Miserable Misfit

Off late, a few visits to such cosmopolitan establishments as Pizza Hut, KFC, and City Centre have got me thinking…well, yet again. Whenever I find myself amidst such “happening” and “cool” crowds I feel miserably out of place. I get clumsier than usual, more conscious of how much I stand out like a sore toe in this place, my knees begin to buckle and my already meagre articulation skills take a downward dive almost as steep as the one the Sensex did a few days ago. A friend has often tried to impress upon me the fact that “Someplace Else” in Park Street plays quite delightful music…I however have never been able to summon up enough courage to go and do what they call “check out the place”. Long live MP3’s I say…
Somehow I have never been able to figure out the formula to incorporate the “cool quotient” into one’s outlook…well, not that I’ve tried real hard but I’m sure I wouldn’t have succeeded had I put my heart into it. Naturally, such frigid locales as I mentioned before have never formed part of my regular haunts (and am positive will never). For me the best place to enjoy a pizza would be at home where no one’s going to give a damn whether I abide by the proper table etiquette and where I can dig into the chicken and cheese without fiddling around with the silverware…
Not oddly enough, I wonder if any or all of the above has anything to do with my inherent inability to mingle freely with others…I have always been somewhat of a loner…and more often than not, labeled a snob. Not that I have anyone but myself to blame for that. Whenever I’m in a social gathering I harbor a steadfast belief that not a soul would be interested in indulging in a conversation with me…naturally when people earlier did approach me with a topic I used to get caught totally unawares and mumble such incomprehensible gibberish that the person at the receiving end would lose all propensity to further the banter. To save myself from such embarrassment I started pretending that maybe I wasn’t interested in a conversation at all. Whoever said “Man is a social animal” sure didn’t anticipate my existence...or maybe he did...whic could explain why he didn't say "Man will always be a social animal".
My earnest request, to the people who have a serious enough lack in life to read this blog ,would be, to drop in a word regarding how they feel about this syndrome of mine and promptly share with me if any of them have had such mundane thoughts themselves. Peace be with whoever can find some…

Writer's Blog

My blogging activities have suddenly met certain unexpected bumps on the road, the reason being that i seem to be running out of ideas. I can't get myself to write about politics. I can't get myself to write about scenic beauty and how i philosophize on it(a major reason for that being that the natural aspects of Salt Lake Sector V don't necessarily evoke such sentiments). I'm kind of tired writing about office woes. Basically i have nothing to write on but still i somehow
can't seem to keep myself from blogging;(when Suman first introduced me
to this concept i had no idea it would be so addictive).
I remember a friend(Fahd) once talk at length about the art of speaking on something even though one may have no clue whatsoever about it. I was quite impressed at the concept and also the fluidity with which he seemed to accomplish the task. Somehow i never seem to have got the hang of it.
Another friend pointed out that bloggin was puttin out a piece of one's mind on display and wished that i might find the right words for the purpose...now that leaves me in a dilemma because the random thoughts that trespass on my mental territories are too fleeting to
capture in words. And then there is also the problem that i have never been sufficiently articulate in life(this genetic defect of mine would be magnified a gazillion times when i'm in the company of the fairer sex). So where does all of this leave me. Not anywhere radically different i guess.
It just dawned on me that i have managed to write a sizeable blog on basically nothing at all. That in itself could be another field for research...speaking on nothing in particular...but then that's another day and a person like me who meanders even when talking about a specific point, would find that even more gargantuan a task.

Grand Theft Auto

The auto rickshaw drivers of the park circus region are a brand apart.Maniac's behind wheels, they drive their machines with extreme gusto and wanton disregard for their or their passengers' lives...i hero-worship them.
I could readily hold a wager with anyone, that had Schumacher been drivin
on Wellesley or Elliott Road(for non kolkatan's that would read...the worst roads on earth), he could have learnt more than a thing or two from them. Till only recently i have had no bones with them whatsoever...so the obvious question would be, why would i use the words "till only recently". Who or what could be responsible for my apparent disillusionment with them...the answer to this 64,000$ question is one cap-adorned, stubble-sporting jackass who seems to be driving all level headed people crazy...Himesh Reshammiya.
The "Theft" i'm talking about is of my peace of mind.When that Aashiq banaya number released i tried to write him off thinkin that he's just a one hit wonder(or in his case a blunder), a Milos Foreman or a Harper Lee maybe(mind u i'm just tryin to get across my one hit wonder point...i wouldn't for the life of me compare that stubbled bastard to Foreman or even Lee). Unfortunately however this guy is makin a habit of churning out numbers bearing that trademark nasal tone that somehow gives me the heebie-jeebies. My peaceful,serene,living-on-the-edge,brutally dangerous,immensely enjoyable auto rides have been turned into 20minutes of torture and severe auditory trauma. Even the wonderful conversations that we would have bitching about the government's incompetence at raising the price of petrol or failing to repair the roads, has been replaced by the humming of "ekbaar aaaaaaaaaaaajaaaaaaaaaaaaaa"...how i loath the guts and particularly the voice box of that man...
I have seriously started contemplating reading Catcher in the Rye and saving these poor auto drivers from that public enemy...time will tell.

