museman

It is a miracle I have survived. I mean, in the last ten days, I have seen movies of the caliber of Shikar, Zinda, Family, Jawani diwani (randomly ordered

Things change at a rapid pace. Six months idhar kaa udhar and you are a completely different person from what you were.

< ?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /> 

I have always been thin.  Not too thin but thin alright. Was a good reason for me to stay away from the gym. Didn't want to be the thinnest person in the gym. But then again, I joined a gym circa july'05.

The gym instructor asks me, "What is your expectation out of the GYM? What do you want?"  Never knew that you need to have a mission statement and guiding goals for even as small thing as to go to the gym. I formulated a goal instantaneously and told him that I would like to grow some weight, say maybe grow to be 65kg, get fit and gain some muscle.

He gave me a standard lecture about the rigors to attain fitness, about warm-up exercises, cardio vasculars and so on and so forth.

The initial enthusiasm took care of my attendance for the first five days. It was an awkward situation for me. With Britney Spears "Hit me baby one more time" playing in the background, I was doing the warm up exercises and wondered if I had come for gym or for dance classes. I was as clumsy as is Saurav Ganguly with his batting when he is out of form. Hmm...on second thoughts, let us leave Saurav out, poor man, has already become the new Blonde  of the joke fraternity.  And then I started playing truant. Like scores of others, I gave up in between. I have always been a nocturnal animal. Getting up at six in the morning was not my cup of tea.

Time rolled past. I snuggled cozily in my bed while friends used to go the gym. Once every month or so, I would visit the gym, the instructor would smile, I would do light exercises, as a warm up after so many days of break, before leaving I would tell the instructor that I would come the next day. Only that the next day used to come the next month. Thanks to the reminder of a Rs 100 cut in the pay slip towards the Gym.

Now, into January

We had left the earlier post when I was trying to see the idols from closer quarters. I  inched myself a little closer, all the while looking back just to make sure that I have an exit route available. I was entering the yathra from the temple

Destiny is the strangest thing in the world.  I found myself in Bhubaneswar on the 6th of July thanks to a quirk of fate. While going thru the local newspapers, I got to know that on the 8th of July, Puri will witness the car yaatra.  And I thought, the world was moving at a rapid pace.  From the famous jaganatha ratha yatra to the car yatra, Puri had come a long way.  And visions of vintage cars, passing thru the streets of Puri came alive in my mind. Later on, thanks to a friendly chai wallah, I got to know that the

< ?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /> I understand that the first part of this article (scroll down my blog and you will find it) was pretty heavy. In fact, hadn't intended it to be a two part article. But then again, I have something to add. The other side of the story.  Let's start the story in the classical way. 

Once upon a time, a street urchin asked me for two rupees.  "Rendu rupayeelu unte ee Anna. Edainaa tintaanu".  I was in a jolly good mood. I gave him a two rupee coin. I had some errands to run. I ran them (!) and while I was going back, I saw this street urchin again. With gold flake chota in hand. It was MY two rupee which was now a cigarette in the hands of a 13-14 year old boy.  I stopped and stared at him.  And he gave me a kind of smile if I had to convert into a verbal communication, it would mean, "Take lite boss".  An involuntary smile escaped my lips and I walked on to home.

A friend of mine recalled an episode that happened to his friend. Friends friends (FF) experience so to speak. FF had given a twenty rupee note out of generosity, taking pity on the woe begone story of a street side beggar. Five minutes down the line, he saw the beggar with a half-pack of gold flake.  The beggar was smoking spiritedly and didn

Headpiece:Fiction Ahead.

              I was at the airport. For the third time (I

This day, every year, Museman observes his birthday. Well, that is bluntly stating that today is my birthday.  

< ?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /> 

Many people that I know have a compulsive disorder of knowing about the important things that happened on their birth date. Dhirubai Ambani was born, congress party was founded, the first flight of Wilber brothers, the first public screening of a moving picture. These are the important events of December 28. Although, I will have to admit that I can

God is back from downtown, a little drenched, the effect of cyclonic storms. Ramu is all awake. Sitting and contemplating. God accosts the subject again.

< ?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /> 

So son, gave it a thought?

Yes God. Drenched?

Yes. Heavy rains I would say.

