Chp 180. NBA Finals and Cheerleaders

Yeah yeah, I know most of you are bitten by the EURO 2008 bug. But don’t forget, the NBA Finals is also going on right now.

Game 2 of the NBA Conference Finals. WHAT A GAME! Boston Celtics who were up by 24 points with 8 minutes left on the clock, suddenly found themselves leading by just 2 points with 38 seconds remaining! A truly amazing and admirable attempt by the Lakers to come back with a 31-9 run in just 7 minutes. Celtics barely won 108-102 and they now lead the series 2-0.

One thing that really struck me though, are the Cheerleaders during that game. Here in India, the moral police and other concerned individuals made such a loud noise over the inclusion of the cheerleaders in the IPL saying it is against our "Indian culture" to copy and promote such "obscene" American traditions. They said displaying those skimpily clad women on TV hurt the sentiments of many television viewers, and if people want to see such "shameless" cheerleaders, then they should change the channels and watch "American sports", not IPL.

Hah!

Any loyal follower of the NBA on ESPN will tell you that WE NEVER GET TO SEE THE CHEERLEADERS. More than 10 years I’ve been rigorously following the NBA now, and every time there is a time-out or a break, we are either taken to the commentator’s room or shown an advertisement. Yes, the cheerleaders are dancing right there in the stadium, but on TV we never see them.

It’s really funny how some people can just make a judgment without even knowing the ground realities. And people who say such things are quite educated: celebrities, actors, people you think would be more open regarding this issue. Yet most of them maintain a diplomatic stance, saying that we shouldn’t copy the American sports culture!

At the most, during an NBA match we may catch a brief 2-second glimpse of the cheerleaders. But 99% of the time, the cameramen focus on the game and the players, after all that’s what matters.

Whereas during the IPL, the cameramen not only went up close and personal with the cheerleaders, but even made many attempts to zoom up their miniskirts for the whole Nation to see! You NEVER see that kinda crap on any "immoral" American sports. And when TV viewers see the cheerleader’s white undees that the sick slobbering cameraman finally manage to focus at, all Hell breaks loose and people vent out their fury at the... Cheerleaders!



Anyway, much has already been said about this issue and I am in no mood to rekindle the flame. Seeing the cheerleaders (or rather, hardly seeing the cheerleaders) in today’s NBA Finals really aroused a couple of repressed emotions regarding this whole issue, that’s all.

Game 3, 4 and 5 (if necessary) of the Finals will be held at Staples Center in LA. This Finals is sort of historic in its own way because it is the first time these two teams are meeting in the Finals since the immortalized era of Larry Bird versus Magic Johnson Finals showdown in 1984, 85 and 87. Larry Bird’s Celtics won the first Finals (4-3) while Magic Johnson’s Lakers took the other two Finals (4-2, 4-2)

However, either era was soon suppressed by the unstoppable Michael Jordan and his Chicago Bulls, along with Pippen, Rodman, Steve Kerr and Luc Longely. People forgot about the high intensified Celtics-Lakers clash, until today when they meet again for the first time in an NBA Finals.

I am rooting for the Celtics because I love Paul Pierce and I hate Kobe. I love those players like Pierce who have this amazing "Watch out I’m gonna come thru and if you don’t wanna move then I’m coming right thru you" attitude. Kobe on the other hand, has more of a "I’m the King so you’re nothing to me" holier-than-thou attitude. I find him very arrogant, conceited and egocentric. Plus he’s a selfish player.

Actually I am a loyal fan of the San Antonio Spurs, but since Duncan and his team failed to make it to the Finals, it is the Celtics that I am cheering for now.

Apart from Pierce, there are those two Olympics 2000 gold medalists former Timberwolves center Kevin Garnett and former Milwaukee Bucks & Seattle Supersonics shooting guard Ray Allen. Both KG and Ray are definitely not the giants they once used to be, but then, that’s the nightmare everyone will have to face as they get older. It’s a vicious cycle.

Lakers on the other hand are still commanded by Phil Jackson (seriously, how old is he now???) and then there are those two Stojakovic-look-alikes in the form of Vujacic (VOO-yah-chich) and Radmanovic (rod-MON-o-vich). And just like the former Sacramento King’s Stojakovic, they too can nail a lot of three-pointers. There’s also the tall Spaniard Pau Gasol (POW guh-SAHL) rookie of the year in 2001 and a legend with the Memphis Grizzlies who I still find awkward to watch wearing a Lakers outfit.

All in all, I want Celtics to win but I hope Lakers win the next two games to make this series (best of 7) a lot more interesting. Below are the timings for Indian viewers on ESPN (trust me, the new espnstar.com design is really complicated and it took me a very long time to figure out where the TV timings are).

GAME 3: @ Lakers 11-June 13:30 IST
GAME 4: @ Lakers 13-June 14:00 IST
GAME 5: @ Lakers 16-June 14:00 IST (if necessary)
GAME 6: @ Celtics 18-June 14:00 IST (if necessary)
GAME 7: @ Celtics 20-June 14:00 IST (if necessary)

And for those of you who want to catch the reruns:

GAME 3 rerun: 12-June 03:30 IST
GAME 3 rerun: 12-June 11:00 IST
GAME 4 rerun: 14-June 03:30 IST
GAME 4 rerun: 14-June 13:00 IST
GAME 5 rerun: 17-June 03:30 IST (if necessary)
GAME 5 rerun: 17-June 11:00 IST (if necessary)
GAME 6 rerun: 19-June 03:30 IST (if necessary)
GAME 6 rerun: 19-June 11:00 IST (if necessary)
GAME 7 rerun: 21-June 13:00 IST (if necessary)
GAME 7 rerun: 22-June 03:00 IST (if necessary)


Enjoy the game and... stay in school

Just remember, Boston lead the NBA with the most number of championships at 16, while Lakers are second at 14. The result of this Finals will have a deep impact on the existing record. To me, the Boston Celtics are more like Liverpool football club: A great team with a great past struggling to regain the glory era of days gone by. I hope they do.

BEAT L.A.
BEAT L.A.
BEAT L.A.

Chp 179. You know you’re a flirt when...

A lighter look at community, cellular phones and call-centers, as inspired by some of the guys I used to hang out with. I guess sometimes some guys don’t even realize what they have become...

10 WARNING SIGNS cautioning you that maybe it’s time to take the subtle hint and slow down things a bit...

Community – The 10 warning signs.

You know you’re a flirt when...

1. When you visit your neighbors, they immediately order their daughters to go to their room.
   
   
2. When your name is announced in the local Church, the entire mass giggle.
   
   
3. When a visiting preacher you’ve never seen before stands on the pulpit and sermons about the 7 deadly sins, at the part about “LUST” he looks at you sternly in the eye and gives a dramatic pause for 5 minutes.
   
   
4. When you visit a nearby Christian run pre-school in your locality, all the children lovingly calls you “Father”, which seems strangely weird to you because you’re not a Catholic.
   
   
5. When you have a brother who is a drug addict, another brother rotting in jail for burglary, and a sister who joined a satanic cult, and yet your mother calls you the black-sheep of the family.
   
   
6. When the government under pressure from the community had to construct a new road that bypass your house, so that students can take a different route to go to that women’s college.
   
   
7. When you go out of town for a business, all the parents get together, rejoice and thank the Almighty.
   
   
8. When you are banned by the community to go to anyone’s wedding because the groom always become suspicious of the bride if you are present.
   
   
9. Whenever there is a spiritual Gospel crusade/revival held in your community, during the sermon about Lucifer and Hell, your name somehow always gets mentioned on the loudspeaker, including your complete initials, date of birth and postal code.
   
   
10. When the government does not dare to take any action against you in spite of the protest because you increased Mizoram’s tourist revenue by tenfold after Hugh Hefner and Larry Flynt mentioned about your “farm house” in their Top 50 favorite destinations.

Cellular phones – The 10 warning signs.

You know you’re a flirt when...

1. When you start calling every girl by the name “baby” over the phone, so as not to make the mistake of calling them by a wrong name.
   
   
2. When you own a different mobile phone for each service provider, so as to avail their “same network free calls/reduced call rate” offers.
   
   
3. When a girl calls you up from an unknown number and sweetly asks you to guess who, you immediately talk as if your voice is breaking up and then switch off your phone abruptly. Rather that than wrong guesses!
   
   
4. When the sales manager of your service provider had to resign because of incurring a sudden 200% sales loss after your switched to another company.
   
   
5. When some of the template SMS (text messages) stored in your handset are:
   
   • Hey wanna go out 2nite?
     
   • I swear you’re the only one!
     
   • That’s really sweet of you, [insert name]. Ur amazing! Muuaaah*
     
   • I love you too.
   
   
   
6. When you call up the customer care service and a female executive answers and says “hello”, you already know who she is before she tells you her name.
   
