Top seven things I hate about New Years

Well since the whole world and it's sister is writing down their list, why not me?

Presenting my herd mentality blog with a difference

Top few shitty things I hate/ despise/ loathe about new years :D

,|,,) The Best and Worst lists of the year: Yes, you guessed it. 10 days left for the year to die in peace and everyone from TV channels to newspapers and your baaju waali aunty conduct an elaborate postmortem on the year past and compile their very own '6.75 best *insert random category here* of 2009'

,|,, ,,|,) The Best and the worst of the decade: Oh my FUCKIN' God! As if the best/worst of the year was not enough, some nincompoop realized that it was the end of the decade. God damn it. 10 years ago I was a 10 year old school going kid whose only problem about the new millennium was not Y2K but Christmas homework. Isn't that shit loads to dissect?!

,|,, ,|,, ,|,, ) What are your New Year's eve plans? :D : Main Kyun Bataun? This question only reinstalls my faith in the voyeuristic nature of human beings. I'm not inviting you to whatever I'm doing, you're not inviting me to yours. Point kya tha?

,|,, ,|,, ,|,, ,|,, ) Naye varsh mein baba ramdev ka aashirwaad aapke saath hai DONT DLTE THS MSG. PASS TO 50 FRNDS AND U WILL GET 'BIGST C*****A AWRD' DNT DLTE PLS PLS: *sigh* Enough said?

,|,, ,|,, ,|,, ,|,, ,|,, ) Older people asking you what your new year's resolution is: Why is it so essential to waste ten minutes of my precious life making up resolutions that I'm going to forget as soon as the clock strikes 12. This year, just to make offenders of this rule miserable, I'm going to tell them, "I plan to earn more than what you currently earn in a matter of a few months. Then I'm going to spend the money right in front of you and make you feel miserable about your own life. Does that make you feel better? *bats eyelids*"

,|,, ,|,, ,|,, ,|,, ,|,, ,|,, ) Fucktards who will be spending new years in front of the TV watching pre recorded shows with shitty artistes performing: DUDE! If you are going to ring in the new year watching Rakhi Sawant gyrating to 'Dekhta hai tu kya' , I'm so sorry for you.

,|,, ,|,, ,|,, ,|,, ,|,, ,|,, ,|,, ) Christmas Vacation Homework: Drat! This miserable thing will never let me enjoy new years in peace. Mummy!

To all those who managed to go through my entire rant without divorcing your hair and head, have a happy new decade and a happy new year and a happy January and a ... OK, you get the drift. And to the offenders of my list, a Hindi saying of the back of a truck in some part of North India should be enough:

"Buri Nazar waale tere bachche jiye, bade hoke tera hi khoon piye"

Cheers! :D

Hate

I'm pissed. Waking up every morning to read at least a couple of stories on women being raped isn't what good mornings are made of. Minor raped by brother-in-law who was in 'love' with her, NRI techie dupes girl saying he'd marry her and then goes 'Muhahah, I aint marrying you, I'm here to rape'

Every time I read something of the sort, it disturbs me. As opposed to people who just read about it like yet another story. But the story that made me cringe was the one about Aruna Shanbaug.

For the ignorant, Shanbaug, a nurse at KEM was sodomized after being strangled with a dog chain by a ward boy. The attack made her lose her speech and left her paralyzed and in a vegetative state. She was 25 at the time of the attack. Oh and just for the record, this happened 36 fuckin' years ago. She is 61 and still in a vegetative state. Pinki Virani, the author of several heart wrenching and disturbing books had written a book on Aruna too. She has now moved SC with a plea to "direct the KEM not to force feed her". Effectively, this means, Euthanasia.

I'm not writing this blog to debate on the morality of Mercy Killing. So let me just get to the point.

In all of this... where the fuck is the ward boy who left Shanbaug in this stats. Sohanlal Walmiki was jailed for 7 years for, get this, attempted murder and robbing Shanbaug's earrings. Full stop. NOT for rape. He apparently is employed in a Delhi hospital.

I'm disgusted. I cannot fathom the mass illness plaguing men in India.

And the only solution I can think of, as punishment and as a deterrent is... castration. No hanging, no life imprisonment, simply chop their weeners off. Life imprisonment and death sentences are easy ways out. Let them be subjected to pain and a life of humiliation as the women they raped were. That ought to do the trick

Oh yes, and I dare... I DARE you pseudo-intellectuals and humanitarians to give me bullcrap about the inhumanity of this, India not believing in the eye-for-an-eye thingy. I DARE you.

