ACHTUNG BABY

December 24th, 2017.

In some fancy hotel at suburban Delhi, Subhojit and Hitesh were busy with their baby. They were supposed to launch their respective books at the same time. Therefore, they were excited and busy with the final touches. You may ask why they were launching it at the same time, at the same hotel. The answer is simple. They worked together for 10 years and were passionately involved with one another. Are you letting your imagination loose? FYI, two people can be passionately involved with each other’s work. Maybe I mean body work. Okay, enough, don’t imagine.

Subho - Come here.
Hitesh - Please Subho, it's getting too much.
Subho - You ungrateful swine.
Hitesh - Ok, I'm here. Bark.
Subho - I'm excited with our boobs.
Hitesh - You mean books, right?
Subho - Ya ya, smartass.
Hitesh - So, you still want to hibernate from the others?
Subho - Maane?
Hitesh - You were avoiding a lot of people after college.
Subho - Oh that. I thought they were dumb.
Hitesh - What's your point?
Subho - Nothing. I wanted a break. I was tired.
Hitesh - You weren't the only one (sarcasm).
Subho - Fuck off. No wait, just turn around.
Hitesh - All right but only twice.
Subho - That's what you think.
Hitesh - What's your point?



Abhishek Mukherjee and Baharul Islam never got along after college. This was after the former developed feelings for the woman that the latter liked. It happened 10 long years ago and the woman in question is now the chief editor of the world’s largest daily. Coming back to the two, they were supposed to work together for a project called- Save The Cats. This was a move started by leading Follywood (those stuck between Bollywood language and Hollywood accent) star, Mr Salmon. Baharul’s involvement is pivotal since he was the star’s PR whereas Abhishek had to cover the story as his promotion from a JJ (Jackass Journalist) to a JJJ (Junior Jabardast Journalist) depended on it.

Abhishek - Please have a shit. I mean seat.
Baharul - Jerk.
Abhishek - So, let’s start.
Baharul – Whatever.
Abhishek – Why this campaign?
Baharul – Mujhe junglee biliya bahot pasand hai (I’m very fond of wild cats). Besides, Salmon bhai is an animal lover and cares for all living beings.
Abhishek – Is that so?
Baharul – Interview over.
Abhishek – Didn’t he shoot black bucks years ago?
Baharul – That was a one off thing.
Abhishek – What about him running over pedestrians?
Baharul – Another one off thing.
Abhishek- When he banged his car over some street people?
Baharul - Another one off thing.
Abhishek – He would pick up fights with any person?
Baharul – No private questions.
Abhishek – He is not a public person at all.
Baharul – Look who’s talking? You were an asshole in college.
Abhishek – At least, I didn’t get a bouquet of flowers.
Baharul – Y… O… U…. (He says ‘You’ in slow motion).

Baharul calls Salmon and he arrives. Upon hearing the interview content, Abhishek gets beaten black and blue. He is thrown out of the room and hears Baharul laughingly saying, “I have got my revenge”. Abhishek sheds a tear, “I have got my promotion.”



December 25th, 2017.

Anurag Kotoky picks up the newspaper on a chilly Christmas day. He laughs as he reads through the headline, “Journalist Attacked: Is The Media Safe”. He reaches for his cell phone and calls Ved to gossip about the old days. Anurag waits for Ved to answer the call and in the meanwhile listens to the song, ‘Laal Laal Honthon Pe Gori Kiska Naam Hai” (Babe, Whose Name Is On Your Scorching Red Lips) which plays as Ved’s caller tune.

