Period of Stagnation? Nah...

Hmmm Three days and no blogs. Are you outta time or really losing it? Or is it that you have reached the Saturation point? There's gotta be something.


Sometimes I feel I'm just a big fat lazy bum. All I do is sit on the couch all day long and tell myself It'd be awesome to do this and do that. Seldom do I ever do it. I don't really feel bad about not being able to do all that stuff but on the outside I'm cribbing and whining about it all day.


I'd love to do yoga but I can't find the right instructor.

I'd love to jog but goddamn this freaking chill.

I'd love to read a lotta books but the sandman attacks me early and most of the time, when I near the completion of a single page I'm drooling all over my pillow, face and the book. Now that explains why I wake up every morning feeling like a cow with wet paper stuck to my face.




So I'm just this really normal guy, who loves to do a lotta stuff but is just too darned lazy to get my arse out of the warmth and comfort of my couch and shake it. Sometimes, we miss the obvious. While I'm discussing my life wrenching Issues with a close buddy, It is suggested to me that I should do the obvious.

What is the obvious? "Stop being lazy. "Whaa...?" Simple. Stop being lazy. How hard is that? Man, that hit me like one of those big iron balls they use to crash buildings down. Seriously, how hard could it be to just stop being lazy and go out there and do something? Simple.

So henceforth I'm gonna stop whining about not being able to FIND time or give people lame excuses to abstain from doing what I want.

I always have this problem about ending posts. Conclusion hasn't always been my strong point. So I've decided to end them with the first whacky and totally unrelated line that enters my mind.

Do you smell what the Rock is cooking??

Blogging and Me

Excitement is always short lived. Its like a match stick...When initially rubbed, it catches fire and burns with a vigor and then gradually heads towards the annihilation of light. Excitement, according to me, can be classified into two types:

1) Fantasy Excitement: Where I'm excited and really WANT to try something out but I cant. Something Like Bungee Jumping


2) Short Lived Excitement: Where I'm willing to go ahead but certain factors restrain me from going ahead and DOING something that excites me. Factors can range from Laziness to really obstructing factors such as lack of time. Like lifting weights at the gym.

Both ways, the excitement ultimately dies. Fades away.

Somehow, Blogging has been a lot different, in this aspect(Atleast so far). Probably because ever since I was child, I had this habit of writing things down. Writing somehow removes the confusion off my mind. Erases doubts. It's something that I can't explain. I remember my aunt presenting me with a really beautiful notebook to jot down my thoughts. The first entry in it was about an Imaginary Dictionary Short-Woman as opposed to Longman. Childish, I know. But that's where the journey began.

Later there was a period when I was fascinated by a lot of things I read. Like Krasnoyarsk - 26 I'd read about in a Sidney Sheldon book and about the Shroud of Turin in Robin Cook's Seizure.

A few years later, there was an urge or a compulsion within me to write something anything. Kinda like a fire glowing inside. Immodest of me indeed but I was really excited about writing. I'd written a few short stories. But back then I always wanted to write a big novel, not a short story. I didn't know how much fun it would be.

And then I stumbled upon blogging. It started out as a very personal wish to digitize those childhood dreams. To keep them safe for all eternity. To make sure that irrespective of whether I misplaced the book or threw it in a fire, My words would be immortal. And that immortality is what makes this blogging so wonderful. Something I typed ages ago would still be there waiting in MY own personal "Archives" and somehow that word makes me feel like I'm the Pope.

Yep, I'm the Pope in my own dingy world and today as I sit in a boring class with ear phones plugged deep into my ears with blaring loud music, I tell myself that Finally there's something that I have created that will last forever. Nothing can beat that sense of fulfillment. I love Blogging. It really should have been Writing but again I feel blogging is a lot different from writing. I can never claim to be a WRITER I'm a BLOGGER and Proud to be one.

Monkeys Destroy Cricket

Cricket has gone down the drain in the last Cricket match played at Sydney. The Australians have showed the world what they are best at. Here are a few quotes I'd beg the life of me to differ from.

