Having read Roswitha's blog about the romaanz tag which was doing the round, i was hoping I had escaped the tag menace. But having been tagged by Kate, i shall actually go on to describe the 8 qualities of my perfect(yet imaginary) lover.

Eight qualities of the perfect louver(louvely dove as they would say in Kannada slang)..

1. Must be a nice girl. That seems so goddamn trite it isn't funny. but then must be able to deal with venting and insecurities which will be brought up constantly. Must also not take away the TV remote when the sports channel is on. Nice like that, no!!

2. She must be passionate about some kind of music. Any kind as long as it's not the stupid pop variety. Must also be able to recognise chamiya hindi numbers and must have seen Andaz Apna Apna atleast once!

3. Must be able to take jokes about her appearance. Anyway, commenting(funnily) on a woman's appearance is akin to playing tag with a piranha blindfolded! I should know, the memory remains!

4.  Must have an independent taste in books also. It's not like she has to be Chomsky like but an intelligent conversation from time to time never hurt anyone.

5. Must be able to get along with extended family of mine. they usually congregate in large numbers, sit in a line and start yelling(interrupting) as they put it. By contrast I'm soft spoken when it comes to my family. Fancy that!!

6. Must not have freaked blonde hair absolutely. Fully, natural blonde hair is perfectly fine but i feel not too many people can carry off the freaked blonde look.

7. She must get right to the point and not go around in circles. I'm as perceptive as a rock turtle. If something is bothering you, get to the point. If you say you're alright, I'll believe you. I won't be challenging that. Plus the words, 'we have to talk' can be utilised only once, at the most twice a year

8. Must be infernally good looking with a Michelle Pfeiffer like sweetness(oh how i wish this could come true). Plus, must not be the type who cares too much about her appearance, make up blah blah.

Rules of the tag:

1. The tagged victim has to come up with 8 different points of their perfect lover.
2. You need to mention the sex of the target.
3. Tag 8 victims to join this game and leave a comment on their comments saying they've been tagged.
4. If tagged the 2nd time, there's no need to post again.

Apart from 2-3 people who read this blog, i'm in a quandary as to whom to tag. So i tag Fatty, Dittie, Pratty, Dubs, Arjun(if he's reading this) and Krish!

It's about half past two in the morning. It is Republic Day today. But, I'm spending it at the office. Working. It's my first night out in office and there is some cheap thrill which arises from putting night out in the office even though you might bitch to everyone else about how hard you're working and all. so, please to be noting point.

 My colleagues and I have decided to take a break for half an hour and resume at two thirty after a well- deserved coffee break! So, i decided that i shall blog.

I've enrolled myself in a gymnasium to ostensibly lose weight. But the real highlight of the gym is to listen to lots of people's views on life and observe a lot of interesting things for myself.

Day 7:

Kausha is pedaling away slowly on a cycle hoping he can slowly shrink and slink away from this activity.

Fat young lady to Kausha: Are you done with the cycle?

Kausha: i'll be done in about 10 mins

Fat lady(immediately): Get off. I want to pedal!

Day 16

Kausha is sweating on a cross trainer with 7 minutes to go for the full round.

Man on treadmill to woman on cycle: Hi di, your arms are looking like very toned. You must be so fit na!

Girl: (mumbles incoherently)

Man: so, where do you want to go for New Years?

Me:WTF just happened here??

Day 21

Kausha is setting off rather purposefully to get card signed by cute lady instructor Alka.

Woman with maajorly freaked blonde hair to Naaji clone: So, it's so nice to see you here again,(jump cut to a quick caress of his muscles)

Naaji clone: Haan yaar, you're looking gorgeous btw.

Freako: Oh shut up ya. But i already knew that!

They both air kiss and go away.

Day 29

Kausha is trying to put up a semblance of doing stomach crunches and squats. It is made bearable by the fact that they were actaully playing 'Communication Breakdown' in the gym!!

Stupid instructor decides to be cool and plays ze trance music. It starts off tooguduk, tooguduk,tooguduk and the instructor starts to commence his aerobic lesson

Kausha grits his teeth and goes away. His revenge will be reserved for another day.

What is the point of these anecdotes? It is to let you know that i'm very much ok. But it is also to reiterate that I live an eventful life and ensure that my time in the gym is eventful to say the least..

It's part of life that the gym is filled with extremely good looking older women but then even worse are the leery bastards. What else? Yeah, tehy actually played "Led Zeppelin' for an hour on one day. But afterward, the trance curse seems to have hit the instructors and they actually think that all the songs are different, when actually one song will not have the 'toing' sound at the end of it like a spring unlike the others. A huge difference you'd think wouldn't you?

But, this gym has miraculously allowed me to lose weight. But, if you want to join my gym; a word of advice. Run like the wind in the opposite direction. God help you only!

