"~ENZA~"

Old haunts

Its been a while since i stretched my fingers here. its nice to see my utterings and gutterings still here. I've travelled so far since then.

This one here belonged to the past.. but nostalgia wells up sometimes and you hear the old addicts persuasive whisper in your ear.. "one more time.. just one more time..one last time"

Millions across the globe sitting hunched in front of their computers furiously punching in their angst into the world wide web. Into this great angst ridden space goes my little turmoil. the questions are the same:

why am i here?

what am i supposed to do?

i've given up finding answers to point and purpose questions.. instead i direct my inquisitiveness to more practical aspects of life:

whats in the fridge to eat?

blue or grey tshirt?

I imagine my life to be a large white canvas on which i walk drawing a line behind me which is my past. Soon i shall stop and i'll watch my line fade and dissappear

.....leaving me, a point in space.

The last post..

We came in at dawn. The day looked fresh and exciting. We spread our carpet and displayed our wares. In the midst of it all that we had to offer , we placed our heart.
Then we waited with hope in our soul.
Many passed by, some lingered and one stopped briefly
The day is over. Its dusk now, the shadows have lengthened and there is none in sight
We sighed.We reclaimed our heart, we bundled up our wares.
We hoist it wearily on our back and face the dying sun.
Its time to move on
Tomorrow, another day, another place, another life another blog.

Goodbye hyderabad.


Current Mood: Bye!
Current Music: i want to break free- queen

Meetings

Meetings are the culmination of a lifelong education. Most of our childhood was spent preparing ourselves for meetings. As children we attended classes whose mind numbing boredom was calculated to develop high levels of tolerance so that when we get jobs and have to attend meetings, we may do so with the panache of veterans and our habituated brains will not go into mind freeze.< ?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

The classrooms were training grounds. They increased the dosage of boredom with each passing year till by the time you enter a management institute you are supremely equipped to handle the great stress and tough schedule that they purport to provide. Enterprising students destined to go a long way in life have mastered the art of beating the tedium in various creative ways. The most effective way being of course in positioning yourself behind a particularly large fellow specimen and affecting a general body shut down. Disturbed only by the nudge of a cunningly placed accomplice or the ring of the bell, which signifies some moments of respite.

This stratagem so effectively utilized throughout ones educational career with devastating effect fails spectacularly in the professional meeting context. Mainly due to the lack of that most essential feature

Angst and Ennui

Old man Ares

Current Mood: Thoughtful
Current Music: dido

boredom and guns

There are days and then there are those days.

This is one of those days. when u wish u had a fully loaded gun and spare clips. Preferably The navy colt .38 magnum. no particular reason except that all my favourite western novel heroes seem to prefer it.  Colt .38 caliber revolvers were first bought for the U.S. Navy in 1889. In 1890, the Army field tested 100 of these revolvers and purchased 100 to repay the Navy. An order for 8,000 Colts followed, and from that date until adoption of the .45 Automatic, the Colt .38 revolver was the standard issue sidearm for the Army, Navy and Revenue Cutter Service (early Coast Guard).

The .38 is below and beside it is the .45 navy colt automatic. It was reputed to blow holes the size of a fist in the poor unfortunate facing it.

After the navy colt i like the british brownings.. simply because they look really cute.. and they make cuter holes

The luger come in third. and this one here is the culprit behind the deaths of all the hero's friends in ww2 movies who get killed by the germans.

But the guns is not the point. Its boredom. of the extreme variety. The guns come in the picture coz any one of them can be the cure simply by the application of gentle pressure on the component known as the trigger with the business end of the gun pointing at the shortest route between the two ears of the boredom afflicted.

I dont get to meet interesting people. Interesting people are people who sleep with guns under their pillow.  I dont know a single guy who sleeps with a loaded gun under his pillow. James bond sleeps with one. but we have not yet been formally introduced.

I wish to place on record my displeasure with this sordid activity called life and the management responsible for making it the way it is. I protest the Vision,Mission and policies of the management. I vote for a change. The opposition party must be brought to power.I demand more excitement and entertainment. I was not consulted before being produced and had i known how terribly boring its going to be i would have never accepted. The only happy thought is that it cant last forever.

This was a bad deal.

5 minutes

Please decide and inform me in 5 minutes.Then the phone went dead.

I sat and pondered over the '5 minutes'. 5 minutes in which to consider everything, and give a definitive answer. not an unreasonable request.

The thing to do is as follows:

• List down all factors influencing the decision.
• Sort it on the basis of personal and professional.
• Consider personal first-Give less weightage to variable factors
• Consider professional.
• Cancel out everything with low weightage.
• Ask heart to go for a walk. Meanwhile with the resultant unencumbered brain, calculate, rationalise.
• Arrive at consensus.

can be done in 5 minutes.

