What The Judges Really Meant

November 22 to November 29. 8 days in the company of an assortment of people. Some that I just knew will be friends for the next three years of the course and beyond, some that I never got around to interacting with before, some that I had instinctively marked as people I ain't gonna get up close and chatty with and then some that I never knew existed. Equations and opinions were formed, newly invalidated equations and opinions changed and like the previous post made evident, albeit dramatically, there were revelations galore. 

One of those revelations was part of this game we -a dozen batchmates, some from each of the first three categories I mentioned above- played to kill time in the middle of the night. Mention positives and negatives, atleast one of each, about everyone present. Bitch, but to their faces. Get downright nasty, but be nice. What got the game started is of no relevance now. Cutting straight to the revelation - I'm perceived as judgemental since I tend to categorize people as per their apparent intelligence. Also, I give off an air of assumed superiority when I'm around people who I think don't match up to my standards.

As for how far this is true - yep, how much basic intellect shows through in casual conversations matters to me. I have nothing against people who come across as slow or are, in the words of those who gave the verdict, "not upto my level". I'm as friendly with them as with the others, but I sure do have an opinion about how much sense they're capable of dishing out.

The opinion is open to change, of course it is, but I'm not waiting around for something to happen before I form one. The person himself is enough of an event.

How far the tag of 'judgemental' is accurate, I can't tell. What's laughable is that the entire game was based on how judgemental we are. Perceptive, if the word makes you happy. Those two hours were full of variations of "I don't really know you well.. never spoken na somehow.. atleast until tonight.. but I think negatives mein, you're like this---". Until tonight? Admission and distribution of judgement, check.

Funny thing is, when I spoke to the same friends later about this forming opinions and categorizing business, it turned out that they all had an opinion -similar or not- about the same person but never "thought of it". So because I think it out consciously and am vocal about it, I'm judgemental. As of now, lets just say I'm lost to the concept of anyone being judgemental. 

Funnier still, the general consensus about me went this way - Positives? Intelligence. Negative? Too intelligent and looks for the same around her. Like wait, what?!

Being human, I'd like to make it known that my positives and negatives both included things other than to do with my brain. We'll discuss them over a cup of coffee sometime.

How far these opinions of me were actually thought out by everyone present, I do not know. It could have been a personal opinion for each one of them. It could be that some went with the opinion another announced simply because it was an easier alternative to thinking. It doesn't matter.

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It isn't like opinions of everyone out there matter. What I'm like -the good and the bad- is what I'm like, regardless of what they think I'm like, so that's cool. Again, not even half of them are friends I'm close to, so they haven't had much of a chance to give out an informed opinion, good or bad. It was the overall interpretation of the trait of being judgemental that got to me. And since I don't see what's wrong with it, it got to me some more.

All Must Be Revealed!

More than anything else, the last 3 weeks have been full of revelations. With friends and classmates as well as the unavoidable friends-or-what candidate of the month and those involved. And what amazes me is that beyond a point, I don't feel a thing about the situation or the people concerned. Except maybe amusement.

Logically dekho toh I should be analysing and introspecting until I reach the pot of gold that's supposed to be the Answer, but right now the rainbow seems so vague that I can't trace it right. And somehow, I'm not too concerned about getting waylaid by chance puffs of clouds and gusts of wind. It borders on fun, actually.

Instead, I'm indifferent. Chirpy one minute, sober the next, but always able to see things objectively. A little too objectively. I have no personal opinion on these issues, only an objective one. Somehow, I've managed to numb myself to all of it. And I don't know how. 

I remember talking to a friend about the oh-so-detached, "I feel numb" theory months ago and being mocked incessantly so I'm expecting more of the same. But I simply do not feel like I'm affected in any way. Comfortably Numb, anyone? :|

So I don't discuss it with anyone. Heh, no one person know about more than one 'issue' at hand and that's how I intend to keep it. That logic says a breakdown will follow is hardly of significance right now. Lets just assume I'll get to that bridge, catch sight of that rainbow again and reach The Pot. Simple.

