GUNTHROAT

I am sure whoever seeing this topic would be shocked at my interest towards university exams (which I used to hate like everyone else). But let me tell you an interesting factor. This is the first time since the commencement of my education (from LKG) that I have not taken a descriptive exam for such a long period. The last university exam that I wrote was in May. So I kind of miss them. It is like after regularly watching Amrish Puri kill hero’s father, rape heroines and do all the villainous stuff and then one day we don’t see him in movies. We feel a strange hollowness, though we are in a way missing a villain. Looking back I have a lot of funny memories about my villain, the university exams. All my memoirs of university exams would be incomplete, if I don’t mention about Lakshman with whom I always used to fall on four legs like a cat while taking the exams. I remember all those sleepless nights on phone with Lakshman and Hari, with occasional intervention of Vishal. Vishal was the topper in our batch. When we would slowly start the cumbersome process of mugging up, Vishal would call us and promptly inform us that he has completed his second revision and will be starting the third one soon. But the worst punishment will be the on the morning of exam, when he would come with a set of questions that may probably come on exams. To our astonishment all these questions would be exactly the ones we skipped on the day before while running through the portions, making us all hysteric minutes before the exam.
Then we would see the smart ones of our class coming up with innovative techniques to deal with the exam. Some of them would sit till the wee hours of morning writing chits in compressed formats and extremely tiny hand writing. In the morning they would run to the Photostat shops and take enough copies to serve the burgeoning student community who had lost hope in the institution of examinations. Then they would arm their body with these chits to combat the university papers. I should confess that I never had the guts to try out this adventurous exercise (though ethically I had no issues with practise). But at the mean time it would be improper to say I never cheated just because I didn’t use chits (though it is the primary armoury). My saving grace would be sitting just behind me in the examination hall. Benoy my messiah would promptly study (or mug up) everything before coming for the exam and we were adept in passing information during the examination process, thus making sure that I pass every exam
We used to stock Photostat copies of various textbooks before the week of exam. First we would prepare a timetable to mug up all the information in these papers. Then towards the eve of exam we would settle for studying just the previous year’s question papers. Thus heaps and heaps of copies of unknown textbooks would fill up our homes providing healthy appetite for those who feed on them. There is an interesting story about a young man who used to study with us. He had a dream like Ambani to create a lot of wealth from public money. He made a simple plan. Photostat price was 50ps per copy near our college. He collected bulk orders from students wanting copies and took them for 30ps a copy from a distant place. Thus he made 20ps per copy. The demand for Photostat copies was so very high that sometimes he made around Rs 1000 in one go. There was nothing new or wrong in this practise (he actually did what all businessmen do, though in a smaller scale). But what followed was beyond his wildest dreams.......
Everyone in the class got a mail from a person named james bond, the following was the contents of the mail…..

hi all
this is a story of how number magic worked in our own class e6a. We started our new semester s6 by payment of Rs 17/- for the communication lab photostat. The last page of the photostat indicates that there are 34 sides(not sheets) in the photostat sheet. So 50paise per sheet gives you a round figure of 17Rs. Generally this is the amount collected in zam zam, manus etc. but when taken as a bulk a small minute difference may have been wavered which is not of our concern. The photostat was not taken in and around college but was taken in cusat. There a page is supposed to cost 30paise(or lesser for bulk i dont know). The knowledge i have is its 30 paise. So a net profit of 20paise/page is obtained. 20paise is a meagre amount, what shall we do with it. We dont even find those coins today. Here the number magic starts. for 34 pages with 20paise/page the net profit from a person is 34*20 = 680 paise or 6.8Rs. Leave the .8 for petrol to cusat. Remaining 6Rs from you. That is not a big amount its a small one i do agre. but this 6.8 is from a person. So when it is collected from 45 students the net profit comes upto (45*6.8 = 306Rs). An amount of Rs306/- (i guezz airtel users 1 month recharge amount) easily unnoticed. This is the MAGIC OF NUMBERS. So if you want to earn money you have the easiest way in front of you. Just take the photostat for the whole class and you have it write away.

