Redemption

The following story is a work of fiction. However, it is based upon actual events and therefore no real names have been used.

He held on to his coat tightly as the wind blew colder. The streets were lonely, dark and desolate; and it was not the best of times to be taking a walk. But it was not a mere stroll that he was on. He was out there because it was only in places like these that he could think clearly. He wanted to purge his mind of all the ideas that had been bothering him; he wanted to get rid of the guilt that was plaguing him from the things that he had ended up 

doing and the horrible things he now held himself accountable for.

He turned around the alley and ventured into the long, unwinding street. This part of the town was the last place one would want to walk around at two in the morning, but for some reason, he had always felt at home in the most absurd of places. All he could hear at this hour was the occasional wailing of the neighborhood dogs, the distant noise of a car alarm or the mere sound of his own footsteps. But it was not noises that bothered him; it was silence that scared him. He chuckled to himself at the irony of it, given he had grown up around it; how, more often than not, the only person he had to talk to was the lonely, friendly face that looked back at him in the mirror. Maybe the silence was finally getting to him; maybe the voices in his head were getting too loud for comfort. 

Tonight was not a night he wanted to be alone, and as fate would have it, here he was, walking down the path of least resistance, as always. He kept walking, shivering a little, not so much because of the chill in the air, but because of the storm brewing inside his mind.

As far as he could remember, he had always been a loner. Maybe it had something to do with his roots, where he was found as a discarded three month old baby in the city dump. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that while most children his age were being spoilt for choice by their parents, he was out on the street, having to fight for every square meal that he was lucky enough to lay his hands upon. Maybe it was the countless nights of sleeping underneath the stars on an empty stomach that brought out this dimension to his persona. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the jealousy and hunger to have everything that he had been denied that evoked such strong feelings inside him to think for himself and achieve all the things that children like him are not destined to get. Destiny, he often wondered, was the excuse for people who just did not try hard enough. He lit his first cigarette for the night and let himself be drifted away in the stream of thoughts flowing through his head.

He had found ways to climb the ladder faster than the others. His methods may not always have been on the right side, but given his circumstances, he felt he owed himself at least that much. While the others in his generation had a head start, given where they came from, he felt that the only way he could catch up was by bending a few rules. He started out as a rag-picker, graduated to being a waiter at a small time restaurant, often being abused and laughed at by the so called ‘elite’ crowd. This was where the first signs of disdain and hatred started cropping up inside him. He saw boys walking around with beautiful, young girls and was filled with jealousy. He wanted to be one amongst them, someone who would effortlessly walk into a place hand-in-hand with a pretty companion by his side. Instead, he was waiting on such guys and being subjected to their high-handedness and ridicule.

He had realized that this road would only take him so far. To get what he actually wanted, he’d have to resort to methods the world wouldn’t quite approve of. To hell with their approval, he told himself. When I make it big, the world would come crawling to me for my approval. 

And that is how it all started.

He started smalltime, peddling drugs to young boys and girls outside schools and colleges. Sometimes he’d do nightshifts around clubs and discotheques, helping rich boys and girls get high. Marijuana, Hash, Ecstasy or whatever it was that his loyal customers wanted - he would arrange it for them. It started out as a tiny effort to get into the big league, but slowly and gradually snowballed into a complicated web of mammoth proportions. He knew the ins and outs of the trade, the right people and the right places to do business. His rise was meteoric, and he did not know what to do with it anymore. The money made his head spin, but more than that, it was the power that thrilled him the most. The kind of girls he would spend countless nights fantasizing about, now threw themselves at him. The new found confidence seemed to sit pretty on his shoulders and his presence was almost magnetic now. The fact that he could control people who came to him, the fact that he could dictate his terms and the world would listen – these were the things that he had always craved for. Finally he had something he always wanted. Finally he had arrived.

If only I had stopped at that, he thought to himself tonight, as he took another puff at the cancer stick. One of the few things that can still control me now is this stick between my fingers; he wryly smiled, looking at his cigarette. In spite of all the events that had changed him as a person, the one thing that he still managed to sport was the innocent smile from his childhood. He was not good looking, in the conventional sort of way. In fact, he had an everyman quality about him that had helped him blend anywhere. His average built, wheatish complexion and unassuming demeanor made him just another face in the crowd. But it was his smile that would make people turn around and notice. In spite of all the things spinning out of control in his world, he had managed to carry the one thing from infancy to adulthood – and that was his honest, childlike smile.

