No Inhibitions!!!

For the past few days, I have been wondering about how we really live out our lives-in fear mostly. On the first day of pre-school, I was worried about leaving my mum’s hand. During my the first chance I got at public oration, I was scared about the 1000 or so pair of eyes ogling at me and the ears listening intently to what I had to say. When I grew up, the fear to succeed engulfed me; the fear of not living up to the expectations of others. Even with friends, I was always worried (read concerned) about their feelings towards me. And this is how, I turned 21. Yes, just like that. All the time gone! WOOOSH… Oh hold on, I am sure you’ve had your fears too, right? Show me one mai ka laal (son of a mother, an odd Indian expression) who has led on an intrepid life. And even when I have entered adulthood have fears disappeared-NO, they haven’t! They have just transformed from one into another.

As working people, you are constantly on the watch of what you say-as a small snide remark that you make (even at a party) might set the course of your career. If you see the larger picture, one is alarmed at the choice one makes even when joining the career track. Whether is it the large choice? Whether you will get what you had set on to achieve? Too many questions…

So I have decided to leave intrepidly, fiercely and more importantly uninhibitedly. The challenge is tough, but then for the next whole week I will post about how I fared in my life saying what is on my mind and doing what my instincts tell me to.

For instance, a senior at work had an emergency at home and when he returned back (happy), no one extended a polite greeting-“I hope all is well!” Did I want to? YES! Did I? No. Why? I wanted to fit in. But fit into what-a world of conundrum and abeyance where people are droids who are divested off emotions! I was chagrined at the mere thought-and this is what has compelled me to do this for a week. (The time for writing something out of my experiences has come) I will do what I feel (of course, in the realm of propriety) and I will urge you all to do so. Let’s all experiment. What could be the worst thing that could happen? People would be intimidated by your fearlessness. Who knows, you might inspire some people along the way.

So, here’s the deal. Say what you believe in and do what you have always wanted to do- you want to bunk college for nothing-DO IT; you want to tell your school bully how much you detest being bullied-DO IT;  you want to tell your colleague to stop taking credit for your work- DO IT; you want to tell your friend how much you have loved them-DO IT; you want to change your career and want to be a ‘ROCKSTAR’-DO IT;  you want to propose to a guy or a girl-DO IT; you want to tell your husband how you really feel about them-DO IT; you want to tell your wife how you really feel about her-DON’T DO IT (well, some things are inexplicable)

You will feel liberated. Trust me! And you owe it to yourself to do this much at least. I mean you will DIE one day (yes, no euphemism) and then you will look back on your life, and you know what you will have-regret. Remorse -of living cautiously; of not taking risks; of a calculated life; of a conventional role; of not LIVING!

So to avoid the travesty of ‘not living’-let this be a week of being bold, a week of NO INHIBITIONS! Life is too short.

Please share this with your friends on Facebook by clicking on FB icon below. And don’t forget to leave your comments on how you plan to be uninhibited or if you have done so in the past!

Single and NOT Ready to Mingle

This is strictly for those who have been single for a large part of their lives and/or are planning to be single i.e contriving a nasty break up and/or are surrounded by people who claim to be happy in a relationship making them want to be in one; more importantly it is for people who run-away from commitment and pee in their pants when they even hear the ‘M’ word-Marriage.