Ved – Hello.
Anurag – Hello.
Ved – Who’s this?
Anurag – Oi kela.
Ved – What is it?
Anurag – What is with your caller tone?
Ved – Oh that.
Anurag – Bizzare.
Ved – Why? Aren’t lips red?
Anurag – No, they are pink.
Ved – Oh, I just wanted the colour ‘Red’.
Anurag – But why kela?
Ved – Firstly, it’s my favourite movie.
Anurag – I can’t believe that you have two reasons.
Ved – Secondly, I completed m my post graduation from JNU.
Anurag – So?
Ved – Moron. Red and JNU. Connect.
Anurag – Oh yeah. I’m such a dork.
Ved – That we are competing for.
Anurag – Shut your trap.
Ved – Go peel bananas.
Anurag – Fuck off.
Ved – Why did you call?
Anurag – Hmmm, I forgot. Shit.
Ved – You need help.
Anurag – Oi kela.
Ved – I have a headache.


First things first. Anurag was a member of parliament and Ved was a senior professor in some college at Delhi University. Both kept in touch with one another and helped each other in several cases. This one time, Anurag won an election only because Ved’s students didn’t allow other people to vote for the other candidates. Such is the power of the youth. Anurag returned the favour by introducing Ved to important doctors. That’s when Ved said, “Yippee, now my headache will be over”.



December 26th, 2017.

A bright winter morning catches the eye of an ageing philosopher. He finds himself sipping the finest blue vodka, abundantly left over, after last night’s celebrations. No one really knew what Vincent did for a living. He was turning 35 next February and had no future plans except for some heavy real assets which he used as investments. By the way, please do not let your imagination run wild with the word, ‘Real Asset’ because it would be insane when I mention that his assets were scattered across the city. Therefore, by assets, I mean buildings, land, machinery, etc. Anyway, Life was spending time in a mosh-pit for this guy, who never seemed to fulfill your imagination of a penthouse owner. Vincent recently returned to ‘Zee News’ after trying his hand at 17 different media houses. Again, please don’t let your imagination run wild with ‘trying his hand’. Specifically speaking, your first perception of Vincent would be absolutely weird but isn’t that the beauty of perception.

Somewhere else, the majestic morning sparks hope to the man who was supposed to give a lecture on ‘Pop’ at Stanford University. By ‘Pop’, mind you, I don’t mean the kind of music that you listen to. ‘Pop’ is ‘Power of Perception’, a special thought-book consisting of exactly 1976 pages. Like Vincent, no one could tell what Terence did to keep himself alive. However, things were a little clearer with Terence. He lived for his weekend football and worked for an entertainment channel based in Toronto. He had his investments in a football club and also owned ‘Perception Publications’ which encouraged young writers to write about explicit mannerisms.

Patrick soaks in the winter sun after 5 laps of the butterfly stroke. When you find yourself zooming out of this, you’d find yourself staring at his lush 5 room apartment in upscale Manhattan worth more than Britney Spear’s first album. Patrick worked as a ‘Creative Head’. Like any non-residential Indian, Life seemed blessed only from the outside. He wanted a change and wanted to shift back to India but whenever he got back to his apartment, he was lured by his fantastic indoor pool and the amount of white females in it. One can only wonder why Patrick didn't like the Big Apple. Was he actually missing home? Was he subject to sexual/anal harassment by his subordinates in the company hierarchy? Here, you can let your imagination run wild.


The story is not over.

FIELDS OF GOLD

“Nothing is more necessary than the unnecessary”
- Life Is Beautiful.


A year ago, I lazily prepared a convocation speech which would be read out just before we flung our grad hats into the sky. This is how the speech was supposed to start-


"
Respected teachers, anticipated fellow graduates and precipitated juniors.

In the words of Victor Krum, ‘I don’t believe it’. It seems like yesterday when all of us were acquainted to each other. It was a time when we took time to understand what college meant. It was also a time when we were out of school uniforms, when we slowly stepped foot into the first blocks of the ‘snakes and ladders’ game called Life. Most importantly, it was a time for us to realize the ‘individual’ within us. Apart from that, it was time for college romance, heartbreaks, coffee excuses, tequila sunrises and empty wallets. It was also a time when all our professors claimed that the course wasn’t a cake walk, when all our seniors swore about the toughest course that Delhi University had to offer and how we silently promised ourselves that we’d contradict them. Now, when we are on the verge of finishing college, we still act like we’re in our freshman year.