Events had spiraled out of his control, taking a form of their own. He now realized that he had started something he had no control over. The devil inside him wanted more, the greed ever growing in nature. Having established himself as a known entity in the world of drugs, he set out to achieve bigger conquests. During one of his underground rave parties, he was introduced to people dealing with guns and ammunition. For the first time in his life, he held a gun in his hand, and could instantly feel the connection. He felt power to its hilt – the ability to control, manipulate and decide for people and he felt heady from the feeling.

He started dealing with ammunition and owing to his connections and networking skills, soon established a name for himself. As with the drug packets, his guns carried a signature mark on them, just to mark his presence. Even though he was now dealing in huge numbers, he was still a one man force. He lived alone, worked alone and slept alone. Trusting anyone was difficult for someone like him, mostly because of his past. He knew that in his line of work, one was bound to gather a few enemies as he went ahead, but he had always had the knack of turning foes to friends. He would often tell people around him that he wasn’t afraid of anyone else, apart from the devil inside him. If anyone else had said that, they would have probably laughed. But in this case, they knew this was true. And that was the scary part.

He had never really known that he had a conscience. The very idea of one eluded him. Until this very morning, at least. He woke up and just like any another day, walked out into the balcony and picked up the newspaper. As he was sipping on his customary cup of dark, black coffee with the day’s newspaper spread wide open, he almost spilt the hot drink over himself. The day’s top story talked about a seventeen year old going on a drug fuelled rampage with a shotgun in his school, killing seven of his classmates and eventually shooting himself in the head. The teenager had been using drugs for the past one year and had somehow managed to get his hands on a gun. The police did not have much to go on at that point, apart from the fact that they had found a particular signature mark on the drug packets as well as the gun found on the kid.

He knew that it was him. He knew it was his stuff that was responsible for this mayhem. He knew it even before he got to the part that made his worst fears come true. He did not know what to do now. It wasn’t the fear of this coming back to him. He had enough contacts and reach to make it all disappear and untraceable. He understood the power of money and its hold over human greed too well to know that he could make it all go away. What did haunt him was the guilt. He knew right from the beginning that the path he was treading was eventually leading to where he was today, but he was surprised at how unprepared and affected he found himself.

He decided to not work today. For the first time in many years, he took a day and off, made a few calls and went back to bed. Not surprisingly, he couldn’t go back to sleep. The demons from his past haunted him and the news only made them stronger in his head. He just lay there, looking at the ceiling, talking to his imaginary friends – the only ones who truly understood him. He could always be who he really was in front of them. He wailed and cried out loud and felt no shame, because they were his own. He tried to tell himself, and his friends, that he could not have possibly seen this coming, that this was a freak accident and that he was not responsible for any of this. But deep down, he knew that the only person he was kidding was himself. There was no redemption from this; there was no escaping the consequences of his own actions.

He tried to get himself to eat something, but nothing would go down his throat. He tried to drink enough to forget about everything, but somehow even his strongest scotch couldn’t have the desired effect today. He felt sick and depleted and just wanted to get away from it all. He stayed indoors, in a dazed and confused state all day, and the longest day of his life showed no signs of coming to an end.

Fresh air, some fresh air would do me good, he thought, and checked his watch to show the clock telling him that it was past midnight. A new day, technically, he thought, and the outdoors could only do good. He put on his coat and walked outside the building into the long, deserted street, seeing imaginary faces and hoping to mingle amongst them, become a part of the crowd and lose everything that was bothering him.

And here he was, strong and powerful today, walking down the streets of the city, yet feeling hollow inside, in the weakest hour of his existence. He had always known that power and money came along with their own set of troubles, but he did not know that they would drive him to the point where even he’d hate to be alone with himself. He lit another cigarette and seeing that this was only getting worse, decided to head back. He had walked a lot tonight, and maybe his body would give in and finally allow him to sleep.

As he neared the end of the dark alley, he felt a sudden push. Before he knew it, he was down on the ground and a pair of anxious hands was holding a gun to his face. I need all your cash now, screamed the guy, bringing the gun closer. He could sense that the assailant was not in his senses, maybe a drunk or a junkie, trying to scrounge enough for his next trip. Having been in the business for enough time now, he knew an addict when he saw one, and he had a feeling that his attacker was knee deep into the habit.

The street light flickered above the assailant as he threatened to blow his head off. He had enough on his mind today. He decided to give in and tried to get up so that he could reach for his wallet and empty its contents. However, in a rush of blood to the head, the paranoid junkie felt that he was trying to make a move, and in a moment of fear combined with excitement, pulled the trigger. The noise from the gun reverberated through the neighborhood in the pitch black silence of the night as the attacker dropped the gun and ran away.

