The case of the disappearing roach.

I’m fairly certain about a recent revelation which has come through to me from my most recent stand offs with the tiny, dangerous; crawling carriers of disease and death – insects! No. I’m not doing that which I always do – exaggerate. I’m pretty horrified right now because I was in a mood for re-runs and trust me, I’m mad like that! I went on a massive movie troll spread across almost all the genres I could possibly think of and have. Did I tell you’ll that I have around 500 GB worth movies neatly arranged like a library would? I have them classified and organized in folders like – Sci-Fi, Thrillers, Horror, Animation, Crime, Drama, Fantasy, Mystery and Regional. So when I talk about a re-run, it’s usually coherent to the classics and those that we’d all love age-sex-caste-language no bar! That’s a new one I invented a few seconds back. I began with Harry potter, went on to the Matrix and then to Aliens. So you’d probably have guessed that my weekend was full of gore, bloodshed and otherwise violently powerful naked men and women who can do things you and I can’t!! Defines me, doesn’t it?

Anyway, the point here being, somewhere amongst the saga of sadness that my life is, as of now, it’s also a plethora of fears and confusion overflowing with anxiety. So much so that it drives me crazy sometimes. Cause here is where I suddenly discovered that I’m Entomophobic. I have an incessant fear of insects – crawly, creepy, buzzy or otherwise sticky and gross. Simply put, I’d rather die than be touched by a bee. I hate bees! And I certainly am not fond of ants. Mostly because they seem to love the food I love. Yes, I have a sweet tooth. Pretty much the reason why I’m stuck at 84 kgs! Hmmm, or is it 86 now? Arghh! I must do something about the distance I’m covering by virtue of the mass around me.

joe-s-appartment-photo1I noticed this repulsion when I was watching Joe’s apartment and I watched those disgusting brown creepy crawlies do the jiggle. It was undoubtedly one of the funniest movies I’ve watched but I got so grossed out by it that I decided to switch to Aliens which as you’ll might know had giant roaches. I think this is a more recent development. I’ve watched these movies before and I’ve loved them. But then, I think I’m just pissed at all those ants; those 8 shaped whiskerous doormats who never give up. I mean, it’s true that they inspire me. They are perseverant and they don’t give a fuck about how big I am. They’re bold and wouldn’t think twice before sipping off the tea that I’m drinking or basking in the glory of all the crumbs I drop. I’m quite pissed about how they invade my privacy. My bed is my place; I really can’t stand them there. So after repeated attempts at finger-kicking, squishing and tormenting, I’ve finally given up and thereby given birth to this fear. The fear is most brutal as I climb into my bed after a tiring day. I spend around 20 minutes dusting and re-tucking my sheets in. Uncovering my pillow and checking for stray ants. Ears are sensitive organs, you know? Thousands of rupees spent on room-fresheners and insect repellers. Ok, now that was me exaggerating. I’ll settle for hundreds. So, yes, hundreds spent on keeping these pests away – but they continue to delve and thrive in my fear. Good for them. I recently spotted a genuinely large 6 legged spider weaving a poisonous web near my geyser. I had to beg my maid servant to get it out of my sight. She graciously agreed to play squish squash with it as I observed with glee! Heartless, I know, but then; arachnids scare the shit out of me, which is ironical because I’ve been constipated for the past 3 days after deciding to eat some titbits the maid servant cooked up.

Roaches. I’m sure these are the most tolerant, dirty, shameless, ugly and otherwise repulsive creatures EVER! They’ve lived before us and I’m sure that they’ll turn into the dominant species once we’re wiped out. Either by an Armageddon bought down upon us by god or by uhm, well, World War III? Personally, I’d prefer falling rocks of fire and lightening. That’d be a more celestially beautiful method of destruction. I sincerely hope it isn’t some sort of a plague. Considering the increase in the amount of pests around me, I’m preparing for the worst. Here’s where it suddenly hits me that I’ve strayed off topic and this is precisely why I’ve laid the book to rest for now. I don’t want myself running all over it and making mincemeat of all the hard work I’ve put in for over the past year and more.