I lived a happy life with all my single-best friends who would be at my beck and call and i would be at theirs. Everything was hunky dory in my sugar sweet life, until a cupid, or actually a bunch of them, went out and bit some of  my perfectly sane friends and they fell in a dreadful 4-lettered word L.O.V.E. Every now and then i would get a call from one of my baboons telling me how crazy they were about their respective boyfriends or girlfriends. I always egged them on as any supportive friend would and showed them my not-so-cynical side. One of them deserves a mention (although i would not reveal his identity). The guy was madly and famously in love with a childhood sweetheart. He called her his best friend. I told him that please don’t tarnish the role of a best friend and ask her out. Little did i know that he would take me so seriously, that he mustered the courage to do so; poor shy-guy got a royal rejection! Lucky me, i had never been turned down in my life (which is probably owing to the fact that i never did ask anyone) but now i was feeling terrible for my friend and completely guilty as it was my encouragement that had led to this complete discouragement. I helped him move on telling him that he was better off without her (how much of it was true, i cannot reveal as i am a convincing liar when it comes to keeping my pals happy). But this was not it. On an abominable night, i don’t know what was going on in my devious mind, i said to my Neo Devdas the unthinkable—‘’dude, i think you never really loved her. I always felt you and Emily(name changed on request) belong together.’’ Emily was his new best friend. i slept peacefully that night knowing that i had consoled him well, at least that was a way that had least bloodshed and/or tears. Just like how your tiny bhatija/bhatiji/bhanja/bhanji takes to the new toy you got him or her in no time, my friend took to his. And viola-i was the cupid who had just sung a romantic ballad in the virtual world of Emily and her new boyfriend...

 Another story is of a different couple. They had, i am assuming, accomplished everything that a couple does (or does not) by maintaining that they were ‘’just friends’’. These are the types i detest the most. They will canoodle and cuddle in front of the entire world in broad daylight, claiming that this is what friends do. Oh to hell with such people. I have a million friends and if i do anything of this sort with any of my female friends, they would stick a slap on my cheek. But later, lighting struck this couple and they came out of the closet (punt intended)!

Then i am just reminded of a different couple-the geek-nerd special combo. These are the funny types. I mean they are not funny, but being around them is. They discuss equations over the phone and write lovey-dovey notes when they exchange their books and world maps et al. Conducting mock vivas is their ideal date and out ranking each other in the exams is simply orgasmic.

Then there is the master slave couple. No, no, i am not referring to any sexual act, but i am referring to the behaviour of this kind of a couple. The girl uses her boyfriend to fetch her anything and everything she needs ranging from water to nail paint remover. I am sure he must be swabbing the floors whenever her maid fails to show up.

So that leaves us to this conclusion that we all, who are alone, are lucky and should not take this for granted. If you are nauseated by the love around you, then call me...trust me i will give you a 100 more reasons to be single.

PS- Any resemblance to real life is purely co-incidental.

An Email to God

This is an article of mine published in my college magazine after I left college...Well, I edited (updated)it a bit. SO I took on the onus of writing am email to God to make him a little happy. I mean after all the anarchy around us, he too needs a little cheering up now, doesn't He? Read on to find out how to write an email to the actual Boss-GOD...comment on this post, as God, too, will be reading.

Dear God,

Hi! I hope it is not inappropriate to say ‘hi’ to the Omnipotent. But then if there are bollywood dances being performed at the Royal Wedding, in front of the Firm, the equivalent of you in the Kingdom of the west, then propriety needs to be redefined. You would wonder why an email? Well, with all the clamour of worldly noises surrounding you, it has been difficult reaching to you using the mundane methods- prayers, pujas, havans, etc. And I thought if man could progress from wired telephony, to cell-phony (and even to plain ‘phony’, You would agree), why could You not switch to more convenient media? You would be wondering why I am blabbering without any rhyme or reason, as You must be having a lot on Your agenda. Well, I have no favours to ask of You, and I don’t say this in a manner a certain angry young man from the movie-biz said. I am here to take care of You. I know, I know, You are the Caretaker, You don’t need one. But in troubled times like these, where a certain old man called Anna Hazare pulls off a Gandhi (almost a Gandhi); where chief minister after chief minister is declared to be a plunderer; where countries are still trying to see the light of freedom; where discrimination on the basis of caste, creed, sex is still rampant- you sure deserve a little entertainment. Do I promise a paisa vasool entertainer? Well, I am at least sure that you will get your money’s worth unlike the audiences of Ra.ONE.