Craziest bit is that I want to write about it all. I expect it will help. I want to know how people manage to bare all. Everytime I do, I fuck up things so bad it's safer not to. So basically, I'm looking for catharsis where I don't want it. Revelation indeed.

PS- This post was of a more personal nature than any before, I realise that. Consider this a one off, ain't gonna happen. Also, I may have gone overboard with my skyscape analogy but hey, deal with it.

Anything You Want, Girl.

How how HOW do people write up articles that are wanted, even adopted?

I'm expected to hand in a few articles - I definitely want to - I sat with a superior (er, only in jest, world... then again, maybe not) to 'brainstorm', threw up a few ideas and then... forgot. I forgot what I came up with. And what I recall isn't working out :| 

Am I expected to give in 250 words of SmartArseShweta? Funny Gal variant? That's beyond me. I can turn in one line a week, upper limit.

Any serious requests, I'll do my best, slog my butt off for them, I promise. Any specifics, I can phir bhi try. "Write about whatever"? NOOO!!

Massive, Massive, Massive.

The mere mention of Chate’s Coaching Classes is invariably accompanied by some ugly allegations. Old news. Also stuff I don’t need to go into. But a recent experience proved beyond doubt the (ab)sense of ethics when it comes to the man running the show at Chate’s Vashi branch. 

I accept that there is little point in ranting and raging on a blog that is probably read by 5 people a week, if I’m lucky. But when I left the coaching centre, I was convinced that a blazing write-up for a news daily, in The Twin City Times if it came to that, would be next on my agenda. I rather liked the idea of involving the MNS youth wing, until it dawned on me that I’m a north Indian and Chate dear is definitely not. Back to the article - I told myself that being a BMM student would only help my case and screw up his. Also, a copy of the article would have to be slid under the door to the office. The write-up that formed itself in my mind as I walked away was, at the very least, the equivalent of a watermelon sized stink bomb escorted by two baseball bats for some physical impact. 

Par kya hota hai na, your face goes from a furious red to a peaceful tan, you age by a day, you realize you have lesser time left to waste now than you did yesterday and so you calm down… which is why this will go up as a blog outburst and remain one. I’m writing to feel good about having let it out. That does not mean another is obliged to read. Read forth if you don’t mind a long winded post about something that may not be of concern to you. If you do mind, I suggest you head to FML. 

So. I was there with an acquaintance of a few hours to complete a task. Do drop the “task-who?” queries. We were sent out to earn some money. Given - 3 hours, a combined capital investment amount of Rs.20, a cellphone as a team bonus and our oh-so-marketable baarvi paas skills. Down to our last hour, we felt like cavemen who had just figured out what to do with fire. After all, we had our modest but hard-earned pay stuffed deep inside the deepest pockets. During the course of the afternoon, we’d met some entrepreneurs some of who who genuinely wanted to help and did – them we were grateful to; some who found that Sundays didn’t translate to a day with spare work lying around – I’ll leave it to you to work that out; and then some blessed souls who as good as slammed the front door in our faces and then tried to spray some Baygon through the cracks in the wood just in case. Nevertheless, I was feeling, and do pardon the sad but fitting OSO reference, “like the KING of the WORLD!”

Chate’s, right. We walked in, briefed the boss there and were subsequently given some records to fill in, phone calls to make. All conversations started with this totally sadau “Hello, I’m calling from Chate classes” intro (NOT my dream job : | ) and went somewhat like this –
                   “Aapka beta aaj class kyu nahi aaya?”-“Bai.. ho ka? Nighaalla hota toh.. mee tabadtop yete! Tumhi thaamba!”-“Naahi, raahu dya.. ushir aalla asel. Mark nahi kiya hoga. Sorry.”