A friend recently said he was starting to churn out stuff for readers and all that. He was trying to write his blog posts for his audience as a couple of his posts were picked up by Indian Uncut and DesiPundit. He felt that his posts were becoming far less frequent and he wasn’t writing for the joy of it anymore. I felt that sometime too. But then one tries to be the best at everything one does. I even wanted greater blog hits and more comments above all else.

But that is all passé. I wanted to write about a few things, which bothered me, and writing about them will finally give me the release I’ve been seeking.

I wrote a few exams recently. I did fairly well in one of them. Well, enough to place me above a large number of people. But then I was passed over for a few people below me and that rankles still. Before my actual results came, I knew I had not made the next round. But, I faced the same criticism as before. Lack of focus and intensity. But as the results trickled in, it became obvious that I had done well and a little push at the top might have seen me through to the places I supposedly wanted to go. But as the days go by and I’m learning slowly. Each day, as clichéd as that may sound is an education in itself.

RK told me something really important. If you experience a major disappointment, just keep yourself as occupied as possible, which would definitely place you in a better position to handle things better from there.

A family friend recently told me to take it easy and keep track of the person I wanted to be and not the person you perceive you should be like. To be fair to my parents, they have never placed pressure on me. There was just this time in my life where I wasn’t in a position to handle pressure too well which led to me goofing things up. But, when you have so many peers and family members who have achieved so much, it’s the small seemingly innocuous statements, which set things off. My brother had to endure a really snide remark about the fact that his parents went to IIM and he was just in Symbiosis. These are the kind of remarks, which slowly build up and develop into something big. He was furious and remarks like these have set me off as well in the past. Intense anger followed by depression and oodles of self-doubt.

I know I’m still chasing shadows. Shades of self- doubt envelop me, numbing me into darkness. But I know, one day that I shall show you all. As much as I say, I’m trying not to prove a point. I’d be lying. I’m telling you now, that at some level I want to look people in the eye and say I’ve achieved certain things. But that approval is something you seek from society and so do I shamelessly.

The caste system was an interesting thing that you usually went and did what your father did. Would that have simplified a lot of options for me I wonder? Coincidentally, my dad and me are Economics graduates. My mother is a Maths graduate and my brother is an aspiring lawyer. Coming from very supportive families whose dreams were not to see Dubba and me do Comp. Sci at IIT Madras, I am extremely grateful and thankful.

The last few weeks I’ve experienced various highs and lows. But also, a small thank you again to my friends who were sweet enough to call, plus really concerned about me and stay in touch during the period. As much as the space was good, I’m much happier that you decided to stay in touch and show that you cared. Also, to some friendships which look extremely promising!

31^st December 2005

Venue: Kausha's

The Usual Suspects: Granny, Prat, Bovine Boy, Dubs, Dit, The BFG, Smutty & Yours truly-Chandu

In a tradition passed down from the dawn of civilization, men have gathered in a sacred rite to mark the beginnings of each year. Sharing a bond born of blood, fire and secrets, this rite has always served as man's anchor in this maelstrom of a world. RRRRiigghhtt! The New Year is just another excuse for underage guys to get legally shitfaced! And New Years, 2006 was no different.

But the question that cripples me is how does one begin to describe the embarrassing events that surround the advent of a new year? Is there really a dignified way to air dirty laundry (yours or anyone else's) in public? And in the 3 minutes between being struck by the epiphany of writing about our new years, and trying to think of anything worthwhile to say on the topic, I have not yet found a way to make our attempts to usher in the new year sound any more interesting or any less stupid. So let this epic tale of ordinary men driven to excesses (inter-spaced liberally with sizzling gypsies), be judged on its own merit….

As with any gathering, our tale begins with the entry of a character. Literally. Granny (yes, that's what we call him) arrived in Bangalore on the morning of the 31^st, amid the smoky aftermath of the terrorist attacks. A few of our ragtag, sleep-deprived ensemble were waiting at the station, huddled together (only to share body warmth! I swear!), with dripping noses, sore throats and various other maladies. We were to be (paraphrased from the shrill, haunting words of Gran) the pitiful shield between Gran and the nefarious terrorists (as much as one dirty midget, one sniffling, slightly unco-ordinated, pajama-clad giant, and one quiet lad sworn to non-violence can be!).Once Gran's various pieces of luggage were collected, we proceeded to rejoin the rest of our troupe at Chateau Sridhar (sounds smoother than 'Kaushik's house'), with a small stop to drop off some homemade cake (hence the name "Granny") on the way. This little diversion (only 20 km in the diametrically opposite direction to our intended destination) was deemed "more efficient" by Gran (meaning that it would save him from having to find the place by himself in an auto).