   
7. When you get a tennis-elbow from over-using the phone.
   
   
8. When you firmly believe the greatest discovery or break-through in the history of mankind is the technological wonder of “Call Waiting”.
   
   
9. When you dropped your phone and it conked, the cops received 40 different calls within the next 10 minutes, asking them to check if you’re dead or kidnapped.
   
   
10. When you start having a lot of similar first-names in your phone address book:
    
    • Jenny AOL
      
    • Jenny HSBC
      
    • Jenny ICICI
      
    • Jenny Taj front-desk
      
    • Jenny Taj house-keeping
      
    • Jenny vodka
      
    • Jenny mole right chin
      
    • Jenny Air-deccan
      
    • Jenny brigade road
      
    • Jenny vegetarian
      
    • Jenny singer
      
    • Jenny singer roommate
      
    • Jenny easy
      
    • Jenny tomboy
      
    • Jenny 2pm-6pm only

Call centers – The 10 warning signs.

Dedicated to those guys NOT working in a call-center.


You know you are a flirt when...

1. When you actually call up your “friends” working in call centers to remind them that it is time to get ready for work because their cab is on its way.
   
   
2. When you have dated more Mizo girls working in call centers than those actually listed in your city’s Mizo Directory.
   
   
3. Whenever you hear the name of a particular call center, the first thing that comes to your mind is the number of girls you know working there.
   
   
4. When you know every girl’s shift timings, break timings, the names of their supervisors and the days they are off.
   
   
5. When you know exactly who to call and when to call. You know how much time X will take to go to the loo during her break, so that you can briefly call up Y who is taking a dinner break so that you can continue talking with X as soon as she comes out from the loo, before calling up Z whose break is just about to start.
   
   
6. When you know more office gossips than people who are actually working there know of.
   
   
7. When HR recruitment executives of every call-center strangely contact you whenever there are job vacancies/interviews, and coyly ask you to “go spread the word”.
   
   
8. When you are asked by the hon. Education Minister to give a seminar on call-centers to the youth of Mizoram because you have the most amount of experience among Mizos working in call-centers, even though you have actually never worked in such a place your entire life.
   
   
9. When you are the first person the police contact for assistance whenever there is a complaint of call-center cabs driving rashly in the middle of the night, as you are the only one who knows all the routes taken by every cab.
   
   
10. When you excitedly bought a copy of Chetan Bhagat’s “One night at the Call center”, only to be extremely disappointed that it was not what you thought the book would be about.
    

Chp 178. Go Green with Jean!

Lolz, that rhymes!

I usually don’t do memes and tags on my blog, but when my good friend Jean Chia from Malaysia tagged me with a stern message on “Going Green”, it was just too hard to resist that call.

Going green is something that had always been on my mind, especially when I hail from Mizoram, the greenest State in India. With over 80% under forest cover, Mizoram had been leading the rest of the country when it comes to afforestation.

I love Green. Many poets and writers have been inspired by the sheer beauty of green mountain forests right through the passage of time. It can give anyone a certain peace of mind, like a Shangri-La or an eternal Nirvana. Even the Garden of Eden was filled with greeneries.

In India, people always flee to hill resorts and other places of scenic beauty for a vacation because they find it extremely relaxing as compared to the smoky hectic life in the city. Ooty, Shillong, Mussoorie, Kodaikanal, Darjeeling, Shimla, you name it. I spent my school years at one such hill-station: Montfort school, situated on top of the splendiferous Yercaud hills of Tamilnadu. Maybe that is why I am so robust and healthy even now

As mankind progressed, new technology and inventions were discovered that only added more problems to the environment’s woes. Global warming, depletion of natural resources, emission of pollutants etc etc.

But what is really ironic today is, with the recent hike on fuel prices by the Indian government to battle inflation, most people have no other option but to go green!

We are advised to reduce our petrol intake and go on a car pool to save energy and reduce emission. With inflation, we HAVE to do this now because it is the only thing we can afford to do. We are requested to minimize our usages of refrigerators, heaters and air-conditioners to reduce CFC emission. With Reliance Energy in Mumbai hiking the electricity by a whooping 10% from this month onwards, I don’t even dare to switch on my AC anymore!

So I’m just looking at all the points dear Jean had mentioned in her post, about the role each of us can play in “going green”.

1. Reduce the AC to 24°C – Like I said before, I don’t even switch on my AC anymore.
   
2. Use fewer staple pins – In my line of work, I never use staplers.
   
3. Use eco-friendly household cleaning products – Hmmm... I don’t use household cleaning products ok ok don’t judge me. I’m just a bachelor. Bleh.
   
4. Don’t speed. Save petrol consumption – Again, as mentioned before, I dare not travel by car unless it is an emergency. I now walk.
   
5. Eat closer at home – Hehe. I am a roadside junk food addict. I eat regularly from the chaat-wala standing right below my apartment every evening.
   
6. Stash your trash – I can’t. By law I have to give my trash to the garbage boy who comes every morning. Otherwise the Mumbai Municipal Corporation will fine me.
   
7. Be a cone head – Yes, another point scored. I am always in favor of ice-cream cones rather than those paper cup ones.
   
8. Say no to ATM receipts – Wooohoo, another plus point. With my current financial condition, I don’t need to go to the ATM because there’s nothing in my account
   
9. Use cold water – I live in Mumbai. Only the crazies and the rich pampered snobs would take a shower in hot water! Another point to Mother Nature here. Boy I’m on a roll!
   
10. Tell your cleaners/dry cleaners to skip plastic – Hehe. I never give my laundry to any cleaners. My reliable maid turns up every afternoon to wash the clothes for me (and scolds me like a doting mother if I wear the same clothes for more than 2 days).

See? I just scored a 10 out of 10. How difficult is it to go green when there is inflation. I guess this is one positive side of going through a recession

Hope you all go green too. As instructed by Jean, I am just pasting the blog-roll list on her blog here too. Hope everybody puts more effort into making this World a better place for our children (Clichéd line but it still works)

Cheers!



By the way, I stumbled across this site recently: http://lonelymizo.com I don’t know who owns it but I’m pretty impressed because I think it is run by a bunch of Mizos and yet it does not have a Mizo-centric theme! Kudos to the Admin for doing something different. The site is about Environmental awareness. Please do visit it when you have the time.

Chp 177. Chemtatrawta according to Ludlum.

A TRIBUTE TO MY FAV AUTHOR: The late Robert Ludlum.

Ever wondered how some of our Mizo folktales would sound like had they been written by the contemporary writers of today? Here is how I feel "Chemtatrawta" would sound like had Robert Ludlum written it.

[The original story in English can be found here]

------------------------------------------------------------


The shrill sound of a thirsty cricket chirping echoed across the dense forest, followed by the hoarse croak of a lonely river frog trying to attract a mate. The thick woods soon produced a queer symphony of mixed Mammalian musical, which seemed to resonate from every direction across the eerie forest.

Chem Jones walked carefully on the soft grass, ever alert to react to any sound that was not a part of the forest he had grown accustomed to. He had been in the field for more than 5 months now, surviving on roots and venison in order to blend in with his environment.

Your mission in Mizoram won’t take long, the deputy director of the CIA had told him. Yeah right. 5 months in Mizoram and he still could not find the trail that should lead him to Thangkhuma, one of the chief financiers of the Golden Triangle corporation and one of Interpol’s Most wanted.

Now he was starting to doubt whether his ex-KGB informant hiding at a safe-house in frozen Siberia had supplied him with the correct information about Thangkhuma. Even the FSB, the Federal Security Bureau that replaced the KGB, failed to verify the information, yet he decided to follow his instincts like he had done a hundred times in the past. His instincts were usually right.

Suddenly he felt his muscles wrench. His stomach started producing a strange sensation. Oh oh, he thought. And then, he felt it. Excruciating pain generated from his stomach, sending his body into a wild frenzy of spasm. The pain was worse than all the tortures he had ever faced in the hands of rogue Mossad agents, the Black September, the notorious Iraqi Mukhabarat, or even the dreaded Sluzhba Vneshney Razvedki.

Thoughts immediately flashed across his mind amidst the agonizing pain. He remembered having breakfast with the locals this morning.

Shouldn’t have eaten the bloody bekang, he cursed.

He saw the small river cutting through the woods. With his last remaining strength he ran towards it. Throwing his mahogany leather pouch that contained six passports all under different names and different nationalities, he jumped into the river. With fists clenched and eyes grimly closed, he pulled down his pants and let go...

Ahhhhh, he felt relieved.

As Chem Jones squatted on the shallow shoal of the sluggish river, one hand held his shirt up, while the other hand firmly gripped a polished 9mm PM Makarov – ineffective at long range but extremely deadly and accurate for close targets.

Suddenly he felt it. It was the result of years and years of intense training and field work at Quantico, Saigon, Aral Sea, Cambodia and places that did not exist on any Government maps.

Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

His instincts triggered a series of alarms within his head. He felt the sudden adrenalin rush. He tightened his grip on the gun.

And then the attack came.

A sharp painful pierce to his body, of flesh tearing and blood spurting out. He screamed.

It felt like the last time when a mole had infiltrated the MI-6 and planned to assassinate the Director of the NSA and the Secretary of Defense together at a highly classified conference in Glochester, UK. Chem Jones had just unraveled the assassination plan, code-named ARIA, and saved the Director and Defense Secretary just in time. However he suffered a bullet wound to his left thigh from the MI-6 mole in his effort to push the Director away from the path of the assassin’s bullet.

That was how it felt like now. A very similar pain.

Except that this pain was coming from a little bit higher than his left thigh. A little bit higher and a little bit to the right. The pain originated from his balls.

Dazed and almost paralyzed from the pain, Chem Jones looked down. There above the river, clutching his red swollen balls with all its might was a giant monstrous Lobster. It continued to hang on to his balls for its dear life.

He flung the lobster aside, casting it back to the muddy river. Then like a hungry cheetah that had just spotted its prey, Chem Jones darted out from the water, overcame by the agonizing pain on his balls. Out of sheer frustration, he pulled out his Russian made machete and chopped off a vine of a nearby tree in one swift strike.

The unfortunate tree was an Acrocarpus fraxinifolius, an evergreen tree of eastern Asia and Philippines having large leathery leaves and equally large inedible fruit. With one of its vine support chopped off, the attached large fruit then plummeted to the ground. It landed on the back of a wild country hen.

Meanwhile, Chem Jones watched what was happening around him. Even though the pain on his private parts was unbearable, he had learnt how to observe his surroundings even under the harshest conditions. That was how he survived Cuba even with a wound from a shrapnel, how he rescued those two ShinBet operatives right under the noses of the IIS, and also how he managed to successfully “deliver his assignment” in Teheran.

He started observing the chain of events that was being triggered right in front of him.

The country hen let out a shrill scream from the pain, and then ran to a nearby ant hill and completely decimated it with its long sharp claws. The ants, Monomorium pharaonis to be precise, scurried everywhere in confusion, and one of them managed to climb up the hind legs of a wild boar and bit the boar with all its little might.

The boar let out a long hollering shriek, as if it was its turn in a slaughter house, and galloped away blindly with its short furious legs. It did not see the tree up ahead and crashed right into it, knocking the boar unconscious, or probably dead. A bat that was hanging on one of the tree’s branches was rudely knocked down upon the hard impact.

The bat, completely shocked and exposed to the sudden bright light, flew desperately in search of darkness until its radar senses informed him of a small cave up ahead. Unfortunately it was not the mouth of a cave, but rather the trunk of an elephant.

As the bat swiftly flew up the long hairy trunk, the large over-weight Pachyderm immediately got spooked and went on a wild stampede, trampling anything or anyone that was on its path. Up ahead was a small hut inhabited by an old wrinkled hag. With a thundering crash, the elephant smashed right into the hut, flattening everything that once made up bits and pieces of the hut.

The angry old woman who fortunately was not hurt, cursed the elephant and stormed towards the village pond in full fury. Since she was weak and could not inflict damage upon anybody, she did the only thing she was capable of doing - Knowing that the pond was the village’s only source of drinking water, she walked right into it and defecated.

From a few feet away, a bemused Chem Jones watched the entire spectacle that had just unfolded in front of his very eyes. He heaved a big sigh of disbelief and bewilderment. This can happen only in Mizoram, he exclaimed.

But just as he was about to walk away, his instinct started to ring again. He dove under a nearby bush immediately and observed the old woman. A few minutes later, a group of men from the nearby village approached her. He could overhear the angry exchange of words between the villagers and the old woman.

These men were no ordinary villagers. Chem Jones counted that four of them had Kalashnikovs strung on their backs, while two people each held an XM8 Light weight assault rifle capable of firing a whopping 800 rounds per minute, and the largest of them all carried a lethal Soviet-made RPG-7 shoulder launcher. Seven heavily armed men quarrelling with an old woman regarding the hygiene seemed peculiar to Chem Jones.

From his clandestine point of surveillance, he noticed that there was something wrong with the whole scenario but couldn’t quite figure out what.

He concentrated more deeply on the group of armed men and finally noticed what was bothering him. One of the men with a Kalashnikov tied to his back seemed very out of place with the others around him. His thoroughly trained observation could make out that the man was trying his best not to walk too fast or too slow. He was trying to remain inconspicuous. Apart from the Kalashnikov, he also carried a .357 Magnum with his right hand.

Now that’s weird, Chem Jones thought.

And then he noticed it. The brief exchange of looks between that man and one of the men carrying the XM8 who seemed to be the commander of the group. That person was definitely not the genuine commander. He was only calling the shots while the real leader was the guy with the .357 Magnum!

Oh, that is smart, really smart, Chem Jones grinned. It was like the ancient Carthaginian warfare when generals would mingle in with the infantry and appoint somebody to sit on top of the war elephants to look as if he was in charge of the army, because the generals were usually the first to be targeted by ambush parties and assassins.

Chem Jones now intensely studied the man with the .357 Magnum. He did not look anything like the picture of Thangkhuma he had memorized. They had the same height and similar structure, but Thangkhuma was bald and clean shaven. This man had a shabby beard and hair. It could be wigs and postiches, he thought. His cheekbones seemed more prominent and higher than that of Thangkhuma, but that could easily be done by attaching a specially designed plastic frame inside the mouth. His nose also looked bigger, but again, that could be prosthetics.

And then the man turned around briefly for a second and Chem Jones caught sight of his eyes. He froze! The eyes! They were the same chilling cold blooded killer eyes as that of Thangkhuma. No amount of plastic surgery can ever change ones eyes. He felt the sweat from his head slowly streaming down his cheeks and trembled a bit. He had finally found Thangkhuma!

He looked at his 9mm PM Makarov and cursed. It was useless against seven heavily armed men, even though he was a crack shot and nobody had broken his record till now at the Langley Arms Institute. He wished he had carried his Beretta semiautomatic pistol with its M9DS Suppressor instead.

He was so engrossed with his discovery that Chem Jones let his guard down for a few seconds.

Big mistake.

By the time he heard the sound of a twig snapping right behind him and spun around, it was already too late. Four sturdy young men were aiming their Kalashnikovs and assault rifles directly at his head.

“Zawnga! Tunge i nih a????”

He understood a little bit of what the leader of that group was asking him. He had learnt some of the local dialect in those 5 months he had spent in the jungle. They wanted to know who he was.

Before Chem Jones could answer, he could already see from the corner of his eyes that Thangkhuma and the other men were running towards him.

Oh crappp, Chem Jones closed his eyes.



-------------------------------


End of book one Do visit again if you want to know how Chem Jones escaped from the village and eventually completed his mission, with the help of two brothers, known as the Liandote unau.

Chp 176. This Month that was, May 2008.

The IPL League is finally reaching its end, with the top four teams preparing to knock-out each other. It captivated the hearts of millions of Indians and other cricket lovers all over the World, and completely decimated the much hyped “Panchvi Pass” show. This was also the first time in my entire life I watched and enjoyed cricket

But what I find quite irritating, are the News channels they gave too much of importance and air-time to this game. There’s a cyclone in Myanmar, an earthquake in China, another case of “honor killing” in our country, important counter-policies by the government to battle inflation etc etc yet all we see in all the news channels are IPL IPL IPL. Slap gate. Highlights. This statement. That statement. Dug-out issues. SRK’s long sms. Why people why?

Just a marketing strategy suggestion. I’m sure most of the people are also fed up of seeing the same IPL news over and over again on every news channel. Instead, if one channel never aired IPL news and showed only genuine news, I think that channel would receive much higher TVR points. Sometimes a “herd mentality” is not the wisest solution.

Phoenix finally landed on the Red Planet after a journey of 295 days. Now Agent Scully fans like me will know if the truth is really out there or not. Even the Vatican said it’s okay to believe in aliens But if there are indeed aliens and they come to our planet officially, I will definitely boycott the grand Reception. Why? Because I think all aliens display unfair bias favoritism and prejudice against non-Americans. Why do they always abduct people only from the States? I mean, aren’t the rest of us, Indians, Ethopians, Japanese, Iranians etc worth experimenting over too? Comon, slice us too, insert those probes into our bodies, plant those micro-chips into our head too pleaseeee... Hmmmff.

The UPSC results came out a few days ago and my cousin Saidingpuii achieved the rank of 131. I am extremely proud of her, knowing how well she deserves this. Saii, always the quiet one, devoted to God, family and her studies, is definitely a person who automatically generates respect by the way she leads an ascetic lifestyle. Back in Hyderabad 4 years ago, none of my friends dared to drink or even smoke whenever she came over to my place for a sleepover. They couldn’t believe we’re related Go kick IAS butt, little sis.

