Uno

I have been hoping to write about anniversaries for quite a few years now. I have penned a few entries into my private journals of equally private life, adding insignias along the way, yet feeling insignificantly miniscule to harp on about the agonies and ecstasies at every milestone. The corporate world ensures that the major milestones are somehow forgotten as just another grain of sand in the winds of time, drifting towards the infinite. Though the dust-filled air smothers you and mainly bottled water in the west of Asia pampers you to opine about one, you struggle through its heat to lay one out. But to look back at it now, a year into this highly mercurial zone of test and temperaments, of wills and wishes, of acts and astonishments, of institutions and intuitions it seems that weaving a tapestry of hope, trying to raise a castle of wisdom and seeing it teeter at the brink of complete annihilation isn’t as big a deal anymore.

Walking into this world is a struggle courtesy the recreation of anxieties and then unexpectedly watching it fade away over a period of a few months. It’s the Andalusia winds, the zephyr that cools you down and then suddenly the Spanish matador appears with the bull humping you hard at the back.

And then there are these conflicts and struggles within. And though you apparently gain experience with every passing day, your inner child tells you otherwise just like you confide into him on your birthday, telling him how the word age is meaningless for him.

The fineries dress you up and resplendent on one fine morning but sometimes the day end up dressing you up in mourning. The hours go for a spin, and the best jiggers couldn’t take it down to the dawn. The shawty isn’t around half as much as you would expect and the micro-soft skills go up by leaps, bounds and distance. The emaciated bodies on occasions needs to be fed with the unreachable (read illegal). And there are these apostates around you trying to ring into your head, with compelling barbs of twisted notions and veiled transcripts of regular reality bytes, what you would eventually learn the harder way. As Gandhi told the Brits how the chaos that the brits thought the Indians would be in would be our chaos, one would choose to have his own chaos rather than the subvert assumption of it. Under all these benedictions, the excitement persists, the ride is topsy-turvy and every passing moment is a challenge, though in it’s own way. Call it Avoidance or Acceptance. Bypass or Pass by. Prelude or Elude. Strategize or Fraternize. The lobbyists would frame it their way. The extremists would have the rage infused into the system.

The contrarians would keep the world and it’s grandmother on the brink of lameness.

The simple truth is: There sure is one way of doing it. Call it up! Only if it was not the bourgeois upbringing and the definition of middle-class version of success, how well do I see through many of the rising asteroids traipsing out on their pre-defined terms of life and things like it, in the real sense of it.

P.S: To the Best Dad of all times, Happy Father's Day Dad!!

Of New Beginnings-II

33.3 % of the Gregorian New Year completed and the passage of another “Bangla” year, this blog post had to pop up on the blog-booth of world of war-crap.

Treading my way steadily through the fall-street of this financial Cry-Big-Sis of all crises, I wanted not to be ensnared by the forces. The force beneath the wings of the meta-humans trying to snipe the life out of denizens of corp-world. And, we have been pushing it along fairly well, willy-nilly.

So taking through some milestones, on moralist lines or otherwise, of this year so far, shall be the agenda of this piece.

Raw-King into the New Year, with a completely new ring, a glimmer of hope, innate optimism and profound understanding of the dynamism that outlines the novelty of life that smacked of romanticism, dictated the first spectrum. The manning up of ideals, associations of the same ideals to the infinite, the revered expectations and learning of the past was to define the newly built lines and framework. But doesn’t it sound dystopian and minimalist to a huge extent?

Hence, the urge under the hallucinogenic affect of sex, drugs & rock n roll lifestyle, not necessarily all of it, led through the initial few stints. This was under the constant drill of a long-gone fuming Dutch Master, hanging on between the Petronas Towers now and a coeval issuance of homeland goof-ups. All this was interspersed with a couple of concerts and a total anarchic, yet pitiful, attempt at the desert wildlife. Whoever said man is a social animal would do well to find wildlife here in the desert for me and waning-into-doomsday roomie. Also went through the nadirs and acmes, which defined the conversation about venturing into International Affairs, the Musicana and of course, the sporting world.

Surviving through the frenzy came up milestones.