Most of us still don’t know if we were educated the expensive way but what we know for sure is that we were educated the right way and we ought to be thankful to the people behind it. Our life tomorrow would be better only because of these people who stayed up all night to prepare a lecture only to find out that most students skipped classes for a random conversation class at some cheerful, warm place in the campus. On a more serious note, I guess we owe a lot to all of our professors who injected a sense of worldly sensibility along with the entire bookish ethos. So here’s a huge round of applause to all the teachers who have been our alarm clocks while we were sleeping throughout life.

Now, I turn my attention to my fellow mates. While I accept that we probably owe favours to each other, I cannot deny the fact that the world doesn’t owe us any favour. As we put our best foot forward towards the achievement of our personal targets, we should remember that ‘to whom much is given, much is expected’. Perception is the word that will play the artist of discontent. Everything that goes around, every topic that is debated and every technology that is upgraded: everything is a matter of perception. The world is there for the taking and it’s up to us to realize how to. The time is now and by that, I don’t mean ‘Times Now’. Jokes apart, I’d like to state one thing- While we seek our answers, let’s hope we don’t forget the question. On that note, fellow graduates, I end my speech and your sleep here.

Thank you fellow graduates. We strive to be the up keepers of the future (up yours).
You may now throw your hats high into the sky with some inspirational music in the background.

Cheers to the BBC event.”



That was the ‘supposed’ speech. Maybe I was under the influence of some of the best marijuana which Vincent smuggled from Mexico. Gracias.

Anyway, college was good.
It was a moment when everything around felt conveniently perfect. It was like we were stuck in that moment for ages.

Some coffee, couple of smokes, little money and lots of time. Life surely SEEMED settled.

SHOULDER TO SHOULDER

I'm thinking of posting two incidents in this post.

(a) CVENT episode- Our first job interview which had some hilarious twists. Of course, I would add some spice so don't start yawning.

(b) Our Gurgaon Festival- About a particular party which went on for 36 hours (maybe more) non-stop. We put wild pigs to shame. It includes Vincent's 5 hour telephone call, our nude dance, the BLACK python revelation and the 'supposed' cobra dance.

Since I'm thinking so give me some time. Lets see how it turns out.

TALES FROM THE CRYPT

Few months ago, we decided to apply to UNR (University of Nevada) and we almost got through, in fact we got through easily that too without the regular shit called GMAT, TOEFL, GRE, blah blah.

Patrick and Terence received call letters in their respective mails. Monica had the backing of National Geographic magazine and also had superb recommendations. Vincent had applied for scholarship under the ST quota (ST- Shameful Talker) and he secured a 100% scholarship.

View from above

(above does not mean heaven)

"Too much heaven" is a number from the Bee Gees. Anyway, let’s not divert. We made plans. We also planned to deal with racism. In other words, we would be the new whites and in some more other words, we would finally be beige.

Our statement of purpose in the application form was simple.

Patrick- Melons and ROYALTY.

Terence- Vertigo and ROYALTY.

Monica- Feminism and ROYALTY.

Vincent- Bazooka and ROYALTY.

Getchell Main Library

The picture above was supposed to the library that we'd never step into. By the way, in my three years at college, I never got a library card made except for the final year. I got it for the final year just because I wanted to know how it felt to have a library card (It felt the same as not having a damn library card).

Anyway, I then sold it off to Baharul who jumped at the thought as he could issue more books. I later realized that Salman Khan's auto-biography ("To Kill A Mocking Buck") was on the library stands.

Manzanita Lake

UNR boasts of a lake with a fountain and that’s what attracted us initially. Vincent thought he could submerge his head under the fountain and truly experience some book he read (Fountainhead).

Patrick is like a mermaid and I'm a piscean so we had no problem with water or wader (in an accent).

The Quad

The Quad was supposed to be our new BBC. To quote Vincent, "We'll smoke up there and then the whites will know what the machine is all about". Sadly, we know about the machine's misfortune before the whites did. The machine has undergone depreciation.