So I saw this huge roach perched menacingly atop my wooden treasure full of clothes I dearly love. I froze for a second; aghast at the size of the winged blattodea. It sat there unperturbed and I thought it was staring at me and this aggravated me. I wanted it dead. I ran to the kitchen as fast as I could and grabbed the broom which is a perfect weapon of destruction when it comes to these defiant little creatures. They just refuse to die, if you might have observed. You squash them all you might – they have no blood and they seem to sustain almost all your blows. But I had made up my mind and I wasn’t going to let this one slip away. I raced back and found it awaiting its death. I smiled as I approached it, weapon raised and ready to strike. It flinched a bit as it felt the whoosh of the broom but it didn’t budge. WHACK!! The broom did land on it and I swear to god that it did. There was no way in hell it could have gotten out of that massive onslaught. I kept the broom stuck to my cupboard hoping to let it suffer for a while before it finally falls dead. I then slowly let the broom slid off and hoped to find a dead bloodless body. Here’s where I lost track of time and stood there, lost in thought. There was no sign of it. It vanished. Into thin-fucking-air! I desperately searched the entire room. The contents of my cupboard got transferred to the hall (where it is, to this date!) I then moved my bed over to the hall, my computer, my table, the buckets and the cups. I evacuated the entire room and the hunt lasted for several traumatizing minutes. All my efforts were in vain; a futile attempt at getting closer to a creature so smart that it’d demand your respect. I bow to thee, Ohh brown winged menace. But I promise, the next time I see you staring at me… well, you know what I’ll do to you! Pfft.

In other news, I’m going to be travelling a lot this month and like I’ve mentioned before, I love roadtrips and long bus rides are relished. I’m going to Pune on the 9th and I’d be there up to the 14th. I got an extra day’s leave since its Vishu; the mallu new year and mom was adamant on keeping me home that day. This vacation, courtesy Good Friday and Easter that’s coming up and the British clients I work for have graciously agreed to give us all 4 days of peace. I can’t begin to express how thankful and appreciative I am. Much needed break. Add to that, my new house is ready. At Kerala this time; his final house, dad laments and I’m sure that there’d be no more. We have a Puja scheduled for the 30th of this month and I’m hoping to drive down to Kerala again. It’s going to be fun cause this time I’d be doing it alone. That’s about it. No further updates. Peace out.

-Anup

Road rage.

Road rageI’ve been requested and ordered; yes both at the same time by someone who CAN have that effect on me to be very careful about what I type on a public blog like this. Now I’m not sure about why he thinks that people care about what I write but then, assuming that they do care – I thought I never bought any personal stories upfront. Anyway, I think I see what you mean and I’m going to keep a very strict, no personal and/or family related entry rule on this journal hence on. I mean, seriously; its just a few of my close friends who visit this place once every 6 months when they are bored out of their wits. Damn! Sometimes, all I need is some appreciation. I don’t really care about who reads here and to be frank, I don’t really care about what they think or feel about whatever it is that I write. I just find it immensely satisfying to squeeze out all those brain cells that run my memory module and I like painting a word picture. It’s mostly for me, but then it’d be a lie if I say that it’s just that. I like it when people read at my place. I don’t feel obligated to blog or its not that I’m compelled to put my feelings and emotions into words. Seriously, that kinda hokum doesn’t work with me. I blog – because I love writing. Why else would I make up random stories? My friends know me very well and they’d testify that I make up stories. I’m one of those people who’d transform a penny into a hundred rupee note out of thin air. I just talk crap and most people I care about know what to take out of all that I say. So the reason why I blog is simple – I like this pseudo reality that I live in. In fact, I can’t live without it. I need to, every now and then pee all over it and leave my mark. I cannot quit writing; EVER and I will not. As far as keeping the private personal part out of picture is concerned, I will try. I promise.

I’ve not mentioned this before but what scares me shitless is the thought of an ant entering my ear while I’m asleep. I’m not sure why it’s just the ear that I’m bothered about because the heat these days is kinda killing and I’m wearing nothing but very short shorts when I sleep. Whatever. It just worries me when I see ants crawling around the place. The tiny black ones seem harmless and tickly but they can create a havoc once they get into your soft spots. And if you’re lucky enough to have one of those giant red ants get close to your ears then you’re in for a treat. Ohh yeah, my room is crawling with those. I wonder where they come from and what they find on my table, the bed, my watch and even the mirror. I mean, what is it that you’re looking for you puny dangerous creature? Your place is in the kitchen. Why don’t you just go away? How many more of you’ll do I have to smash and feel guilty for before you just disappear from my room? Its 2:00 AM and I need to sleep but I caught one of your step sisters wiping her antenna while resting comfortably on my pillow and that’s just gross and unclean. I thought you guys were more organized. And what the hell is on my pillow? Get out of my face, will you? And tell her to be never seen on my pillow again.

