Landing in Chennai at 5 in the morning can be the stuff nitemares are made of, for a first time visitor. For a man who's spend 5 good yrs with 3 yrs of hostel included, it just means one thing. Time to get ur butt inside a Pallavan Transport bus. Well here's where life plays a great leveller. Ego gets into the baggage compartment and the stubbed feet get firmly planted as the roaring hippo farts out a designer trail of black smoke and sets off. Now standing inside a PTC bus isnt really bad, if you've done it many times before. And with local citizenry including the dhoodhwalla, watchman and newspaperwalla for company, all u need to do is contend with bad breath and overactive sweat glands in ur immediate neighbourhood. Standing in a PTC bus is quite an art and if you havent gotten a hang of how best to work your way around inside, I suggest you let the master teach you some tricks.

Alrite, first thing to do if you're looking to grab the first available seat, always keep ur ears pricked and make a little mental note of the exit points of all seated passengers in the row facing you, the front and the back rows. So I did and planned my assault soon as the bus braked rite around Vadapalani junction.A little hop, step and jump and I was rite next to the seat in front, but some prized prick seems to have read my blog even before I'd written it. Ok so I lost my seat in front and the seat behind and in due course the seat rite next to me to evil predators. So I decide to chuck my pop theories of seat grabbing and wait patiently without singing songs of loss and despair. And voila, seems to have worked. For one of the occupants definitely was an angel of mercy to my tired legs. I rested my pretty backside and took a close look at the guy beside me, snoring like a fattened pig (that begs the questions, do pigs snore only in metaphor?), a slithery dribble escaping a little crevice on his mouth.The bus drew closer to Velachery and my senses worked overtime.Wasnt he the big fat bloke who'd taken a ticket for Velachery? Oh God, he's gonna miss his stop. His wife, children, father, mother, grandfather, maid, everybody eagerly awaiting his return. Hate him as I may, I cant let this fate befall my worst enemy. OK I gotta act fast..I gotta get this guy up on his feet and off the bus, never mind the use of some force. So I furiously shook him yelling and shrieking VELACHERY BOSS VELACHERY..If looks could tell a story, I still wouldnt be able to comprehend whether he wanted to sock me, kill me or pull his hair..Seems like I got it all wrong about his exit at Velachery.

What do I say, people are'nt too nice these days. They dont really appreciate the spirit of good intentions. I can only mourn the demise of an era where small acts of most unsolicited kindness were still appreciated.With a heavy heart I stepped out of the Pallavan Hippo.My little pleasure ride was getting over too fast.I was getting out some place with the most recognizable landmarks. Human and animal waste co-existing in perfect harmony.Oh yeh, I've reached Perungudi.The story of having watched three quarters of Dhoom 1 and Don and Bhagambhaag n all that's too plain vanilla drab to deserve any attention here..So skip it all..I waded thru the muck for half a day n lived to see Bengalooru the next. Gosh I miss Singaara Chennai already, n need I tell you, Pallavan transport too.

Current Mood: accomplished

There's something about marriages, me and blogs around which I can build only a very vague inexact connection. You wouldnt be far off the mark if you said marriage was my muse. Why else would I swing my fingers into action back into my blogpad 8 months after I last left a watermark in here. The marriage again I say. Therein lies the story. Flip down multiple entries and if you really are one of those freaks who cares about stats surrounding dates on my blog, you might find another entry listed long time ago. Well,pan back into the immediate past and lock google earth at Pune, Maharashtra. A first time travel in Kingfisher Airlines was made memorable by Yana Gupta's televised oxygen tube sucking routine. Well I'm sure some of us may have missed the part while concentrating on more mundane stuff like safety instructions. Some hold a view that seatbelts in Kingfisher Airlines are devices to check the gush of male testosterone from sucking in pretty young things in red. So much for my third world description of flight travel. Ground Zero Pune. God, am I thinking of writing a travellogue on Pune? I must have flipped my kidneys.Well then thats the part I'll skip, cos whats most exciting is how things pan out in an inter caste marriage, particularly when the boy is Marathi Brahmin and the girl Convent Catholic.To my total disappointment, the ending was a complete let down given the level of tension that had build up till D Day..Christ,why does nature deny me my fair share of drama in life without 'me' being the hero of the plot..? Some questions would never get a satisfactory and convincing enough answer, cos the question is so fricking stupid that U want to turn the page.