And by the way my introduction. I am not a successor of pha pullae or supersuspense... If you ask for my name
i am bond, JAMES BOND

Our poor entrepreneur was completely taken aback by the latest development. He cursed those who send the mail and swore that he will never do anything for the class thereafter. While I knew clearly who was or infact were behind the mischief. One of the co-conspirator just forwarded the mail (as he always does with other information) and had no other role in the plot. The mail and the idea were actually concocted by another person. But the noble venture of helping people to take the Photostat ended there. The main culprit behind this premature demise is suspected to be behind the failure of so many flourishing businesses inside the class including one of mine wherein I helped womenfolk to reach their hostels (a clear act of chivalry. If I had done this in England, I would have been conferred with knighthood) safely. The villain in my case promptly informed all the boy friends of these girls who threatened to burn my bike if I continued with my venture forcing me to close the shop….

Never do something without weighing the consequences of it. I have innumerable experiences which have landed me in trouble because I didn’t think of the consequences, but still I haven’t learned. So this is the recent example of me landing in trouble for being utterly foolish in not foreseeing the trouble that could have followed. After writing about 21 blogs I told my sister to check my blog. My sister is a unique character, she is 9 years elder than me and sometimes behaves as if she is my mother. But that’s kind of ok with me, because she is the one person in my life whom I am truly inspired by. Whenever I am completely screwed up I think of her and then console myself thinking my sister succeeded in life after being in an even pathetic situation, why should I be afraid then? So coming back to story, I expected her to read and possibly comment on the blog. Instead she sends me a 4 page email, saying I am out of my mind and have gone completely pessimistic. For the record reaffirm to the fact I am an optimist and still have a lot of hope about life, but all I wanted to convey through my blog was once upon a time there lived a person named Ayyappadas who hit the rock bottom of his life at the age of 22. I never said I would remain at bottom and think of digging deep for gold. I still believe this is a bad patch in my life which would pass like all other patches and things would be normal again. I have been through similar periods in my life and have come out of it unscathed (if not victorious). But my sister thought I was depressed and had lost hope. If she had thought and sat quietly it would have been ok, but she took some print outs of my blog and took it home to show my parents. Next scene was something similar to a war movie, where, mother and sometimes father calls son in war front and tells him not to be afraid and give lectures on how to be positive and confident(as if I was fighting for life, I was actually sleeping). I believe everyone including me who asks for advice and says he/she has lost hope does that to get attention from people. These people feels some kind of insecurity when they have encountered failure and thinks that the world would disown him and forget, so he creates an aura of panic and vulnerability so that people would crowd around to console. This consolation is not a relief but an assurance that these people are there when I am in real trouble. I am unequivocally making it clear that I am not sad. I am happy, I am having fun. I am enjoying Bangalore, I am learning new things. If I was in a job I would have never thought about what I was lacking. I would have never known who my real friends were. I would have never in my life been so insecure. Everything till date in my life has been given on a silver plate. Not even once in my life did my parents put me in pressure. My father wanted me to be a doctor, but he didn’t complain when I took engineering. I was enjoying life and am enjoying it now as well. I am reading everything that I hoped to master one day. It’s only my conscience that questions me for my actions. And I think I know how to make my conscience happy.

Today morning at 6.21 IST India’s lunar mission launched off from Sriharikota. In a fortnight’s time it will reach an orbit of 100km from moon and starts sending pictures from there. An Indian flag will also be placed on lunar surface. It would be a moment of glory for the 1 billion people in our country. In today’s morning news every politician and general public were showering praises on Indian space scientists who provided us with this grand spectacle. I was laughing at these hypocrites who only recently were mocking the space scientists and questioning the very significance of Indian space programme.
I am proud of being the son of a person who worked for 35 years in ISRO. A person who has seen all the vicissitudes of the now raved Indian space programme. We should understand when we hear ‘’you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to understand it’’ that rocket science is one of the most complex professions in the world. I have a dim picture of our journey to trichur where my father was mocked by our relatives for the failure of missions he was part of during the late 80’s and early 90’s. I am amazed now to recollect how stoically he used to take those deprecatory and sometimes extremely insulting comments, quite unlike me. Some used to ask how the mission to sea (rather than space) is progressing (sarcastically indicating the fall of rockets to sea after the failure). Some of these people where highly enraged for spending the exchequer’s money on such futile exercises. Now I see these people talk using mobile phones and see saas bahu serials on satellite television, the same people who questioned the need for space programme in a poor country like ours. People who appreciate and applause Indian space programme have no right to do so if they have atleast once mocked these hapless scientists who just saw their years of toil go down in the sea. My father and his friends used to work sometimes till 4am in the morning during the final preparation for the launch. It would have been heartbreaking for them to see their experiments failing after such hard work. And then what we as a nation did rather than console them at those moments were to mock them, to insult them and worst of all to suspect them. I can’t wait to see the headlines in the leading daily (the most circulated yellow daily in India) in Malayalam praising Indian scientists for their great achievement. The insidious designs of this newspaper to place their well wishers at the top and at thus create more profit is well known. The newspaper invented the infamous isro spy case intending to expand their circulation by giving a bond movie like pot-boiler involving scientists, honey traps and spies from Pakistan to the general public who were already suspecting space scientists for their apparent failure to ‘deliver’. The case went on for years and finally Supreme Court declared all the scientists accused of espionage innocent and let them off with compensation. The case which saw the resignation of then Chief minister of Kerala( from which he never recovered) was actually concocted by a group of politicians to serve their vested interests. But in the process they nearly destroyed the space programme of this country. Some activists who had opposed the setting up of space station can still be seen in the front of protest marches against atomic power stations and dams (which Nehru had described the temples of modern India). The Indian scientific community had the courage to overcome these challenges which included a lot of import prohibitions from western countries (which didn’t want India to progress) and make every Indian proud before the world.
Today is my father’s birthday. He contributed the prime of his life for the country, in ensuring it to develop as a pioneer in space science. Let God give him good health and more years to see more and more successful launches. Happy birthday achaaa........
October 22nd