Instead what i do is :

• sit on the hood of my car
• yelp! curse the heat that has singed my bottom.
• Examine the dirt layer, feel guilty for not keeping it clean.
• Wonder if it would rain?
• Examine dirtiness of the seat of the trousers
• Quick forceful dusting.
• Consider the difficulty in keeping car clean in hyderabad.
• Wonder if i'm hungry?
• Try and recollect what i ate last and when.
• Go and sit in the reception
• read the paper

phone rings.

hello? i say

well? he says

Sure. i say

good. he says

Making weighty decisions is hard work.Lifes journey is frought with decisions. Having come to the chasm and discovering no means to cross it for to ones chagrin some fool's burnt the bridge , one has no option but to leap. and midway into the leap is the wrong time to be debating ones decision.

Life is fun, unplanned, undebated, unhurried.

My old battle cry resounds in my ear " dekha jayega"

starry eyed wars

i sit here with a wide grin and a ticket in my pocket for the 4:45 show of star wars at prasad.

yesterday morning i was at vijaywada and wondering whether i would be able to make it in time. yesterday afternoon i was in ongole wondering whether i would get tickets, yesterday evening i was in nellore considering how the chances were against me.

morning 7 i arrive hyd. i love the view of the city as one enters in the mornings. the minars of the high court make for an absolutely facinating sight in the mornings. and the buddha in his water fortress is a sight that gladens the eye

i havent slept much, but i'm loathe to sleep. i try the prasad number every half an hour. finally at 10 a break thru. lady informs, no tele booking, stand in queue and chances are bright.

rush, car goes vroom. reach prasad.. in the process exorcising old ghosts and by going thru a route studiously avoided till now.

big queue. TV screens informing availability. wait patiently . finally star wars 3- housefull , both shows

loud sound .heart goes crack.

hope:  the quintessential human delusion simultaneously the source of your greatest strength and your greatest weakness. (- the architect in matrix)

so i stand in queue, prepared to be ceremoniously told no tickets.

my turn. full dignity 'one ticket, star wars please.' no special emphasis on the please. that will come later after his response. miraculously he says. first row only. ok?

i ponder :))

i say : ok

done. :)

drive back. head in the clouds. blow kiss to ol buddha. notice they have put peevees photo's in his tomb or whatever its called. grin like a maniac. grin at people on the road, grin all the way home.

i feel good, real good.

 i'm the child of today, my life ruled by instant gratification and mindless crass commercialism . no flower to give power, no rock to roll. no ideologies to die for . no nothing.

one front row single ticket for the tube light fight show.

forgive me marcus aurelius, you'll have to wait till tonight.

Tears

Her face was contorted with her rage. Her neck stretched out, her hands waving wildly emphasizing every point. Our man looked at her calmly. Her hair was disarranged , she had a flush on her cheeks. His mind wondered if flushed cheeks is a sign of good health and if so then her anger is probably good for her health.  She was now holding his collar and her face was inches away. He was surprised that a woman so frail could have such strength. She was quite close. He wondered what would happen if he were to suddenly kiss her. She was screaming about something. He was aware of the noise emanating from her mouth and the relatively high decibel levels but he could not make sense of it . He had considered stuffing cotton in his ears before facing her but her voice was of a penetrating quality designed to circumvent or penetrate through all sound dampening materials. She was showing no signs of abating. For want of anything better to do he decided to attempt to see if she had any cavities. It would have twin purposes , one he would appear to be terribly interested in her and two it would increase his general knowledge. She appeared to get a bit rattled by his intense staring down her gullet. Suddenly he perceived questions were being asked of him, he was required to answer them. He hmmmed . How to answer a question he had not heard? He looked at her. She was looking at him, expectant. He hmmmed again. He thought deeply.

The PAN GALACTIC GARGLE BLASTER!

This is part of my charity efforts for teh year. I give you not only the receipe of the PGGB i even give you instructions on how to make teh earthly equivalent :)... who knows , who needs it.. where..