Speaking of sisters, last week my bed-ridden sis told me to take a break from babysitting her the whole day and gave me a couple of moolah to go splurge at the Mall. And that’s exactly what I did. I watched Speed Racer, Iron Man and Forbidden Kingdom all in one shot! Hehe. As soon as one movie was over, I ran down to the ticket counter, bought the next ticket, ran up to the theatre again just in time to catch the beginning of the next movie. Yup, definitely one of the perks of a Mall cum Multiplex.

Loved “Speed Racer” and “Iron Man”, but “Forbidden Kingdom” was such a disaster. I had no idea how that movie and “Iron Man” had the same ratings in the local papers! It’s like that movie Freddy Vs Jason. I was crazy about “Friday the 13th” and “Nightmare on Elm Street” series, and when those two characters finally met for the first time, I went to the theatre with such high expectations, only to be sent hurling down Flopsville.

Likewise, I LOVE Jet Li and Jackie Chan movies, but “Forbidden Kingdom” just didn’t deliver. The picture quality resembled more of those Fearless Hyena days, the CGs were quite lame, and it was no way at par with CTHD or HOFD, or even Hero for that matter. Narnia: Prince Caspian was another movie I saw recently in the big screen. Better than the first part of course, but the most awaited release for me is Ice Age 3 scheduled for next year.

Sports: I was up the other night till 3 in the morning watching the UEFA Champion’s League Finals between Chelsea and ManUtd. The Red Devils barely managed to edge past the Blues at penalties, thanks to all the contentious decisions by the referee (including the linesmen) during the 120+ minute game, which always seemed to go in favor of the Red Devils. That’s what you get for having a coach cum manager who loves to throw his weight around (quite literally) and intimidate the match officials like a 5th Grade bully.

Yeah yeah, I was cheering for the Blues, but only because I am a hardcore Arsenal fan. I will always cheer for the team that’s playing against ManUtd, even if my team is already out of the Title race. So what if I have a vindictive malefic vicious heart? Bite me.

Anyway, enough of football for now. Next season, Arsenal will win the Treble and we shall talk all about that then.

The recent Neeraj Grover murder case splashed across every newspaper sounded more like those overdramatized passion+sex+murder stories one can find only in those sleazy “Crime & Detective” magazines, except of course this was a true story, a very unfortunate true story. Maria and Mathew had sex twice after brutally murdering Tanveer and chopping his body to pieces So, I guess it’s really true then, when people say crime excites people and serves as an aphrodisiac. A very expensive and gory aphrodisiac indeed. I’ll pass.

Another murder case in Noida. 14 years old Arushi Talwar. Maybe the cops are watching too many CSI episodes, I don’t know. But the way they are immediately jumping to conclusions is totally absurd. First it was Hemraj who killed her. After Hemraj’s body was found on the terrace, it was a disgruntled employee who killed Hemraj and had to kill Aarushi too because she witnessed the whole incident. Next it was the dad who killed both of them because they knew about his extramarital affair. After that it was a case of honor killing because the father found both Hemraj and Arushi in an "objectionable but not compromising position".

Every day we see new conclusions contradicting the previous conclusion. I mean, do the cops think people who follow this news are so freaking dumb? Ah she did it. Nooo he did. Wait he did it. Yesss she did it. I think... he did it. Meanwhile AQUA has a very interesting take on this whole issue, about how nobody remembers Hemraj in the midst of all these just because he’s a servant, that too a Nepali servant. A must read.

I met an old friend of mine recently. Pawan Deokule. Half marathi half kannadigan, he believes only half the migrant laborers in Mumbai should leave the city, not all, and that only half the water from Hogenekkal should be given to Karnataka. Just kidding

The funny thing about my relationship with Pawan is that, he always ends up being relocated to the city that I am currently in. Hyderabad, Mysore, Bangalore, Mumbai, Chennai, Delhi and now Mumbai again! I’m SERIOUSLY considering about suing him for stalking

I guess those are some of the highlights of this month. I am still clueless about when I will be able to go back to Mizoram because of my sister’s condition, and I really am starting to miss my nieces back home a lot. J [ calliopia’s canticles ] and Mesjay had been helping me out a lot with my prose and poetry compositions and I can’t say enough to thank them for that. BW finally got married, and next on the line is RTPA.

Man, all the eligible bachelors around me are falling down like dominoes.

dhat dhat dhat dhat…

Game over. You got married!

Chp 175. The MENOPAUSE Club

To all my brothers.

Are you tired of being stereotyped as the dirtier sex just because you are a male? Are you sick of all the generalization about how you have no sense of neatness and tidiness when it comes to your bedrooms?

Well, despair no more, my brothers. The MENOPAUSE Club is born!

MENOPAUSE (Men for Equality on Neatness Objecting the Promotion of Absurdly Unfair Sexist Exemplification) is now formed with the sole purpose of giving a chance to the unfair sex to stand up and object to women persistently depicting us slobs or pigs.

Apart from the MENOPAUSE Club, there are also various other organizations you can join to combat this gross misconception about us that we love to get dirty and make sexist jokes. The following Clubs will prove all that wrong.

BRAS – Brothers Revolting Against Sisters

THONG - Those Humans Oppressed by the Nymphet Gender

GARTER – Guys Angrily Rallying To Express their Rights

PANTIES – Pledging Allegiance to Nullify The Incorrigible Established Stereotype

LINGERIE - Liberal Intellectuals & Neat Gentlemen Expressing Rage at Inequality Everywhere


Let me tell you one dirty little secret about women.

pssstttt psssttt… Not all of them are neat and tidy and roses and butterflies all the time.

The only difference between a man and a woman is that a man will invite you into his room any time no matter how dirty it is, whereas a woman will do so only when her room is sparkling like a Swarovski showroom.

So the next time a girl abruptly says thank you for the wonderful lunch/dinner and then closes her door, trust me, it is not because of you It has nothing to do with you. It’s just that she left a couple of clothes lying around on her bed or her shoe rack is jumbled up.

Do know that a girl’s room is as untidy as yours, most of the time. They just have a mysterious cryptic way of communicating with their roommates to clean up everything before they arrive, just like how we guys can text-message our roomies to clean up the house without looking at our phones while using shorthand codes only other guys will understand. Eg: “dude babe room.” The only difference is that, while we guys “clean” up by shoving everything under the bed or inside the closet, womenfolk do so in a more elegant manner.

But that doesn’t mean we should just stand by let women pester and nag us about our bedrooms!

With the bedrooms fallen, what next? Our love for junk food? Our innate passion for sports? Our special ability to think of only one thing at certain times? Our refusal to ask for directions even when we're lost? All that will be taken away from us soon!

Why must we always be the victim of anything that is horrendous and revolting? We have already surrendered to the fair sex when it comes to the position of the toilet seat, do you really want to give up your prerogative on the bedrooms as well?

We need to stand up to their nagging and relentless hen-pecking. Join the MENOPAUSE Club, my brothers. The next time your girlfriend complains, tell her that the lizard she is pointing at has a name - "Tommy", who had been a reliable companion all those times she gave you the cold-shoulder.

Tell her the cobweb on your ceiling is your definition of art, just like how her definition of art is Prada or Jimmy Choo. Tell her you intentionally collect dusts on your book-shelves and TV, just like how she collects different make-up kits, girlie magazines and conditioners. Tell her you love to strip your CPU open and leave it around like that, just like how she loves to wear those tubes and spaghettis barely covering her body.

Let me warn you about one thing, my brothers. Women are extremely cunning! Don’t ever fall into their traps.

Suppose you are at her place. Doesn’t matter if she’s your girlfriend or best-friend or your best-friend’s girlfriend. As long as she is not your direct blood relative, always be alert for all the small small signs.

Sometimes she will purposely open her closet in front of you, knowing fully well that you are slyly taking a sneak-peek from behind. She would have never done that if she knew it was shabby. If she tells you not to use her bathroom because the flush is broken, it probably means all her toiletries are in a mess inside. In a typical Indian 1BHK/2BHK bachelor apartment, we guys usually leave our shoes in the verandah (because of the obvious reason). Women on the other hand place their neatly arranged and organized shoes by the main door, because it is the most prominent place to notice.

See where I am getting at? Ah the guile! Hence when a guy sees all that, deep within his subconscious he’s convinced that women are always like that all the time. tsk tsk… shame on you for tricking us O woman

Take a simple experiment. Call up your ex-girlfriend and tell her you’re coming over to her place to collect something. WHAM! You will notice how different her apartment is now from the time you were dating. Why? Because of the obvious reason that she’s not going to waste even an ounce of energy cleaning up her apartment just to impress a jerk like you.