In the flickering of the street lamp, he could see the gun that had brought him to his end. It bore the mark that all his guns did. He could have laughed at the sheer irony of it. He had often wondered what people think about during their last moments- family, friends, love or karma. In his last moment, all he could think about was how he had finally found redemption. And he died with a smile on his face.


*Picture courtesy: Ankit Mavchi. To see more of his work, visit http://ankitmavchi.com

Saved & Destroyed

Their eyes met across the hall, and there was an instant connection. Both of them knew that things would never be the same again.

She was standing in the centre of a large group, with all eyes upon her. One just had to look at her for a moment to realize why. She was gorgeous, in the classical sense of the word. Dressed in a black dress down to her knees, she had flawless skin, deep eyes, luscious lips, an enchanting smile and a body to kill for. Everybody wanted to talk to her, to be near her, to have her attention – even for a microsecond. She seemed to have the confidence of a woman who knew that she was beautiful and yet the carelessness of a rebellious teenager.

He was standing in a corner, content with a large scotch in his hand and a big frown on his face. He hated social gatherings, and was here only because he had to. In his line of work, he had been through worse. At least they had an open bar here. He had always been a man of limited understanding. Things like social customs and practices, love and relationships did not come easily to men like him, and he had come to terms with that. Love was for the weak, he often told himself and prided himself on never falling for such a fallacy.

If only he had never seen her.

As he was downing his third glass of scotch that night, he heard one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever come across – It was the sound of her laughter. He turned around, searching for the source in the sea of faces around him. Unsuccessful, he blamed the scotch for messing with his head and ordered the bartender to fill another one up for him. As he finished another drink, he heard it again, and this time, he saw where that majestic sound came from. If the sound of her voice took his breath away, the sparkle in her eyes and the glow on her face made his heart skip a beat, quite literally. He wasn’t sure what he was heady from – the scotch or her beauty. Either way, there was no going back now.

Focus, he told himself. He was there for a purpose, and he intended to make sure that nothing would distract him from that. He believed that we’ve all been put together on this planet for a reason. The world and its intricacies might seem puzzling to most people – a giant cauldron of a personalities brewed together. Most spend their entire lives trying to get to the end of this question, and ironically, reach their own end before that. He was not one of them and this feeling satisfied him to no extent. He had never considered himself to be smarter or wiser than others – what he did pride himself upon was the fact that he knew his own strengths and limitations. He might not know everything about the world, and he was wary of that, but he did know everything about himself. And that was something most people around him were unaware of.

As she went around from one corner of the hall to the other, talking to people, smiling and exchanging pleasantries, his eyes never left her for a second. She noticed that but pretended not to. He noticed that about her, and this drew him all the more towards her. As she did the rounds, she felt his eyes follow her around the room. It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to something like this, but this time, it felt different. There was something different about this man – a wild, magnetic quality that was drawing her to him. She had always felt herself being in control about everything around her, but this was unusual, and yet weirdly arousing.

She felt that she had to get away to get her senses back in order. She excused herself from the banality of the conversations around her and retreated to the small but private gallery outside the hall. The stars were shining down, as she sipped on her glass of bubbly, and letting the cool wind blow her beautiful hair. She looked perfect in the pale moonlight – as if the angels themselves had descended on earth. As she closed her eyes, she found her mind wandering, thinking about him. The sharp, black eyes spoke volumes to her. She sighed and opened her eyes, and there he was, standing next to her. For a second, it seemed that she was imagining all of it, but her loudly beating heart seemed to think otherwise.

He was never one to make small talk, and told her how gorgeous she was. She brushed it off with the candor of someone who’s used to getting such compliments all the time. She pointed out how he seemed out of place in this social setting, and how he seemed to relish that fact. He smiled, and told her that he knew she hated them too, but she put up a good front for the world to see. He, in fact, knew that if she could, she’d never be a part of this social circus, but her career choices forced her to do so. She marveled at how wonderfully he was able to see through the mask she proudly wore day in and day out.

She smiled for him, displaying a perfect set of teeth and asked him how he could make that statement. He took a step closer to her and told her that he knew more than she thought he did. As she looked into his eyes, she felt captivated, unable to move. He moved closer to her and whispered into her ears that this was more than just a mere coincidence that they were there, in that moment, in that place, with each other. She could feel the huskiness in his voice and felt herself giving in. She had never felt this helpless before, and yet, never this wonderful. It seemed the start of something wonderful, something she had only always dreamt about.

He leaned in to kiss her and gently brushed his lips with hers. She felt herself ferociously wanting more as she held him close and felt the smell of his cologne on herself. He seemed to enjoy the teasing as he let his fingers trace the curves of her body as his warm breath on her skin drove her crazier with every passing moment.  As their lips met, she could feel an explosion inside her head and she never wanted to stop. She wanted him to hold her closer, take him away from everything and escape together into a new, different world. As a barrage of thoughts ran through her head, she could feel his warm, gentle hands reach out for her, pulling her closer.