Tell me God, you are the one who made the rain come down, then why didn

              I have always wanted to review movies. Just for my own satisfaction. That I used to watch at least two movies per week until recently was a corroboratory reason. In fact, when Bluff Master got released in the city, I thought of watching it first day first show, to churn out a review myself and compare it with Fullhyd's review. That didn't happen though.< ?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

There are two things which make it impossibility for me to write reviews.  One-fourth of the times, I go to the movie half-an-hour after the titles have rolled. The other three-fourths of the time, I get out of the movie theatre a jolly one hour (or so I assume) before the movie ends. Off late, I have realized that one must listen to one's heart. The moment I realize that the movie is nonsensical and boring (which is usually the case)I get up and leave the hall. Under such circumstances, the maximum that I can possibly give is half a review. Unless you have masochistic liking for sitting through a torture-a.k.a-movie, you must not venture out to become a reviewer.

            There are far more serious issues that you have to grapple with. What are you supposed to give in a review? The general public's opinion or your own? If you give your view, how could it possibly be a measure of the audiences pulse? What if you proclaim that a movie is a super flop on the Friday afternoon and it goes on to become a super hit? Would it be ok if you write in your review for Veer-Zaara that you were so very bored by the trailers of Veer-Zaara, that you didn't have the guts to see it and as such can't review it? Will the editor still persist with you if you do such a thing? What if you wanted to say that 'Ek Ajnabee' is a laugh riot purely because of its insanity? Is it necessary to say that Amitabh was a great actor, even when the whole movie is a complete crap? These I presume are some of the occupational hazards of being a movie reviewer. Me wondering if movie reviewers also get 'Vicks action' allowance along with their pay-pack.

I have always had a soft corner for reviewers. From time immemorial I have been reading reviews. Sunday reviews of Indian Express were the most trusted verdicts for me. I used to read Deepa Gehlot's review just for fun. I don

I love tender coconuts. Especially the ones which have tender meat inside them.  And so we were standing (me and another friend) at the busy junction, drinking tender coconuts. You get so very tangled in everyday businesses that in spite of a strong urge to drink a coconut daily, we stop by the seller only once in a while.  And every time I stop, I make it a point to drink as many as my small stomach can take in. Alternating between malaiwala nariyal and paaniwala nariyal.

< ?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /> 

            Even as we were relishing the coconut, a woman and a small girl came and stood beside us. The lady had a bowl in her hand. It's a common sight through out the breadth and height of < ?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />India. Beggars we call them.  The bowl was empty.  The small girl was bare foot and looked haggard.  They said something in Oriya. I had no clue what they said. I looked at them puzzled. The small girl was looking at the tender coconuts, with parched lips, scaled hands and unkempt hair. The lady motioned the bowl signaling that she was asking for alms.

            It

God has become fashionable.  I mean, I don't mean to say that god has started wearing jeans and chinos on an alternate day basis.  The last thing that you could blame me for is for blasphemy.

I am a god-fearing man. Just that the notion of god has become chic these days. Any thing ethnic or culture-rooted is considered to be in. So many books have come up which feature god as one of the characters. Somehow, all these novels try and humanize god.  We will also stick to it. What follows would be a conversation between Ramu and God. Now, who is Ramu is a question that I wouldn

Figments of imagination follow:

It

< ?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />Disclaimer: As usual, what follows is pure fiction! 

Why do we need a passport? A passport, maybe, authenticates that you are really a citizen of your country. A realistic answer is that you need to have a visa to go to < ?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />America and that in turn requires a passport.

My passport travails started some 4 months back. The passport applied for, a Rs 1000 lighter by the pocket, I asked the man at the e-seva counter how many days it would take for the police enquiry to be conducted?  He said, 'say around 20 days.'  Augured well for me because I was bound to leave Hyderabad in a month

Disclaimer: What follows is pure fiction.

It would be wrong to say that I am obsessed with publicity and recognition.  I mean, even if it is true, why should you say it? Not your business atleast. But then again, in all modesty, i would have to accept that  it would  make me very happy if my name was mentioned in the newspaper or more better, if my photo came in the newspaper. And nothing like it if i came on television. 

