Blue bottles

Such a slobbering pity I can’t swear on this blog. I really need to. Can just feel it building in. Blue Funk 2…

As I sat yesterday, talking to the only guy in Pune who makes sense at 1 am, I GOTTIT that my life is a pitiful state of tempered apathy. Make that distempered. I’m tired of making peace with a few individuals on this polluted earth who need to be slaughtered alive. Unparlimentry language? It’s my blog. My rules…

Another List of thing I can’t stand…
1.Men I HATE hitting on me.
2.Calling me frigid.
3.Having to be uncharatersticly sweet to individuals previously mentioned.
4.Being taken for granted.
5.Dissapointing ends… somehow they don’t seem nice the second time through.
6.Birthdays… why does one have to get older…
7.Telling me that I dunno what I’m talking about.
8.Simmilar names connected to horrific past.
9.Backstreet Boys Comeback. Dude..once was enough.
10.That horrible Mr. Lonely song(by akon?) sung in an Mallu accent.. AAAAGGGHHHH!!!!
11.Bunching all S.Indians as malayalam. Uh…That’s a language not a goddamn sector of coconut eating darkies.

Still considering to live with a plant. Or get a cat named T! Which reminds me…
12.Going back home for your vacations and coming back UGLY!!!

When is Life gonna look up…?

The beauty of a human mind is we tend to focus on things that are intangible. Animals tend to be more tactile. Otherwise why would millions of men and women wonder about gravity, love, psyche, soul, life, torque?

What I’m getting to is since a billion years, as we grew to Homo erectus, I’m saying all we’ve been upto is that we’ve unravelled and explained(tried to atleast) nearly every single element that tends to lean towars the meta physical side of things and this includes the uber debated topic…God.

So…Does He/She exist?

I dunno. Who is God? Someone who saves you from eternal damnation? Holds your hand to guide you away from the pitfalls? Dude, that’s like my parents, man.

So who is S/He? I seriously don’t know. And I’m defenitely sceptical about the dodgy facts that my wily ancestors tried shoving down my agnostic mind. I mean, How come they did all those things yet behaved like immature boys at some places? Come on. Do you seriously expect me to believe that a dude had time to flirt as well save the Universe? What is He, Superman?

So as I battled the years, disbelieving and cynical about God, it didn’t hit me until a major depressing bit of my life tided over. I finally got it that all this time, while I was making stupid blasphemy about his/her form, I was so blessed that I had actually come out of the whole situation unscathed and so much more stronger. S/He was there, I was just not looking. Or rather, didn’t know how S/He looked.

For I realize that God is just a personal manifestation. A mist of fleeting imagination. S/He is between the pages of the gazillion books that I’ve read. In the countless songs I’ve sung in the shower. The hundred’s of people I’ve met. I had believed the very images that I scorned. To me, the prototye was so much more important than the entity itself. My idea was so skewered that the very being steadying my groggy, out of sync footsteps was an alien form. The very being slowing down the tsunami of bitterness and sorrow was in fact, someone I turned my back to. Just because I thought it was some fancy hip idea to ignore the spiritual beauty and the simple Truth in something that my heart tried so hard to make real. What can I say, I was stupid.

But now I know better… S/He dosen’t reside in the skies and have dancing women. S/He’s in gravity, love, psyche, soul, life, torque. and I believe in miracles. and I’m a believer. Just don’t force me into a temple. All I need to do is look within. and without.

They sat under a setting sun. A quiet man and a fiery girl. The thick rope of gold gleamed on her neck. The rope of matrimony. The man looked over at his wife of barely a year…and smiled. She sat there, her proud neck bent to look at the pudgy child that sat between them. The sun winked it’s goodbye and it sunk over a green park. It closed over three people sitting on a park bench. It set over a small family…so many years ago…

The man got up. And the girl looked up at him and grinned. Her grins never were anything less than stunning. And the man, who had faced the Spanish Inquisition over a milk sweet was reminded why he had married her. The little girl, who sat next to her mother looked up at her father and pouted. They realized the dangerous significance of that pout and quickly got up to leave… so many years ago.