So we spend an hour learning new panic words in Marathi, systematically penning absentee records right down to the excuse. All while the lady employed to do this stuff quizzes us about our future job expectations and what we would do if a new co-worker happened to delete all our work and the boss “took the newbie’s side”. Would we resign because the boss had no confidence in us or would we stay on to prove a point? I’m serious. I left out the quotes and commas because they can be a pain more often than not, but those were her exact words. I know, I know, the things we do… Anyway, so an hour goes by, we work, then get up to see the boss so we may reap due monetary benefits. Here you’ll say we should have decided on a certain amount beforehand. Hah. Keep saying. Mr. Ghosh, showrunner extraordinaire, decided to disappear instead. Then over the stoopid Tata Indicom his voice made its crackly crinkly way to reach us. We get told there was no “commitment on his part as such” and we have no right to demand payment. We were begging for work, he felt sorry for us, so he gave us some shitty calls to make. No contract, remember? Yeah, right. Dickhead. 

And that led to a firing. Self to Showman. Derived tremendous satisfaction from it too. And it was this dignified firing that told him exactly what I thought of him. Ah, I was so proud of myself! Incidentally, so was the acquaintance of a few hours. He was also taken aback. Net result – he stopped hitting on me. Mera time 200% vasool. :D

I for one did not get the point of basically cheating two 17 year olds. For what, I can’t understand. Say there isn’t anything for us to do and we’ll go dude! Deceive why? I didn’t type out 900+ words to complain about having lost out on 50 odd rupees. Far from that. I probably ought to take the blame for having walked into an establishment like Chate’s and then expecting fair play. I don’t know. It’s just that the whole incident had me so mad!!

My point is this – Even in the absence of a lawyer, a contract drawn out on stamp paper and two witnesses, we need to get around to honouring agreements. Just plain ol’ staying true to our word types. Be it going out to play with a kid sister, meeting a pal on time or something we actually consider ‘major’. 

This may even sound preachy. But after a thousand words and a mind mad at that man all over again, I don’t really care.

Peeves, The Second. Bleh.

As promised, a bunch of profile peeves. And finally, the bullets make an appearance!

• About me classics -
   “I AM WAD I AM! U cannot change moi!!!! if yu dnt lyk me den F off!!!”. What, you have some spare nylon cords? Oh, Just Do It already.
• Another thing, almost everyone on Orkut is “relli cool.…hottt…. sexii….. nd… stylishh!!!”. Hot and cool, hot and cool. If I was a chauvinist chump, I’d say almost everyone on Orkut is working to become a female female, get what I mean? Yeah... Thing is, I’m willing to say that despite being a certified (if only biologically) female.
• “I don’t befriend strangers so stay away!!” – this from the kid with 400+ friends. Gets you thinking.. benefit of doubt is a difficult thing to dish out.

Best part is, all of this ends with an “I don’t have an attitude problem, get it?” comment. Am I the only one to find that funny? Uhm, nevermind.

When it comes to music, people listen to 'everything'. Cuisine? Why, everything. Arr.. how do they do it!?

Books? “I hate dem!!!!!!!!! / nott in mah vocab!! lolz”. Idiots. And if not that, some wax eloquent about Nancy Drews and Agatha Christies. For real. They were good, sure, but venture out some please? I find it disturbing that people don’t want to move out of the high school reading zone or try out authors outside the Archer-Sheldon bracket. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy them too, but sometimes, just for the sake of variety and all, ye know..?

A popular idea of a perfect first date –on an isolated beautiful island filled with greenery, surrounded by water on all sides, on a candlelit table for two. lavish dinner and then a walk along the beach. World, it’s the first date – why, unless there features a death wish or acute desperation and consequent mindblock, would someone want to be on an isolated island? People are either naïve or very naïve. I just know I’m going to get attacked for this one. Defense put off till then. :l

And then you have the frandship brand. You buy it for the first 10 seconds, then decide it’s a joke profile and have a good laugh. Fine fine, maybe not in every case. Yeah, right. Whatever be it, they make for interesting reads. Many testimonials have people paying homage, and rightly so. After all, who else offers 'frandship and loveship advice to strangers drifting in the ship of life'? Difficult to miss this one, but in case you haven’t been here before - http://www.orkut.co.in/Main#Profile.aspx?uid=14707071151543310205

- - -

I’ve been thinking. Yes. People (yes, I'm 'people' too) come off as ruder/snarkier online than they really are, nay? Heh, I sure hope so.