"To err is human, to forgive divine, as the old saying goes" says our dear Mr.Bucknor. So how did he manage to pull of seven wrong decisions against India and one against the Aussies? Yet somehow he is running around claiming it was only 2 Wrong decisions and is happy warming his chair in the ELITE panel of (deaf and blind) umpires in the ICC.


"I think both sides are professional and have their focus on cricket" Speedster Brett Lee has chosen to remain dumb as a dog about the whole issue because whatever he says goes against him. He is planning to retire in India because they are offering him good money for sitting in the ICL and singing jingles with Asha Bhonsle while endorsing Fast Track watches.



Ricky Ponting wins Today's show folks with this interview to NDTV, he's given us some pointers which we all should take seriously because apparently Australia are playing Professional Cricket and the rest of us watching our tv sets are fools according to him.

• My family received abusive calls last week: Sure you did. You ought to be killed for bringing shame upon International cricket.
  
• My wife was scared when she read about my sacking: Aww Cummon Punther, we all know you were pissing your pants off.
  
• Am not sure why Roebuck had to write about my sacking: Because finally, dear, you earned it.
  
• A few weeks ago Roebuck called me the best captain: That was before you decided to become the umpire and signal out to anyone who cared.
  
• A lot of criticism was totally unfair: Yeah and pointless. They should have just sent you home.
• Unfair to say that we were unfair on the field in Sydney: Stop the goddamn crying will you? Be a man..oh sorry sissy did I hurt your feelings?
• Disappointed that Anil pulled out of the catching agreement: You gave him all the right reasons to didn't you? Go back to high school Ponting, and this time stop staring at your moral science teacher's breasts and start concentrating on what she is trying to teach you.
  
• we appreciate India's gesture: Sure you do you filthy S.O.B. And I hate these sublime asses for not pressurizing you but then, we Indians have this feeling of Dignity which is so alien to you bastards. And no you cant complain against me calling you Bastard..I was just quoting Hogg.
  
• What India have done won't change Bajji's ban: We couldn't care less darling. We saved you the time and dropped him from the third test.
  
• Words spoken on the field are meant to be on the field: Which i OBVIOUSLY why you found it right to file a RACISM complaint. Oh that Poor Poor monkey.
  

Sita's Tragedy

After nurturing the foetus for Ten months, the baby was finally due. The gynecologist Sita visited was a very famous one called Dr. Martha. She specialized in cesarean operations. Irrespective of whether it is NEEDED or not, She always performed cesarean because it fetched her more money and the patients mostly agreed because it was a lot less painful. Only one among ten were normal deliveries for "Cesarean Martha" and Sita was among those "ones" because she had cough. They decided to go for normal procedure because even one cough during the procedure could kill the child.

The doctor's were getting ready, Sita was already lying on the bed with her legs spread apart and her private parts being not so private. Ten months of hope and joy, the million names that were auditioned, the dolls that were bought, the room painted bright with Disney characters, party banners being readied at home. Hubby walking up and down the aisle like all expectant fathers do in the movies. Sita and her hubby had decided that he won't be with her during the delivery. So Sita was all by herself getting ready for the battle. She was naked but for the green patient cloth they gave her. She didn't know if it was the air conditioning or her nerves that was giving her the chills. She was shivering uncontrollably. The doctor's said "Relax...you will be fine"

It was a dream delivery, everything precisely as she had read over the Internet and pregnancy books and even romantic fiction. She was in trusted hands. The best doctors money could afford in this town. Although they made her take a whole lot of unnecessary expensive scans and tests, Sita was more than happy to give her yet-to-be-born-baby the best medical care. Secretly Sita wished it was a girl. The sex of a foetus should not be revealed to the patient in India. Infant Mortality. Its a crime.

"Okay stop thinking negatively" She told herself.

As the doctors were operating, they suddenly panicked and started discussing in hushed tones.
"Whats the matter? Is everything alright??" Sita panicked.
"There's no problem dear" said the matron but Sita knew something was wrong and she really REALLY felt it in her stomach. After an animated but hushed conversation, the doctors came up to Sita and said
"We have a little complication. We need to take a scan."
Now? Here? In the middle of this?? Sita wanted to riddle them with questions but was too weak and medicated to do anything more than nod her consent.