The moment seemed to last for an eternity, and she never wanted him to stop. As they kissed and held each other, indifferent to the other people inside the hall, they could both feel that they were on to something magical here. She was scared that something might happen to this, to them, as it always had to things she had valued before. She was running away from the ghosts of her past and this seemed to be her first step to a brighter future.

As this thought quivered through her mind, she felt a sudden jerk. The sound from the silencer reverberated only mildly throughout the hollow emptiness of the night sky. She pulled back a little, and saw her otherwise black dress turn a shade of maroon with her blood spreading across it. She was yet to recover from the shock when he held her close and fired once more, just to make sure.

The last thing she remembered was the tears in his eyes as he laid her on the ground. This was not his first assignment, and he knew this wouldn’t be his last. But he knew that he would never be the same again.

The Wrong Side Of The Bed

Today I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I knew it the moment I brushed my teeth with shaving cream.

Today I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I knew it when I burnt my toast and spilt juice all over my shirt.

Today I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I knew it the moment I stepped into the puddle of mud while running to catch the bus.

Today I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I knew it when I missed that bus.

Today I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I knew it when my boss shouted at me in front of the entire office, yet again, for no evident fault of mine, yet again.

Today I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I knew it when my tie got stuck in the copier machine and I was overlooked, once more, during the employee appraisal.

Today I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I knew it when after working overtime at the office, the elevator got stuck in between floors and I had to wait in the humid, closed shaft for a good half an hour. And the fact that I’m claustrophobic didn’t really help.

Today I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I knew it when I had to walk home hungry and tired because I couldn’t find a ride.

And then I saw her. Standing at the corner of the street, waiting for a cab, she looked divine, almost heavenly. She had the face of an angel and a smile that could make you forget all the pain in the world. She had an enchanting, magnetic persona and I found myself being pulled to her, in a way that I had never felt before. It was magical, surreal and yet I felt like I belonged there. Like every moment in my life before this had come together to culminate into this exquisite moment.

I stood next to her, waiting with her. She turned around and our eyes met for a second. I smiled at her and instinctively she smiled back. It was warm and miraculous – like a ray of sunshine, creeping out from behind the clouds on an otherwise cold and dark rainy day. It seemed the start of something special, something unique and yet something so familiar.

Today I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. And I’m so glad I did.

A Leap of Faith

He stood there, looking down the abyss, into the deep, solitary darkness, waiting for it to engulf him in its arms, making him a part of it. Isolation came to him naturally; he was raised that way. To him, it was a part of life, and a part he was always on terms with.

He’d only read about it in the hundreds of books that he’d read and seen it in the countless movies that he’d watched but had never thought would happen to him. He took a step further, took a deep breath and thought about all the nice things that had happened to him.

He thought about his mother who would shower him with all the happiness and joy there is in the world, a love so inexplicable and selfless that it was almost impossible to believe that it existed in a world so cold and cruel.

He thought about his father who would never hug him or tell him how much he loved him, and yet, in a weird way showed how much he cared by being there for him, whenever he was asked to. And more often than not, even when he wasn’t.

He thought about his friends- each one of them. Right from the girl who offered to share her lunch with him in school, to the guy who stayed up all night teaching him before the exams, to ensure that he would pass. He thought about all the times he had been in trouble and at least one of his friends had materialized from nowhere every time and made it ‘their’ problem from ‘his’ problem. Friendship - what a ridiculous concept, he thought, and yet what a wonderful one at that.

As much as he tried not to, his thoughts wandered to her. That girl. If only he’d never set his eyes on her, never been mesmerized by those eyes and that enchanting smile, never fell for that gorgeous face and all the beautiful words spoken by her, things would have been different today. Now he was looking death in the eye and thinking about life. It was tragic, ironic and yet strangely fitting. He held her responsible for what he had gone through, blamed her for the end that was awaiting him with its arms wide open and yet realized that if he’d never known her, he’d never have appreciated life the way he did today. She’d driven him to death while showing him how amazing life was. Women, he sighed.

He took one last look around and took the leap. As a child, he’d always wondered how the feeling would be- to be able to drop down great heights, in one smooth motion. It seemed so graceful and poetic, like a wonderful painting on a canvas. The fear of not knowing what was ahead was gone; the anticipation of a tomorrow was missing. He opened his arms and for the first time, embraced life in the final leap of death.  For once in his life, he felt free. And yet captured, in love.