…Her dark hair cast a reddish tint in the dying sunlight. The little lady, looked at her young daughter and felt a rush of affection. The moody child had her charm. And many years later she would regret how much of that very charm would get her into trouble. She balanced the little girl on her hip and set off home. The little girl’s shod foot banged reassuringly against her slim mother. Her(the little girl’s) father walked a little distance away from them, looking earnest and slightly nerdy in his large frames. He was an intense man. A little quiet with all the fun and laughter(and a fair share of a wicked sense of humour) beneath a starched exterior. His wife was Scarlett… her chin had a pugnacious set to it(seen in the daughter)and her smooth honey eyes blazed with potent electricity(also seen in the daughter). Beneath all the fire and bluster, an unbelievably soft heart hid. They were a funny pair. He, velvet enclosing iron…and her iron enclosing velvet.

It was mid August. Near evening…

He reached over to his wife and with a smile in his voice said..Happy Anniversary.

19 years later…
He was a little grey..a little more relaxed…she was a little grey.. a lot less relaxed…He, a lot less quiet… her a little quieter…
They sat in their garden and talked. About everything. About their daughter all grown up and away. Their son, not quite shaving yet. The sun set over a couple who had lasted years of each other. And over the noise of the T.V blaring, the man reached over and said…with a smile in his voice… Happy Anniversary.

It was mid August. Near night.

In a Tokyo Hotel:
Is forbidden to steal hotel towels please. If you are not a
person to do such thing is please not to read notis.

In a Bucharest hotel lobby:
The lift is being fixed for the next day. During that time we
regret that you will be unbearable.
In a Leipzig elevator:
Do not enter the lift backwards, and only when lit up.

In a Belgrade hotel elevator:
To move the cabin, push butt on for wishing floor. If the cabin
should enter more persons, each one should press a number of
wishing floor. Driving is then going alphabetically by
national order.

In a Paris hotel elevator:
Please leave your values at the front desk.
In a hotel in Athens:
Visitors are expected to complain at the office between the
hours of 9 and 11 A.M. daily.

In a Yugoslavian hotel:
The flattening of underwear with pleasure is the job of the
chambermaid.

In a Japanese hotel:
You are invited to take advantage of the chambermaid.In the lobby of a Moscow hotel across from a Russian Orthodox
monastery:
You are welcome to visit the cemetery where famous Russian and
Soviet composers, artists, and writers are buried daily except
Thursday.

In an Austrian hotel catering to skiers:
Not to perambulate the corridors in the hours of repose in the
boots of ascension.huh??

On the menu of a Swiss restaurant:
Our wine s leave you nothing to hope for.

On the menu of a Polish hotel:
Salad a firm’s own make; limpid red beet soup with cheesy
dumplings in the form of a finger; roasted duck let loose;
beef rashers beaten up in the country people’s fashion.

Outside a Hong Kong tailor shop:
Ladies may have a fit upstairs.
In a Bangkok dry cleaner’s:
Drop your trousers here for best results.

Outside a Paris dress shop:
Dresses for street walking.

In a Rhodes tailor shop:
Order your summers suit. Because is big rush we will execute
customers in strict rotation.

A sign posted in Germany’s Black forest:
It is strictly forbidden on our black forest camping site that
people of different sex, for instance, men and women, live
together in one tent unless they are married with each other
for that purpose.

In a Zurich hotel:
Because of the impropriety of entertaining guests of the
opposite sex in the bedroom, it is suggest ed that the lobby
be used for this purpose.

In an advertisement by a Hong Kong dentist:
Teeth extracted by the latest Methodists.

In a Rome laundry:
Ladies, leave your clothes here and spend the afternoon
having a good time.