Anyway, we were all set. All set to bake ourselves upon that glorious Orange County, all set to play poker at Vegas, all set to wear red shorts and run along some beach at LA in slow motion, all set to pretend that we were part of the NYPD, all set to sneak into Mexico for some good marijuana, all set to bite the big apple, all set to become the new statues of liberties, all set to use a washing machine in Washington DC, all set to get a Stanford sweatshirt, all set to jump on Oprah Winfrey's couch, all set to say 'howdy pardner' in Texas.

And like they say, "We live in an age when pizza gets to your home before the police"; Vincent was denied admission because the university refused to believe that he was the same guy (er.. his admission form had him revealing his long dandruff ridden hair) when they eventually saw him.

To quote one of the UNR office staff-
"The kid seemed like a chirpy 13 year old who looked million years away from puberty".

Then, we revolted. We believed "The Royalty" should be together. We stood shouting for hours, in rain and in storm, even lit candles at the entrance gate (hoo ha ha.. ). We waited for three months and surprisingly, in those 90 days, Vincent's hair did not grow an inch.

The answer is out 'now'- NOTHING expands for Vincent, its all gossip started and spread by Vincent himself.


Like Charlie Chaplin once said, "In the end, everything is a gag".

GAS LEAK

You must have heard about the 'Big Bang'- a theory which explains the origin of Earth. Well, this is not related to the 'Big Bang' theory but I used this theory for the use of one word- BANG.

First, there was a BANG.

Hitesh- Oops, I passed gas. Please hold your breath for two hours.
Girls- He he. Its normal, even we do it.
Hitesh- But are you explosive about it?
Girls- No. We are feminine.
Hitesh- Whats your point?

PREDATOR

Check out the smile on Vincent’s lousy face (pre-rehab).

Patrick says that Vincent’s skin was too dry, that’s why he closed his eyes and thought of some pumpkin from Venezuela imported from Nicaragua smuggled into Guatemala. Vincent says that the tiny extra layer of skin behind his right ear is his G-spot zone. Ooh, whoever said men don’t experience orgasms.

Then, Vincent was sent to a rehab center and you can immediately see the difference in the picture below. Difference not only by the haircut but also through the way they pose (unlike the earlier picture).

P.S- Everything is a work of fiction. Please don’t get startled and please do not touch yourselves in a moment of fiery internal desire which makes you feel like an Internal Combustion Engine. Just use the bathroom and leave the samples. You never know, Vincent might just sell it off. Oh yess!

The lesser the words, the better.

Pre rehab

Post rehab

IN THE MAKING

Coming really soon: LOLA THERAPY.
- If Lola Therapy doesn't make you laugh, I shall quit smoking.

Also arriving this winter: THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT.
- It includes every single person of the class of 2007. An indept analysis, risky but worth a shot. Written with full facts and detailed research. An honest punch.


Please be patient.

'All human wisdom is summed up in two words - wait and hope.'

SHOPPING FOR ANSWERS

SPRING 2007

Early days, exciting days. When Life wasn’t a bitch and when spending three bucks at the university hangout was the normal pitch. Three bucks got you an iced tea; the three bucks would last for over three hours accompanied with slender conversations and gender pretensions.

College was a joint and it was nice. It was the sunshine in the winters which everyone looked forward to; it was the dash of spice in a plain chilly-chicken. It was a time when all of us were neither strong nor tough; it was a time when we were worried about the future but it never showed on our lousy faces. We were just busy being us, busy making plans, busy playing perception at our parties, busy laughing over Vincent’s explicit jokes (it goes up to 69 volumes) and busy with our very own “American Dream”.

Terence - Nevada will be nice.
Patrick - True, we can visit Las Vegas which is just 85 miles away.
Vincent - We’ll become millionaires over a single game of blackjack.
Terence - But we must visit the OC.
Patrick - It will be so nice.
Vincent - I would like to play poker at Vegas.
Terence - Asswipe, have you ever played poker?
Patrick - Vincent knows shit about poker.
Vincent - Fuckers, it’s about poking a sharp instrument at places which have never seen sunlight.