I don’t know why I am writing like this every day. I am depressed, lonely and extremely pathetic. To my friends it may seem a cheap PR exercise to draw viewers. They are not to be blamed because I sound very happy when I talk to them. Yes I am very happy when I talk to them. But after that, before that it is like I am treading an uninhabited desert. I am so very alone in this world, I am miserable and have completely lost track. Count down for CAT has begun. Most of the people who are seriously preparing are anxious and excited about the exam. I on the other hand am getting old day by day. It’s like I am 60 and is preparing to retire (not die). Makes me reminisce to the name of the title which my friend gave to his story (it was intended to mock a girl who turned him down which later became a habit for him) - ‘Menopause at 15’.In my case it might be ‘Decrepitude at 22’. Why am I such a lazy creep who doesn’t have any drive towards life? Why do I sleep 8 hours a day, when even my 64 year old father sleeps for just 5 hours? I dream of great things I want to do every day and then wakes up to see it’s just 6 O clock in the morning and decides to sleep for another hour. Life has stopped in such a place where I don’t really know where it is going to go. Uncertainty is seen everywhere. It’s funny that when I was going to join an IT company, its shares started dipping (to the extent that the company that used to call students in august just after graduation has asked me join on April 13th next year),then I decided to prepare for CAT and suddenly investment banks started to collapse. It’s like bad luck is following me. It would have been better for the world if I became a doctor (on which all the diseases would have suddenly vanished from the face of the earth) or a lawyer (then the world would be freed of all litigations and crimes and all the people would live harmoniously thereafter). It’s like an inverse Midas touch; whatever I touch suddenly turn itself into pure shit.
All I can wish for now is some miracle, there is no cost attached to a wish and you don’t need to pay God for delivering one. So all I want to pray is give me something however small it is that would reinstate hope in me to move on, to be young again, to enjoy the beautiful world (with its bustling traffic, unattended potholes, crazy drivers, foul smelling mendicants to name a few which I used to enjoy). Make me the old person whom I loved, whom I was proud of, who was happy. Put me back in the well where I can croak as before pretending that is the real world. I can’t stand this world, this real world, I am sick of it.
October 21st