A Day Of Firsts

It was just another day in my life. Or so I thought, until I set foot in that room.

She was the first thing that caught my eye and probably the only thing I noticed throughout the evening. People came, and they left, but I don’t think I remember anything else from that day. There she was, sitting in a group, apparently a part of it, and yet so detached. Her eyes seemed to speak volumes and her smile seemed to brighten up the otherwise drab room.

For those fleeting moments when our eyes seemed to accidentally meet – accidentally in her case, because as far as I was concerned, mine never stopped following her around the room; my world seemed to stop and I had to consistently remind myself to continue breathing. Every now and then she smiled at me, or so I thought, and I could literally feel my heart skip a beat.

I had to make an effort to not go up to her and tell her how breathtakingly beautiful she was, how she seemed to draw me towards her in the most enticing yet nonchalant manner and how going through all the pain and trouble was worth it, because in the end, it got me to be with her, in a moment that seemed to last a lifetime.

I guess what drew me most towards her was how unaware she seemed about the effect that she could have on people around her. She was mesmerizing, yet cavalier; jaw-droppingly beautiful, yet unfussy. She had a smile that could possibly stop wars from happening, eyes that could show you the deepest of oceans and the highest of skies, a face that could make you believe that angels do exist and a voice that was sweeter than any note that you might have ever heard.

I never believed in the concept of love at first sight. To me, it was always the stuff that helped silly films to get an audience and outrageous novels make profits. I don’t know if this was love, but I knew one thing- Even the idea of love wouldn’t do justice to how strongly I fell for her. I surprised myself, and I rarely manage to do that. I was so caught – hook, line and sinker.

Fight Club - A Book Review

#1 - The first rule of Fight Club is, you do not talk about Fight Club.

#2 - The second rule of Fight Club is, you DO NOT talk about Fight Club.

I guess I’m breaking the first two rules of Fight Club by writing about it, but then again, I really can’t stop myself. I’ve been a possessed man, ever since I’ve picked up this book. It has changed the way I think, act or react. Such is the effect Fight Club can have on its readers. I think, for any book to be able to do that, speaks wonders for itself; because after all, isn’t that what a book is supposed to do? Grip and engulf the reader in itself and take him on a journey he’s never been on, show him sights he’s never seen before and make him experience things he’s never otherwise had a chance to!

Fight Club is that sort of a book. Not very voluminous, the book is merely 200 odd pages, but that is all that the author, Chuck Palahniuk needed to make his point about the world that we live in today, and he manages to hit just the right spot! Fight Club stands out and is a work of pure genius because it manages to specifically and accurately hit its targets (such as mindless consumerism, the sublimation of violent urges, the transformation of men into pale imitations of their fathers, etc.) manifesting itself into a great book, and not just another social commentary.

Fight Club is centered around a nameless narrator, who works for an automobile company. He is extremely unhappy with his life, his work and about how he’s almost forced by society, to conform and be just like everyone else. He hates how he, along with most people in the world, is being manipulated by the consumerist nesting instinct that saturates his life and has thoughts that all of us have felt at some point or the other.

“You buy furniture. You tell yourself this is the last sofa I will ever need in my life. Buy the sofa, then for a couple of years you’re satisfied that no matter what goes wrong, at least you’ve got your sofa issue handled. Then the right set of dishes. Then the perfect bed. The drapes. The rug.

Then you’re trapped in your lovely nest, and the things you used to own; now they own you."

Things turn around when he meets Tyler Durden. Tyler stands for all the things that the narrator has always believed in, but never quite had the guts or the vision to back them up. Tyler is a captivating man, who is part crazy, part genius. He lives an anti-consumerist lifestyle, is opposed to capitalism, the social structure and the pop culture surrounding our lives. Together, they start an underground ‘Fight Club’, as a technique of extreme therapy. Soon other men join them and Fight Club spreads. The narrator then realizes that Fight Club is just the first step for the bigger plans that Tyler has – to encourage acts of rebellion and destruction and focusing on nothing less than the destruction of society itself and start, what Tyler calls “a new, better world order.”

Along the way, he also happens to meet Marla Singer, a junkie, who he happens to loathe and hate initially; only to eventually fall in love with her. I once read somewhere that every story in the world is actually a love story in one way or the other. If so, Fight Club is the most disturbing love story I’ve ever read, and yet, the most interesting one too.