Few days later, we received our application mails from the University of Reno, Nevada (UNR) and that’s when we sang along the lines of “Sweet Home Nevada”. That day, as we sat on the lush green grass at Delhi School of Economics (DSE), we discussed about the Ivy Leagues.

Monica - You know, UNR is not an Ivy League.
Patrick - Well, it’s almost impossible for us to get into one.
Terence - We should be happy with UNR.
Monica - But an Ivy League will be excellent.
Ved - Hey mane, I think I’ve seen Poison Ivy!!
Vincent - Oh jackass!
Terence - Hahaha.
Patrick - Seriously, hahaha.
Terence – By the way, I want a Stanford sweatshirt.
Monica - Cut it out, guys.
Patrick - Sorry babeah (blushing).
Monica - See, we need to keep talking to the Ivy Leagues so that they realise our potential.
Terence - Fair enough, but I have a question.
Monica - What?
Terence - Okay, we’ll keep talking to them, but will they talk to us?


SUMMER 2007

This summer was really harsh and there’s nothing that can be said about it.


AUTUMN 2007

People refer to autumn as FALL. True. We’ve fallen into the depths of the ocean and while many wonder when they’d rise above, there are some who wonder if they’d just float, sink or swim. The funniest part is that people think 'Breach Candy' is some candy available on the beach.

Things are slowly turning normal. We hear voices that tell us not to let LIFE think it’s tougher than us and on the other hand, they say that there is a first time for everything. Vincent told me that we were suffering from our own ghosts and that only time would serve to prove us wrong.

Recently, a junior hailed us in a full college environment. What supreme feeling we went through; Vincent and Terence felt the power of Royalty. Maybe we’re lunatic enough to consider it but we’re smart enough to acknowledge it. One of our most loved professor said- “Motives fail, ideas fail, actions fail but people don’t”.

A classmate asked Terence very sarcastically, “You admire that?”; Terence replied, “No” and as he flicked his zippo (Vincent asshole) open and as he lit up a cigarette, Terence completed his sentence, “…I don’t admire that, I fucking respect that”.

Post college life is difficult, very difficult. Everyday, you feel down and beat but still somewhere you are not beaten. Like Patrick says, “The nesting period is over, now we step into the jungle where everyone is out to prove that they are better than you and where in one inch of a second, you can be left far far behind, so welcome to the jungle called LIFE.”

A month ago, some jackass told us that Patrick deceived the ROYALTY by getting into an institution while the other two did not. He added on by pathetically commenting, “What kind of a friend is he?”, and then we answered, without a single doubt in our heads-
“… The best kind”.

Anyway, as of now;
Duke Patrick is in IIMC.
Sir Vincent is in Zee News.
Lord Terence is Online.

Now as we wait for WINTER 2007, this story will continue and then, I’ll let you know when I know.

THE AIR NEAR MY FINGERS

“Dude, party tomorrow night. Make yourself available. Bring shorts, it will be a little humid.”

said Patrick.

Immediately Terence gathered mental visuals of smoke and some good high spirited conversations. Nostalgia hits you when your mind races through thoughts of the glorious days that have gone by faster than a high-rise building jump. There was a time when they would fly higher than the weather and there was also a time when they would spend nights dancing on no music. But probably, the times were over and Terence suspected that he was growing old. Speaking of which, Terence recalled something that a wise-crack once wrote on the last desk during his 1st year at college-

“Growing old is mandatory; Growing up is optional”.

Just like a pilot of the storm who leaves no trace, the parties they had had been on the lines of 1976, pissing on the border or Kashmir as a barb wired state. Barb Wire reminded the boys of Pamela Anderson and she reminded them of Borat who further reminded them of the Borat conversation they'd have on multiple networking sites. Therefore, almost any brain storming session reminded them of college life. So be it, assume that college is going to be inseparable for some years.