So there I was armed and ready and already set to get back. No kingfisher red in view, the poor man's ferry takes me through the skies. The great Indian flying dream has been realized. Hail the Deccan.Touch down Bangalore and news beckons. I got a Chennai visit scheduled for wednesday..Mother of all horrors thats like 2 days from now. Look at the bright side of it all, I'll have a story for the blog. This time I'm hoping I would'nt be denied my share of drama and adventure. Hell, I'm playing in a genre where I dont belong at all. What am I doing. What are you guys doing, reading this.

Freeze that frame, the next post Chennai ke baad.

Hot in Jan..Sweaters shrink to size..
J

Current Mood: awake

They say 'Maybe', 'Lets see' and that makes me sick to the stomach. Whatever happened to much shorter and simpler words like 'Yes' and 'No. Its almost like those words've been entirely wiped out by some irresistible force which excreted out some larger, exciting, more obscure terms and walked away.

Well it may not sound like the biggest thing wrong in the process of communication these days, but its the etiquette, my time, my plans and my frickin everything thats now getting under a cloud of exteme uncertainty with these maybes' and the lets see's. I presume the male race is still continuing in a very old fashion pre apocalypse usage of the words Yes and No.But for the much fairer sex (doesnt this fairer sex cliche suck, I'll get out of it soon, remember i'm pre apocalypse too for now) its still the maybe days. To give you an example, I say "Hi Sandy, what plans for tomorrow. Why dont we catch up over a drink..(Assuming Sandy's getting closer to being a 'good friend')..Sandy says "Lets see Jay".."Excuse me Sandy, but does that mean err, yes or no. Sandhya says "Lets see Jay. Maybe we could, maybe I'll confirm tomorrow. Lets see" . Ok now this is confusing matters little further. I can handle 'lets see' to some extent and 'maybe' to a lesser extent, but both in conjunction one time is quite a task, and both together for 4 friggin times takes my goddamn life. Now I got to handle the rest of this with the delicacy of a sculptor, sculpting the male sex organ. I cant possibly ask her to say a Yes or No, cos that would make me pushy. I cant ask her who she's going out with, cos that'll make me jealous. I cant ask her to explain further, cos that'll make me dumb. (And you ask me why I'm losing hair). And all I wanna do is to have company for a drink.

I have a good mind to let go right there, but the dynamics of this profound statement makes me want to explore it in a little detail. Remember here's a girl who's normal and fun to talk to, till she gets invaded by the 'maybe' virus. And maybe doesnt necessarily mean she's got 4 interesting dates and 1 to pick or 5 different places to go and come back within 90 minutes. It just means that there could be something more interesting than me that might happen a minute before our little drinkathon begins. So its a double edged weapon that would keep the persons importance in perspective and also give her the chance to excercise options.

Coming back to 'maybe' and 'lets see', after I'm left baffled, confused and perplexed and not having much of a choice to get much beyond that and much after my friend expertly changes the subject to the deterioration of the social order, I decide to wait and watch. And like all others with a history of failure do, I make plan B to sail safe. And I call plan B safe because it involves a game of tennis, beer and a porn DVD with the boys. You could'nt go wrong with that and you could stand them up giving the lousiest of reasons. And on the D Day, an hour before, I get that message. Oh I'm so sorry, I so would've loved to come, but my friend Danny is here just for a couple of days and blah blah...zzzzz...brr..grrr...thats how the message looks to me. So yeh I continue with my plan with the boys. No complains. Its time well spent. But tell me, does any Danny decide to show up for 2 days just an hour before I'm supposed to have a drink with you. And if you did'nt know that earlier, you must be out of our rocker, or you must have a plannin disorder or I must be as interesting as your mother in laws' goldsmith. I choose to go with the planning disorder. Maybe I'll put it to vote again. I could bet my butt, that she would be calling me out again the subsequent week and she would be faced with the same disorder again. And this time the 'Maybe' virus would hit her a couple of hours ahead. And bingo it comes true again.