I have been persuaded for long to write about my romantic conquests. But unfortunately it is next to asking Hitler to write a memoir on world war 2 or Napoleon been given an advance to write a book on Waterloo. My tryst with romance have been nothing but disastrous until now. Whenever I get attracted to a girl, the next thing I do is to find 10 things that would make the girl the most inappropriate choice. I attribute this strange behaviour to my ill concealed consternation of being turned down and the subsequent legacy with which I have to lead my entire life. Quite frankly I feel shameful to have never shown the guts to propose a girl. The worst criticism I have got till date is from a girl (whom I should confess, I was infatuated to and about which not surprisingly she never knew) who said it takes a lot of guts to propose and to be in love and unfortunately me being a coward don’t have. Frankly speaking the only girl I have yearned hard to be in love was someone in school. She was my darling from the age of 12 and still has a special place in my heart. The roadblock I faced then was the same old problem of supply demand disparity. There were so many worthy Jasons in quest of the Golden Fleece and only one fleece. She was a complete package. She was smart, beautiful, and most importantly devoid of the typical princess air with an excellent sense of humour. I remember looking at her for minutes (can’t have the luxury of hours of glancing in strictly scheduled school days) from the corner of the big football ground and contemplating the various odds in favour of me which would prompt her to come and propose me. As days went on this option seemed highly unlikely and I cursed my fate and went on with my wretched and loveless life while she changed to another division. In 11th standard she once again started haunting my dreams (though in a delectable way). This time I came very close to proposing her, mainly because our interaction quite unlike the early years dramatically improved and all her wooers where suddenly out of sight. I never even once gave an impression to my friends that I loved her and they were busy trying to set me up with another girl in her entourage whom I had never talked to in my life time. Then as it is said time and tide waits for none, school ended and I was contemplating the idea of proposing her while packing my bags to Cochin. But the worst was yet to come. Like all the stranded lovers I banked my hopes on orkut. I think it was in my second year in college that I started a conversation with her in orkut. She invited me to add her in yahoo messenger. I was till then accustomed only with gtalk and had no idea about yahoo messenger. Thanks to Hari whose computer I was using, helped me with inviting her in messenger. I had only 2 or 3 friends in messenger probably added when I created an account in yahoo. The conversation was much terse than I expected
Me: hi
She: hi
Me: so wats up how r u?
She : i am fine
Me : so hows college??
15 mins passes............
She : college is fine
Me : ok,are u busy??
Another 15 mins..............
She: ya da lot of friends online
Me: ok...
Another 10 mins.............
Me: ok then bye...
She : ok da bye tc.....
And thus ended the beautiful conversation I had so eagerly set up. That was the last time I used yahoo messenger.

october 20th

It is spending spree again. When I got out of the special class from st francis college in koramangala, there was two ways before me to reach home, the one through the outer ring road and the other through the city. Quite unlike the saying ‘’ on the woods the road split in to two and I took the one less tread’’, me as usual decided to take the route most travelled and pay a visit to forum mall. These days’ malls don’t fascinate me with its assortment of people (especially women) as it used to earlier. Though none of my friends may believe the truth is I have started losing interest in these women who appear is if they have recently come out of some fashion week. As Oscar Wilde says when she wears far too much rouge and not quite enough clothes, it is always a sign of desperation in a woman. I primarily go to Landmark and end up buying some book. Considering my impecunious state and the time left for CAT it is simply outrageous to even think of books other the ones authored by Arun Sharma. Comfortably forgetting that, I brought 5 books, all classics (thus comparatively cheaper) for Rs 576. It’s summarily cheap to highlight the cost of books. But for a parasite like me who feeds on my family income it is good to be made aware of the value of luxury I am able to have now and then. Sometimes I am appalled by the numbness I show towards the state I am in. I can think of only two occasions when I earned something in my entire life. My first employer was All India Radio when they paid me Rs 500 for a program I did for them during my school days. The second one was the tuition fee I used to get from teaching an 8th standard student back in aluva. The second occupation ended in a rather wry note, the regular fees the student used to give me (whom I should confess was not very bright), made me so responsible that I overworked on his body(instead of his aptitude) finding newer ways of torture with each passing day. Honestly speaking I used to enjoy those days when I was paid to torture (and thus purge the anger I catered for the faculty who were always frugal when it came to awarding internals). Finally the poor chap got liberty from the cruel scourge (that’s me!!) and I was deprived of the Rs 300 I used to get monthly (I still believe they should have continued to pay me for the greatest lesson I taught him of tolerance. He was atleast a good 5 inches taller than me then and still surprisingly spared me albeit all the punishments. This great lesson of tolerance and compassion towards weaker beings which I was instrumental in imparting him would take him to great heights). Last heard the guy I toiled so hard to groom has started earning (he is the son of a priest and have started assisting his father in performing poojas) before his master. I think that summarises the sorry state I am in. My father always indicates when I ask him for money that he started earning from the age of 19 while his father started earning even before that (implicitly meaning I am an insult to the great family of child prodigies). Sometimes a kind of envy creeps in when you see all your friends earning while you still uses your father’s debit card. So all I can do is strongly admonish God for his laxity in providing me with a job (and don’t cheat me again by saying that you heard an offer and not a job!!!! It’s irritating to have three offers and no job).