Breaking from tradition, the Committee of the Enlightened (basically, the most vociferous of us) elected to stick with an itinerary of "in-house activity", to avoid the potentially embarrassing consequences of being accidentally blown up by the few well-meaning "freedom fighters" wandering round the city (may be for a new years party of their own!). So the day was spent pursuing various humanitarian endeavours around the mansion. Certain people like Bovine Boy (another of our illustrious crowd), who dreams of moonlighting as a superhero, and believes the only requirement is to don a dashing "super-outfit" made of a strategically-positioned scrap of diaphanous material (basically, a see-through 'thorthe') even developed intimate, near-erotic relations with certain pieces of audiovisual equipment (a disturbing situation that we all tried very hard to ignore). We dined in style on mouth-watering platters of traditional South Indian delicacies at prescribed intervals, interspaced with brief periods of group and individual "transcendental meditation"(read "sleep"). The more intellectual of the group (intelligence being defined as the ability to recognize and sometimes spell one's own name) also spent the afternoon hours reviewing and discussing a film of great social and political import, made by a little known, critically acclaimed, foreign film director, Q. Tarrentino (I can't really remember much. I was deep in "meditation". Apparently, I was classified 'retarded').

A whole day of confinement drove Prat  (no, it's not just a clever name. He really is one), who was used to spending his days on numerous "walks", restless. Not with motives involving being closer to nature as I first believed, but rather, for the purpose of regular self-medication. This medication consisted of extensive herbal treatments, mostly based on the inhalation of noxious vapours, apparently based on the ancient traditions of the Sioux tribe of American Indians (ask stupid questions…!). BFG (a.k.a. Kaushik), still clad in only his pajamas and with pitiful motor co-ordination, but noticeably less sniffling, set out to find the last of our gang. And I, who was by now, a somewhat less dirty "little person" (that's what we like being called now) was conscripted to go along (what else could u call being tucked under someone's armpit as they marched off?). I'm sorry to say that we found the last member of our octet already a quite inebriated. I can only assume that the extreme trauma of having to find a single house in the city one was birthed and reared in, drove Smutty (a sleazy-looking, skinny, bespectacled boy possessing a few strands of straggly-facial hair, who's behaviour seems to resemble that of a stereotypical dark alleyway purveyor-of-pornography or child molester) to "orient" himself at various intervals along the way to meet us.

The reunion of our band after so many months was sentimental (ok, I was the only one crying!). But soon the old and comforting patterns of abuse and liberal vitriolic exchanges resurfaced and I think, reassured each one of us of the many reasons why we had been forced together all those years ago by the other residents of our hostel. What followed that evening could only be described as a soul-searching journey comparable to any of those described in those self-help books, for each one of us.  

By 12 am, January, 2006, Bovine Boy had become a little difficult (read, "a mean f**king drunk!") and decided to "bond" with various members of Kaushik's family. He later took to having many, rather "one-sided, conversations with a commode"(the details of which would probably gross you out), assisted by the helpful inputs of our legal eagle, Dubs (whose skillful and witty needling of the pathetic, fat, drunk was exemplified by the immortal line, "Achtung, Fatty!). I must admit that this embarrassing "outpouring of emotion"(puking, interrupted by the passionate hugging of BFG along with tearful cries of, "Hold me, Kausha!") was probably the most significant event of the night. Prat also livened up the situation by taking it upon himself to suddenly breakout into an impromptu demonstration of some self-choreographed dance moves (which looked surprisingly similar to an epileptic fit) which unfortunately, was not very well appreciated by certain parties (alarmists!). But how did we usher in the first few minutes of the New Year? Testing various laws of physics under the inspirational leadership of Bovine Boy (basically, trying to keep a 90kg dumbass upright and from accidentally drowning himself in a toilet bowl!). Suffice to say that that particular idea did not go down well with the rest of the group (we would have killed him if there had been any way to get rid of a carcass of such gargantuan proportions!). So the decision was taken to "retire" our erstwhile leader (four reasonably strong men had to carry the comatose f****r down two flights of stairs! Science has proven that there is no shorter or easier way to give yourself a violent hernia!). Once the painful act was done, however, the rest of us decided to put it behind us and carry on in the true spirit of this ancient tradition (drink till dawn, or till you drop!). Soon, spirits were flowing freely again and morale was as high as it could be! A time of sharing confidences (about crushes, girlfriends blah blah blah) was interspaced with self-esteem-building exercises lead by BFG (repeated, slurred statements of "Yoorrrr da maannnn!" in an American Born Confused Deshi accent, to everyone). Finally around 4 A.M., with nothing but dregs left of the ceremonial wine (read "all the booze) the few of us not caught up in the throes of near-religious ecstasy (ones closest to sobriety) slowly led the others down to sleep . And thus ended the rite, and our contribution to the history of man.

Here endeth my tale of Men and Gods. Granted, there were no 'sizzling gypsies' but then this was always a simple, uncomplicated tale of drunks. And what would sizzling gypsies have to do in such a tale? I mean, really?!