Random Shit, Traveling Pants

Goa to Mumbai

Hola!

Did you know that neon party bands are the coolest things you can wear? And also they recharge themselves if you keep them in the freezer? Well, mine didn’t but that does not diminish their awesomeness! I got six of them on Baga beach when I was in Goa (remember?) and they looked so hot on me. But after keeping them in the freezer for a day, they did not glow again.

I got back day before yesterday in a very tourist-y avatar (harem pants and all) and immediately my brief try at bohemianism melted away as the rush and bustle of the city got to me. I was equal parts happy and sad upon arriving in Mumbai. But for a while, I was disoriented. I did not know how to start with where I left. Something seemed different and it seemed as if somehow in the span of time at Goa, I had changed. But what had changed? I wonder.

However it feels good to be back! I can read more novels now and watch more movies and look forward to going to film school (yay!). But most importantly I need to shed some kilos which I have surely gained in Goa because of consuming so much of meat (pork sorpatel, pasta marinara with squid and prawns, sausages, pepper steak etc etc). And also I need to catch up with some friends and other folks down here in Mumbai.

So long!

Viren.

 

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Random Shit

April Fool’s Day and Weird Things Around Me

Okay, Google, you got me! I totally tried to press my nose as close to the screen as possible and smell waffles, and fear and dumpster and apple pie. After my fifth unsuccessful attempt, I realized something was fishy and I googled the “nose” feature to realize that Google made an April’s Fool out of me. Well played Google.

Anyways, apart from how I completely lost my common sense and tried to smell off the screen of my computer, there are some other weird things, which have been happening y’all. For instance, yesterday, I got home from shopping and found a . . . guess what? . . . a beer bottle on the floor of my bathroom. Now, my family might not be a bunch of teetotalers but none of us are raving alcoholics either. And so, when I asked my mom what the hell is a beer bottle doing in the bathroom, she replied (hear, hear) that she used it for her hair. She used beer as conditioner. Eww.

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Thinking Cap

The world owes me a wish

While reading Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath, something stirred in me. It was not something overpowering as they show in the movies but a mild epiphany like a gentle, summer breeze. It was the “what’s the use” feeling, that the speaker in the novel goes through after she is back at her country home after a brief scholarship to New York, and is depressed about what she shall do with herself in the future.

* * *

“I could have done so many things, I could have realized so many dreams if weariness, an inconceivable, enormous weariness had not overpowered me for the last fifteen years or so, or even far longer. A weariness that kept me from working but also from resting, from enjoying life and being happy and relaxing, and also kept me from turning more towards others, as I’d have wished to . . . oh, if that ‘what’s the use?’ had not germinated in my soul . . .”

~Ionesco, Fragments of a Journal

* * *

What’s the use in being passionate and having a thirst for life when we are going to end up in the same boat? With a family, a desk-job we hate, and absolutely no free time? No, I can’t bear to even think about it! Since I was a child, I knew I would be different, I would be unique. I was not cut out for mediocrity. I shall to walk off the beaten track. But how? Many a dreamer has hoped to be great and have novel experiences in life, but very few of them have succeeded. Even the extraordinary becomes ordinary in a while, and everything smells like stale, morning breath! Oh, the dreariness of it all!

I don’t wish to graduate, don’t wish to pick up another textbook which cannot teach me anything, listen to elders and wise people say stuff that makes no sense . . .

Every fortnight, while cuddled up under my sheets, trying to get sleep, I have peered up at the ceiling of my room and tried to chase shadows of passing cars which flutter across it through the window and planning my escape. A back-pack with the bare essentials: few clothes, a notebook and pen, some money, a shaving kit (even though I don’t have much hair yet but I’ll probably be shaggy few years into my imaginary life as a tramp), toothbrush and toothpaste (because I’m very meticulous about dental health), and lots of chocolate or granola bars (so that I can prolong my starvation over a few months) etc.