 And I am not one of those who dream and just leave it there. I have worked hard towards achieving my goal.  Whenever any of these newspapers collect relief funds, i send them big big checks. Not only checks, i also send them a colour passport size photo and my name and address.  But there are these political bigwigs and business bigshots who seem to contribute in lakhs.  Now, how can a poor man like me match them? They get the photos..i get....well..i dont even get a mention in the papers, drop it. 
 
 Everytime a new movie is released, i go to the movie theatres, first day first show, in the hope that maybe some tv channel would come for audience response feeds(these days, even news channels cover movie releases).  But there is always a rush and i never get to speak to the anchor.  Once i came pretty close though. I even blurted out my review to the anchor. But the shot was edited out, which i realised when the show was aired. I already had made phone calls to all my relatives and asked them to watch the program. I had a tuff time convincing them that i actually was there on television precisely at 12 minutes 34th second of the show. But, in retrospect, i understand that maybe i shouldnt have said such bad things about the movie. I should have been a perfect hypocrite who would sing peans to the movie inspite of it being a complete crap. I will do that the next time.

  I have gone to cricket stadiums with colorful banners and big posters.  And yet, the camera would always focus on the pretty girl with the dullest banner. Why not me? Why is it that the camera is always-cute-girl friendly and scorn-at-you for me? I have written thousands of letters to the editor(ofcourse, i sent them the colour photo as well, how can i forget that?) Iam sure they will be solicited soon.  Is it a sin to have big aspirations? Is it a sin to aspire to be on TV? India is a free country. No One can stop me from dreaming. Impossible may be they are but i won't stop dreaming. I won't stop aspiring.

A lot has already been said about the 7 people syndrome. You must be knowing it too. The belief that there are 7 people in the world who look alike. Lookalikes who are not twins?  I believe in it too. I have already identified 3 other people who look exactly like me. Brad pitt and Hrithik Roshan.  Half of my friends believe that i look exactly like Hrithik Roshan. The other half(which i believe is more loyal, and i trust their opinion) believe that Brad Pitt looks exactly like me.  Now one might argue that Brad and Hrithik don't look like each other.  Hmm...maybe it is true. But then again, let me bring in a bit of mathematical proof here. All of us would agree that 2+3=5.  Now we must not argue that 2 and 3 are not equal to each other then how come 2+3=5? Getting my point?

 Aaahh.. i remember, i havent told you about the third look-alike yet.  The sketch that the Ganga Nagar police have released.  Of the suspect who was presumably behind the bomb blasts which rocked Ganga Nagar few days back.  Now, i have to admit it.  He looks like me. Let me confess. I was there in Ganga Nagar when the bomb blasts happened. Thankfully, no one was hurt, but lots of shops and old buildings had collapsed. I knew that the press would come there any moment. I didn't want to lose this great opportunity. I lingered there. Roaming here and there. I even made discrete enquiries with all the local people. Trying to know how the blasts had occured. You know, i wanted to have my facts right when the press would take an interview of me. I asked a shop keeper as to  when the blast had occured. He told me that they had occured at 11:30 am. And i had remarked that i had missed the mark by 7 minutes.  I mean, what i had meant was that i had guessed that the bomb blasts might have occured at 11:23. I had missed the mark by 7 minutes. When i made this remark, the shop keeper panicked and ran off. I still have no idea why he ran off. Now you might ask as to how i guessed that the blast time would have been 11:23? No big secret. Astrologically speaking, 11:23 was a good muhurtam to do things.  The press didnt turn up for a long time. I guessed enough that they were possibly covering the ministers visit to the nearby slum and i also went off there.

And then in the morning today, i saw my photo...sorry..sketch in the newspaper. Black and white though. I was ecstatic untill i read the "wanted" plea of the police. Forget about dreams coming true, it was my worst nightmare which came true.

Ram Narayan Tripathi
Place:undisclosed
Occupation:(UnderCover)Hiding from the police

Paradise in < ?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Bhubaneswar< ?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

How would you have spent your time if you had been busy from 8 pm to 11 pm?  Interesting  question. Each one us would have different answers to this question. But then again, all of us are driven by our needs.  I was busy. From 8 pm to 11 pm. Cooking.  Yes. Cooking.

I have this strange feeling that gods cook their own manna. For me, anything that I ever cook, tastes like manna. Maggie, if cooked by me, is manna too.   My tryst with Maggie is quite interesting and would take up a complete article. Let