So long.

Peeves, The First-Punctuation

Only recently got back with a long lost love – peoples’ profiles on Orkut. All it involves is hopping from one community to the other, clicking on names and display pictures at random and reading what they spent hours putting together. Status message - check. Profile sections, testimonials, photo album - check. In times of killing boredom, scrapbook all the way to December last - check. By then, you are likely to feel the first waves of nausea which have been sourced to potentially fatal overdoses. My suggestion, pick another random face from your would-be-could-be culprit’s friend list. Repeat procedure.

Be rest assured I propose a tried and tested, oh-so-respectable way out of boredom. Hours of entertainment AND no viruses, imagine. Heck, you can even create your own blog and write about it! :P

Bulleted below are a few um, choice portions. They can make you laugh and alternatively make you pull out your hair and scream in agony. I’m sure you’ll recognize most, perhaps even identify with some. Feel free to add to the list.

Before we hit separate sections of a profile, my one basic pet peeve - spelling and grammar conditions. May seem like a dry point to you, but that’s beside the point. Point is, i don….. undrstnd yy…. da peeps need tah… type lyk dis!!! Their POV is that the words can still be made out. Yeah, right. If you’re a seasoned decoder.

For cripes’ sake, it’s a 5-step demolishment policy they’ve distributed worldwide! Exclusive excerpts (painfully retyped in the King’s English for the most part) brought to you straight from the Haay Cumshinner’s desk –

a. Eliminate vowels. Vowels affect chances of peaceful afterlife.
b. Extended and misplaced ellipses (………..) are supplied at wholesale prices. Free of cost, for the elite. USE THEM!!
c. Capitalization is evil. Socialists we shall remain (no, not related) and teeny tiny typeface throughout we must propagate.
d. Do away with onomatopoeic “Haha, hehe, heehee”s. Bring in the lolz, lmao, rotflmfao – and swt. All else failing, go “ssup???????”.
e. Punctuation died with Gandhi. Make up for the commas, periods and question marks with scores of ‘!’s.

In case you happened to overlook the fact, the ellipses come in to buy time; particularly when they realize the next worked has to be spelt the Oxford way. Proven fact (Definitely the second half if not the first… Nonsense! That was tautology :l ) that it takes longer to think up “quirky” spellings and type them out than it does for Old Schoolers (in this case, inclusive of the likes of me) to type out entire ‘normal’ paragraphs.

Wait a minute. This post started out as one of those ‘mock the man!’ missions… turned into something along the same lines, but not quite. The finer aspects of profile hopping and subsequent revelations will come your way soon. Truth be told, I’ll enjoy writing about it far too much to put it off indefinitely.

Of Rude Rants And Rules..

So let’s talk about the CET. And not talk about it ever again. Sahi.

Chemistry – nothing really. 50 splotchy blobs, at last count. Physics – Closer to 40 blobs, right or wrong. Massacre. Absolute disgrace. Math – hah, better than Physics. I feel like such a traitor... And that will be it.

Sidethought - Slugs can be so exasperating, no?

- - -

I feel a full blown “Males!!” tirade coming on. Not without reason and nothing remotely flattering to the variety, I assure you. But gah, those thickskulls. In some cases, You thickskulls – hey, not my fault! Ever wondered why the last name Dickinson came into being? Okay, polite company, that particular line of thought must be done away with.

Instead, it’ll go down on paper – with ink – phir paper ka rocket banega – and hopefully, my charmed, aerodynamically screwed up craft will manage to puncture a few skulls. Something along the lines of a hot-air-balloon-cum-rocket would be nice. Throw out a few sacks of sand, and voila! You may now hop off and strangle Le Target. Add to that the tagda rocket effect. Whoa. This is one idea that’s bound to work... if nothing else, just because the novelty of it all! Guys, this is what the world needs! Anyone interested in working out some sort of deal - you know where to reach me. Trust me, people like going back to their prehistoric selves. That’s when human skulls were really thick.


I’m having fun.