And the escape itself would be no biggie. I would leave in the evening when both mom-dad are not at home, around 6, with the back pack thrown over my shoulder as if I’m going to the gym. Then I would catch the nearest bus to the station, the train farthest from my house and probably hitch-hike late, to the north. In a few years, I’d be in an exotic country, the name of which my parents would not even be able to trace on the map. I would find work on a ship maybe, like Benjamin Button in the movie and lose my virginity to some peasant maiden. My name would be gone forever and I would have a new one: John or Jack or something as anonymous as that. And I’d drink stump-hole whiskey and have a lot of tattoos on my body. I’d drink myself to death and fall off board when the ship is making a voyage across Pacific and no a soul would know that I passed away. A much adventurous life than the one my mom has sketched out for me, anyway.

The point is not to be different but to try things which aren’t cliched but fresh and exciting, and to be happy by living on my terms. The world owes me that. The world owes me a wish to do as I like because we only get to live once. And I’m not going to rebel against the world to get what I need but work right beside it, in harmony with it as I strive to rise above the normal and experience the incredible.

It’s not teenage romanticism but a stolid refusal to succumb to the convention.

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Random Shit

I’m a huge fan

As I already made clear in my first post, that I ain’t new to the blogging world. And that is why I happen to be acquainted with some absolutely fantastic blogs online but one of them is so special that I must recommend it to all my followers and readers: The Bloggess. She has made me laugh in my darkest hours, y’all. I’m a huge fan of her’s.

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The BookShelf

Judging a book by it’s cover

After The Beach, I’m stuck. I don’t know which novel to start with. At the beginning of this year, I had made a resolution to be selective about my reading list and pick up novels which are elegantly and intelligently written but which are also entertaining and popular. I even made a list on Goodreads which I never got around to starting with. So normally, I would ask for recommendations in the comments section but I think what I’m looking for is not great titles but good stories. I think I should stop judging a book by it’s cover and begin delving deeper into what the book is about. Though “random reading” is also particularly useful in coming across remarkable stories.

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Anger Management, Movies, Random Shit

I Hate Technology and My Secret Fetish for Chick-Flicks

I’m completely useless with technology. This does not mean that I do not understand technology; I might not be a tech-wiz but I sure know how to get my mind around the latest gadgets. It’s just the sheer number and multi-functionality (is it even a word? Its’ not? Well, now it is) of them that gets to me. There is a really hilarious dialogue in a chick-flick which I happened to watch on T.V. one day while surfing the channels (I’m so completely lying here, though I’m a guy, I absolutely dig some chick-flicks) which can explain my problem with modern technology, quite accurately;

Mary: “I had this guy leave me a voice mail at work so I called him at home and then he e-mailed me to my Blackberry and so I texted to his cell and then he e-mailed me to my home account and the whole thing just got out of control. And I miss the days when you had one phone number and one answering machine and that one answering machine has one cassette tape and that one cassette tape either had a message from a guy or it didn’t. And now you just have to go around checking all these different portals just to get rejected by seven different technologies. It’s exhausting.”

The way Drew Barrymore says the dialogue in the movie is undeniably endearing and cute. And the frustration she expresses is exactly what I undergo. I mean, Jesus, what world are we living in? There is this one time when one of my friends was really upset with me and we sat together in the same place but watsapped each other furiously for half an hour and we didn’t speak even a word aloud! It just drives me insane. When was it that people would meet face to face and kiss each other on the mouth instead of sending love emoticons? And I’m just going to box the next fellow who greets me with a “what’s up, dude”. I hate the word, “what’s up”. I’m not uptight about language like crazy Higgins from My Fair Lady or anything but I sure wish that things would be done the old way sometimes. What’s wrong with the golden, “How you doin'”?

And so, few months earlier, I swore to never become inexorably dependent on technology. I failed. I can’t even write an essay on paper, I prefer my blog. The moment I wake up, I reach out for my cellphone to check if anyone has sent me a morning joke. It takes will power to refrain from watching at least something on screen every day (but I totally boycott television because I hate television, too). I’d rather learn guitar online than go to a class. And that, my friends is my great tragedy. Stuck in technology, wishing to get way but can’t. Like a fly who has fallen into marmalade.

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