So there we go, moral of the story, try out Yes and No, in place of Maybe and Lets See. Beleive me those words are really therapeutic and they work wonders, especially on the opposite sex if they happen to be male race, thats pretty much challenged on the rules of the dating game.And if ever some girlfriend of yours who dated some Joe or Moe tells you that the way is to play hard to get and later back off, so it'll keep u in the hunt and make u elusive and mysterious, kindly be polite enough to offer her hemlock poison. Chances are she might enjoy it and you maybe spared of any further advices that are light years distant from logic.

YES IT IS.OR NO IT ISNT.BUT MAYBE IT NEVER WILL BE. OR ....LETS SEE.

Cheerio
J

Whats it about remote controls. That little contraption with buttons that looks positively as ugly as any UnGodly creation to have hit ur tabletop or couch. I've always felt this thing to be the paragon of all vices. Like most inanimate objects in the world, it may look innocent, but dont let not its appearance deceive you. It partakes in the human manifestation of at least 3 of the 7 deadly sins (I'm sorry I dont remember all of them especially when I'm under the influence of excessive cheap alcohol).

Sloth -Now thats like stating the obvious. One does not move to the television set. It comes to you.
Pride - "Hmm, now u antiquated old idiot box.I'll stay where I am. Show me what you got. Bring it over to me bitch". (Spoken as u sit with legs crossed and back slouched on the couch)
Greed and Anger is varying measures all subject to the level of performance the remote control brings in or the entertainment the television brings in.

Now if you want to be a creative smartass, try out lust as well, and mebbe reason out about how it always leads you on to the channel showcasing the Sports Illustrated Calender or the Rio fashion week.
Dont try out envy, you might just not go any further.

But then thats not all. You discover that these objects have legs too. Now it isnt a crime to have legs. At least not if you look as ugly as a remote control. But it is absolutely against the law of the land if you possess legs and you keep them hiding, so you can prank your way away and spew your righteous anger on your slothful, sluggish and insenstive masters. Well, you may or may not agree with me, but I'm convinced beyond any doubt that remote controls walk and hide. They're desperate friggin attention seekers and choose a time of your favorite program to run a mile away into oblivion. And when you're done searching, screeching, screaming and squealing and taking a precious hour and a half to figure out how to run your television manually and get there, you might just find them sporting their best coy and cute smile, sitting rite beside where you were.

Now you could be a wise old woman like my grandmum and tell me that I'm careless, inattentive and ageing and forgetting disgracefully. Perhaps the two of you might have a point. But ask yourself today. Havent you ever had this happen to you and how often.If your answer is yes, then we have consensus that remotes do have life and its just the biggest myth perpetrated on human civilization that they're manufactured objects. If your answer is No, then you need to be manufacturing remotes for yourself, cos they're gonna be fewer and fewer human beings in the world in the days to come, who're not gonna suffer from an absolute and abject distaste for the most frightening inanimate object since Chucky.

And for now, I need to chase the little rascal and find him well ahead of the next sick flick on TV.Time to get my partner in crime for a fun game called the 7 deadly sins.