october 18th

Today I read a news in ‘’times’’ that an air hostess was sacked from jet airways for the reason that some pimples came up on her face and the authorities found it as the perfect excuse to lay her off at a time when aviation industry is facing huge operational costs( and eventual losses). I wonder whether having pimples is a problem for IT industry, because if it is then I am in deep trouble. My friend used to mock by saying my pimples are more highlighted than my face. When I came to Bangalore there was some relief to the pimple attack possibly due to change of climate. But now they are back. My Malayalam sir in school used to say pointing one of my pimple marks that this was the way through which my commonsense drained out. It is a curse which afflicts me whenever I am in real need of literally putting up a good face. Whenever there is a function in the family or in my college one or two new red ones would pop up from somewhere. I wonder from where they are coming. Some say they are passion pimples. But the interesting thing is jury is divided over concluding whose passion is it; whether it is mine or of the woman who are passionate towards me (though this option seems to be highly unlikely). There are various meanings attributed to pimples coming on different parts of our face. For example some people say when a pimple comes upon on the tip of our nose; it is due to excessive masturbation. I have consulted a lot of doctors to ward off this peril that is seriously impeding my amorous conquests (oh God if there were some beautiful women who were turned on by pimples; I would have turned them on like tube lights). After a dose of medicines (really expensive ones) the red army would retreat for a while giving me some peace, then one day they will come back and fill in my face making up for the days they were absent. These days I feel pimples have become a part of my life, like a drunken fellow passenger or an irritating neighbour, or worst a boss with a very bad temper to which we have to get used to. They come and go as they like, cultivating more and more fertile pastures on my face.
To conclude I heard that a person whose marriage got fixed recently (don’t start guessing it is not the one you are thinking) was counting the number of pimples on the face of his fiancée (reportedly after zooming the photograph). After hearing this I am worried about the girl whom I may marry one day. If she ever resorts to do the same with my photo and start counting my pimples it would take a decade to consummate our marriage. L
October 17th

I finished reading the ‘city of djinns’ by William Dalrymple. Dalrymple is one of my favourite authors. This is his third book I have been reading. The others being ‘’the last mughal’’ and “in Xanadu’’. He is an expert in the history of oriental Christianity and Islamic history. I was attracted to this beautiful period known as medieval era when I was in 7th standard. History was taught by AnilKumar Sir who had a very unconventional method of teaching. He would after his lecture make students give a presentation of what was taught without referring to textbook. It was the one year in which I scored 100% mark in history exams consistently (including the annual exam). Those who know me will understand why this was a profound aberration in my academic history. So coming back the association with such an erudite man made me to closely follow the slave, khilji, tuqlaq, lodhi, mughal periods. City of djinns is the history of Delhi told by Dalrymple during his stay in Delhi for one year. He takes us into mysterious world of sufis and naked sanyasis (living in ruined tombs and dargahs) who offers to heal various ailments and mental troubles. They say that the city has lot of djinns who could be taken into control by fasting and prayer. These djinns could then be used for various purposes. References on nizamuddin and Khwaja moinudeen chisti were really touching and engaging that I felt like visiting these places where qawwali singers create a trance among the devotees to take them to unattainable heights of spiritual fulfilment. Most of the the real Dilli wallahs lament at the decay of the dilli culture making way for the Punjabi culture (with its trademark arrogance and assertion). The real dilli culture whose torchbearers were the legendary mirza ghalib and zauq can still be found in the narrow alleys of old dilli.
Some interesting information I got from the book are listed
Shahjahan who built the greatest monument of love Taj Mahal had a very strong libido and had hundreds of concubines to satisfy it. He even had an affair with his daughter Jahanara Begum (the justification being that the emperor can eat the fruits of the tree he himself planted). He continued his licentious ways till his old age until his son overthrew him. The story is the moral to all those who consider gestures and symbolism are more important than love itself. The bottomline is though Shahjehan was able to charm the world with his beautiful monument of love; he was never a true lover.
Another revelation was of the beautiful relation certain Englishmen had with the natives. A lot of them were fascinated by both Hinduism and Islam. The tolerance and syncretism of that era should be model for all those who are readying themselves for war in the name of religion. Infact the next book that I am reading of Dalrymple, ‘’white moguls’’ deals with this subject. It is the story of an Englishman who fell in love with a muslim princess.
Sufism was banned in many of the theocratic states after the revival of islamic fundamentalism. It is now slowly decaying in the dargahs of Pakistan and India. Sufism is a power that can bring the reconciliation between the two nations, and the two great religions. Sufi saints are venerated in a lot of ordinary hindu households and it is an axiomatic truth that hindus and muslims share common needs and interests.
The book is highly objective and doesn’t include any ideology or views of the author. At some points we even believe the exorcisms and mysticisms possessed by the dervishes are true. An engaging experience with none of the strong academic tone which most of the research based books has. I would recommend everyone to read it.
October 15th