In a Czechoslovakian tourist agency:
Take one of our horse-driven city tours – we guarantee no
miscarriages.

Advertisement for donkey rides in Thailand:
Would you like to ride on your own ass?

In a Swiss mountain inn:
Special today — no ice cream.

In a Bangkok temple:
It is forbidden to enter a woman even a foreigner if dressed
as a man.

In a Tokyo bar:
Special cocktails for the ladies with nuts.

In a Copenhagen airline ticket office:
We take your bags and send them in all directions.

On the door of a Moscow hotel room:
If this is your first visit to the USSR, you are welcome to
it.
In a Norwegian cocktail lounge:
Ladies are requested not to have children in the bar.

In a Budapest zoo:
Please do not feed the animals. If you have any suitable
food, give it to the guard on duty.

In the office of a Roman doctor:
Specialist in women and other diseases.
In an Acapulco hotel:
The manager has personally passed all the water served here.
From a Japanese information booklet about using a hotel air
conditioner:
Cooles and Heates: If you want just condition of warm in your
room, please control yourself.

From a brochure of a car rental firm in Tokyo:
When passenger of foot heave in sight, tootle the horn.
Trumpet him melodiously at first, but if he still obstacles
your passage then tootle him with vigor.

Two signs from a Majorcan shop entrance:
- English well talking.
- Here speeching American.

A pirate walked into a bar, and the bartender said,”Hey, I haven’t seen you in a while. What happened? You look terrible.

“What do you mean?” said the pirate, “I feel fine.”

“What about the wooden leg? You didn’t have that before.”

“Well, we were in a battle, and I got hit with a cannon ball, but I’m fine now.”

“Well, OK, but what about that hook? What happened to your hand?

“We were in another battle. I boarded a ship, and got into a sword fight. My hand was cut off. I got fitted with a hook. I’m fine, really.”

“What about that eye patch?” “Oh, one day we were at sea, and a flock of birds flew over. I looked up, and one of them shit in my eye.”

“You’re kidding,” said the bartender, “you couldn’t lose an eye just from bird shit.”

“It was my first day with the hook.

The creature mewled and went quiet again. The two heads bent over it stirred slightly. They looked at each other. And sighed. When would it die?

The sun bore down on the quiet drama with increasing ferocity. It was mid afternoon, mid summer. The children looked at the little brown body near them and wrinkled their nose. The garbage that surrounded them stank. They settled back on their haunches, impatient at the wait. When would it die?

The pitiful creature let out a gurgled sigh. And it turned even greyer under the bright yellow sun. One of the children reached his hand out to touch it, but something in it’s pathos revolted him. He pulled his hand back and tucked it between the valley between his knees and his chest. He asked, when was it going to die?

As the children squatted near the nearly-dead body, an old lady watched the disturbing scene with the blandness of age. Her grey eyes swam in their sockets to settle foggily on the tableau. Those children were her own lot. Her children’s children. They had come over for a holiday to the village. And seemed that the only thing that interested them in the dull poverty of a village in the middle of nowhere was the dying of a local servant’s baby. The little girl had been given up by her parents. Left to die a death of horror. And no dignity. All because she was a girl. And the children watched her die with morbid curiosity that only a child is allowed to have. The old woman, looked over again at the children and contented they were amused settled back into her chair and dozed.

The liitle girl, paused between hope and death coughed out a cry. She felt no pain as one of the children paused to prod her with a stick. Her skin, thin as paper snapped and poured open a thick brown liquid that mocked her life. The boys looked at each other. It was soon.

The sun grew hotter. Beads of sweat prickled the backs of the children. But their conscience didn’t. The grandmother dozed still. With a piercing cry a crow flew over them. Distracted by the cry, the children looked up. At that moment, with the vision of a bird soaring free and high in the sky, the little creature went quiet. Still.

The boys looked down. The got up now, stretched their pudgy legs and went away to beg their grandmother for some lemonade.