As most of us know, Fight Club has also been made into a memorable movie, featuring Edward Norton, Brad Pitt and Helena Bonham Carter, and is one of those very rare book-to-movies which have been quite incredible in both their forms. Barring the few changes here and there, the movie has stayed true to the soul of the book. But, if I had to take a call, I’d pick up the book given how it manages to mess with your head, even days after you’ve kept it aside. Such is its hypnotic, twisted nature, such is its parallel, unconnected, fleeting writing style, such is its mockery of our world and the system, and such is the magnetism of its characters and their quirks that it haunts you for a long, long time. If you’ve truly managed to grasp what the book has to say, you’re either going to love it or hate it. But, one thing’s for sure - You’re never going to be the same ever again.

It’s deep, dark, demented and disturbed. Chuck Palahniuk takes you to a world where there are no-holds-barred, no curtains and nothing to hide. And the sights and sounds are not always pretty, which is what makes it even more enthralling and real. Be prepared to be caught off-guard, to be shocked and to be amazed at the capacity of the human mind to push its limits. Obviously, a subject like this deserved a rough, edgy treatment, and Chuck Palahniuk does exactly that. Words are not minced; ideas are not suppressed and bursts of violence, along with a lot of explicit material, form an integral part of the story. But here, it seems to go with the flow of the book, and hence, only makes the narrative even more exhilarating.

If it were not for the constraints of limited time, space and reader’s interest, I’d go on and on, but fact remains- No amount of words can do justice to Fight Club. It’s not just a book, it’s an experience. The only thing you really need to enjoy the book is an open mind. If you’re telling yourself that you’ve seen the movie and you don’t need this, trust me, you do. Perhaps, even more so. Go ahead and pick up one of the most radical books of our times- the book which prompted a hundred actual Fight Clubs to mushroom across the United States and made making rules “cool” again, and breaking them too. I can’t think of a better way to end this than to leave you with some memorable lines from the book.

“For thousands of years, human beings had screwed up and trashed and crapped on this planet, and now history expected me to clean up after everyone.  I have to wash out and flatten my soup cans.  And account for every drop of used motor oil.  And I have to foot the bill for nuclear waste and buried gasoline tanks and land-filled toxic sludge dumped a generation before I was born.”

“You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic matter as everyone else, and we are all part of the same compost pile. You’re not how much money you've got in the bank.  You're not your job. You're not your family, and you're not who you tell yourself…You're not your name...You're not your problems…You're not your age…You are not your hopes."

“We don't have a great war in our generation, or a great depression, but we do, we have a great war of the spirit. We have a great revolution against the culture. The great depression is our lives. We have a spiritual depression.”

Dear Facebook

Dear Facebook,

It's almost been a year since we've been together, and on this day, I decided to take some time out to tell you how I really feel about you; about us.

Truth be told, I was quite happy and satisfied with my ex, Orkut. Inspite of the fact that It did offer limited possibilities, it was all I wanted back then- easy-to-be-with and friendly, although it did start letting fake accounts and websites spam our relationship. Just when I thought we were getting stronger, Slapster happened. I just couldn’t stand being slapped around anymore and eggs and tomatoes being thrown at me by random people. The final blow came when it decided to change its appearance. The minimalism and straightforwardness, which I fell in love with in the first place, were just not there anymore and I knew it was time to move on. It tried hard to get me back.it tried to offer me interesting sessions with the application of new techniques, more flexibility and options, but I knew we were over. And then, you and I met.

I remember the first time I saw you. To be honest, I wasn't really sure whether I wanted to be with you or not - You were a little intimidating and a bit complicated. We’d met earlier too, but at that time, since I was with Orkut, I didn’t think too much about you, but there was something about you that made me want to come back. You welcomed me with open arms and with time, I opened up and started understanding you and how you work. I shared my pictures with you. I let you have a look at my notes. We liked each other. We even poked each other every now and then and I couldn’t spend a day without updating you about my status.

Though things went faster than I’d expected them to, you quickly became an integral part of my life. Soon I reached a stage where my day wouldn’t be complete if I hadn’t spent a few priceless minutes with you. Minutes turned into hours, and hours into extended periods where you almost became an addiction. I do remember thinking it was going a little overboard when you started suggesting friends to me, and asked me to reconnect with people, and that’s when I got a little disillusioned. We had a minor disagreement over privacy issues and that was our first fight.

                                                                                                                                                                  

I got carried away, and that is when I started branching out. There was this phase when I thought it was almost over between us. Life was a haze and I tried everything that came my way. MySpace, Ibibo, Linkedin, Bigadda and the likes came and went by, only to make me realize how much you meant to me. I did have a little thing for Twitter, but I came clean with you and returned to you, a wiser man.

Our relationship has been one hell of a roller-coaster ride and I’m glad that we’ve survived and stay stronger than ever. I can’t even imagine a day without you and I hope I never have to.