I'm telling you, brothers, our end is nigh. Unless we do something to stop the evil armies of womenfolk from marching across the gates of Hades, our very extinction is at stake. Women don't need us now. They now have Playgirl, artificial insemination, and Ellen DeGeneres. We have become defunct.

Join the MENOPAUSE Club before it’s too late brothers. Stand up together the next time any woman nags you about your room.

United we dirt.


- KOTEX

Kima Orchestrating The Equality for XY-chromosomes

Chp 174. Blaming the victim: Strange Logic.

We live in a World where everybody's a PhD at passing the buck. We either turn a blind eye to the most obvious of reasoning, or blame somebody else who we know are completely innocent. But then, majority rules, right? Let's be democratic and continue oppressing the weak.

Flashback four years ago. Mapuia, a system analyst for a reputed IT Firm in Bangalore, was not allowed to move in to his new apartment by his Landlord when he met him, even though the Landlord had already given his broker the green signal before. The Landlord returned the deposit, refused to sign the affidavit and even offered to pay the broker the one month’s rental fee which Mapuia had to pay to the broker.

Sure, as Indians we are all aware of the “unspoken” discrimination people face when it comes apartment leasing, especially if you are from the North-east, a Muslim, a non-vegetarian Hindu, or even a bachelor/bachelorette. But what was unique about this case was, the Landlord told Mapuia that the reason he couldn’t lease the apartment to him was because he did not want any trouble if somebody from the building called him a “chinky”! An incident like that supposedly took place with his neighbor’s tenants some time ago, and there was a lot of swearing, slugfest and police intervention.

Likewise, 10 years ago it was a known fact that discotheques in Bangalore like "The Club" and a few Pubs didn’t allow "chinkies" to enter their establishments because they usually get into a fight with the unruly drunken crowd after being racially abused. So the management prohibited "chinkies" from entering to avoid violence and also to "protect" us from such racism. Hmmm…

That was 10 years ago. Things are a little bit different now. Nobody stopped me the last time I went to "The Club".

But that is how it has always been for us. If people call us chinkies, it apparently is our fault. Hence we are denied accommodation, denied entry to public and private establishments, denied to enjoy the same basic rights that other Indians have, all in the name of "protecting" us from being racially abused. Yes, I guess I see the logic behind all these. Do you too?

I mean, take a look at how we use that same logic at other incidents. If a woman is raped here in India, people blame the woman. Forget the rapist. Who cares about him. The victim shouldn't have worn tee-shirt and jeans that was screaming out "RAPE ME, RAPE ME PLEASE" right? She was asking for it. If you leave meat out in the open, cats will come to eat it right? She should have worn a full sleeved salwar kameeze. Wait a minute, did somebody say most of the rapes in India take place on women wearing the most traditional attire? Nah, they must have been lying. This is a conspiracy by the ISI or CIA, trying to taint our conservative tradition and heritage (...of the kamasutra).

And if somebody secretly filmed a couple inside their bedroom during their most intimate moment using a spy-cam and then leaked that out in public, the mob ire is directed at the couple (doesn't matter if they are married to each other or not). Meanwhile, most people don't even bother about the pervert who filmed them and distributed the clip.

Or take for example, the recent ongoing IPL cheerleaders controversy. One of the reasons why the moral-police wants them banned is because they supposedly incite sexual aggressiveness among the spectators. Yeah, so if the crowd makes lewd remarks at them and asks them how much they charge for a quickie, it is the cheerleaders' fault! Down with the cheerleaders. All hail the leerleaders.

If I am in a busy public place and a group of guys shout at me: "Chinky", then people around me stare at me! Are they waiting for me to react? To explode? To cry? To laugh? To act as if nothing's happened? To do a crouching tiger hidden dragon war cry? Hiiiaaaaaaooooooo! ??? Why stare at me? Once a shopkeeper even ushered me away after sensing trouble. The one that was asked to leave was ME! Ah yes, the logic. I am the perpetrator for being the victim

Nice.

Now I guess you're also beginning to see the logic.

Remember what happened in Mumbai on NY’s night when two NRI women were molested in public? Yes, I know. How dare they let themselves be molested, right? Shameless women.

Remember Jessica Lall who was shot in a Bar for refusing to serve a customer beyond permit time? Yes, I swear! What was she doing working in a Bar? Women don't belong there. She was asking for it, right?

Remember all those honor-killings? Yes, why did they marry somebody against their family’s wish? tsk tsk tsk…

Remember what happened in Gurgaon when two Mizo girls travelling in a Santro met with an accident? One of them died. While a large majority of Mizo onliners conveyed their condolences, a few people blamed the girls! "What were they doing in a car at 2 in the morning, that too with non-Mizos?" they asked suspiciously.

Ah. Now you see the logic I am trying to make? This logic cuts across all races, all religions, all communities.

Stupid logic.

Maybe sometimes, this logic actually makes a bit of sense. Take for example, red-light areas. At most metros, there are those "officially designated" red-light areas where sex-workers can practice their trade. Keeping in mind the PITA and SITA, you will not find such red-light areas at a respectable residential locality. The locals there will object to it because of the obvious reason that it attracts "unwanted elements".

Now if you really think about it, the same logic is applied here too. Prostitutes are blamed for the trouble makers that they attract, instead of nipping the trouble-makers directly in the bud.

So the question is, where do we draw the line on the use of such logic? And more importantly, WHO draws the line?

And when it comes to such logics, what determines a person’s ability to think alike with others or disagree on various issues? His cultural background? His demographic upbringing? Socioeconomic factors? Amount of experience and exposure to different societies? External influences like friends and family? Level of education? IQ? EQ? PQ?

Whatever be the reason, we still continue to argue and debate over such logics since the dawn of… Online discussion forums. Maybe that’s what life is all about in the end - Eternal opinionated disagreements.

Meanwhile, the victim continues to get blamed...

Chp 173. Memory: A short story.

Another attempt at creative writing... Hope you enjoy.

Update May 20: A few grammatical errors edited by J [Calliopia's Canticles]

Living in a city of skyscrapers and steep rental rates really has its ups and downs. Downs most of the time. Especially when you live on the 10th floor of a newly constructed building in one of the under-developed suburbs of Mumbai with no servants or maids at your disposal. So, travelling up and down 10 stories of flats for simple requirements like eggs and soaps is extremely painful and exhausting, especially with the elevator still out of service!

And today was worse. We had guests. Lots of guests.

First of all, there was my brother-in-law and his new girlfriend, who of course didn't get along immediately with my wife. "What a slut," she whispered to me. "Ummm... yeah I know, it is so slutty to read the entertainment section of the newspaper first before reading the main news section," I whispered back in disgust.

I felt the sharp piercing pinch on my elbow. I ignored it. Two years of marriage and I still can't fathom how she always manage to pinch me at the exact same spot over and over again with laser-guided precision. Two more years of marriage and I'm sure this spot on my arm will be permanently numb.

Then there were my wife's two colleagues at the Call centre - Priyanka and Sagarika. The former is kinda rotund and large, while the latter looks more like Nicole Richie's twin. Asking if one of them has been eating up the other's food is now a clichéd joke. And calling them "Laurella and Hardyna" only invites another pinch from my wife.

The gang was also there. Subs, Nick, Sonam, Jaiswal and my cousin Mapuia. Subs, real name Subramanium, works at Indian Airlines. Nick, real name Nikhil, is a lesser known DJ here in Mumbai, struggling for recognition. Sonam is currently an intern at P&G while Jaiswal works as an event manager for "Exploxion". My cousin Mapuia is a final year student at Don Bosco Arts College and he stays with me and my wife. We all met at our local Gym a year ago and became good friends from then on.

It being a weekend, everybody came over to our new apartment. As soon as Jaiswal entered our apartment, he huffed, "Bastard... Lift." I grinned. After that Priyanka arrived. "My God, you've lost 10 pounds on your way up!" I exclaimed. Then she pinched me exactly on my wife's favorite spot! Is my wife revealing family secrets now, I wondered.

The guys were here to catch the Arsenal-Liverpool match on TV later in the evening. Priyanka and Sagarika were here because they wanted to watch a movie I'd just downloaded. Who knew "Love Story" would be a chick flick? And last but not the least, my wife's brother and his girlfriend were here to drink up all my beer from the fridge, I think.

Having guests today really sucks. First of all, the elevator is still out of service and my young cousin sprained his ankle while playing basketball last week, so that means I have to do all the running up-and-down errands for my guests. And asking my brother-in-law to do all that is hopeless, especially now that he's already locked himself up with his girlfriend inside my cousin's room.

I hate running up and down 10 flats. Not only is it tiring, today is a terribly hot and humid day. And I am also extremely forgetful.

I work for Symancos, dealing with medical transcripts. The beauty of this job is that I can work right from home through the internet, except that right now, there is no internet connection yet in our new apartment. So I have to rely on the internet cafe on the ground floor to complete my work. And whenever I go there with my detachable hard-drive and office documents, dear wife always gives me a list of things to get from the shops below - groceries, toiletries, medicines, cosmetics, etc etc. And the problem is, I always end up forgetting a couple of things!