Enjoy and remember me before you say cheers :)

The Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster

This is the original:

• Take juice from one bottle of Ol' janx spirit
• Pour one measure of water from the seas of santraginus
• Allow 3 cubes of arcturan mega-gin to melt into the mixture(it must be properly iced or the benzene is lost)
• Allow 4 litres of fallian marsh gas to bubble thru it
• Over a black spoon float a measure of qualactin hypermint extract
• Drop in the tooth of an algolian suntiger.
• Watch it dissolve spreading the fires of the algolian suns deep into the heart of the drink
• Sprinkle zamphuor
• Add an olive.
  
  drink....but...very carefully
  
  and here is the earthly near equivalent:-
• Take the liquid contained in a 200 ml bottle of EverClear to remind you that your head will be clear forever if you drink too many Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters, and that your brain will clear of anything soon after you start drinking some, if not before.
• Into it, slowly pour a 750 ml bottle of Bombay Sapphire to remind you of the marvelous beauty of the old Santraginean seas, or an equal amount of Jeremiah Weed in acknowledgement of what has happened to the Santraginean Seas and their lifeforms.
• Now add 750 ml of Cold Wild Turkey, letting it run into the mixture as we run through life to remind us of all the lifeforms we meet and experience while hitchhiking through the galaxy.
• Speedily stirring, add 375 ml of Herradua Tequila, mixing it in to commemorate the galactic hitchhikers who died of pleasure among the vapors and gasses in the marshes of Fallia.
• Over the bowl of a silver spoon, let flow 1 liter of rum in memory of the waterfalls and their glorious rainbows encountered on your journeys through the galaxy of life.
• Next, drop in the worm found in a bottle of Musquil, watching it dissolve into the mixture. If the bottom falls out and the worm survives, drink at your own risk.
• Finally, sprinkle into the mixture some Gatorade to commemorate the lifeforms which have vanished and are becoming extinct, both sentient and non-sentient, especially those most in need of aid.
• If this many Pan-Galactic Gargle Blasters are too many for the number of people you think you are, mix together the following amounts of ingredients as described above for a single serving.
  1 oz. EverClear
  4 oz. Bombay Sapphire or Jeremiah Weed
  4 oz. Cold Wild Turkey
  2 oz. Herredura Tequila
  5 oz. Rum
  1 worm from bottle of Mezcla
  2 oz. Gatorade

This makes one approximately 18 ounce Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster. The reason this drink seems so large is that Zaphod Beeblebrox has two heads, so when he created it, it came out to 9 ounces per head, so both were happy.
Before drinking, eat one olive to create a sweetness in it which is not there.

Drink very, very extremely carefully at your own risk, and remember where your towel is (if you can).

Enjoy :))

The Athlete

The athlete sat on his bench in the locker room staring at nothing.

A lifetime of training behind him, years of single minded focus and determination for this day. sacrifices, iron discipline, relentless hardwork, and today he felt at the peak of his form, he knew he was his best today and all those years of painstaking work were going to bear fruit today.

He got up, stretched and quickly went through his warm up routine. today was his day, today he was supreme.

It was time. His moment had arrived.

He walked into the stadium. He was excited to see the crowds, excited by finally getting here, in the arena where only the strongest, fastest and mightiest were heroes. but he controlled his excitement.. there was a race to be won. a medal to be worn. adulation to be received.

He looked at the other athletes alongside him. Each of them had worked hard like him to be here, but he was confident, for had he not spent days and nights training for this race, had he not worked harder than anybody else to get his body in its present pace?

The pistol shot and they leapt off. His feet pounded on the tracks with mechanical perfection. He was swift, he was fluid, he was going to win.

Suddenly he realised, he wasnt alone. Beside him was another man bigger stronger and swifter. and with every stride he was going further ahead. He tried his best, his mind and spirit were far ahead of him and his body valiantly fought to catch up. He poured out every ounce of everything he got into the effort but the other guy was still ahead. His muscles screamed, his body strained. his anguish heightened he stretched out every nerve every sinew.

Seconds later it was all over.

He lay panting besides the tracks. He watched the victor run into the crowds, his hands raised, the face jubliant. Wearily he got up and walked to the winner. He knew he has run his best race, he knew he had broken all his previous records but he also knew he had been beaten by a better man. He held out his hand to congratulate the victor but the hero of the day was too busy and occupied with his companions and the adulating crowds.

He sighed and turned back . He half heard the consolances of his friends. Defeat looked him squarely in the eye

Defeat: that most singularly crushing of all emotions. The realisation that you were not good enough. That your best is but a shadow in front of the brilliance of  others.

Defeat: That bitter pill ,life gives us sometimes. That cruelest but most effective of teachers. The classroom from where you cannot escape your lessons. The whipping you cannot avoid.

Defeat:A situation we all have to face sometime. Something we all need to figure out how to handle. where the theory is there in the head but it makes no difference in practice to how miserable you feel. when you fight to keep cheery while you are dying inside.

He smiled as if it was ok, he shrugged as if it didnt matter, he agreed to everyone who said there is a next time, he accepted all inspirational quotes handed out to him to ease the blow. He joked, He laughed.

Then he walked into his locker room alone and shut the door firmly behind him.

The athlete sat on his bench in the locker room staring at nothing.