Coming to terms with my weak understanding of Kannada and humiliated by my less than modest effort at learning the language of the state I live in; I’ve come to the conclusion that road rage is an activity that cannot be avoided for long and that ‘nin akkan…’ essentially means “Your sister…” this I managed to decipher after numerous phone calls and asking around. I’m a safe driver. You’d spot me driving calmly moving close to 70 kmph when there isn’t much traffic and provided the roads can take that kinda speed. Now I don’t say that I’m a good driver but I’m alright at the wheels. I do have my push and pull game going on with the clutch but what the hell? That wouldn’t make me any lesser with judging the distance from a vehicle on either sides. I keep a safe distance and I do not overtake unless I’m in a hurry to leave. I remember once being kept at 20kmph because there was this bullock cart wobbling ahead of me and I thought the cow looked tired. I did not want to alarm the poor thing. So, yeah, that’s how I drive. I’m confident on the wheels and I seldom make mistakes. This is what I genuinely feel and its been alright for me thus far. I mean, its been over 2 years since I’ve had a car and I’ve never been into the shit that was waiting for me the other day.

So I’m driving, my usual self. Calm and lost in the music playing softly on my sides. The glasses were rolled up since it was burning outside and I kept a low profile on the road that day since I was early to work. I wasn’t even committing to my usual maneuvers that day and I was nodding my head softly as I whistled to “Kendi Pom” imagining Chi-Chi and Salman do the jingle. That song peps me up. I managed to quickly reach office that day. I’m not sure. Come to think of it now, was I speeding? Did I hit someone on the road? Random pedestrian? Some cab guy? I’m not sure. I stopped at this signal and this sumo screeched to a halt to the right of my car. All I could see was him yelling and turning red with anger as I looked on, confused and trying to understand what he was saying. He was visibly upset with something I did and I did not want to get into a squabble with a stupid cabbie in the middle of the road. I ignored all that he seemed to say. It almost seemed like he was a mime artist trying to visually explode my head with his hatred. I looked at him and gave one of those famous ‘fuck you’ expressions, shifted to first gear and took off. By now, he had stepped out of his cab and had broken into a swift jog. He reached my car and banged his hand very hard at my rear glass and I thought he nearly shattered it. This ticked me off and I thought I’d get out and ask him about what the fuck he thought he was doing! I could hear him swearing and yes, you know when someone is calling you names, whichever language it is. The both of us were on opposite ends of the world with a huge line separating us. The line contained, language, a general understanding of the world, education, an upbringing and yes, finally, Kannada. Everyone else around me knew what he was saying whereas I did not. So for everyone else, I was actually the biggest jackass they encountered that day. After a lot of pointless rambling he decided to give me a push which would be a physical representation to all his anger. Here, as instinctive as I am, I returned the favor. He was a tiny little man and he stumbled and fell down. By this time, I guess he figured out that I wasn’t scared of a fight. I actually was. Crap! I did not want to get into trouble with a cabbie. He’d have his bunch back at his parking lot. For all you know, you’d read about me being killed in a squabble between two “youths” heh, weird ways that newspapers have of portraying “incidents” Its pathetic, fights that is. Especially if it’s on the middle of the road. The small little one that I had quickly ended with the guys in the cab deciding to intervene and drag him back. I watched them leave and hopped into my car and quickly drove into my building. Ahhh! I was relieved. He wasn’t going to get in however hard he tried. I then nearly ran upstairs and told everyone about what happened and prepped them up for a fight – just in case. A bunch of nerdy IT guys, picture that? I was doomed.

I haven’t had any mishaps after that date and I hope he forgets my face. At least I have. Forgiveness is a trait of the best! Sadly, there is a humongous amount of stuff in my head that I wanna talk about right now but its late and I’m sleepy. I nearly forgot. I cut my hair short. It’s the old school navy cut now. I think I look presentable in it and I prefer that to a Rock star who failed to make a mark kinda look. Well, that’s what people thought I looked like. That being said I’m off for the night. Night ya’ll!