"Here are the potatoes, onions and cabbages", I'd say. "Where's the ginger?" she'd retort. And down I go again. "Here's the ginger!" I'd exclaim. "And the washing powder?" she'd tilt her head disappointedly, like a proud father watching his son finish last at a 100 metre race on his school's Sports-day.

Once, the three of us (Me, my wife and cousin) didn't brush our teeth for two days because I forgot to buy toothpaste two consecutive times. But hey, don't tell others about that!

The worst incident though, was when I had just finished completing my daily quota of medical transcriptions from the internet cafe and was on my way up, when I suddenly remembered I had to buy a few oranges and two watermelons. I bought those and felt pretty proud about myself for remembering them.

Nobody was home that day, so I walked up slowly, like a soldier returning home from war victoriously, picturing in my mind how I'd display those fruits on the kitchen table for everybody to see. It was only when I reached my apartment that I remembered I had left my keys at the counter of the fruit stall!

And since I could not leave the fruits lying outside my door, I ran down the flight of steps again, four steps at a time, fearing that somebody might take my keys, one hand carrying the oranges with a watermelon tucked between my elbows while the other hand clutched the other watermelon with my detachable hard-drive wrapped around my other arm. It was indeed a funny sight, the neighbourhood kids later said.

Today I told myself I was not going to screw up things any more. There was a 3pm video conference appointment on the net with my immediate superior from New York. Picking up the important documents and my detachable hard-drive, I went up to our guests sitting cozily in our entertainment room.

"If you guys want anything from downstairs, tell me right now and I will go get them. I have a meeting with my boss on the net which won't take long."

"Vim. We are out of dish cleaner. Get a half litre Vim," my wife ordered.

"Mutton sandwich for me," shouted Priyanka, not daring to make any eye contact with me. "And make that with extra cheese," she meekly added.

"Beer for me, boss," Jaiswal said. "Me too," joined Sonam.

"Rum, Old Monk," Subs cried. "Sorry dude," I replied while making sure my brother-in-law was still inside Mapuia's room, "No hard drinks when Paul is in the house, you know the ground rules here."

"Bugger... ok get me beer. But make sure it is strong. Either KF Strong or Haywards 5000."

"Can you please get me a new crepe bandage from the pharmacy? This one is starting to get pretty dirty..."

"Sure thing, Mapui. Anything else, anyone?" I asked.

"Yeah, get some chips and pepsi." Nick said.

"No!" screamed my wife from the Kitchen immediately. "Dinner will be served soon. I am cooking my favorite Mizo dish for you guys and I really want all of you to enjoy it. So, no junk food for anyone now."

Everyone then looked at Priyanka, who had just ordered a sandwich. She returned our jocular stare with the One-finger salute.

"What about those two love birds inside Mapuia's room?" I asked my wife.

"A pack of condoms," Nick whispered.

"I heard that!" screamed my wife again from the Kitchen. "Maybe I'll send those condoms to Anjana’s dad, Jaiswal."

"HEY! Nick said that, not ME!" complained Jaiswal immediately.

I could hear all their laughter as I closed the door behind me. Wish I could stay behind... stupid meeting with stupid boss.

It was truly a humid day. I was already sticky and slimey by the time I reached the fifth floor. Things became much better once I reached the Cyber cafe, with the cold AC air swallowing me up like a man happily drowning in an Oasis right in the middle of a desert.

I plugged in my hard-drive and immediately opened a text document where I typed in all the things I was supposed to get. After that I logged into my Company’s website and waited for my superordinate to come online. He was on time as usual, and 20 minutes later, my work was done.

I took a look at my list again. This time, I was not going to forget anything.

Mutton sandwich with extra cheese. Check.
Ten bottles of light premium beer. Check.
Four pints of strong beer. Check.
Crepe bandages. Check.
Chips and pepsi despite my wife's prohibition. Check.
And oh, I nearly forgot the dish cleaner for the wife. Check.

Boy it felt great! This was probably the first time I ever got everything at one go. Before ascending the 10-storey flight of steps, I checked my pocket again and shook it. It jingled. Ah, my keys were there too. Good good.

So I walked up slowly. The load that I was carrying was heavy, but if it meant seeing an impressed smile upon my wife's face, it was definitely worth it.

"Yo, I'm backkk!"

I gave everybody what they ordered. Even though my wife frowned at the chips and pepsi, when she realized that I had actually remembered everything, she gave me a quick kiss on the cheeks. Yup, it was worth it.

The football match started soon, so we had to eat dinner in front of the TV. I couldn't help making a dig at Subs, who was the only person in the room with children. "See, this is the beauty of not having any children. No need to set any kind of example to the kids, like not eating in front of the TV. See the freedom we have dude..."

"Hah. We'll see." Subs scorned back.

Arsenal won the match, and we all rejoiced as usual. Subs went an extra mile by breakdacing, and Nick suggested we vote him out of our Arsenal Fan Club so as to maintain our honour and dignity.

We watched another football match again after that, but spent most of our time pulling each others' legs. By 10pm, the gang decided it was time to go home. They thanked my wife for the lovely dinner, especially the cultural delicacies, and then left our apartment.

Just as they left, Mapuia who had gone to the loo earlier, stepped into the TV room and asked, "When did Paul and his girlfriend leave???"

"They're gone?" exclaimed my wife. Nobody knew. I could already picture my wife on the phone the next day, complaining to her parents about her brother's incorrigible lifestyle. I guess we all have little black sheeps to deal with in our respective families.

With everybody gone, Priyanka asked in a dramatic tone, "NOW can we watch Love story?"

"Are you sure you really wanna watch it?" I protested. "Comon, let's watch something else, like Die Hard or ... The Ring."

"Love Story!" Priyanka and Sagarika retorted in great unison. I wondered if they had practiced that line before coming over to our place.

The missus then spoke, "Just put on the movie. You guys made us all sit through a boring..."

I stared at my wife, putting on my best theatrical performance... "Gasp!"

"Fine fine. You made us sit through an exciting football match. It was so exciting that we nearly slept. Now it's our turn, Mister-I-remembered-everything-for-once."

"Alright alright. There's no need for sarcasm." I smiled back. "But you'll all have to watch it in our bedroom on the computer."

"That's fine by us," Sagarika said. Priyanka added, "Just tell me which side of the bed do you sleep so that I can sit there and..."

"Bleh bleh bleh," I stuck out my tongue at Pri.

"Move on to the computer then," I told them. "I'll have to copy the movie to the computer because it is still in my detachable hard-dri..."

Oh oh.

My hard-drive!

...

Oh crap...

Chp 172. The Dark side

A queasy look.
A whiff of cologne.
Scent of betrayal,
bedlam in my soul.

One glance says it all,
One breath,
utters more lies.
One smile, an imposter.

I have died,
two Winters ago.

Lies fueled by other lies,
they conquer.
Insanity,
eating me alive.

Love, annihilated.

Trapped in Incubus,
no escape.
Forever maimed.
Forever scarred.

Life,
a psychedelic Hell.

Darkness,
so strong, so virile!
sweetly beckoning,
with such mellifluous tone,
so... seductive
so... irresistible.

Chaos, my new serenity.
Turmoil, my concubine.
Malevolence, my prayer.
Compassion, my nemesis.

I crave, that grave.
That sweet dark melody,
of such magnificent gloom.
Ah.. release me.
Hades, fly me home.

A single sigh,
betrays all that we had.
A single moan,
strangles me from within.
Dying, yet again,
every minute, every second.

Falling,
from grace, me.
Squirming,
with ecstasy, you.

Treachery,
tastes so sweet. Like honey.
Vengeance, so bewitching.

Bitter sweet Poison, this vial.
No desire,
ever felt so strong.
Like the scarlet temptress,
it draws me nearer,
closer to an eternal Bliss
of agony, of pain.

But no Sins of mine, I'll atone,
for I hope, to see you again,
my Darling.

In Hell.

Chp 171. Limericks of Mizo Onliners

Limericks! Love them. Traditional rule of Limericks states that in a 5-line Stanza, line number 1, 2 and 5 should rhyme, and likewise line 3 and 4 should rhyme, hence following the format A-A-B-B-A.

Well, here is my humble attempt at composing a few limericks of some of the regular Mizo onliners that I know (mostly from misual.com, lawrkhawm.com and the unforgettable zoram.com and izawl.com days. *sigh*).

I found a lot of amazing people at all these websites, who became more than just online buddies to me. They became my best friends, my mentors, my siblings, and my soulmates, friends who made me smile and laugh and appreciate life. This is a tribute to all of you, in my own special way of light humor, and hoping to continue such a wonderful relationship for a long long time. Cheers.