Lots of love. I'll always 'Like' you.                                                                                                                                                                     

I Wannabe A Rockstar!

Today I saw the rise and fall of a rockstar. In a matter of two hours. Right before my eyes.

It was during a 'Satsang' organized at my place. A particularly north-Indian affair, those who aren't acquainted with the idea, please have a look at this clip from Delhi-6.

So, the mandap was in its place. The dhols were set. The sweets were brought and arrangements were made for the kids to ensure that they do not disturb this mind-blowing, once-in-a-lifetime performance. The amplifiers were ready to accentuate the loud wailing, err, singing by some of the most killer aunties of my building and the stage was set for an epic showdown of the most screechy, loud vocals the human brain can possibly comprehend.

Slowly the crowd started pouring in. What initially started out as a meek Silk Route concert slowly gained momentum and reached Iron Maiden proportions in no time.

The opening act was by one of the meeker aunties, who was a little conscious about her vocal abilities. Obviously the stage does not appreciate consciousness and hence she received a weak response from the crowd.


The next aunty to take centre stage was more aggressive in her approach. She started with a crowd friendly, tuned-to-a-hit-bollywood-number bhajan which got the crowd on its feet, making even my eighty year old neighbour do a little chiggy-wiggy. Moreover this singer was also lavish with her "Jai Mata Ki" chants, which obviously struck a chord with the crowd. I could almost see Mexican waves around the hall and we had a full house on our hands.

The next singer, before beginning her act, stood up, bowed to the crowd and without any signal, started dancing. The dholwala, who's obviously been to a lot of such performances, joined in and gave a beat which would even bring back Michael Jackson for a little moonwalk. R.I.P Michael.

One has to be at such places to fully understand and soak in the awesomeness of it.

Just when I thought it couldn't get more epic, He walked in. Dressed completely in white, snazzy overalls, with a smile that would put most supermodels to shame, he took centre stage and with a small shake of his head made all the women swoon and all the men jealous. He snatched the mike from the singer, who most willingly obliged and we were witness to a performance most people would kill for.

He was my cousin's two and a half year old son. We've all heard that the world is a stage, and we're all actors. But he took it very, very seriously. Within a period of few minutes, he had the audience eating out of his hand. Everyone was hooked and they just couldn't get enough. It was amusing and wonderful at the same time. He was dancing to the beats, miming the song, although I still fail to see what he understood. He even had the audacity to pull a two year old girl sitting nearby, to stand up and dance with him. She wasn't interested, and that is when I realized how some things just run in the family.

For those moments, he was a rockstar with the audience going crazy after every move that he made. He acted like one too. He enjoyed the adulation and the adoring looks. He started picking up flowers from a basket nearby and started offering them to the Goddess idols and the crowd loved it.

However, just like any other rockstar, the fame got to his head. The once blue-eyed boy started to repeat his movements. What once drew an enthusiastic cheer from the crowd could only manage a few sympathetic claps. He tried to get his game back on, but it was too little and too late.

This obviously did not go down too well with him, and he got a little out of control, just like any other rockstar. He started doing abysmal moves. The flowers he once offered to the Goddess; he now began to throw and hit the audience with them.

This was where the crowd snapped. Just like any other has-been rockstar, he was booed and carried away from the stage. Just like any other rockstar, he fought until he was carried away forcefully.

Today I saw the rise and fall of a rockstar. In a matter of two hours. Right before my eyes.

Tiger Tales

It’s been doing the rounds on TV. It’s been taking up a lot of space in the newspapers. It’s been widely thrown around on the internet too. We’ve been asked to talk about it, blog about it and maybe even make videos on it. And now, with utmost enthusiasm and dedication on the part of our vigilante reporters, we have discovered the truth. And it’s ugly and shocking. OK, maybe not as ugly or shocking as Rakhi Sawant. (Must Watch Video)

The disappearance of tigers has been a widely written, widely read issue of late. But what you’re about to read throws an entirely different light on it. Our reporters have gone to extreme lengths to bring out the hidden facts to you, and by the time you finish reading this, your world will never be the same.

1411. That’s what they keep saying. A figure that is less than the number of times Pamela Anderson’s got a surgery done to some part of her body. A figure that is less than the number of times Katrina Kaif has denied that she’s actually Salmaan Khan's girlfriend. A figure that is less than the number of times Shahrukh Khan says “I’m the best” per hour, to himself and to anyone who’d care to bother. A figure that is even shockingly lesser than the number of time Shoaib Malik has denied getting married to Maha/Ayesha “Aapa” and eventually going on to divorce someone he claimed he'd never married in the first place.