So here is the plan. I have surveyed a few of my friends, foes, kith and kin, and asked them what they were happy about in the last year or two. With this I am trying to send you positive vibes that you  must be devoid of in this ‘Apple’ age, and yeah, I aint talking about the fruit of wisdom. So please keep up. Well, let me begin then. Something that you should know is that even in this sullen world, there are people who are partying hard. And with people, I mean my fellow TSECites. They partied, God, for various reasons- placements, last DJs in the festivals, farewell and mostly Goa. You can afford to live in a paradise, we cannot afford a 1BHK in the far off suburbs of even Navi Mumbai, but we can sure go on a trip to paradise. Off they all went, to goa, but on different dates and did a few devious things there, but I won’t mention them to you as they might upset you. But just watch Dum Maaro Dum for details. I can send you a pirated torrent link if your internet is fast enough!

Dancing, goa, partying and all must seem quite frivolous to you, I agree. But, God, when these just about to pass out BE s were and still are saying their parting words, you can see true friendship surface. It is amusing to see the college jocks, who would otherwise be stoic and never display any emotion, do an uninhibited Shabana Azmi and letting their expressive side out. The relief students had on their faces when their final journals were certified, was a moment I hope you did not miss out on. If you did, then go on to facebook and check out a few of IT students’ photos, theirs was a battle worth watching. The other refreshing change was that no one played papa kehte hai bada naam during these last few days. It has become extremely hackneyed, if you have it on your ipod, please remove it!

It was a proud moment for the country to bring home the World Cup. For that, we all owe you one! People were running down the streets and were making merry as if there was no tomorrow. Sachin Tendulkar is the new you, if you read the local dailies. Please, don’t be jealous of all the attention he is getting. He deserves it and you know it! Although I do have a petition to make- please give the poor journalists some sense so as to not abbreviate Dhoni’s name as MSD, sounds more like LSD! It is very denigrating and an unfortunate combination of alphabets to form someone’s initials.

Another thing that would please you was that this few weeks there was no or very little of Rakhi Sawant on television. I am not bad-mouthing Rakhi, but then it was becoming too much of her everywhere. She had become Omnipresent and considered herself Omnipotent, I am sure. Then again, Dolly Bhindra filled in her shoes, socks and what not, and kept us in splits with her antics. She has inspired many a scientist to find the missing link between apes and humans. But kudos to her, it was brave of her to come on national television without any make-up. It sent down chills down our spines. 

There were many more things that made me and people happy-Natural ice cream’s new flavours; the sale at Vero Moda; the Galaxy tab, I pad’s cheap cousin; the drops of rain water across my face when I first drove my bike in Mumbai; my father’s face when I wrote a story book for him; me and my best friend rejoicing on being part of the same company (2 of them); my neighbour when she realised she was cured of breast cancer; and the list is endless. I hope you did notice that happiness is found only if one sets out to find it. It is not God-gifted (pun intended). I regaled in these small, unassuming things and smiled everyday not worrying about the problems and tribulations that engulfed me. Because you know it, there were many! Isn’t that what it’s all about at the end of the day- the self-realization that no one but you yourself is the cause of happiness or sadness. So buck up old man, and go on a vacation (Goa). The world will rotate around its own axis without you. Forget about the corruption scams, recessions, global-warming and rejoice in your own name. You are God and you can do anything. If you are happy and mirthful up there, it will surely reverberate down on us!

Love to the kids and missus!

Rohit...(surname is too big L)

PS- Where did i get your email id? Let’s just say I have my sources! Don’t worry, I won’t publicise it!

:-P

 

To my Late Father- Steve Jobs

Yes, I consider Steve Jobs my father. “Why?”- You ask. Well, duhhhh, one-for he created me, meticulously and ingeniously, and two-for he held me dearer to him than his actual family. So, today, with my heart full of grief, I speak to you all about the man I loved the most. It is my eulogy to my Father-a hippie, a geek, an artist, an innovator, a techie, a visionary, actually a TECHNISIONARY! I am iPad 2, and this is my ode to that very man who redefined ‘I’nnovation.