Cheers
J

Vertebrates of the world unite. You've found your vertebra. Just when I was set to sing in a hissed voice, the vertebra is dead, long live the vertebra..comes the shake up. Now just for the record here, vertebra aint the latest push up bra in the market, but it's got sound references to the spinal cord, backbone vis a vis public outrage over Jessica Lal as defined by the leading newschannels of India. Well it did take some kind of fingering to get the best of us to be at our strongest best. Thats right, SMS's did it. Public outrage is now just a keystroke away. Thats gotten the Prez of the country interested. I told you its easy these days to have balls. All it takes is a blessed finger.

Now for the issue. Jessica was shot, cos she did'nt give Manu a drink. Everybody including me and You saw it. God it was so loud you could'nt miss it. Not for a second am I being cynical here. I'm pointing to something that was so obviously obvious to everybody you did'nt need a court for prosecution. Then came the shocker. Media reacted in the only way they knew to, blow it up. And this time, they got the blow up dead right. The public reacted in the only safe way they knew to, report to big brother media and let known their feelings. And we did a swell job on it. And the noise was heard.

You must be wondering if I'd ever get to making a frickin point here. Read on, I just might. Thats the luxury a blog accords you. But yeh back to the public outcry, did we do enough? We really got an easy deal, which was cool..all thanks to the media..We got the who's who of the nation listen to us. So can we feel proud of our big noise? In hushed measures maybe. Think over it, if we did had the cheek to raise our voices before media gave us the finger previlege, maybe a Manu Sharma and Vikas adav would have never dared lift a gun. If we dared show them the finger sometime ago, we would have never had to excercise our fingers over a keypad to express anguish. Maybe if we he'd stuck together without being just virtually together, we could've made a stronger point. So Jessica Lal died. I'm pretty sure she would've never been earmarked as martyr material, but by some funny twist of fate, today she is. Did she live a great life? No ways she was'nt Mother Teresa. Did she in someway contribute to her own unfortunate death? Maybe as part of a glorified group of Beautiful Party people, she unwittingly did.... We did, he did she did and she died. Shayan Munshi says he’s moved forward beyond the Jessica Lal case. Somebody shoot him in the mouth please, so he never gets to talk, just look pretty. Or somebody tell him, that when he moves forward, he’s just getting two steps closer to a gunshot. Heck, why waste time and breath on him. He’s a pretty boy, like many of them. The party goes on. Life may or may not.

Everybody has expressed opinion, but fighting really isn’t our call yet, is it? Oh there’s the media for it. They’ll do it for us. We’ll send SMS’s and we’ll continue to send SMS’s. In less than a rupee, we’ve become socially conscious and made our big brothers in television rich.

Am I proposing a solution. Heck no, I’m part of the chicken brigade that’ll SMS to express my anger and then write reams of paper on my blog. Or maybe I’ll just express righteous anger by gritting my teeth and spitting venom on Manu, Vikas and Co in the company of my friends with a beer. Wow, and I make the bars richer. Forgive me, if I’m being cynical about the world and me, but for once I guess my cynicism is well placed. I should be back with another article, after the judgement is reversed. We’ll all be happy citizens for sure then and sleep peacefully. Let justice prevail, let people develop balls to fight. Till then let me keep my fingers crossed and keep the writing job on.

The chicken retires
Cheerio
Jay

Current Mood: confused

One day Shagthedog changed his name to Stagthedog.It would be chronicled in history as one of the greatest episodes in the history of human civilization.And to be part of this great moment, gives me great pleasure.I know that you must be marvelling at this huge sacrifice I've made at the alter of creative profanity.I'd let you shake a leg or hiccup to the health of this lovely tale. And I shall accept with both my hands and the rest of me, whatever positions of responsibility the world would offer me for this singularly wonderful gesture.Coppola is working on a mega movie project titled Copulating with Shagthedog.

I would be Stagthedog from this day on,even if I were to backdate this by half a year, though it does'nt mean a thing.It only means that Shagthedog moves and makes way.Well the post seems a tad egoist I understand.Heck it is.And you must be phenomenally dumb to think otherwise.I just feel that there is a lot that the reader could get out of this post if he distances himself from any feelings of negativity while reading.