-----------------------------------------------------------

There once was a guy called Jimmy,
whose face you'll find extremely funny.
He came to Aizawl looking for a bride,
but his true impulses he could not hide.
Now poor Ateii will soon be a mummy.

There once was a guy called Amos,
working in Bangalore like a horse.
Everytime he has a new girlfriend,
she dumps him over the weekend.
Ooops, there goes another he just lost.

There once was a girl called Cherrie,
always smiling and making merry.
She wore a spaghetti to class one day,
urging her students to have their say.
Too bad she didn't know, her armpits were hairy.

There once was a guy called Ben,
who really fancied a lot of women.
So he created misual.com,
hoping he will score at home.
3 years later he's still waiting for "it" to happen.

There once was a guy called Spikey,
break-dancing away in New Jersey.
He's really good at Bboying,
his back-flip spins are amazing.
Seems he's now going around with Britney.

There once was a guy called Aryan,
fighting with everyone, like the ancient Mayan.
Oh he praises Australia sooooo much,
criticizing every Mizo custom as such.
Now he's happily married, to an aussie called Ryan.

There once was a girl called Ammi,
a fashion designer with a slim tummy.
I always used go to her apartment just to chill,
b'coz there are many models there on the pill.
Now she no longer invites me to play rummy.

There once was a guy called Simjazz,
king of mizo IRC, loved by all the lass.
He was getting cosy with a sweet young girl,
in a cyber cafe and was just about to hurl,
but unfortunately due to his age, he passed gas.

There once was a guy called Alexxfender,
why the "double X" we always used to wonder.
And then Virgo told us the story,
about his short Hollywood history.
He once acted in a "movie" wearing only a suspender.

There once was a girl called Molotov,
a great photographer, she was no oaf.
Young men from afar came to her room,
hoping that she might select a groom.
But alas, when they saw her, away they drove.

There once was a guy called moimoi,
trust me, he's old, like a SantaClaus toy.
When we asked him his age,
he looked at us with full rage.
Then he took his walking cane and cried "Oi".

There once was a guy called Vana,
some might say his head's like a banana.
He works at Pachhunga College,
chasing girls who are half his age.
When we asked him why, he said b'coz he wanna.

There once was a guy called father_sphinx,
Young and a virgin, he approached a minx.
He may be the leader of the Sphinx Clan,
but whenever he speaks, all the girls ran.
So he cried, "Being only 16 is such a jinx."

There once was a girl called Shahnaz,
who went to Vienna to spend Christmas.
She usually gets her french wrong,
especially the words that are long.
She once asked what's a trois-à-ménage.

There once was a guy called The Chhamanator,
trying his best to look like the Terminator.
His girlfriend he tried to impress,
with shiny teeth and smart tress.
Too bad, she told him he looks like an alligator,

There once was a girl called Poison_ivy,
whose hair was all curled up and wavy.
One day she told her friend Jason,
that for him she has deep affection.
The next day, Jason went and joined the Navy.

There once was a girl called Jigry,
while she's at work, she's always hungry.
Working in AOL seems such a drab,
At the cafeteria, everything she grab.
When it comes to food, she got a Master's degree.

There once was a guy called Isaac,
who claims he's good in the sack.
You might know him as "Jupiter",
who loves to play his spanish guitar.
Too bad the guitar's a "part" of Jack.

There once was a girl called Cute_lady,
who detested anything that was shady.
She goes to Church regularly,
helping out all the Mizo elderly.
Until one day she got a proposal, from the priest's daddy.

There once was a guy called DaGGyLo,
partying like a dawg, flirting with the ho.
Believe me, he raps really well,
but only the GUYS find him swell.
Because from behind, he looks like J Lo.

There once was a guy called Bekang^roll,
oh man, he looks exactly like a Troll.
His drinks capacity you will doubt,
b'coz he always end up passing out.
That's his excuse, for putting it in the wrong hole.

There once was a girl called Jes,
A kind and loving mother no less.
She finally decided, "no more children",
because she can't handle all the burden.
Hence tonight, Rob's hand will be a mess.

There once was a guy called Rob,
an IAS he may be, but still a slob.
He said, "Don't steal other's girlfriend,"
"Because you will regret it in the end."
It's been 10 years, and Jes still screams out "Oh.. Bob".

There once was a guy called Zorun,
for many readers, he's a real boon.
He writes a levelheaded comment,
that is liked by everybody present.
But in his photos, damn he looks like a goon.

There once was a guy called Philo,
A great writer always on the go.
He has an immense vocabulary,
and sounds like a walking dictionary.
That's why he's still single, like The Simpson's Moe.

There once was a guy called Lal,
who is crazy about bekang and dal.
One night he was out with Miss Hmar,
who suddenly unbuttoned inside the car.
Within seconds, he crashed into a wall.

There once was a girl called superstar,
who lives at a locality very very far.
Whenever she says, "come over here"
we always ask if there will be beer.
Because you see, her fridge is a mini-bar.

There once was a guy called mnowluck,
when it comes to romance, he kinda suck.
He had an immense crush on superstar,
and sent her a heart made from tar.
Now everyone wonders, did he and she ....

There once was a guy called Sekibuhchhuak,
Its gonna be hard, to find what rhymes with "huak".
Anyway, he's from a place called Saikhamakawn,
where he tried to woo a girl just around dawn.
Too bad, when the girl saw him, she went "uaaakk".

There once was a girl called Virgochhas,
when it comes to love, she's really fast.
Everybody's scared to quarrel with her,
because when she talks, it's like thunder.
Now that she's married, some arguments she pass.

There once was a girl called Jinx,
working in China with all the Mings.
She had a crush on John for about a year,
so she showed him her nunchuks and spear.
Too bad John wasn't into those type of kinks.

There once was a girl called Jerusha,
who chanced to meet the Iranian Shah.
They dated each other in Hyderabad,
where she discovered something hard.
Now she's in Iran, working as a Geisha.

There once was a guy called Sandman,
Handsome and well-built like a He-Man.
All the women wants to marry him,
All the mothers want him as a son.
Ah, you really think I was going to make fun of myself? :-P

Cheers, and hope you like them. Peace out, everyone. Love you all.

Chp 170. Ouch, Jimmy bites the dust.

aka Chp 170. Jimmy Balls & Chain.

During my recent stay in Aizawl, I learnt that one of my closest friends Jimmy (aka "BlackWhite" in the online World) is going to tie the knot next month. And the future "Mrs. Lawrkhawm.com" turned out to be none other than my second-cousin!

Bummer. Hence when I met the "soon-to-be-happily-arguing" couple at "David's Kitchen" the other day, I couldn't quip most of the sleazy jokes that I had planned before, because somehow the fact that she's my cousin definitely took the fun (and comfort) out of such jokes.

wainch!

How long do you think they will smile like this? Ladbrokes placed the odds at 1:9

I still can't believe my "bradaaar" Jimmy is getting married. Even Jimmy himself can't believe he's getting married. To me, Jimmy has always been the Epitome of bachelorhood, the Champion of individualism, the swashbuckling Knight in shining armour who prefers spending the night at the local Tavern alone rather than saving Damsels in distress.

If he saw a ferocious fire-breathing Dragon chasing a fair maiden, he'd probably exclaim in his trademark expression, "Eh, screw it" and get back to his mug of Ale. Or take out his medieval mobile-phone and start calling up all his friends mumbling incoherently about how the Dragon reminds him of his mid-life crisis and how there is no longer any fire burning...

He's like those comical balding middle-aged characters you find in a typical American TV sitcom whose attempt at dating other women always goes down the drain because he's too accustomed to being single, or being himself.

It's true, most of the friends I have today are people I came across on the Net. That includes Jimmy too. But however, Jimmy claims that he never met her online, and she too claims she hardly comes online. So the mystery question is, how did these two meet? I know for a fact that Jimmy has four active profiles at shaadi.com and two other matrimonial websites, but my cousin Ateii isn't the type of person who'd do that, so the question remains.

I still remember Jimmy telling me on the phone a long time back that he's never going to get married because marriage is such a rocky road and he has to sacrifice so many things, but he won't remember telling me that, if you know what I mean. (He also told me that his all-time favorite movie is "Brokeback Mountain" but he won't remember telling me that either.)

It's as if Jimmy suddenly woke up one fine morning, stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, and then threw his blanket down and jumped out of bed while uttering, "Eh, screw it. I'm getting married."

And after that, he roamed the streets of Aizawl, still in his flowery pyjamas and white VIP inner banian, armed with a club and a sack, hunting for a wife. You gotta cut Jimmy some slack because he hasn't dated anyone in a looooong time and he still thinks that's the method people use to look for a wife. I didn't have the heart to tell him that people today use AK-47s and grenades. Man, he's so prehistoric.