The whacky “Joyeux Anniversaire” had all the ingredients of being the highpoint of not just the stint here, but blurring the line between infraction and felony. Well, let’s just say the mid day was unusually unholy on a Friday and together with the night, it smacked of complete mockery of the warped perspective people have about this land. The dawn came up with its own perils, and a set of 22 or more jokes for life. Whoever said life’s dull?

This was followed by a trip to the “Whore of Arabia”, though I would rather call it “Mini-Pimp of Arabia”. The wheezy days, the visceral nights and the flashy pace of the jetsetters, was one experience that runs through the veins of anyone who remotely follows this Formula-1 for Grand (Prix) Adrenaline ride. The days were spent in the sweltering heat and the nights were spent swaying away to the music, cupping your ears towards the band and their renditions, and to the left, Absolut.. To the right, Heineken.., and now kick, (Couldn’t) Czech it out, now walk it by yourself, From Russia with Love and Rise Up, the hip style to another day of race and razzmatazz. They call it The Cupid Shuffle. What an irony, eh?

The guys with the brain flew through the GP, but it had to be based on Brawn’s brawn & brain strategy to top them all. The last time I heard was they had whizzed past the Catalonians, breathing at the neck and whispering into the ears of every other champion that ever was. Honda’s loss, is Brawn’s gain? Nah, it’s just Brawn’s magic, the past with the legendary German Schumi and the present with the suave Brit and the veteran Brazilian.

My team, the one with a Kiwi founder and based in Woking, somewhere in the English heartland, has disappeared from the top rankings like the aforementioned bird and the imperialist exploits of the aforementioned country. Though I am still rooting for my man, am sure he’s going to get a podium place soon and that too the fairer way.

Oh! After the race, you are bound to question yourself, whoever questions our fast paced existence?

Back to the land, V-Villa seems to be out of order, with dispersed members and an in-sight dispersion of another member to the Dead Sea land. The La Baguettes are leaving, the heat is coming in, the sources are drying up, and the question mark stands along the inhabitants of the villa and the summers.

Till the time we figure it out, with a master strategist at our disposal, cheers to the months gone by and the ones that lie ahead.

Here’s the song, by His Highness The Led Zeppelin, that’s been ringing in my head while I was writing this blog piece: -

In the days of my youth
I was told what it was to be a man,
Now I’ve reached the age
I’ve tried to do all those things the best I can.

No matter how I try,
I find my way to do the same old jam.

Is it me, or them, I always find a coincidence? Well, I love them, that’s for sure.

The rest of the lines that follow are also true, quite very true actually. You may find it yourself and start interpreting, if you give an eff about this blog and beyond, whose possibility is as high as Bush winning a popularity contest in Iran.

On this note, Adios fellas!

P.S: Guess what “Whoever” said: Get some vocabulary you lame (p)hooking loser!

It's getting Christmas-y!

I can't believe I did one of those corny jitterbugs to this jingle( and many more). It was reminiscent of the old times, times together and times we shared. I had pretty much stopped living the Christmas spirit during the past years at B-School.Loved the concert. And to HR, wonderful party by a brilliant host.You rock, lady!Looking forward to the one on Christmas eve. Martin Saxton!

Though there should be a dedicated post on Christmas some time soon, this one is for the group and their hollies and the ivies ;-) .

Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer
had a very shiny nose.
And if you ever saw him,
you would even say it glows.

All of the other reindeer
used to laugh and call him names.
They never let poor Rudolph
join in any reindeer games.

Then one foggy Christmas Eve
Santa came to say:
"Rudolph with your nose so bright,
won't you guide my sleigh tonight?"

Then all the reindeer loved him
as they shouted out with glee,
Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer,
you'll go down in history!

Let the West Side Story descend on to West Asia in it's true colors and spirit!

Snow-Covered Dreams

It's December. But is it my December? Is it indeed my time of the year? Is it all so clear?
Because I don't see a snow covered home.
But I do stop to feel the chilly winds blow.
And I do see myself alone.
Because I don't feel something was missed.
And I still don't know where the void comes from.
Because I see my snow-covered dreams.
Freeze up, yet yearning for life.
But I would give it all away just to have somewhere to go to.
Yet, not let someone come home to.
Do I see a hand? A cold December hand? Or is it the world pretending?
Or may be I am just being Holden. His constant wrath against the middle-class version of "love", twisted definitions of success & feeling of a misfit.For me though,abundance fuels cynicism, unlike inadequacy.
It's indeed the Anti-Hero in me. And how I love him, always!!