Signing off

(ignore any grammatical erorrs, I wrote this in 10 minutes flat)

Words are all I have...

Wow, Sneha just inspired me to start blogging again. I'm sure she isn't even aware. At a time when even twitter is starting to bore the hell out of me, I'm back to the Pappa, the blog instead of trying to cram in my thoughts in a measly 180 characters.

Like Alan Shore says in Boston Legal, "Words are my friends. I don't know what I'd do without them." Oh man, don't I agree with him. It's a woefully difficult task to edit words in my mind and tweet it out; the end result often resembling a poorly typed out SMS.

What is the big deal about twitter anyway? People often tweet at the rate of 15 in as many minutes on my list. To search for a particular person's tweet is one mammoth task. And I always thought blogging was pointless.

I'm halfway through the third year of BMM (woohoo!) and I am in serious need of doing some thinking.

One, I'm losing my friends, my words. Never ever have I felt so helpless and so much at a loss for them. I cannot seem to pinpoint the real reason for it. Influence of other people I'm surrounded with, who of course speak in 'Indian English' is not a reason surely. I speak Hinglish too. But when I wrote, good English came naturally to me. I don't mean to sound vain. It's a gift I have (rather, had) and I treasure it. But they seem to be reluctant to come to me.

Maybe I should start reading full-time again. And writing... Yes, write, I have to. The gift of gab is too precious to me to let it wither away. It's time for desperate measures.

There! I blogged. Now, could I have fit this in 180 characters? I bet I'd need even less.

nishtha_k: at a loss for words :P :(

Suppose

I'm supposed to be studying. 

I'm supposed to go to the bank.

I'm supposed to write regularly.

I'm not supposed to have a perpetual headache.

I'm supposed to be there for you.

Physical distances aren't supposed to matter.

I'm there for you regardless of the miles.

Count my love with not the distances but the smiles.

Nothing else matters, is the song that finally did

Sealed our fate, didn't it?

We've sung this song countless times.

You know all the words and where they rhyme.

When you hear it again close your eyes.

To all the world and all it's lies.

Remember me and the times we had.

When we cried together; when we were glad.

And I'l be there... 

Dedicated to: Kamna and Sni, my guardian Angels. I love you both. 

SHOLAY

This is a spoof on Sholay that I wrote by changing genres for a class assignement...

Sholay – ‘Fire on the mountain, run, run, run!’

 

(Original Genre: Action)

(New Genre: Science Fiction, Comedy)

Jai’s Diary:

So, well, it’s the year 3000 and not 2000 for God’s sake! How can you expect me to go fight those bear-human crossbreeds? All because this Galaxy Patrolling Officer, Thakur Whambam was stupid enough to trust me and my buddy Veeru Drinksalot to help him fight off a hive of bees. One stung him, we both ran out. Hickery- Dickery- Dock.

 

Toss Time! We go. Damn! On our way to Rammsteingadh, we meet Basanti Talksalot, the spaceship captain (for short distances only!)  Veeru is convinced Talks-Drinksalot is the ideal surname for his to-be born children. I simply stuff cotton in my ears. Thakur, we realize stays with his ancient looking naukar Ramlalloo and widowed daughter-in-law, Radha Shuddup. What a feisty lady SHE is.

 

Ok, the first time we land up at Thakur’s ancient looking space station from circa 2500 AD, he tries to get us beaten up by mutant turtles to check our, ahem, strength. We beat them, thankfully, but that’s when I realized Thakur was not right in his head. Radha is slightly nuts as well. She actually gave us the password to the space locker in which Thakur stored all his towels. Towels! I mean, we would be rich! He definitely would have more towels than what the SHAM- Space Home Dept. and Ministry is offering us. 50,000 towels. Hmf. I wonder if SHAM stands for something else as well. Am I in love?

 

Meanwhile in Gabbar’s Den.

 

“Kitna Inaam rakhe hai sarkar hum par” Sambar, the right hand of the bear human crossbreed Gabbar Kink, who had his backside stuck to the crow’s nest of the spaceship yawns to himself, scratches and, “50,000 towels sire. And I would suggest that you would kindly refrain from using Bhojpuri at least now.” Ach-thoo went Gabbar. “Answer me only the question I ask! Another unsuccessful raid! Son of a swine! I want something done now!” Stomp, stomp. Sambar rolls his eyes.

