Birthday Blues

Hey Birthday,

You better read this. O.K! Yeah! Yeah! I know you don’t like me. You ain’t the only one! Anyways you better read this. We both know ‘this’- I mean our relationship- was an accident, right? You’d have probably fled the calendar had you a hint of the nuisance I was to become. And, for the record, I didn’t intentionally bring this notoriety onto you. It was way beyond my control!

Now! Just so that you know, I don’t like you neither! For me, you are worse than, let’s say, a dry day! You’re like an unwelcome guest; you’re a sad reminder of another wasted year in my uneventful life. What’s worse is I know for certain that you’re sandwiched between two such!

You used to be fun man! You meant pocket money raise, graduation to senior team, new clothes and a bunch of other cool things. And, now you mean having to spend a day in a new stiff dhoti and having to wake up at hours I didn’t know existed - just so that my mother could pray for the impossible! Man! A mother’s hope sure has no bounds!

Now, I won’t further waste your precious time. This is the deal. Since our dislike is mutual, let’s make a pact. I’ll delete your name from all my records -wherever possible- and social networking sites sparing you the humiliation. In return you’d delay your arrival every year. So, do we have a deal? I certainly hope so and that we don’t meet for a long time,

Yours hatingly

The adventures of Snobby Doo

Snobby Doo goes to Kovai (A true account)

The rain was furiously pouring down on the city. I could hardly see anything in the deluge as the rikshaw took me to the bus depot. (I had an A/c two tier ticket to Coimbatore, but in an Air-conditioned railway coach I possibly couldn’t have had the life-altering experiences I write about in my blog.) The bus to Villupuram was jam-packed and smelled of sweat and damp clothes. (The bus was hardly filled to capacity. But I can’t tell anyone that!! That would take the whole piss out of the narrative, Wouldn’t it?). Wriggling through to the front I stamped on a foot, eliciting a loud protest from the aggrieved. He was a shabbily clothed man of about 35 and had long hair and dirty stubbles. And, my stamp had really enraged him . I smiled and apologized profusely. But my condescending efforts at an apology only made the fool angrier and shower more choice abuses on me. With difficulty I put my bags on the rack and turned to take a good look at the man. God! He was stout!! And in no mood to stop!! Sensing the possibility of some harm from his stocky arms I quietly moved further to the front while that asshole contiued cursing me. (I apologized to that ruffian and yet?!!!!..... Can’t the fool see that I am a gentle man!... A noble and pious soul!!.......At least you know that, right? Or I will tell you through my blog again!!..........I will tell you how I had no grudge towards him and how I could see the goodness in that ruffian who was way inferior to me!!................... By the way please do read my blog……It’s wonderful!!)

After a tiresome and humiliating bus ride I reached Villupuram. Now I had to take a bus to Salem from where I might be able to catch one for Combatore. The bus to salem was even more crowded. (The godforsaken vehicle had 9 passengers, to be honest! But don't tell anybody that. You know this is a secret between us, right?) I stood about the middle of the bus. There was an elderly couple sitting in the seat to my left - very benevolent-looking, the kind of people reminding us of our grandparents. They were sleeping, their heads rocking back and forth, lightly touching the front seat occasionally. The sight touched me and the self-confessed humanitarian that I am, I kept staring at the oldies with love and compassion. Suddenly the bus took a sharp turn and the old man banged his head on the front seat and woke up, only to see me staring at them. Confused,he gave me a blank look. But he looked away quickly as I continued my unflinching noble stare. After that he kept glancing nervously at me at intervals. It seemed he couldn’t continue his sleep and my stare was creeping him out. (Honestly, who cares about the bugger’s sleep man? I am getting a premise for an experience where I am generous on a couple of oldies!!)

The bus reached Salem around midnight and it was time to part with the subjects of my compassion. Reluctantly, I got down at the bus stand. I was really tired and looked around in despair for a ‘Espresso'. (Yeah dimwits! I knew I couldn’t get one at that witching hour!! But how else am I supposed to educate you fools about my wonderful tastes and lifestyle?!) After taking some refreshments I boarded the bus to Coimbatore. It fortunately had some empty seats and I could finally rest my tired legs. (Hey, it’s our little secret! Remember?) A while after the bus left Salem the conductor of the bus came and sat beside me. He was a tall man of about 50. I bet he could tell that I was a college student for he soon started asking me about college admissions . He was looking for one for his daughter. I wasted little time before enthusiastically embarking on a rap revealing my vast knowlege of the education system. He was all ears for me at first. But sadly, after listening for a while he seemed to sense the condescension in my voice and walked away abruptly as if to give tickets to someone. It was three o' clock and half the bus was asleep already. I still had three boring hours of travel till I reached Coimbatore, which was always going to be difficult given my ipod had no charge left. But luckily, the bus eventually rocked me to sleep.

When I reached Coimbatore it was 7 in the morning. There was a light drizzle. I got down and started walking towards my hostel with the determination to adapt the wretched night's journey into a life-altering experience for my readers.

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Soliloquy of a confused soul

Read Snobby’s blog. What the fuck was that? Ass-numbingly boring and cooked-up!!........... Whatever!!.... I am gonna write some nice comments. I know how harsh honest observations can be! Vicky and Christina always used to taunt me for pathetic attempts like this when I was at Berkeley. How I feared that Woody Allen comedy was about my embarrassments?!! .....................................But, nothing can be worse than this pretentious shit from snobby, can it? Alas, have to write nice comments for even this damned piece!!! Being the patron of high thought and connoisseur of fine arts at this godforsaken place sure ain't easy! Can't afford to offend the handful of fools singing my praise. Ah, so much for all the adulation!!