P.S: Some parts are from a fitting song, but a not-so-fave-band of mine. Tribute to Holden Caulfield is a regular on any of my blog in some form or the other. He is my magician. My Harry Potter.

Concert

This is regarding the "Ahmadi Music Group" Christmas Concert that is to be held on 5th December, British School Of Kuwait.

For tickets and further details, all you readers from Kuwait, can mail me @ mookharjee@gmail.com.

Alternatively you visit www.ahmadimusicgroup.com and contact the concerned authorities.
Hope you have a date with us on 5th December.

Cheers!

C-R-A-P

The C(omplete)-R(elentless)-A(sinine)-P(ricks) manifest in many forms. The forms might be living creatures.The forms might be people you might be associated with. Primarily the animate objects, if I could objectify them . If I could, I actually would, ofcourse of the lifeless types.
The one with questionable allegiance.With barefaced sheepish smiles. With besmirched shrewdness. The one who belong to the ill-spirited cabal, celebrated atop devil hills in North Carolina.The one with the condescending veteran tones of their oh-so-holy bitchiness. The ones who highly assume the imbecility of the other party and who themselves underestimate the predictablity of stupidity. The ones that try real hard to deprive you of propellers in their own ways depicting all the above characters.
So the Animate Object reminds me of the basic assumption that people are b@stard coated b@stards with a b@stard filling. And the taste is well, y-u-c-k-y-e-w-w.
Now this category belongs to the people who have been assumed as b@stards from the day you catch up with them, you see them grow and then you realize that the b@stard in them has acquired new dimensions over time and space and well, change of coordinates.
Change is an insidious creature. What if the creature that is changing is insidious in itself. B@stard filling coated with b@stards, eh?
So what could be the trait that separates these employees of B@stards & B@s-Turds Inc. from B@-Studs LLC.?
There could be many, for me though the all time favorite is being selfish. Yes, that is the simplest way I could put it. So I am not saying that I am an academic from the school of altruism with golden credits in Samaritan courses. But I certainly did not excel in the egoistical subjects that are offered in the B(itch)-School!
The issue lies in the fact that I had been forewarned of the consequences of walking alongside with pricks and landing into a pretty bad rut. And having been in a land devoid of humidity, dust and duds like these, it is quite difficult to change.
So what is the magical solution. Subject them to indifference. Care lesser than you want to. Find your own way out being the mean little b@stard you never have been.
May be a combination of all these. Amen!

W ; T!!

One of the things I love about Jason Steele is his idea of humor and the sense/sans of it. And it's not even one of those cheesy lines that sound so ph-oo-king dumb. It's a very well demonstrated construction of intelligent ideas and concoction of wacky characters in it.A bunch of unicorns, a leopluredon which actually is a Liopleurodon( an aquatic dinosaur), a fugu fish, the Banana King, the candy mountains,
the eventual temple of doom with marxist symbols. I mean that is perhaps one of the most random selection of unworldly objects from the galaxy and the older versions of it.And having selected that lot,it is easy to identify the lyrics for a song that competes with the story line for being disgustingly funny:

Charlie, you look quite down.
With your big fat eyes, and your big fat frown.
The world doesn’t have to be so grey!

Charlie, when you’re life’s a mess,
When you’re feeling blue, always in distress,
I know what can wash that sad away.
All you have to do is;

Put a banana in you’re ear!
(A banana in my ear?)
Put a ripe banana right into your favourite ear.
It’s true (says who?) So true.
Once it’s in your gloom will disappear.
The bad in the world is hard to hear,
When in your ear a banana cheers,
So go and put a banana in your ear!

Put a banana in your ear!
(I’d rather keep my ear clear.)
You will never be happy if you live your life in fear.
It’s true (says you.) so true,
When it’s in the skies are bright and clear.
Oh every day of every year,
The sun shines bright on this big blue sphere,
So go and put a banana in your ear!

So go put a banana in your ear!
Cheers