I had gone to ernakulam after 3 months. Being there brought back memories of my college days. Though I am not old enough to sit back and remember those sweet experiences in an easy chair, I always think of the days in mec. My first year was filled with experiences of ragging. I vividly remember my friend crying for being asked to masturbate on the middle of the road. I used to get the lighter tasks which included asking for gunja in the nearby shop though they never sold it. I met the most peculiar individuals in my college. These included one who would give me company in the bus stop till my bus came listening to my balderdash without any sign of unease, one who had lot of talktime and would talk for hours in telephone (it was then for the first time that I ever talked in phone for more than one hour, later it became routine), the crudest one of all who had a doubt whether he was sinning by watching adult movies (who later went on to become the wholesale distributor of adult movies with a big customer base including me), an ostensible homosexual who remains a mystery (he has an inclination towards showing his private parts to his friends. Once he took the photo of his friend’s genitals from a close angle so that it didn’t look what it actually was. He then showed it to all the women in my class asking them to identify it), an aspiring actor who wanted to study in film institute but ended up in the wrong place, the most materialistic person I have ever seen who introduced herself by offering me a burger in exchange of doing her filing for mechanical workshop and went on giving the same proposition to every boy in the class and last but not the least the one who shocked us all by lodging a police complaint against seniors for ragging and sexual abuse. All of them amused and entertained me (some of them continue to entertain), some of them are my best friends. MEC is one place I am sure I would always miss. It gave me the moments that few would get. Those movies we watched together, the giant wheel in aluva manappuram on which I nearly cried of fear, the trip to marayoor where I got heavily drunk and went on to shower abuses at a faculty who was on phone (God bless him), the detour on jog falls when we nearly lost our life, the placement cell, my travel to college pushing my bike which usually had an empty tank, those endless conference calls, I miss them all. Alas those days are over, the age of innocence and camaraderie has given way painful loneliness and killing routine. Life will never be so full and adventurous hereafter. To quote Mir Taqi Mir
What matters it , O breeze,
If now has come the spring
When I have lost them both
The garden and my nest ?
October 13th

I had gone to kerala(again!!!!!!!) for my cousin’s engagement. I went to ernakulam and met lakshman and hari. As usual went for a movie and had dinner together( even the main contributor to the whole event was same!!!). I couldn’t keep books for pooja this time. After that I went to Irinjalakuda my home town. Most of my relatives are settled there. My cousins were there and I had a good time with them. The only problem was conveyance, we had to use an old model tata sumo with no power steering, it was a really a tiring exercise especially because vinu (my cousin) could not drive because of a dislocated disc which makes me the only person able to drive. Those friends who know my driving would vouch for anything except accepting me being an expert driver. But at the end of the day we were all safe. The engagement was memorable as it was a get together after a long time. Like all other families there are lot of internal turbulences in my extended family as well. Whenever I am in the middle of these petty fights (mostly these fights are due to someone purposefully or not ignoring the courtesies and etiquette that mostly govern the longevity of relationships rather than love or mutual trust), I am also demanded to take sides. This time I got a bit emotional and said it is absolutely unbecoming of human beings not to forgive others for their mistakes. Unfortunately it is near to futile preaching to these people who are well past the age of adapting to the world. I don’t have any aversion towards older generation, but sometimes I feel irritated by their utter disregard for the advices of youth. It is not that we are always correct but why are we always considered wrong. After the experience of being on the wrong side, where I was trying to preach, I did a serious introspection on my attitude towards societal norms and courtesies. I was shocked to find that though I don’t expect any kind of goodwill gestures from my relatives, I expect a lot from my friends. This is contradictory especially because I am not practising what I preach. So I have taken a resolution that I shall try myself not be offended by the behaviour of my friends towards me. There is no purpose in expecting something from others and then loathing them when they don’t deliver.
Back in Bangalore things are not at all looking good; the expectation of getting a call from the companies in which I am placed is getting dimmer day by day. I had taken a train from ernakulam to jolarpet and then another from jolarpet to Bangalore. In the second train I was travelling in the general compartment after a long time. My father and now it seems his brother have a strange aversion towards sleeper compartment. My father always frowns when I take a sleeper ticket for a day travel ( which is almost 100% expensive than general ticket). He says as long as we are healthy we should travel in ordinary compartment. To some extent he is right, but my innate proclivity toward sedentary pursuits prompts me to take the more costly sleeper ticket. But this time I was caught in a dicey situation wherein I had to reach Bangalore before 12.30 and had to take a general ticket in a train from Kakinada. William Dalrymple in his award winning book ‘In Xanadu’ says that getting into a train in Turkey, you will feel like you are being punished for solitary confinement while getting into a train in India will make you feel you are entering an Indian village. It was a horror for me in the beginning especially because it took a while for me to get inside the already packed compartment (it is ironic that in our trains there are only 4 general compartments, in which the ordinary and poor people travel while, 10 to 15 are reserved compartments predominantly used by the upper middle class). But soon I started enjoying the rustic charm of these ordinary people. Most of them (including the women folk) had a tonsured head probably because they were coming from thirupathy. An infant whose head was clean shaven was sleeping in a makeshift cradle, a lot of people was sitting on the planks for luggage. Though it was a short journey which took only 3 hrs, it was a unique experience though I should confess I prayed to God never to put me in such a quandary again.
October 13th