-Anup

An expensive weekend.

Once every month; Chetan and I have this unavoidable urge and craving to spend money. Its not like we do all that we want to do, which might include buying Levis denims and more shoes. We fall out of home hoping to buy stuff but these days we usually return empty handed cause uhm, allegedly, there isn’t anything worth buying. Or some random reason that we’d come up with at that point in time where we get stuck between the want to buy and the want to flee from the shop we’re standing in. Its awkward silence and then the both of us making a hasty exit from the shop leaving the salesman wondering what he did wrong. It was hilarious when we did this at Levis where I sent the boy to get a measuring tape for alteration since I had apparently just purchased a pair of expensive Levis. Here is where I looked at Chetan and we had a not-so-quite discussion about buying those denims. “Do you want it?” he asked. “I do!! and I dont…” said I looking perplexed at the thought of spending 3 grands on a pair of pants I did not actually need right then. Here is when Chetan turned into a Gladiator and he began fleeing the scene. I promptly followed suit and left those denims hanging by the manequins hands. Still cracks me up when I think about that day.

This weekend was one of those expensive ones where we did spend a lot of money on activities we could have easily avoided but then once in a while we like the rich feeling. Rich dining, expensive leisures and prodigal wandering. We visited Ruby Tuesday for lunch on Saturday. Chetans suggestion that. I’m positive that we’d never venture into that restaurant again. At least not the two of us. Its ideal if you want the perfect American date and I’d hope that the girl you’d take along would be worth the money cause its menu card is the epitome of a proposterously expensive list of food items you’ve probably never heard of unless, of course, if you fall into the Creme’De’wastera clan who is used to expensive places like these.  We had Penne mushroom Pasta and mini burgers with nothing but plain water even after the host asked us if we wanted something (alcoholic) to drink twice. It did seem embarassing the second time he asked and Chetan demanded some more water. We quickly finished our meal and paid a paltry sum of 600 bucks for the above mentioned food that was eaten tastefully by me. Chetan ended up stuffing most of it into his mouth cause it didn’t taste too great, he said.

Ahh! I nearly forgot to mention about the angel we saw at Pizza hut before that. Ohh yeah, thats right we had initially walked in to Pizza hut to eat a poor meal but then we decided to give Chetans choice of restaurant a shot after we caught ourselves staring at this angel on earth who couldn’t get enough of whatever it was that she was eating. She didn’t lift her eyes off her plate for once. What an ogre. Geez, no! This girl; I mean, its kinda difficult to put into words about how cute she was. Fair… infact, very fair but not pasty. A round chubby face but not fat. Curly hair right upto her shoulders. Eyes fixed on her plate and innocence written all over her gorgeous face. Lips so cute that you’d lose your apetite. The kajal in her eyes and those eyelashes, wooohoooo!! God sure spent a little more time on her. We exited soon cause else she’d be medusa who turned us into stone. Hey! Its not our fault. You cant help staring at girls like those.

We went bowling at Ameoba after all that food and we spent an hour just waiting for it to be our turn to take a shot at the heavy balls. We watched all those amateurs being funny with the ball and pins. We even found some dude trying to spin the ball in mid air. He was funny as hell and Chetan tried imitating him which made me tear with laughter. I finally decided to stop watching since there was this one girl who sported a lose top and decided to bend down with the ball. It made me feel guilty even though it was not me showing my cleavage. Chetan had no interest in watching live soft core banalities either. So we sulked and waited for it to be our turn. I wonder why that part made me feel guilty. I mean, its not like my eyes would self-realizingly close itself or blink for a longer second when images like this occur. Sigh, what a mindless world of women. It finally arrived and it was awesome. 45 minutes of unadulterated fun. I beat him in the first game and he beat me in the second. Its usually that way, we really cant decide on who is better. I guess we’ve decided that we both rock at it. Mostly, cause no one else there went above the score of 70 and we were in the 100’s. I loved the strikes we had and it was exhilarating. We then wasted time at Forum and had some Maharashtrian food for dinner. Sunday was a lazy day with loads of sleep and movies. Thats pretty much what we did this weekend and yeah, my purse got lighter by a grand. Sigh.

