Ah well.

I try to tell myself the realities of life but my body just refuses to listen and my heart ignores me completely.

My head seems to agree with me sometimes, but that counts for nothing.

Truth

It's not too difficult to find Truth. He's a little evasive but not impossible to seek out. All you need is a little patience that never runs out.The hard part comes in when Truth turns up at your doorstep stark naked, slaps you across the face and then asks you for a cup of tea because you'd gone out of your way to meet him the last time he showed up at someone else's doorstep. You know he's there to stay and there's nothing you can do but accept it. Whoever said Ignorance is bliss probably said it only after he saw Truth in the shower with his wife. 

Goldilocks And The Three Beers!

The story of Goldilocks has been told and retold and has suffered various misconceptions along the way. Of course, you’ve heard the version where a blonde girl drank some porridge and hung out with a family of bears. BUT that is not the truth. Goldilocks was a boy and his hair, was black.

Once upon a time, there lived a little boy whose skills far exceeded those of others in his little village. You see, he was well versed in the art of manipulating gold and making locks. His talents earned him the name Goldilocks Smith.

On a particularly hot afternoon on his way back from work, he came upon a little hut with little windows which he peered through to find a little table on which lay three big bottles of beer. Feeling particularly drained, exhausted and tempted, he knocked on the door of the little hut. Since he received no answer, he pushed the door and found it to be open.

The house seemed deserted and the beers seemed inviting, so he helped himself after deciding that he would explain his intrusion into their fine home once the owners returned. In his thirst, he drained the three bottles in quick succession. He staggered around the little hut till he came upon a bed, on which he lowered himself and was soon engulfed in a deep slumber. 

He woke up hours later to find himself in the presence of three hairy, uniformed men who he feared had been eyeing him as he slept. “You are under arrest for breaking and entering, Goldilocks” said the hairiest of the men. Despite Goldilocks’ attempts to explain himself and his demands to see his lawyer, his case was promptly filed and he was soon carted off to the village prison.

Here, he was shoved into a cell with big burly men who had tattooed arms and faces. After a few hours of eyeing him, one of the tattooed men asked Goldilocks the question that would change his life forever. “What’s your name, Sunshine?”

Moral: Never give a boy an effeminate name.

Goldilocks remained in prison for three weeks. He was released by the state post the Human Rights protest staged for his cause. He now leads a quiet life in the northern part of his village under the name Powers Boothe. 

Feline Humor

LOL, It's a CAT!

Anger Management

Sometimes I keep my face as passive as possible and scream inside my head.

Poll

Does anyone read this blog anymore?

a. Yes
b. No
c. It is against my religious beliefs to answer this question.
d. All of the above

And The Moral Of The Story Is...

Remember when we were children and we'd read long stories that went on for pages just to get to the moral -  Don't talk to strangers, don't shoot your relatives, don't eat your own thumb - which was short, sweet, simple and usually brimming with wisdom?

I have one such moral to share.

Now I know that the traditional way to do this would be by narrating a story with a talking frog and a tortoise in it. But I shall deviate from this method for three reasons:

1. Talking frogs are creepy.

2. I do not wish to patronize you with pages of text since you do not pee in your own bed anymore. (If you still do, you should really see a doctor about that)

3. There is a possibility that I am suffering from an acute case of laziness. There is no known cure for this condition.

Owning to the above reasons, I have decided to resist the urge to narrate the story and just skip to the short, sweet, simple moral that is brimming with wisdom. I hope you understand.

MORAL OF THE STORY: If you know how to bake - You can have the cake and eat it too.

Baking lessons, anyone?

M/AD!

I have dedicated my summer to an internship in Advertising. It's a mad industry that makes a lot of money, pays very little to its employees and wastes a lot of paper. If you are environmentally conscious, this job is not for you. If you are a tree, stay away from advertising. If you are a paper-eater, you will find an all-you-can-eat buffet here. However, it also churns out some interesting content which deems everything else acceptable.

There are many levels/ departments that an idea travels through before it finally becomes an ad. You need a servicing guy to deal with the client, a creative guy to come up with the idea and an art guy to execute it. You need these guys to come together and believe in an idea for the final ad to be produced. Only, this never happens and you spend days just disagreeing with each other and calling the client by a name that rhymes with 'Pidiyot'

Now if anything goes wrong, a lot of people take part in the blame game before someone finally ends up crying and blowing loudly into an unwashed handkerchief. Someone blames someone for misunderstanding the brief. That someone blames someone else for having a bad idea. That someone blames his grandmother's cat for confusing him. Someone goes and kills the grandmother's cat. Then someone else says that someone wasn't clear. Someone says someone didn't do his job right. Finally, someone gets yelled at. This someone is usually the servicing guy.