Though when I stop to consider that all except one of my readers so far have been (em, are too) males... hatt! What do you suppose that means?

- - -

I‘ve been thinking... all these posts have been kinda dhilla. Dismissive, no real substance, get what I’m saying? The NBTD variety, exactly.


Case in point – this particular post. Yes, the post is a pointless rant. No, it’s not going anywhere. A wee bit flippant, granted. I know I won’t be offered the Pulitzer or your compliments for this one, chauvinist world that we live in.


But you know what? I’m enjoying it (the writing, not the evil ways of the world). My blog, thenga to you! Haha!

- - -

A little overdue, but lemme lay down one basic ground rule (My blog, remember? :P) –No offense meant on my part ; now or in the future. If you believe I made a dig at you (make that “when”... after all, it’s one event with sky-high probability), know that it’s ENTIRELY in jest. The probability may inch downwards if you display the courtesy of leaving behind a comment. I hate doing the all-caps typeface, so you know just how serious I am. Good.


C’mon, if I wanted to insult you, I’d bombard your Gmail, Yahoo and SMS inboxes with uh, material. And even if it was a blog post, I assure you the post would have a relevant title. For instance, “To The Sucker I Speak Of”. :P

Swallow And Sleep.

“Abhishek and Aishwarya didn’t get each other just like that... they had to struggle and become famous before they got noticed. Everybody wants to get noticed, no? Change. IMPROVE! That’s how you will find a nice, rich husband.”

And that, dear reader, was my “well-wisher’s friendly advice”. A co-baarati, co-non-dancer, total stranger and, lest I forget, my well-wisher. Sozzled well-wisher, if you ask me… but then again, to me, everyone looked unsteady and smelt the same. No, I wasn’t the one sozzled.

So. I ought to sign up for Bhangra classes. Be enthusiastic about a bit of sporadic wiggle waggle with a bunch of other revelers. Shriek intermittently since that’s part of the job profile. Set an example, there being a kid sister and all. And even the slowest gazelle must run faster than the fastest lion. There. I just condensed 20 minutes of counsel into 5 sentences. Should head to that twitter-tweet place.

In case my take counts for anything – I like the ringside view when it comes to that particular circus. Just watching people can be so entertaining. Particularly when those people are weighed down with bling but are obliged to look, feel and sound Punjabi-style festive. Loud festive. And frankly, some cute guy’s wedding is most definitely no reason to hop-shrug-stamp-screech.

And therefore, to quote a pal, “Swallow and sleep”.

- - -

The more I think about it, the more sense it makes. It’s all a public conspiracy. Jaise my world is split into three – one part consists of my Mom’s patients. They recognize me on the streets --dangerous!-- “Arre, bilkul Mummy ke tarah dikhti hai!”. Yeah well, it just happened. Funny you should mention it, no one ever notices... medical miracle and whatnot. I now feel an unnatural kinship with you. Brains of the world, unite! Bah. The second part has all the relatives, ‘family friends’, friends of family friends and such. People who care about you... every time some results are due. Perhaps they’re not so bad - and perhaps they are!

What these two groups have in common is this – they derive some perverse pleasure when they sneak up on you and attack. And they really make you wish you had a brother.

Mid-checkup they go “Woh waha aapki beti thi kya Doctor? Mere building ke saamne hi thi, koi ladka saath tha...” because “bataana chahiye, farz banta hai”. Oh, sure. Power be to you. Hence the brother. And if not that, they dish out shady schemes for The Good Life. The one in which you shimmer and shine like a beacon (literally), get noticed and dig your beacony claws into the next unsuspecting good looking guy. Your life is made. In a nutshell – Bleargh.

For whoever has been paying attention – the third part of my world consists of people I won’t know during the course of my life. No, I’m not talking rebirth and afterlife. They’ll be the ones that never knew me, but showed up at the funeral because they expected to meet some business prospects. Lawyers, probably. So much for that.

PS - Mera life sahi hai, tension mat lo. People in general are much nicer than I believe I made them out to be. Morning posts are just likely to be bitchy. Okay? Okay.