 

Jai’s Diary:

 

 

Life drags on. Wake up, fool around, kill Gabbar’s bears. Veeru is the only saving grace with his drunken antics. He threatened to jump into the blackhole if the darned spaceshipwaali’s Aunt refused to get them wed. Radha also seems to be eyeing me. So I guess we are all in the family way. But work comes first. Although making merry comes even before.

 

We celebrated this half wit festival in which people put powdered stuff into people’s space suit! In spite of it being totally unacceptable, I played along. Ah, to be in love! But the darned Gabbar had to spoil this as well. I never really did figure out what is problem is. Also, thanks to the dim wit, Thakur went into a flashback. Shudder, shudder.

 

Thakur’s Flashback:

 

 

He was a happy go lucky space patrolling officer, who was nearing retirement. All he wanted to do was get away from all the hustle and bustle of the Martian Prison. He was tired of torturing his prisoners by playing the ‘Sadistic Guitar’ He had a special pick that he used to burn holes in their ears. He had subjected Gabbar to it once, which lead to mental damage instead of cochlear version of it. And all Gabbar wanted then, was revenge.

 

So when Thakur comes back to his little hamlet Rammsteingadh in the next galaxy, he discovers Gabbar’s monkeys dancing to ‘Kitne Aadmi They’ Remix by their very own Sarkar… over his family’s dead bodies! Grr! This was the nth time he had had to resurrect them. Gabbar was going to pay. Yes, Thakur was going to play the most ghastly tune on the ‘Sadistic Guitar’ ever! He put on a Slayer t-shirt and was off.

 

He posed and started playing a Megadeth tune. Unfortunately, Gabbar’s bears were unaffected by it and captured him. He was tied up and forced to listen to Dave Mustaine’s whiny vocals himself. Gabbar staged an entry. “Yeh haath humka de de Thakur.” Sambar slapped his forehead. “No!” yelled Thakur. “Come again?” said Gabbar. “God damn it!” said Thakur, posed and “Nahiiiiin!” “Haaaan!”

 

 

Veeru’s Diary:

 

Do I have to do this? Drink! Get me a drink.

 

Ok, so this is how Thakur lost his hands and his Sadistic Guitar. Gabbar and he kept pow-wowing over this. My poor Basanti and her gaanvwaalas were dragged in this unnecessary battle. I was all for taking Basanti and running away. Also the weird ship she calls ‘Dhanno Shanno’ But no! Jai Scorny has to use his coin to toss … all the time.

 

I grudgingly tagged along. Till… I saw a good looking girl in a bikini space suit dancing away. She was dancing to Gabbar’s remixed song ‘Main dooba main dooba’ Gabbar, used my pet dialogues ‘Kutte mein tera khoon pee jaoonga’ in the remix. I was already drunk. Then I realized it was Basanti who he was forcing to dance on the tune.

 

Darn the whisky! I ran towards Gabbar and got caught. And my dearest spaceshipwaali had to actually do amid air jig without her oxygen mask. All this to save me. I vowed to Gabbar that I would suck the son of a bitch dry of his blood. Well, at least my Jai Darling would.

 

Jai entered and while I was too drunk/ beaten up to notice. He whisked me away. I was content to being in his arms when it hit me, “Where is my Basanti?” I threw a fit and Jai went back to get her. Thakur came running in the meanwhile.

 

Damn! The whisky was taking over. I kneeled on the spaceship’s main button panel. And I let out a dangerous weapon. Apparently, this 500 year old relic merges two people into one. Oh oh! Jay! And Basanti? No! Please God, I can’t marry Jai! What was this? Jai and Gabbar? Oh…well.

 

Thakur’s recorded Diary: ( He has no hands, Einstein)

 

Oh, well. All’s well that end’s well. You see, Radha doesn’t have to marry that walking talking Sarcasm Emitting Machine. Gabbar exists only in his bodily form. Seeing his body still makes my non existent fingers scream out for my Sadistic Guitar.

 

The combination of Gabbar’s lunacy and Jai’s sarcasm was too much for a poor body to handle. The, ahem, deadly combo is now kept in the Martian Zoo in the Alpha Centauri Galaxy. Veeru and Basanti are now married. Thank God she is not my daughter.

 

Everything is nice and good in Rammsteingadh now and Veeru is blissfully unaware of the fact that it was me, rather, my leg that set of the old missile. I say, “Tere liye toh mere pair hi kaafi hai, Gabbar” Hahaha!

 

 

 

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