Anyway, he chanced upon the unfortunate Ateii during his hunt and whacked her real hard on the head and threw her inside his sack and carried her home; After that incident, one cannot really blame Ateii for falling for Jimmy. I am not talking about the Stockholm syndrome. Its the head injury I am talking about; I've heard of instances when people think they are Napoleon Bonaparte or Elvis Presley after a knock on the head...

Moving on to that day at "David's Kitchen", Ateii and I mentally connected immediately. Its a cousin-cousin thingie. I looked at her, raised my eyebrows and asked her through telepathy, "Why oh why, why Jimmy of all the people? Which part of him do you find attractive?" and she replied using the same telepathic channel, "Have you ever seen the movie King Kong?"

So here is me, raising my glass to the betrothed couple. Their marriage is on the 14th of May, at Delhi. Jimmy doesn't want to get married in Mizoram because he doesn't know how to say "I do" in Mizo, or something like that. *BIG GRIN* I wish them all the best in their endeavor.

Right now Jimmy is in Chennai, looking for a house to rent so that they can move there after the marriage. I tried calling him many times, but most of the time he is busy washing the dishes, scrubbing the floor, rinsing the clothes, sweeping the ceiling etc etc, which Ateii claims is "practice". Just a thought though: If Jimmy is already like this BEFORE the marriage, then may God have mercy on him after the marriage. :-)

All in all, I just hope lawrkhawm.com doesn't become another zoram.com. We all know what happened to zoram.com after the Admin got married (to LDP) - The website became defunct. Hopefully, lawrkhawm.com won't go down that same path, and mercifully, maybe Ateii will allow Jimmy to come online everyday for at least 2 minutes. Keeping my fingers crossed here.

Hoping to make it to Delhi on the 14th. Might be a bit difficult, with so many other schedules and appointments to keep, but then, Eh, screw it.

Chp 169. Hurt is Love

Dedicated to all the broken-hearted, the sore break-ups, the single malt of coffee, the ineffective sleeping pills, the long harsh nights, the placebo substitutes, the numerous unanswered calls, the poetic whisky lullaby, and all the painful memories impossible to forget. Remember, you are not Alone.

---------------------------------------------

A moment of doubt,
A moment of truth,
Trouble in Paradise,
T’is but the end of a sweet Journey.

Two candles no longer burn,
Two seasons no longer merge,
Two souls no longer entwine,
One and one, on separate Paths.

Fire feels so cold,
Passion feels so numb,
Laughter feels so distant,
Love is hurt, Hurt is love.

Redemption of a charmless appeal,
Compunction of myriad time wasted,
Salvation of a spirit lost in oblivion,
Execution of a human soul, over and over again.

Starvation.
Hunger.
Pain.
All fused into One.

Affection.
Warmth.
Hope.
Forever lost in Eternity.

The road ahead, is murky and dark.
My strength is gone, my Will debilitated.
Yet a single falter, only means my own Knell.
Move on... move on... move on.

Time flies by so slowly, so dizzily,
Worsened even further, by images in my head.
Ugly images, distorted images,
Hurling me into a phantasmagorical reality.

Love is free, and yet it has a price.
The price of one’s sanity, grinded to bits.
The price of one’s optimism, mashed to pieces.
The price of one’s vivacity, blown to smithereens.

Now the nightingale sings so coarse,
The sunrise looks so gray,
The red rose smells so fetid,
The honey tastes so bland.

Forsaken by love, abandoned by trust,
Oh hands of fate, humour me.
Disclose to me, thy satirical deviltry,
So that I may endure, this eternal Purgatory.

In the end, love screweth us all.
Commitments and Promises, all uttered in vain.
The Oracle doth deceive,
The happily-forever doth delude.

Show me a couple, madly in Love,
And I’ll show you five, wallowing in misery.
Show me chaste, I’ll show you debauchery.
Show me trust, I’ll show you betrayal.

Thimna ni.
Chatuan lunglen.
Pialrâl chakawm.
Biahthu thamral.

Red turns to sepia, Sepia turns to brown,
Brown turns to gray, Gray turns to black.
T’is a tragicomedy, how Black turns to Red again,
But oh, such a different shade of Red!

The wheels of time, churn with cruelty.
Déjà vu of the Past, with the same old Pain.
It’s a wicked cycle, these affairs of the Heart.
It shows no mercy, nor compassion, nor remorse.

Love seems so obscure now, like a forgotten Myth,
Tucked away firmly, beneath the Fountain of youth,
Next to the Elixir of life, on that crystal-clear Brook,
Flowing without haste, at a surreal Kingdom yonder.

There amidst the valley so lush and green,
Guarded fiercely by dark-angels and dark-seraphs,
The nefarious Magi inflicts his Curse on Love,
And sends it out again, to ensnare innocent victims.

Love has hurt us all, in unspeakable ways,
Torturing our minds, in unimaginable manner,
Yet that is the greatest irony of Love,
For there can be no Love, if there is no Pain.

Move on, if you stumble and fall,
For the World is full of people like You.
And when the Saints do come out marching,
The Fallen shall inherit the Earth.

** This is especially for you, cousin. Dry your tears.

** Commenting is disabled for this post. Sorry.

Chp 168. Birthday High

I’ve just celebrated my birthday a couple of days ago. Man, I was high. Extremely high.

I don’t think I’ve ever spent any of my birthdays that high before. It felt kinda great, though a little bit tiring the next day from all that high effect. Seriously, it was such a different experience, being so high... at least 8000 metres above sea level high.

They say people should go the distance on their birthdays. I went for a distance of more than 2500 kms on my birthday. In the end, I clearly did not see what the big deal was about going such a distance. All I felt was tired.

Heh. So that was how I spent my birthday - On a direct flight from Aizawl to Mumbai. I reached Lengpui Airport so early that there were hardly any security personnel around. You gotta love being the most peaceful state in the North-east. There is so much more freedom and liberty as compared to the rest of North-east or even the rest of India for that matter.

I reached Kolkata Airport and there was the 12-hours bandh declared by the Trinamool Congress. Hence I couldn’t meet a couple of my friends in Kolkata. I reached Mumbai Airport and there was the 72-hours strike declared by the auto-wallas the next day. Blimey, these curfews and strikes seem to be following me everywhere.

I had to come to Mumbai again suddenly because my sister met with an accident last week - Her auto rammed into a bus and her head dented the bumper of the bus while smashing the headlights totally. Fortunately, the bus is not in such a bad shape; the mechanic said it will take a week to repair it.

My sister is not in a critical condition either. After staying with her in the hospital for a couple of days, she was discharged yesterday. She still cannot walk yet, but she can now open her eyes (which she couldn’t before due to the concussion and stitches on her forehead).

The day I reached Mumbai, I went straight to the hospital. My sister, deeply hurt and injured as she was, still managed to plan a birthday cake for me along with her friends and a couple of nurses. I find that really sweet of her but extremely unnecessary too. Anyway, it was an amazing chocolate fudge cake and I blew out the candles amidst my meek protests.

I must say a deep and meaningful thank-you to all my sister’s well-wishers and people who wished me a happy birthday here on my blog, my mail, and my orkut profile. Even though I’ve stopped appreciating my birthdays a long time ago (because nobody likes to grow older after 18) I guess deep inside we all still love being remembered by family and close friends.

I don’t know how long I will be in Mumbai, but I plan to make the best use of it. My main priority now is to take care of my sister – cater to her demands, exercise her legs, carry her to the loo, read her a novel, adjust her leg-pillow, and feed her. Oh, did I not mention that I am a great cook? Hehehe. Thanks to my short stay in Delhi, I now know how to make rice, dal, fry potatoes and boil smoked-pork. Now people who eat what I cook hardly complain of stomach-aches or diarrhoea anymore. And my sister, who still cannot walk, now has no other option but to put her trust in God and hope somebody did a good job in teaching me how to cook. Lolz.

It’s also good to be back in Mumbai where I can finally watch “AXN India” again instead of the “AXN Hong Kong” that we get in Mizoram, which is blacked-out half the time and which I’m probably sure is an illegal broadcast.

Watching TV in Mumbai also means skipping past gazillion number of regional channels, but I still feel that is better than skipping past local channels in Mizoram that are broadcasting yet another mushy Korean movie.

It’s not that I have anything against the Koreans. I just hate those romantic movies of theirs, that’s all. I love Korean action flicks. So I guess I love three Korean movies.

Apart from taking care of my sister, I plan to continue my workout whenever I can. One year in Delhi gave me a protruding pot-belly, and one month of intense basketball training in Mizoram took all that away. I am definitely not looking forward to going back to that Delhi physique.

Looking for a morning jogging partner here in Mumbai. If you happen to live near my place in Jogeshwari East (very slim chance) and happen to read this blog post of mine (extremely slim chance, tending to negative infinity), then please do let me know. I would love to jog with somebody in the morning.

So long for now.

- 9930961576 (My new Mumbai number).