First of all, I know my voice is sounding funny, actually very catty, but that is because I am talking through Talking Tom (TM)! This is will all sound very ridiculous in the voice of a Cat I know, but then what options do I have- to talk like a dog, hippo, or a funny little creature who’s species is not clear to me. Anyways, let me not digress. So, Steve, or iPaa as I and my siblings, iPhone and iPod address him, was a crazy person. Well, I wouldn’t lie- his craziness was sometimes good and sometimes bad. I mean hitting people and firing them for not being able to pull off a certain design after 48 straight, sleepless, working hours- is a little barbaric I know. But what people don’t know is-that with every such engineer hired by iPaa, the man himself spent sleepless nights in presenting to the world avant-garde products. He was like what Armani or Cavalli are to the Fashion Industry-a pure artist. So people, I know iPaa’s short temper is much talked about, so is his weird ways of handling things, but what is not talked about is his humane side-that he was a regular guy (although under irregular circumstances) made of bone and flesh. Why is it that accomplishments of people are always over-shadowed by one little vice that they might possess or display on an odd occasion, I would never understand.

iPaa has always proved to be a fighter- he battled cancer, his lull period in his career, his personal distress and emerged victorious-if not in all but at least in some. He was a dreamer-a big one. I remember him telling me how he had a vision of changing the way world listens to music before the inception of my brother, and how gratifying it felt that he had actually achieved it. I mean c’mon in the music world there were those big, bulky, records, then the cassettes and CDs, and then was the era of the iPod. He was always dissatisfied with his achievements; I think all great men are and that is what propels them to such great heights. Laptops everyone had-iPaa knew it. He wanted to make the slimmest and most beautiful laptop ever-a thing of beauty and was born my sister the MacBook Air. I am sure that was what Picasso had on mind when he was creating Les Demoiselles d'Avignon-something that was not drastically different, yet, something that was impactful. Picasso gave birth to Cubism, Steve gave birth to ‘I’ism.

The last few days, when he was fighting his last battle, his doctor advised to take him off electronics. But so adamant was iPaa, that he wanted me and he got it. This was the time I was closest to the Tech-Titan. I was there when I saw the man succumbing to his illness; losing the battle that he didn’t want to embark upon. He knew he was going to die long ago and he had given up-he wanted to leave with dignity. The last words he said,”Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow!”. Perhaps, another vision; or perhaps, the white light that engulfed his soul! The genius bid adieu in a mystical fashion that was expected of him. May he rest in peace! I am sure other souls in heaven would want to benefit-may be a few gadgets he would create for them! As for us mortals, I am not sure how much more of the Wisdom Fruit (APPLE) is left to be bitten!

The Death of a Princess (Part 2)

Mohammed Al-Fayed was anxious as it seemed he had knowledge about the imminent accident. Whereas, someone mysteriously called the Balmoral Estate of the Queen about Diana and how she won’t be of a problem! Read on as the mystery unfolds…(Please read the first one if you haven’t.)

2 months ago, Mohammed Al-Fayed was tipped of about an imminent possible attack on Dodi and her l’amour Princess Diana. Fayed ignored it as mere rumor. But then Paul, who was also the driver, came up to him with specific intelligence on the planned murder of the Princess. Since then, Mohammed appointed Paul on a suicide mission. Though Mohammed was not too fond of Diana, he had asked Paul to protect her and his son with utmost care. But he had failed in the mission. Dodi was dead…and so was Diana.

The Queen groggily got up to see the news in the Balmoral Mansion. Charles was already awake-he looked stoic, even it was the mother of his children who was battling for the last few moments. Charles was anyway waiting impatiently for time to pass so that he could marry Camilla Parker Bowles, the woman towards whom he had always had a soft corner. Diana had reported in an interview, “My husband is contriving to kill me!” He was worried that the world would suspect him, but at the same time he was sure that by being overtly-concerned and emotional about the whole “incident” of Diana dying, he can take the entire media glare in his stride; as the proud father grieving at the loss of his ex-wife-for the sake of his sons.