Had an LJ meeting.Felt weird looking at people whom I always thought could'nt be real by any stretch of imagination (forgive the poor pun ).Was quite scary in all.Guess there was a turnout of 10.I was there too.The agenda was centred around the cultivation of globe artichokes in the Ivory Coast.Or maybe I just did'nt get what the agenda was.Latelyontime gifted me with a chicken sandwich.It takes a big man to kinda understand a small man's soft spot.

Mark Knopfler played 26 Fenders and I played with the band on my air guitar, a little away from the stage.Genius loves company, so I was there.I must apologize to the world that a 56 year old man gave me an orgasm in the midst of 50,000 odd others.The ones who managed to notice it, women especially, must've been turned on.I was too buzy to notice.101.3 FM did'nt have me for today.I beleive I was missed.Yeh I insist I was missed.

Oh Speaking of missed, Dhempe seems to cover up for a bit of Mona_mona that's missing from these pages.Worthy substitute Dhempe.Way to go.Doors are open for others who would like to walk in.I'm large hearted in addition to being sacrificial by nature.So I can accomodate and tolerate more than 2 readers here.

Listening to Love Over Gold, one of those compositions when Knopfler used to have hair.Supreme stuff.

Getting some fresh air and mint to go with it.Welcome to Peppermint Lounge.Exit the Newfound Stagthedog.

Cheerio
Jay

Current Mood: content

What do you call a situation wherein your brains freeze, your fingers go numb and your whole body quivers with fear at the thought of making a journal entry.I'm not too sure, but I would'nt mind spending a couple of hours trying to baptize it.Well less said the better.Will write when there's a better urge to.But then just to let you know guys that I'm around if not kicking. So if you check in, nod your heads or wave your hands.Just lemme know you're around.Maybe one of these days, I might just think of barking again.

Cheerio
J

Current Mood: indifferent

8 days since I've rested my hallowed backside into any chat or live discussion forum. Now that surprises me more than it would you, hapless reader, because I mostly reside within virtual confines.But then let my backside take a backseat for a moment and let me ponder deeply on the reasons which kept me a mile and a half away. No it did'nt have to do with the Tsunami, though I've spend enough mental energy on thought surrounding tidal waves and doughty survivors.I'll come back to that in a bit.Small pause will continue in an hour.So hold on I'm not done yet.

Ok there really isn't a way I can chronicle time of absence...but then for the benefit of the reader it's been 2 days since I did that famous last pause.And those were not my famous last words. So back to the thick and thin of the journal minus all the despicable interruptions.

The water level has receded, bodies are back to the shores, so is the debris.And perhaps I don't need to get started on how bad things are in some parts of the world as I speak or write now.Guess every part of the world (and post 9/11 I can count the US of A too in it) has a story to tell about wreckage, destruction and human casualties, and the saga would continue.Tough luck, gotta live with it.Kal Ho Na Ho.Was swimming in Kovalam when the tidal wave broke, pretty much like Nero and his fiddle in Rome.I had 5 other human beings sharing in my Magic Christmas down South.Had to travel back to Bangalore 26th noon time.A shanty little town called Karungappally lying rite in the midst of Kollam and Allepey (which by no means are metropolises) had its own horror story.A government hospital packed with a million odd people, some part of them casualties does'nt make for a pretty sight.19 hours might seem like a long time for a journey between Trivandrum and Bangalore, but then on the 26th it really did seem like eternity.

Rewind a little, the backpackers had a good time with Kumarakom, the half baked journey through Fort Kochi and a li'l bit of Trivandrum.A week out in Kerala can be good, 3 days was beyond good, so that's the sotyr without the frills for the benefit of the reader.The frills have been cut because of a 7 day state mourning.Ok I dont buy that state mourning shit, but I'm sad alright.Current death toll stands at 23k I'm told, could be more.Not the best method of population control.May the souls of the deceased rest in peace. Peace to the families.