Shocked, outraged and not to mention, completely jobless, our reporters decided to get to the bottom of this and carried out a thorough investigation behind the rapid disappearance of our national animal. Putting our differences of caste, creed, religion and choice of IPL team aside, we joined hands to rationalize this irrational development.

The first phase of our study revealed that this downward trend started sometime around 2005, which is exactly the same year a movie was released with some of the best actors of our times. Sample this, Ajay “Golmaal” Devgun, Viveik “Prince” Oberoi, John “Jism” Abraham, Lara “Blue” Dutta and Esha “Kent” Deol in one big mishmash, fultoo timepass flick. Add a dash of Shahrukh “Verrry Smart” Khan, Malaika “Item” Arora & a bunch of tigers, just to blend in and you’ve a recipe for a popcorn munching, cola gulping marathon epic flick. Or so you might think.

In a surprising turn of events, our reporters got in touch with Mr. Shera Waghbakriwala, the world famous interpreter of the tiger language and what he has discovered is nothing short of disturbing. After studying the living, eating and mating habits of 933 tigers over a period of 6 years, he has arrived at some serious conclusions.

A record 670 tigers committed suicide after watching their sad and deprived portrayal in “Kaal”. Out of the 670, 450 did so intentionally by fasting themselves to death as a mean to protest against the outrageous movie and the other 200 did that because they were plain embarrassed to be tigers after what they witnessed. The other 20 just died because they couldn't stand Menaka Gandhi anymore.


Recent events have also shown the tigers to be depressed about life, given how they have now been associated with Tiger Woods, Shiv Sena, Kolkata Knight Riders, Om Shanti Om etc, giving them all the more reasons to kill themselves.

When contacted about this, Ajay had no comment to make as he was busy buying new sunglasses and flower print hawai shirts for his new “Golmaal” movie, which he said was a very different and “hat-ke” role than his previous "Golmaal" movies. The reporter couldn't supress his laughter and hence, had to leave.


Viveik Oberoi blamed Salmaan Khan, yet again for the sorry state of the sheep in India. When corrected and informed that the question was about tigers, he seemed non-perturbed and maintained that be it sheep/tigers/lizards/women/global warming, Salmaan Khan has been responsible for all of it. He wanted to say more things but it got difficult for him to take his foot out of his mouth. Literally.

John Abraham gave his shocked expression, which was the same as his happy expression, which was again like his angry expression, showing his splendid acting skills and maintained that he trusts only performance that he can measure and gave the reporter a skin whitening cream and offered to give a pair of his yellow undies, clearly showing a lot of "Dostana" to him, after which the reporter had nothing more to ask him.

Lara Dutta didn’t remember ever doing a movie called "Kaal". Just like she didn’t remember when the reporter asked her about Kelly Dorjee. On further probing, Lara however did admit that the Tigers in “Kaal” were "much more sensitive" and “far more touched by humans” than the Sharks in “Blue”, after which the reporter couldn’t help but giggle like a little girl and make a hasty exit.

Esha Deol had nothing to say apart from reiterating that maybe tigers were dying from drinking impure water. Hardly had she finished saying those words when her mom and sister appeared from nowhere and offered the reporter a glass of Kent RO purified mineral water. The reporter tried to wriggle out of the situation but the Deol family i.e Dharmendra, Sunny and Bobby stood blocking the way, holding hockey sticks, in good Punjabi spirit obviously. Abhay Deol wanted to be there, but he was away shooting yet another independent, pretentious arty film which no one cares about anyway.

Shahrukh Khan took the news very seriously and instantly tweeted to his followers to stop using Tiger balm as he was of the understanding that Tigers were used to produce it. When explained the entire fiasco, he did a “Rizwan Khan” and quoted from the movie, “I’m verrrrrrrry smart.”

The reporter tried his best to get in touch with Malaika Arora about this, but she was away shooting yet another item number in some obsolete film. Arbaaz Khan offered to speak for her but the reporter, obviously having some self respect, chose not to listen.

Aamir Khan and Mahesh Bhatt had something to say about this, but since this is not the first time they’ve had something to say, even though it may have nothing to do with them and this will definitely not be the last time, the reporter promptly ignored them too.

Last but not the least, the reporter went to the producer of the film, Karan Johar and asked him how he felt about these shocking revelations. Karan sipped on his cup of coffee and said that he would remake “Kaal”, this time with Shahrukh Khan in multiple roles: as the hunter, the hunter’s love interest, the guide, the trees, the car as well as the tiger. He signed off with the parting words, “It’s all about loving your tigers.”

As you read, 17 more tigers have already committed suicide on hearing this.