I am tempted to quit working and go take up a travelling job. More on that later. For now, I gotta head to my boring IT job and I guess you’d find me writing more if all that boredom doesn’t kill me. Later folks.

-Anup

Obituary to love.

He sobbed some more as he tried in vain to reach out to sandman. It seemed like eternity since he last slept and the Tearsefforts made to get one days sleep seemed to make him more numb towards the whole idea of rest and dreams. But he had slept off today. Smothered by his own self-poisoning ways and of course his self-loathing stare which seemed to tear into his skin, break every bone in him and make every blood cell in him wither and die. He had wished for sleep and nothing but dreams that wouldn’t haunt him. The nightmares had been giving him the jitters forever now and all he wanted was to sleep. It was alright if it wasn’t peaceful, understandable that the nightmares wont go. All he wished for was to stop watching her leave. This seemed to creep up on his dreams every night like an old abandoned spirit unwilling to leave. Nothing helped and he had given up.

He woke up with a start; perspiring and almost crying his eyes out over what he had to endure in that wretched dream. It was the same one every day. It played on like a stuck tape that wouldn’t budge. It was there to stay and it had occured to him as a torture every single night. All he ever wanted was her…

There she sat on a red sheet on bare ground. Clad in a white dress, her naked feet caught his eyes. He thought they were beautiful. She tiptoed towards the rivulet being careful to not hurt herself. He noticed that she had no slippers. She looked perfect; pristine, benign and pure. So much so that she seemed unattainable. He smiled as he watched her grab the flowing water with both her hands cupped together. She drank some and ever so sloppily let most of the water flow off her cusped hands onto her neck which trickled down to her chest and there seemed to be a red glow which seemed to dull out when the water seeped in. It seemed magical. He could hear her heartbeat which seemed like a million lightning-thunders hitting against the harsh waves of an angry sea. She looked beautiful. He almost took his eyes of her, lest he hurt her just by laying his eyes on her.

She sat herself down on a rock and beckoned him to come sit by her. He hesitated but was drawn to her like the male praying mantis who knows that it’ll be eaten after the female takes what she wants but her magnetism is too much for him to negate. He sat down and gently took her feet in his hands. He noticed a tiny stream of blood. She had cut herself. He panicked and began cleaning the wound. Her heart raced faster than ever and her heart glowed a color of red he’d never seen before. She looked into his eyes and flashed one of her smiles. The ever so small but very visible to him kinda ones. She bent down, stared lovingly into his eyes and spoke in a voice that seemed like many tiny, delicate strings being plucked, almost rhythmically. “Will we be like this forever?” he looked at her, full of unending love but confused at her question, “Why do you ask? Haven’t I told you so many times before?” she suddenly seemed sad and lost in a scary reverie. “What is bothering you?” he asked, worried and curious to know more about what was on her mind. “I feel like I’m losing grip and you seem like you’re slipping away… tell me you’ll stay!” she blurted out, exasperated by its sheer thought. “I’ll be here. I’ll never leave. You’re mine and I’ll never let go…” and he kissed her gently on her shoulder.

The touch burnt her and she moved away quickly and seemed farther than he wanted her to be. He reached out and tried to move closer to her but the nearer he got the further away she went. The red aura around her chest had died out. She looked sad and frail now. Her white dress tattered and torn. Both her legs had deep wounds on them and she was bleeding. He called out to her and tried to make a run towards her with all his remaining energy. She kept looking at him try in futility. His race with time just made her more grotesque and unrealistically chimerish. Finally, all he heard was a whisper, “I’m sorry…” He couldn’t see her anymore. She gave no reasons and there were no good byes. Tears for him and invisibility for her! Gods been kind he thought as he struggled to keep himself from crying, but tears were his best friends. They came… and he woke up; yet again., sobbing and benighted by the shadows of his past and a nightmare that just doesn’t let go. The music ends and he slids back into bed. Another sleepless night. His nights seemed to him like a never-ending obituary to love.

-Anup

An unhealthy vacation.