Facilely Flummoxed

I'm confused.
That was quite a confession...a load off my chest...Now to elaborate...the two n a half words can be elaborated to read...I'm perennially confused...There are umpteen things which have quite regularly left me(and constantly strive to leave me) utterly bewildered day in and day out. For one, i will never in my life be able to figure out what women really want...but then that's
not just my issue, it's universal among the male of the homo sapiens sapiens...from 3 and a half
years of a "sometimes quite delightful, very often really turbulent" relationship with my ex
girlfriend i have learnt very valuably, that i have learnt absolutely nothing about women. And i
have given up any faint hopes of learning that i might have harbored these few years. But then
people far more qualified and experienced have preached on this topic and i will not debase their sermons by trying to come up with my own theories...enough of that.
Another thing which has constantly escaped my understanding is Hindi movies...and the people that act in them...and what an act they put up...hats off to them for performing the unspeakable and unthinkable acts(well that's just my view point) like dancing in a blizzard with barely more than a handkerchief on(mind u i am not in any way averse to the skin show but would have preferred it on ftv instead of on something i'm so passionate about). One more thing in relation to this that i've never been able to fathom is how could the actors deal with what i would classify as a monumentally embarassing situation of being the only 2 people gyrating their hips and torsos on the bustling streets of a foreign country with the onlookers staring at them trying to
comprehend what could have caused their epileptic fits!!!!
I'm also confused as to why bengali films still get made or why certain creatures like prasenjeet
are still alive and allowed to roam scot free among the public.
Now to come down to more plausible,earthly situations(neither hindi movies nor figuring out women would qualify as earthly)...mind you that even when i say plausible i don't for a second hint that they fail to leave me dumbstruck...ever wondered how some people, have, right from the start, got it set in their minds as to what they really want to do in life...as for myself i have
problems everyday even deciding what i should wear to office(mind you that it's a really tricky
decision)...no seriously i'm bordering on a quarter of a century and still have no idea as to
what i should do next.
On a more personal note i've always wondered why i'm so "unlikeable" a person...i'll accept the
fact that i'm moderately difficult to deal with but i've never considered it enough to attract
animosity...paradoxically enough i have also been constantly puzzled as to why people who do like me, like me-i don't like me...then again Abheek(one of my most level headed friends, apart from Suman) has always, i believe, tried to tell me that it doesn't really matter. So another matter of confusion for me is why do i even care.
Yet another matter which is bewildering me at the moment is how on earth do i hope to allay my perturbation by writing this blog...then again i'm not really aiming at anything at all now am i. I'm also confused whether i should have titled this blog as "My biggest blog ever"...but to avoid
further confusion i think i'll call it a day now...adios.

Mayday Mayday...we have a problem

Wikipedia states:
"May Day is a name for various "holidays" celebrated on May 1 (or in the beginning of May), ranging from pagan festivals to International Workers' Day, its most famous action.
International Workers' Day (a name used interchangably with May Day) is the commemoration of the Haymarket Riot of 1886 in Chicago, Illinois, and a celebration of the social and economic achievements of the international labor movement. The 1 May date is used because in 1884 the Federation of Organized Trades and Labor Unions, inspired by labor's 1872 success in Canada, demanded an eight-hour workday in the United States to come in effect as of May 1, 1886. This resulted in a general strike and the riot in Chicago of 1886, but eventually also in the official sanction of the "eight-hour workday"."
Note that the quotes enclosing the "holiday" and the "eight-hour" workday have been added by yours truly.
The word "mayday" as used in the title is a distress signal totally distinct from the so called holiday...and if i might add, is far more appropriate for me at the moment. The reason for my using this distress signal is the fact that i'm deeply distressed! Why? Because somehow i cannnot uunderstand why i'm sitting at the office(along with only 5 other poor souls, in a floor of seating capacity 70) on a day which the world declares to be a "holiday".
As for the 8 hour workday, it pains me when i realize that had the founder members of the "Federation of Organized Trades and Labor Unions"(or those actively involved in the riot) known that the only possibility of my getting off with an 8 hour workday would be if i came to office on a holiday or over my cold dead body, they would surely be tossing and turning in their graves...
The fact that i'm getting really frustrated should be evident by now from the fact that the sentences i start never seem to want to end...quite like my normal so called "eight-hour workdays"...
Anyway, i think i'll just stop writing now...Cheers to whosoever can find anything to be cheery about.