Nothing more to contribute. Maybe I should backdate Kolkota, if ver I get to doing it sometime.As for the rest, could'nt really have my atention focussed onto the radio show yesterday.Tsunamis were rocking my brain.Need a break. KIT KAT Time

Cheers
Jay

Current Mood: gloomy

Now comes the time when I tell everybody the story of how my hard earned waffles of wisdom were just snuffed out by a travelling pariah dog.That's as close as I would get to metaphor as possible, but then it does not mask my absolute disdain towards the Electricity Board which chose to blank out the power absolutely rite after I entered the last period in my journal entry.(The save button was on vacation).Absolutely no relevance to the trail of this blog, but then all that reminds me of wanderlust and a hidden source of energy that I managed to unearth during the course of my Eastern Odyssey

But before I get anywhere, please notice that I've decided to employ paragraphing to cover up for disjuncted thinking.That's a nice cover up I say.So now I can actually get to covering my Eastern Safari bit by bit. There was a marriage in Bhubaneswar.Happened to be two of my friends who were tying the knot in a seeming ocean of unbundled joy.I liked the food, so I could'nt notice much that happened. But fact lies that they did get married while I was munching on chicken chops and fish n chips.That was the best part of the day that proved to be quite a killer for the rest of the 10 hours. Nobody died, but family cried and Jack n Jill went rolling down to Odegaon.No i have'nt misspelled Oregon, located to the West of the US of A, but this understated inconsequential hamlet (I'm just making it sound cool)suddenly has more relevance in my life than Oregon or the rest of the United States would ever.

A drive to Odegaon by a big busted and bootylicious Ambassador may not exactly figure in the National Geographic list of 20 best things to do for a getaway. Coincidentally it did'nt figure in mine either.Backbreaking might seem mild, but then a pathological cribber that I am, proabably I'm being cranky. So I thought, till I witnessed people stretching their backs and backsides, instead of peeing in pleasure and delight, everytime the vehicle pulled over. 10 in the night reached Odegaon (by this time I was beginning to quite enjoy the name Odegaon). Celebrities that we fancied ourselves to be, few of us nosedived into the better parts of the house.A couple of disco lights and some shiny shimmery items captured my attention en route. I promise you, I could have directed Rampur ka Disco Dancer at that moment in time.

Odegaon does not have too many people.But it has too many people for one house.But then everybody who was somebody or nobody or even Mad maybe, in Odegaon had to make their presence felt in the bride groom's house.That meant 50 people attacked the time space continuum, defied gravity and took the forms of Leo, Trinity and Morpheus in a couple of rooms on the ground floor.I was basking in luxury in comparison.So the day passed, and so did the rituals and everything else.And the reception too.The disco lights still flashed.Seemed like they were smiling at me or perhaps propositioning me. Not sure. and after all that, the ride back to Bhubaneswar.

A drive from Odegaon to Bhubaneswar by a Matador van has its own elements of fun if there is singing and everything else in the vehicle.Songs are nature's way of distracting you from the not so exciting things that happen in front of you..like screwed up roads. So all that action from a bunch of sweet oldsters did perk up the return.So backs were stretched and throats retched, and Bhubaneswar did arrive after I'd counted minutes, seconds and split seconds.

For the information of the tourist, Bhubaneswar is 120 kms from Odegaon.Ok I don't know how much of help that was, but more importantly it comprises Xavier Institute of Management, REC, a couple of more colleges, a railways station, roads and some houses.A backpacking tourist would take exactly 3 hours and 22 minutes to take a round trip around Bhubaneswar and finish a novel on it. Nice and quiet and peaceful, if you are the kinds who is nice and quiet and peaceful perhaps.Not sure.But once you've completed your 3 hours and 22 minutes, it's time to head for Kolkota.That is, if you insist.I did.

Current Mood: awake