I was planning to write about the two books which I am reading now, the biography of eminent and controversial lawyer Ram Jethmalani and The wounded civilization by Naipaul. But today I came across the blog by one of my friends which debate on a lighter subject. The issue is simple ‘’who is the better actor Sharukh Khan or Amir Khan’’. The jury is still out on whether who is the real No:1 in bollywood. But my friend unequivocally claims that it is Amir Khan who is the rightful heir to the numero uno position, reigned over by the Big B during the 80’s. But what provoked me was his mentioning a debate we had about the issue back in college. He claims that he won the debate( though I clearly remember him swearing that one day he will win the debate and prove me wrong as a swan song) by putting forth the vital point that Amir has done movies which has influenced the society for good while Shahrukh has never done those genre of movies. He goes on to elaborating that with the point he won the debate and instilled amir on the throne of king of bollywood. But I vividly remember annulling the point at one go. Let me once again bring in my logic which mainly contains two parts of which I believe the second point is my reply to all those self proclaimed critics who write off popular stars as the result of insanity in audience.
The first point is never does acting in a socially relevant movies resulting in popular uprising (or a mass movement) prove anything about the universal acceptance of the actor. Nor does it prove that the actor who played his role in a socially significant movie being superior compared to all his peers. If the theory that the actor who acted in maximum number of ‘’successful’’ socially significant movies (especially for a cause) to be considered as the top star, then MGR can be considered as the best actor in the country. Also AlPacino considered as the best actor ever by most movie buffs should be condemned for promoting crime in his magnum opus Godfather trilogy. The point is simple movies are not about reforming or bringing in social changes, they are about entertaining. Those who want to work for a cause can take up some other career like politics. The issue in our country is at most times entertainment industry tries to educate and reform the audience rather than entertain him and the politicians and social workers tries to entertain the populace rather than reform and educate them.
The second is about judgement. What is the best way to identify who is the number 1 in bollywood? Is it by checking the film review column of popular newspapers? I recently came across a review in a newspaper which gave a 3.5 rating (better than good, near to must watch) for a children’s movie which from promos itself indicate is a desi version of popular hollywood flick home alone( thus it is not at all ironic that the movie is produced by the entertainment division of the newspaper which published the review). So it is obvious that the critics are biased (these days they are called market experts). I believe the most successful and bankable actor in an industry is the No: 1 in that industry, the one who has delivered the maximum number of hits. Because he is the one who influences the lives and financial status of the workers in the industry than anyone else, the one who brought more wealth and meaning into their life. In an industry the best is the one who influences the lives of the workers in that industry. Narayana Murthy is not expected to make an impression on the life of a beggar to be considered the best in IT industry. Pele is not expected to do the maximum work than any other the footballer in the field of AIDS awareness to be considered the best footballer. So shahrukh being the actor who has delivered the maximum number of hits is the number 1 in bollywood, like Rajnikant who is the No:1 in tollywood. About the question of whether he is a better actor than amir, the question is too subjective like the question ‘’Is my home made dish more delicious than yours???”
October 4