The life station

Its very hot and very sultry. The heat saps the energy out of every living creature. Even the flies on the hawkers carts seem dull. All around me scattered on the platform are languid human beings in various stages of wakefulness.

Families sit grouped together near their luggage, some sit on their luggage , others squat with theirs.

The heat has a muting effect on all creatures no one is interested in anything except the immediate need to bear this out. The station fans creak ineffectively & torturously . The sun beats down harsh and strong on the tracks. The glare contrasting with the relative cool and darkness of the station.

The stifling heat presides over a silent sleeping station. The only sounds, that of the creaking fans and sometimes the plaintive cry of a restless child.

The public announcement rings out. The prerecorded message system informs all in three different languages that the train number so and so from so and so to so and so is running late by an hour and that they regretted the inconvenience. If people are groaning or sighing it gets drowned out in her repeating the message all over again.

Everyone with infinite patience borne out of years of living with the system settle down more firmly into their niches and sleepiness.

An hour passes , the heat is lessening, some kids with water packets move from group to group. They don

The purveyor

The purveyor of all things stood before us.

Dressed in imposing attire and magnificent cloak he walked to and fro with his hands clasped behind him, his brow knitted, and his hawk eyes darting at intervals at us cowering in the corner. An arresting man with extraordinary presence and a voice of the exact pitch and tone calculated to put the fear of god in the stoutest of souls.

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Suddenly he stopped and turned his huge bulbous head towards us. We looked at our toes and hoped to look as inconspicuous as possible. He strode to us, his large hands parting the air.

A cat in my life

I've never liked cats , I just dont like them.

I dont care much for them and i've never been impressed by their breed. These aloof , haughty, self centered creatures with fastidious habits hold no facination for me. I dont understand them and i wouldnt care to make the effort.

I work in a typical sales office, You'ld find lots of half crazed loud uncouth people either yelling at the phone or at the people before them, You'ld find stocks stored in the office coz the godowns are overflowing, You'ld find files and folders, forms and formats, reams of paper, printouts, helmets, bags, telephones, promotion materials and lots of people swirling around.

You dont expect to see a cat .

In the middle of making my sales plan.. a laborious, brain wrecking and thoroughly pointless task,  i looked up at the mountain of surplus stock piled in front of me and suddenly between two stacks i saw a pair of the most startling eyes observing me keenly.

A CAT! In my life! In my office!

what on earth was a cat doing here! how on earth did it get here.

I glowered at it, it looked back with steady unwavering eyes. I frowned, i make treatening poses, i shooed, i hooted, i gave it my patented 'kill kill' look.

It watched me calmly

We looked at each other for the longest time.An eternity passed, my visage softened, i relaxed, i smiled, I've never been more captivated , never more facinated by a pair of eyes and what could be going on in that head.

Suddenly i wanted to get acquainted with it.. i whispered to it, i made kitten noises, i cajoled and i invited most humbly.

somebody called out my name, when i looked back , it was gone.

I've never liked cats, i just dont like them

but just this one....

The Blogman

I strongly resent this gentleman on the left hand corner of my screen.

He is the patron saint of the fully hyd blog community, go to the browse blog section he is there. He is standing next to his traffic light looking with a look that is totally open to intepretation.. there is a tinge of pity there is some irritation, there is definitely the "i'm watching you" look. There is also something of a beginning of a sneer.

He is caucasian between 22-26 yrs . european. possibly mediterranean. He needs either a haircut or some hair gel.

He looks like a nice guy, has a sad mouth, is probably sensitive with a squeaky voice.

what i dont like is.. why is he there?

He is always there and he sees everybody as they type in their blogs . As i write this..he is up there with his curiously piteous look. i dont want him there.. even if he is there i dont want him to be looking at me.

Everything was fine in the beginning.. i scarcely noticed him.. then one day while wondering what to write, i saw him there.. i saw him looking at me.. and its been a hunted feeling ever since.

I write in a sentence.. i look at him.. i note the censorship in his face.. i delete the sentence.

I write another sentence.. i look at him.. he seems to approve of this one.. i move to the next sentence.

This post i'm writing with my eyes squeezed so narrowly that i cant see him... but i know he is up there.

This is how perfectly sane people go paranoid.. how can u be ok when somebody is always watching u.

I call him the Blogman.. and the blogman is watching u

The Konju Dish

140 odd km from cuddapah in the direction of the fabled god city of tirupati.

The fatigue from 4 straight days behind the wheel hitting me squarely between the shoulder blades.

Its 3:30 pm in the afternoon and the sun has been unsparing in its tanning efforts with me. Deep rumblings in my stomach directs my attention to the fact that I haven