I work for servicing. Sigh.

New Mantra

1 out of every 8 Americans is afraid of flying.
Most of them don't have feathers.

So I've decided that I have a new mantra.

Also, I watched this movie called 'Rio'.
The protagonist of the movie, a loser bird who walked everywhere because he didn't know how to fly, sort of stole my mantra half way through the movie and somehow managed to use it to become the hero, get the girl AND beat up the bad guy.

I couldn't believe my mantra was that cool.
I also couldn't believe that a loser bird stole it and became a not-so-loser bird.

It's okay, I'll forgive him. I'm altruistic like that.

Now that we've established that I'm Mother Teresa reincarnated and everyone has finished applauding (If you haven't, STOP, you're overdoing it now), without further ado, I tell to you my new mantra:

"Stop shying away from the new and potentially scary. 

Dive in, believing you can face it even if you know feel you can't. 

If it doesn't kill you, you don't kill yourself and you resist the urge to kill someone else, it'll only make you stronger"

Awesome no?

Around the world!

So I've been travel writing recently. Only, I'm not really travelling but all the writing makes me wish I could really live in all those beautiful, glamorous, breath-taking places that I write about.

If you want to write and lust after the places you write about or if you just need a reason to want better weather, sights and food OR if you just want to make some quick bucks over the summer, try the LINK below when you have about an hour to spare:

http://guide.mygola.com/invite/jsus2xjuzb

Yes, I used my blog to advertise something. Sue me.

Drumroll, Perhaps?

All the world's a stage and I'm suffering from a dreadful case of Stagefright.

Life. It's Overwhelming.

I can't believe all that I have never known, felt or experienced and the fear of the possibility that I never might is pretty scary as well. Life often seems to be full of pointless exercises that lead to nothing. Dead ends and fears. It all seems so useless sometimes. But I choose to believe that there's a point to it all.
It'll all make sense. Someday.
Just not today.

To do or Not to do!

Because someone said we download more than we upload. My contribution to the Meme world.

Mommies and Frandships

I sent my mother a message this morning saying "Hi Frand"

This was a symptom of a special sort of boredom which mostly infects me during exam time. It usually causes me to spam people on farceboob and tag everyone in everything just to be obnoxious, send the same sms repeatedly to people to annoy them and send e-mails without punctuations simply because I can. Nothing new, nothing special.

My mother called me back at night to ask me why I was calling her a FRAUD

:|

The End

Sometimes you reach the end before you want to, the end when the music stops and there is only a  few minutes of silence and clarity before the madness starts all over again.

At the end of these days, I'm thankful for the lack of sense at all times, a reasonably clean bed, a friend to call when I've reached super-panic mode and most importantly, I'm thankful for 8 rupees Sugarcane juice.

Salam, Mumbai!

A horse carriage trots along the road, with velvet cushions and sparking lights.

Three kids, two girls and boy, trot along behind it. They exchange surreptitious glances and look around, hoping to make sure that no one else sees them.

The tourist horse carriage stops at the signal. The carriage driver, whose attention is focused on the signal ahead, probably hoping that the lights will change to green if he stares hard enough, does not notice the children seize the moment and sneak under the carriage.

The kids sit on the rods connecting the wheels and grab on for their free ride as a sly smile breaks onto all their grimy, unwashed faces. They know that they've dared and they're proud even though they know they don't fairly deserve it; but Life has dealt them a hard hand and they know that they have to do what they can with it. Maybe they've been told that or they've learnt it already, I don't know.  At any rate, they seem to know.

The biggest girl of the three, dressed in what is clearly a discarded piece of clothing that once belonged to someone who now owns better clothes, gets off the carriage to make sure the smaller boy is strapped on properly. Either due to the incessant starring on the carriage driver's part or the sufficient passage of time, the signal changes and the carriage begins to move before the girl has a chance to finish her sisterly duties. She decides against jumping on and instead, she holds the little boy in place and runs along side the carriage, laughing.

Mumbai, The City of Dreams!

Two Oh One One!

Guidelines on how to spend an indoor New Year ( Views are subjective, resultant feelings objective )


Sit around and look at eachother's faces, know that you're with your people. Talk a little, drink a little, leave a movie unfinished to wish a few people. Strum a guitar, play some music, dance without moving. Laugh at your people, laugh at yourself. Talk about boys, talk over booze. Feel your head spin, try not to move. Watch the clock tick, laugh a little more. Watch the sky, bear your heart, look at the darkness turn to light. Feel some love, give a few hugs. Pass out.

Happy Birthday, 2011. First impression has been very impressive.