I have decided to stop writing about the boring and unsuccessful life I am leading now. From now on I will write more about past, those sweet memories I hope to relive. Let me start with my school. I did my schooling from LKG to 4th standard in a girl’s high school. Never again did I get an opportunity after primary school to be among such a sea of beautiful women. It is always a pain to tolerate women when they are a minority. They believe boys give them attention and care because they are special. I have heard one of my colleagues telling she is the most beautiful woman in the class which has 5 girls. It is actually the kind of bragging which we can let off as women are always on the pursuit of fame (nothing else). So coming back to my old school, we had 40 girls and 17 boys in our class. In the age of innocence those women looked so beautiful and cute, and regret terribly for not capitalizing the situation like the protagonist in the movie chocolate.But the most profound memory is of the assemblies we used to have back then. I was the person who regularly led the pledge (India is my country.... and the controversial mention about brothers and sisters),I had a celebrity status of the smart kid who memorized the whole pledge and as usual was so carried away by the attention that I stopped focussing. After a particular point I started forgetting a word, sometimes a phrase and even a sentence. The last pledge was such a disaster that the head mistress dictated the whole pledge to me before the students, which I repeated followed by the crowd after which they were forced to find a replacement.
October 3

I hope things will be normal. The problem with me is I am not as strong as I believe I am. I am not an intellectual as I think myself to be. It is worse when you look at the mirror everyday and say unto yourself (though not loudly) what a wretched creature you are. I got away from eternal doom on a variety of occasions not due to some magic wand I possessed (some people call it talent or gift), but because I was lucky. I relate a lot to the protagonist in Dostoevsky’s ‘’notes from underground’’ who takes himself a bit too seriously but end up being big zero, frustrated with the whole world for his state( but in actuality he himself is responsible for what he is). The theory of existentialism (which says existence precedes essence) is vindicated by my life. I am solely responsible for the pathetic state I am in. There was virtually no rationality in the decisions I took through the years. By going with the stream I contradicted the very conviction upon which my image as a different (at times weird.....) chap was built. I took up drinking and smoking to be different among the lot. As years passed the unique and precious boy who tasted beer at the age of 16 got himself lost in a crowd of drunkards, envious of the attention and goodwill earned by teetotallers. These days the quest of novelty (mark me not pleasure) is prompting me to search for new avenues like dope (though I had tried some bang in goa) and sex. But what happens then, once the novelty transforms in to a routine and even worse mediocrity, I will find myself as someone who was ungrateful to his parents, unfaithful to friends. I don’t want to sin anymore. The word ‘’sin’’ has been controversial for a long time. Unwillingness to conform to societal norms has produced equal number of sinners and revolutionaries. Though being a revolutionary seems a very idealised and heroic option to take up, it requires bold people with a lot of guts and will power, which I know I lack for the time being. The thin line between a revolutionary and opportunist is often invisible. There is a character in Kushwant Singh’s ‘Train to Pakistan’ who comes to a village to do something impressive so as to create an impression among his party bosses in Delhi( he is one of the most comical portrait of a typical comrade). But when fate reckons him to act, he flinches. His doubts and cynicism is quite rational (including the one where he says, there is no place in history for a brave person who died without fulfilling his goal in an ostensibly ludicrous manner). But there is no role for rationality in the life of a true hero. I am confused and think too much about the consequences of my actions and decisions. But the funny part is with all the thinking and caution I have made mistakes, the ones which can never be corrected in a lifetime. I chose the wrong people as my friends (though I can still boast of a handful of good friends), lend my ears to wrong the tongues, invested my time on unyielding exercises ( I used to give patient hearing to a slut who reiterated on and on about her chastity, once as long as for 7 long hours), insulted good people, mocked the vulnerable and let off the strong fearing retaliation. All I want is some miracle that would impart some meaning to the years which I spoiled. It seems preposterous for a 22 year to mourn upon the years he lost rather than deciding to make it up for the years to come. But how wonderful it would have been if I had the power to make amends to the past, to apologize to all those I hurt. Oh lord forgive me for what I am, forgive me for all my air of invincibility.

October 2

I am writing a blog after a long time. What more to write than my boring life which is killing me slowly. I am not sure what I am doing with my life. I hadnt expected it to be so rude. I hoped to be busy soon after my studies. But now I am the least busy person in the world. I had started off CAT coaching well. But now I am loosing focus. Something really bad happened in my life recently. Unfortunately I cannot write about that. These days I think a lot about death( that idiot Dostoevski is doing that to me, never read his stories). Depression seems to be taking the better of me. I used to be a very happy person. I used to be very positive and confident, but all that seems to be some distant dream. I am unable to write more. This blog is simply for the purpose of making me believe that I am alive. I hope I would read this after some years and laugh at it, but I swear I wont be alive to read this again with the same mindset as now.