That night, Terence faintly remembered talking to the guard at the Vasant Vihar house. The gentleman thought like we did and asked how many attractive women would be coming. Hitesh told him not to learn to fly as that was his department. Minutes later, all of them were inside the house. The party hosted 15 young individuals who had just stepped into the harsh world of insanity. It started well with people laughing on some imported dope and hunter beer. Then towards midnight, things turned funny. Terence was on the comfortable couch, watching people and collecting thoughts. He suddenly “saw” Hitesh telling someone that he had shaved off his head because his hair was blocking the intellectual thoughts that was trying to enter his skull.

Initially, it was strange for Terence and Vincent as they were sitting in a room full of people who had 'bright future' stamped on their foreheads. These were people from reputed institutions and the two were two people from broken illusions. For the record, Terence and Vincent are in a 'oh fuck' zone, not the 'fucked' situation and pray, till next year this time, if they don’t make any progress then they’d be presidents of the 'fucked' zone.

Anyway, like some jackass said- 'The show must go on'. Vincent was in full swing towards the last quarter of the party. Chatting away to glory like a baboon who needed a banana. By the way, Hitesh was still blabbering his heart out to his newly-found psychiatrist who threw up nearly 76 times. The fact of the matter is simple; Sir Vincent’s joy knew no boundaries as he started transcendental post structuralist existentialism with 9 members of the party who belonged to the female fraternity.

Patrick and Monica were arguing who’d have the next joint and Terence was in a sad state after taking a few joints because it hit, it hit. Meanwhile, Hitesh was still pouring his heart out and Vincent was still scoring points. When it rains more than ever, that’s when you’ll know who holds the umbrella for you.

This party really reminded few of us of the old times. Like Woodstock 69, guess we’ll all drift away but it will still be remembered. The Gurgaon 36 hour fest, the north campus romps, the royalty pub visits, the hallucinations and the many blah blah blehs.

THE DUKE OF HAZZARD

Punjab and Haryana are different states but they share the same capital. All Saints and Apeejay are different institutions but they share the same motive- Education.

The Patrick we know is very very different from what he actually is inside his mental head. When ripped apart, he is a boy who cannot grow up, who doesn’t want to grow up and why should he. He’d prefer taking photographs rather than creating a passage down the memory lane, probably that’s why his emotional quotient could be equivalent to a lithium battery. However, the better aspect of this jackass cannot be ignored. The fact that he is a loyal friend and a caring boyfriend (like he has a choice) portrays that there is still a room of humanness in his body building. He’d feel absolutely mantastic (feel fantastic after the successful completion of a macho feat) after a good hour of his selected pint. I froze when this hard abuser broke down in front of me some months back, it confused me to the level where I did not know what to do. I really thought consoling him would be very cheesy so I lit up a cigarette with my zippo (Vincent bastard) and offered him a smoke. Within minutes, he was okay and we were abusing Paris Hilton.

Now coming to All Saints, Monica is a woman. A woman who will make you realise that you are not man enough to challenge feminism. Call it her strength or her vice, the reality is that she can break your crayons any day. Close ones relate her to a coconut which is hard on the outside and soft inside. There are people who claim she should step out of her “youniverse” (the entirety of creation that relates to one specific, narcissistic individual. Used to indicate that a particular person has knowledge only of himself or herself- their universe consists of them only) but then again, it’s a matter of perception. All I’d say is that if you wish to know Monica better, listen to Simon & Garfunkel’s “I Am A Rock”. Rest assured, I know I have respect for Gunjeet Suri aka Monica.


Now connect the two together. And voila !! You have an interesting couple.


Patrick told me this weeks back-

“You can’t go the distance
With too much resistance
I know you have doubts
But for God’s sake, don’t shut me out.

Yes I know I’m in love
But just when I ought to relax
I put my foot in my mouth
Cause I’m just avoiding the facts”