Its clumsy, sad and pathetic that I’m going to miss out on a short stint at Pune because of a really terrible Viral fever which has kept me bed ridden throughout the last 5 days and threatens to get worse if I dont get my hands on that miracle drug. I can doctor myself well, I think. The paediatrician who treated me decided that he knew my age and scribbled in a dose of antibiotics meant for a two year old. Here I am shivering with fever, cold and other very vile ailments and all he manages to prescribe was three times a day of Paracetamol, some other tablet for the itch in my throat which is still there and then finally the antibiotic. 8mg tablets; three tablets, one each day. Seriously doc? Whats up with you? I’m huge and I’m very much into Betnelan, Roxid and others which have been coming through to me at more than 250mg at the rate of three tablets a day. Whatever you call it; thats the kinda dose that cures diseases. I’m fucked here, you see? God damn it! I’ll have to go talk to someone else tomorrow if I don’t feel better. I’m kicked and I really need to sleep some more. But then, I’ve been sleeping for the past five days and I smell like a bear out of hibernation. Kinda sick. Ohh, and why a children’s doc? Well, thats the best I could find within a 5km radius of my house and I seriously need help.

I’ve been like this for the past four days now and its given me a lot of time to think, read and sleep. I’ve been sleeping most of the time and I haven’t come up with anything remotely productive or creative. I’m kinda stuck at a point in my book where the story is a bit too real to narrate and I’m in a dilemma. Should I or should I not? Tell the story as is. I’ve inculcated a lot of fiction but there are parts of your story that you just cant add or subtract stuff and you really want to blurt out the real deal; well, its in a slump for now. I’ll get back to that later. For now, I had this thought in my head where I began wondering about myself. Again? Yeah, I do that quite a lot. Guess I dig into parts of me that’d be best left alone and then I brood. I thereby become incorrigibly gloomy and I look and sound like one of those hopeless beggars on the platform of Pune railway station. Well, not exactly. They’re pathetic. I’ve wished so many times to help them and wished for everyone to have everything that all of them desired. Let no body be poor and let no one beg for food! Some of my sumptuous dreams.

I ended up asking myself if I’d want to be reborn as me – Anup, again. Assuming of course, that we humans have a chance to live again across life itself and across multiple dimensions. I thought about one of those flop movies I loved so much – Suryavansham. Yes, it had Salman Khan doing the whole Punarjanam* thing. Punarjanam – Reincarnation. Ideally, its not reincarnation that I’m talking about. Its about me being born again as me. The same guy, no change. Born into a different social society (GOD YES!!) else I’d die of boredom. And lets assume that I suddenly have a stroke of luck or a heavenly voice tells me the entire story of the me prior to… you know… ME?! Duh… I’m dragging this, am I not? I’m just trying to type down whatever it is that came into my mind today and it had to be AS IS! So, do I want to be me; AGAIN? Well, No.

Its not like I hate myself and the way I am. Or its probably more of that and less of the other findings that I’m going to sermonise. Its kinda sad that I feel this way but haven’t we all had those seconds/minutes or hours (in my case) in our lives where we’d want to be someone else? Not temporarily, but forever? Like change into a new prototype. An Anup v2.0 if you may. Enhanced, less complicated but more efficient and highly distinctive. I’d like a few changes. A few is an understatement to the amount of changes I’d need in me. Simply put, I’d just want to be a different me but still knowing that its me. Capable to differentiate between the old me and the new me. Get my point? I know its a shallow thought, but I really need that. For example, I want to lose ten kgs. I don’t need a perfect body, but I’d like to be more presentable. I’d like my face to be altered a bit. Just yesterday, I had this kid (who was trying to play holi with his friends) drench me with his water bottle as I slowly dragged myself to the tea shop for some hot tea. I was mad at him but not mad enough to want to see him curl up and die. But then, he said something which ticked me off. He said, “Sorry uncle…!” What the fuck, kid? I’m 25, alright? I hope you curl up and die. Touchwood. I know its not going to happen. God has been good with me that way.So, yes, I’d like to live my age. I’d like to unlove my dreadful experience with love. I hate it so so much. Infact, if none of the other changes take effect, I’d at least pray for this one to happen. Kinda like in the movie “Eternal Sunshine of a spotless Mind” take all those memories out! Be reborn with all the firsts. The first time I said “I love you…” the first kiss and everything else. Yup, come to think of it now, this is THE ONLY change I’d want to see if I be reborn as ME!

Now I know that most of the above diarrhoea of words would seem like tantrums thrown by a kid with a broken heart, but its more than that and I know that no one gives a fuck, but thought I’d rant anyway. Its been an unhealthy vacation thus far.
-Anup