounce of my will to stop myself from holding you in my arms.And finally when you came close to me and whispered nasty things into my ear,I felt an excitement rise from beneath.You made me,a fat bald man,feel sexy.Oh the things you wanted to do to me!I was to be your slave,succumb to everyone of your wishes and be punished for all the bad things I've done.I was mud and dust to you.A putrid leper.

When you took me in,my world closed and it became you.You held me in the warmth of  your diseased vagina until the wee hours of the night.You caressed me when you felt me trembling.I felt rage,woman,rage when I realised others have been where I had just been.Blinding fury made me want to hit you hard,scream in your face but all I could do steal my fingers lightly over your back as you slipped into a peaceful slumber.I'll never forget it when you laughed at my discomfort and my incapacity to make you go into the throes of passion.I shall forever despise the one who made you so indifferent to human touch.

And here I am,just another strike through your list.Another meaningless broken toy in your playroom.I have been stamped oner and trampled upon.I lie crumpled in a corner,my heart in distortion of agonising pain,praying for you to love me like you did that night.For,I am stuck in a time warp,where my heart keeps returning to the moment when all there was was You.Your filthy lowlessness,your indifference,I covet you,my love.


I love you.

Your leper.

Elegy for an Enemy

Rest you,my enemy,
Slain without fault,
Life smacks but tastelessly
Lacking your salt!
Stuck in a bog whence naught
May catapult me,
Come from the grave,long-sought,
Come and insult me!
~Stephen Vincent Benet

Sex,Morality & Censorship

Yesterday,I went to my very first play in 5 years.Ranga Shankara is a famous theatre in Bangalore.The auditorium was envisioned by Arundathi Nag, in remembrance of her late husband, Shankar Nag, who was a renowned actor in the Kannada film industry.

The main stage itself has been constructed in a way where there is hardly a 2ft of distance between the actors and the audience.This makes the drama more real and if it is a violent play,the air of menace begins to affect the audience as well.
 
The play put up yesterday was 'S*x,M*rality & Cens*rship' written by Shanta Gokhale and Irawati Karnik.The play has been directed by Sunil Shanbag.The play deals with a flashback of the '70s,highlighting the morality and censorship issues that had surrounded Vijay Tendulkar's play 'Sakharam Binder'.The play was mostly a fusion of Hindi and Marathi dialect,making certain dialogues a tad bit difficult to comprehend but overall the play was loud,satirical and foot tapping with the dholak and the harmonium.
 
I haven't read 'Sakharam Binder' but I'm hoping to get my hands upon the Tendulkar's 'Selected Plays'.The actors were good,especially the one who kept switching roles between the characters of Sakharam Binder and the 'Shahiri' who was narrating the controversies surrounding Tendulkar's play in the early '70s.But the actor who took my breath away with extrememly strong acting was the one who played 'Champa's' character.Overall the afternoon was well spent with good food and good company.
 
The damper of the evening ,though, was the interactive session that was held after the play.The actors and the director were called upon the stage and the audience gathered around to comment and question  them on several aspects of the play.Or so it seemed.The high and 'elite' sat in the innermost circle and fired loaded questions at the director and the script writer.The questions were actually five questions fireballed into one and catapulted using such  never heard before words that would put to shame our very own pompous Superhero,Vocabullion.It started out okay,just a tad difficult to actually understand the question in the first go .Then,a douchebag with his own agenda,started to completely digress off the topic.The director was asked if he could include some part in the play which would deal with the 'same sex' love.A major WTF moment for all us sane,normal people.This saint went on for ten minutes justifying his suggestion while the actor,director and the audience became slowly slack jawed at the incredulousness of it all.He proceeded to rant about human rights and how the homosexuals are having a hard time getting justice.When the torture was over,the director(who had an awesome tortoise tattoo on his neck) quickly shut the doofus with a 'Your point has been taken'.Moment of secret smiles.

But that was not the end of the torture,unfortunately for me.A major buffoon went on to explain that she,being a software professional,lived in a coccoon and how this play has given her a new perspective.To which we all mentally stated 'Good for you but I think the actors need to get ready for the next show in 15 minutes'. Indifferent to all the restlessness and not so hushed 'tch tch', madame went on to bleat for another ten minutes.

By this time,I had made a personal note to myself,which shall be my next blog,that intelligence and knowledge have nothing to do with each other.These douchebags who were sitting in the sanctified innermost circles were nothing more than dabblers who in no way could process any information that they acquired.All they did was spout someone else's opinions and criticisms.A lady had the audacity to fire a question straight from the prologue of Vijay Tendulkar's 'Selected plays'.Basically,the interactive session was just a sham led by a group of psuedo intellectuals who only knew how to dress in haute coutre and talk out of their asses.

I had to immediately rush for a smoke before my brain's wiring could get short circuited.And ended up spending the evening talking filthy at a classless pub.

The Dream

A blue gold toothed Goldfish,
Gasping on an outstretched arm.

A naked child sneezes,
Wishing for the summer,warm.

Pink Car,The Red Bottle,
Over silhouettes of sharks,as they swarm.

Flying men like moths,
Return to filth,oh the charm!

The Walk Away

The headache's been getting worse these days.Its my brain,it's giving up on me.I 've gone into overdrive because of the complete inconsequential and baseless thoughts in my brain.Its cantankerous,I tell you.To think so much.Sometimes I wish I didn't comprehend anything around me.'Ignorance is bliss' was no fool's words.

There's so much around us that we process.Even when we don't want to.Today,there are so many issues to be thought of.Which we must think about.And we do.We think,think and think.Sometimes these lead to action but somewhere down the line,the enthusiasm fades.Goes into Objectivity.Ever had a sudden inspiration standing in a crowded bus,or just at the moment you're about to fall asleep,or just when you have to void your bowels(sorry for being crude,but I'm saying it like it is.)Then once you do have a pen/paper or even a keyboard before you,it's over.The flash is gone and you end up sounding like those millions of boring bloggers around you.The hashing and rehashing of thoughts are all vomited out as limp words and you end up sounding..bogus.This is exactly how I sound right now.Just echoing millions' thoughts.Good job,Pin.What will you do when they start copywriting thoughts?

Girl on the bus

The everyday commute is beginning to get to me.Commuting is the most unproductive aspect of an economy.Plus the nauseatingly perfumed air conditioned buses do nothing to improve my mood.My legs do not reach the floor and my rear too big  for the seat.The strange language of Kannada being sung in raspingly,grating voices playfully tear and destroy my ear drums.But we do what we have to do.Save money.From those darned thugs of autowallas.

Yesterday though,as I sat at the window,contemplating the lack of interest in my life, job,people and trying not to barf,I noticed  this kid sitting three places to my right.And she was actually amused by the look on my face.A tiny thing,with the right amount of chubbiness on her face and arms.And,what a disarming smile,those dimples lit her face up.I couldn't help smiling back.And it just instantly improved my mood.It was super,the rest of the  day.My pod played the right songs,I didn't trip over imaginary things and I wasn't locked out of my apartment.

It was like finding a piece of the sparkly when bent down to pull a painful pebble out of one's shoe.