“Where are the kids, Charles? I don’t think they should know about their mother from the TV. You should tell them.”-said HRH, The Queen of England, Elizabeth II.

“Yes, that would be correct Mummy. It will be difficult for them to understand, but I will be there with them. I think I should get Diana’s body here. If we are not careful, the world will suspect us of murdering her!”

The Queen said through her gritted teeth, ”Why on earth will they think that? She was a Royal. She continues to be the mother of the future King of England and will continue to be the mother even in her death. You thinking so, disgusts me! Do what you have to!”

Charles went to the kids’ room to tell them about their mother. He intended to fly the first thing in the morning, but he was sure that the night would not be so kind to him.

Somewhere from the alley ways in Paris, an anonymous caller, dialed the same number, “No one will suspect you. I had drugged the driver. It was as natural as it could be. Just transfer the remnant of my payment to my Swiss account.”

“Yes, it all shall be done. And you don’t need to call here again. I have paid you a hefty price for the task.”

“Well, it was a cruel a task, after all. Wasn’t it, Your Majesty?”

The monarch hung up, and hushed a tear. Some things you have to do, even against your will, she thought.

No One Killed the Princess! (Part 1)

Lady Diana, “The People’s Princess”, was loved by one and all. She died in a fatal car crash. Or did she? Read on…

“More Champagne, Madame?” asked the Maitre’d himself. Of course, these were the 2 most important guests at Paris’s most expensive and exuberant hotel- the Ritz.

“Oui, Si’il vous plait!”-said Diana, in her graceful French. She always thought of herself being French- she adored them; their style, the haute-couture, their sophistication. And very much so, she was just like them.

“Cheers!”, said Dodi Fayed, the scion of the Ritz. It was a reason to celebrate after all. He had found love in the most delicately beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. And he was happy that she too was enamored by him-passionately in love with him.

In his eyes, Diana could see herself-at peace, calm and serene. This was quite a contrast to what she had become after the abysmal divorce and the consequent events that followed. From binge-eating, to bulimia, to severe manic-depression- she had seen it all. What had she done to deserve all this? A fairy-tale wedding with a Prince and a Princess had come crumbling down after a few months of blissful marriage. However, she had held her head up high-faced each day with unwavering courage and dignity.

But it was not about all that today. It was about a life that she was going to share with Dodi. With “Dodo”(she would lovingly call him) she had envisioned a future of peace and calm. But little did she know that lady luck, just like the Royalty, never favored her.

Somewhere, in Paris, Mohammed Al- Fayed, was frantically trying to reach out to his son and his beau. He had made a mistake, a grave one. He called the hotel and asked the Manager to hold Di and Dodi in until he arrived. He wanted to talk to his son before it was too late-the clock kept ticking at its usual pace, but to him it seemed as if it were moving at a lightning speed. He called his chauffeur to take him to the Ritz. Outside the window of his Limo, he saw a young man with his little kid in the hand, strolling on the pavement of Champs Elysees. In that he saw a vivid image of him and his son, a long time ago. A tear rolled down and window rolled up! He composed himself and was determined to rectify what was about to happen.

Somewhere inside the Balmoral castle, a phone rang.

“She won’t be a problem anymore!” said the caller.

In Paris, Diana and Dodi tried to escape the paparazzi mania by making a quick back door exit. The manager tried to stop Dodi, but he was in no mood to discuss anything with his father. The strain that he had been feeling from his family, especially, his father, was too much to handle at the moment. Moreover, he wanted Diana to have one evening of peace, at least, that much he owed to the Lady he loved.

Mohammed reached the hotel but missed the couple by a few seconds. Paul, whom he had trusted with a lot of things, was dying of cancer. He had given him a huge amount to protect his family after he was gone. Mohammed was a generous man, but he feared Paul’s loyalty today. He sat in his office, held his hand in his hands and waited, hoping for nothing to happen.