The baby inside Sita had died and the doctors decided not to tell her about it. That's when one of the doctors had the most ingenious idea. They decided to call in for another scan. The scan doctor, Dr. Shivananda was a smart and upcoming doctor, but nonetheless NEW to the hospitals management and was considered a threat by all the senior and experienced doctors because they knew he was too darned good and could take up their position as senior consultant. He was a lot cheaper than them. So they decided to call him for a scan. And since he was half way across town he would definitely be late. And that presented them with a whole set of advantages. Now they can blame him for the death, demote him and avoid a confrontation with the patients. Not that they can sue them or something. This was India and no parent who just lost a child would sue a competent successful RICH doctor. Besides there were no rules that could blame the doctors for NEGLIGENCE, which was the case here and they always make patients sign a paper...Formality they call it.

Sita was on the verge of tears when the Dr.Shivananda entered in a hurry...
"You're late Doctor. You killed her Child."
Dr.Sivanada stared at the doctors. He saw through their drama but didn't utter a word in front of Sita who was weeping uncontrollably.
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This is a real story.
Always go for a second opinion.

Mental Ramifications

"Ramification" is defined as unnecessary complications. Thats what my mind is all about. There are simple thoughts I can build upon and entertain myself. Thats what I do most often. Calvin and Hobbes effect? Maybe.

Most of my mental ramifications are in class where I PRETEND to listen by sitting straight and lookin into the lecturer's eye while I'm conjuring up weird images and building weirder thoughts deep in my mind.

Today, I was reminded of a Looney Tunes Cartoon where there's a narration filled with idioms and phrases and the visual is a literal adaptation of all those idioms. For instance, if the narrative went like "He sat like a brick", the visual would have the main character turn into a brick. It was really hilarious. So when my teacher was giving her lecture, I thought how funny it'd be if I took everything she said literally.

The teacher wanted to get us into a Group Discussion. So she said Split yourselves into seven and I was thinking how I'd disect my body into seven parts...that'd be head, torso, tummy, legs and arms.

(In case these parts do not add upto seven, maybe I was hallucinating in math class as well)

Next up, we were told how to present a paper...after the usual crap about stage fright being good and imagining the guy (with the scariest stare) in his underwear, we were told how to deal with a situaion where you forget what you had to say..."Forget it and Jump into the next point", we were told.

We were discussing about Benazir Bhutto when the realization hit me. There's gotta be a panel of highly DEAD gentlemen, who sit in heaven and decide whose death ought to be called a murder and whose an assassination. Really, who decides that??

Until more realizations hit me, this is Vinay signing off.

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You can find inner peace by letting your evil side take you over rather than fighting it.

Sitting In The Loo...

I'm sitting in the loo. "All day I dream about Sex" is blaring in the speakers across the hall. The kid next door is learning Hindi lessons a little too loud for me to appreciate from inside the dingy loo that I have here home.

I'm making up rhyming verses trying to impress people with my next poem...

"Sitting in the loo
Thinking How true
it is, that poo
reminds me of you"*

(* For those of you who cant appreciate the rhyme above, I'd like to tell you that this is the refined version sans the Scooby Dooby Doo)

I really want to say "Cutting out the crap n comin to the point" at this jucture but you know I cant. I'm in the crapper for god's sake!) I'm wondering, "What's the matter with the western poo system?".

You sit on it like a chair, with a or a penthouse in hand and pretend as though you are sitting in a dentist's place awaiting your turn while in reality (Note: This does not refer to those of you suffering from gastro-intestinal disorders) your poo goes down so fast and hits the waters so hard that some of it splashes and reaches the source of poo. Why am I being polite? It washes ur fuckin asshole! Disgusting!!! Of course, it is. I have no respect for the Western execution of operation Bowel Evacuation. Its farce. Sub standard.

I don't understand why the world leader in Science, Technology (and Bombing middle east) has such a backward method for waste disposal. I don't get why President Bush, crooked enough to mix nuclear waste in 9/11 debris and ship it to Asian countries for disposal didn't give much thought to his own private waste disposal.


Look at the Squat Toilet(aka Indian/Moroccan/Asian Toilet).

I mean, not only do you get a complete lower body workout(Front and back Thighs and calves get stretched), you save money (and Disgrace to Goddess Saraswati) by opting to look at Poo sliding down the basin as an alternate source of entertainment to Playboy. Plus there is no back waters(yea am talking about that splash effect. Also it is designed to give you the same effects as Utthanasana(I aint kidding).


The link says "Yes, it looks like someone relieving themselves in the woods (or in a Paris or Moroccan toilet...) In fact, "utthan" is Sanskrit for bowel movement, this being the optimal position for humans to perform that function. This is healing for the lower bowel tract, keeping those parts oxygenated and properly stretched. The ankles and lower legs love this too."

I get up and realize I've finally got something to writ on my next blog. So i open my Browser and type I'm sitting in the loo...[Back to top]

Walk-o-logy

There are basically four types of walks. The rest are a mix and match of these. The important point is to note the Pace of the steps, the distance between two successive steps and the direction in which toes are pointed.

I guess my disclaimer should say that I have absolutely no idea as to what the study or science of walks is called and neither am I a professional. These are just absent minded musings of a particular bored guy. It is left to the reader to send feedback on the percentage Integrity if of this post.

* A slow pace, toes pointed straight symbolizes a person at peace with himself and others. A Very calm and composed person with no tension.

* A quick pace with short steps and toes pointed straight is a crisp Professional person who's very confident and sure of himself. But has a very short temper.

* A slow pace with toes pointing sidewards(kinda like forming a 'V') is basically my description of a loser(No offense) but such a person is not good enough to do much but doesn't care a damn. Life takes a very slow pace and usually these are not achievers. They're relaxed and usually have their NEEDS but not most of their WANTS fulfilled.

* A Quick long stride is a person who's arrogant, Egoistic and supercilious. Goes around with an attitude thats too hard to digest.

Footnotes:
1) These are generalizations and there are always exceptions but this analysis is pretty close to the truth to the best of my knowledge.
2) The above apply for women too. I've used he for my own convenience.
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Every man loses his form. It's not how good he was in his prime that matters. What matters is how good the come back is.

Intended Blogs

I wanna get rid of certain thoughts that have been possessing me for quite some time. These are "Intended blogs" or would-have-been-blogs. I have had thoughts of writing on them and expanding but somehow the excitement(about a particular piece) faded so far away that the Martians have spotted it and sent me a hand written letter through a homing pigeon. Yea Whatever. Now, The bold letters are the title of the blog and the accompanying description might be what u could have seen as a "synopsis".

1)Types of Walks - To find out more about yourself based on the way you walk. The number of steps you take the direction your foot points but only less technical. Here's a quickie...Quick short steps with toes pointed straight out mean you are a person in a hurry with a quick temper and highly competent in whatever you do.

2) Unnecessary Taboos - Something that everyone likes and does but never discuss beyond the walls of their bedroom, there is absolutely no reason why the Indian Society feels so complicated about discussing sex.

3) Soiled Clothes - This is a pointless meaningless ramble and a justification by moi as to why my dresses are always soiled or stained somehow and why this should be considered as a fashion statement.

4) Confessions of a Porn Star: This one's a poem about what a Porn stars goes through. A little Kinky and DOES NOT arouse.

5) Hitler Again: Inspired by a book which claims Hitler is still alive, an imaginary vision on how Hitler would have attacked the entire world and brought Germany on top of all other nations without instigating a nuclear war.

6) The Indian Poop System(aka The Squat Toilet): A typical Vinay style Rant on the Indian Toilet, Etiquette and the ways People Poop.

I leave it to the Reader to feel free request any topic that interests them. I shall oblige.
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Wish you all a very happy peaceful and prosperous new year.
There is nothing Wrong in being Alliterate.