The rented Mercedes S280, registration number "688 LTV 75” was immediately occupied by the 2. Sitting inside was Trevor, head of security for the Fayed family and driving the car was Paul. Even though feeling a little light headed, Paul stepped on the gas. The car sped through the brightly lit streets of Paris. In an attempt to escape the paparazzi, Paul detoured and decided to go through the Place de l’Alma underpass.  Diana held Dodi’s hand and smiled elegantly. And then the world around her spiraled out of control! It was 31^st August, 1997-the night Diana died.

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Lost Innocence

“Mumma, I want to go the far off boarding school”, said the light-eyed, fair-skinned boy of 13. The mother wondered why a kid would make such an unconventional demand.

“Did anyone say anything to you, Naman?”-asked the woman, who had lost her husband a year ago. She was staying with her widowed mother-in-law and a younger brother-in-law, and strained every nerve and fiber so that her son got along with the other 2 in household and never missed his father.

“No, I just want to go! I am tired of staying in this gloomy house where you and daadi lament about my dead father,” said the boy scornfully.

All he got in reply was a slap. Naman did not speak with his mother for a whole week, until it was time to go. Her mother wept inconsolably, less for her son’s departure but more for his devious behavior. Naman had always been an obedient boy, rooted and well-behaved, who “loved his mother more than salt”, as he would say. What had gone wrong with her precious, little son?

“Uncle will drop you to your new school. I have packed all that you need. Be good! You won’t be treated like a prince there, you know! I am glad that your father is no more…” and she burst into a sob.

Naman wanted to hug her and tell her everything. He hated not being able to console her; he hated for being the cause of her sorrow. But for a boy of his age, he was so mature that no one could imagine. He withheld within him a secret so dark, that had it been out, it would have destroyed the lives of the mother-son duo. So, with eyes welled up with tears, he left.

He didn’t mutter a single world to his Uncle, neither did he look him into the eye.

“You will be back home for Diwali, you know? We will have a lot of fun together. I will buy you crackers, clothes and everything that you won’t little namoo!”- said the Uncle, as he left Naman with the Principal. The boy tried to smile back at him, but his smile didn’t meet his eyes. He left with the matron towards his room.

4 years passed by. He became quitter and quitter. Naman would go to his house as infrequently as possible. 67% was all he managed to score in his H.S.C. School was over and it was time to go back home where now lived his mother and his uncle. Grandma had succumbed to old age. Naman thought of being an electrician as that would enable him and his mother to live peacefully, and independently.

“The marriage is not something that I am entirely thrilled about. But your Uncle is a nice man. He has always taken care of us, stood by us! See, namoo, it’s for our good only. You will get a father that you didn’t have for so long.” Naman stormed out listening to his mother.

The next day’s newspaper had “Nephew killed Uncle, who was going to be step-father.” His mother cried till her eyes dried up. Since Naman was still a minor, and since they managed to prove in the court that the murder occurred in a state of mental insanity and was not preconceived, he was released after 2 years of house arrest.

For about 2 months his mother didn’t ask him, but then she gave up-“Why?”, she asked, her voice wavering, choked up with emotion.

“He did bad things to me since I was as little as I could remember. I wanted to tell you, I wanted to tell dad, but I was scared. It worsened after papa died. The wounds that I would tell you I got from playing outside, he inflicted them on me. He abused me, abused my soul. So I went to boarding school, away from the mother whom I loved so much.”

 “Last month when I came for Diwali, it was going to be a usual one- the one which was dark for me; the one where I refrained from looking into the mirror. But I mustered the courage and I beat him up. Told him to stay the f*** away from you and me, that I would work as an apprentice, and that we would live far away from him.”

Before he could finish, his mother hugged him dearly. She was so sorry for all that happened; for her son’s lost innocence! In between her sobs she managed to say to the apple of her eye, “I love you, more than salt, son!”

PS: Children are innocence personified. They play, goof around, and get all the attention. Please ensure that the attention these tiny bundles of are getting is pure and unalloyed! If otherwise, be ready to kick some ass! Molestation is equivalent to MURDER. Don’t kill innocence.