25

"I've used hammers made out of wood. I have played games with pieces and rules. I've undeciphered tricks at the bar, but now you're gone."

Halloween weekend has fallen upon New York with less fervor than I remember. A friend turned 25 today and I realized I wasn't far away. Scary thought to be honest. In a month and a half, I would've lived a quarter of a century.

Get serious. Pay attention. "Scary thought" is right. It is FUCKIN' frightening. Not that I'm growing older and its a small step toward the end... or "one day i'll die" - no. I'm not afraid of any of that bullshit. I'm talking about whats already past. Its done. Finished. You can't change that. I'll never be 11 again. I'll never be 21 again. EVER. (Religious zealots fuck off right now).

I will never do SO many things "for the first time" ever again. Don't tell me the obvious bullshit - "oh! but Morrie - there's so much to look forward to" - yea yea... I know. I'm not talking about the future. Its becoming clearer very quickly how important it is to justify having lived the way you lived. Not because its saddening, or depressing but because its fucking scary!

My checklist for 25:

1. Did I have an emotive and memory intensive childhood? Check.
2. Make terrific friends along the way? Check.
3. Drink and smoke at a reasonable age? Check.
4. Lost virginity at a reasonable age? Check. (though I think its growing back)
5. Have a job I'm happy with and proud of? Check.

Ok. Good... (sigh).

Back to work.

Ashes...

Memories are titled but disorganized.
In desperation I have tried to glide -
but my wings have withered and died
like those green leaves which have dried
from winter winds into pale brittle paper
I have indulged myself in much degeneration -
and decadence.
No more than a simple drop of blood as ink
can be used to write my tales of bliss.
And like a wretched mongrel -
scabbed, wounded and dirty
under today's black print
grounded, I await tomorrow's sorrowful morn
as distinct apparitions pass by
and puffs of stale tobacco smoke -
breach my nostrils and smother my existence.
Even dreams have become weary
and I've walked the path of ruin and stand
At the very hem of re-birth.
But only for a few fleeting moments . . .

- Aman

______________

*Come to send
Not condescend
Transcendental consequence
Is to transcend, where we are
Who are we?
Who we are

Trampled moss on your souls
Changes all, you're a part
Seen it all, not at all
Can't defend, fuck the man
Take me for a ride, before we leave

Circumstance
Clappin' hands
Guidin' winds
Happenstance
Off the track, in the mud
That's the moss in the aforementioned verse
Just a little time, before we leave

Stop light plays its part
So I would say you've got a heart
What's your part?
Who you are
You are who, who you are*

*cf: Pearl Jam - Who You Are

Interested to see if anyone follows the poem and the referenced song below it - thoughts?

The New Me...

PIC: The New Me


Almost two weeks into my new job and sparkling new title, its finally set in. Fear that is. Having realized that upto the moment of action, all the pre-cum glory and praise is worthless if I'm unable to perform. I'm the young blood in the team, I'm supposed to become the "go-to" guy. Yes - sounded amazing till I am in it... now. Expectations are high, learning curve is steep and I've just accomplished defining a challenge. Isn't that what it is in the end? - a challenge?

The work is interesting, I'm getting to do things I'd never imagined I'd be granted an opportunity to do - and its interesting (thank god!). But I can also already see that its temporary. I know that the end is the last thing I should look to when starting something new but darn it - it can't be good if I can already envision this being a 2-3 (maybe 4) year stint. But enough about the job.

I'm back in New York - and how phenomenally grand it is to be here again. As the winter is setting in and I'm having to pause constantly while typing to wipe my streaming nose, I can't help but think of this city and how it never ceases to amaze me. I'm back into things I hadn't been in for a while.

The Subway
I ride the train to work every morning and how I've missed it! There's the young Burberry woman riding from Lex to 5th on the E train. She never fails to catch herself in the windows when the train is not parked at a station off-loading and boarding. There's the young kid who will never learn to hold the bloody bar and is always jolted back 4 feet, stumbling into his angry mother's arms. The crackling P.A. system - who knows what the driver just said- he could've said Timbuktu for all we know. I'm on a train destined for... Queens? what the hell!? shit.. i got on the wrong train... and now the 30 minute exercise to get out of Queens (sigh).

(don't act like its never happened to you).

Walking
Thats right! I'm walking again, well - from home to the train station and then to work. It's best described as painful. Here's why: You walk briskly in New York, through the cold and descend finally into the subway station. New York subways are notorious for their hell-like sweltering warmth, deep beneath the surface. So when you're in your suit and your shirt inside is drenched with every last drop of water that was once in you, here comes your train - Air Conditioning! Yes! You're on the train and its cooler - slightly. It takes time for the relief to hit and then it comes again - your stop. You exit into another oven, curse upwards and walk on, up the stairs and back out into... you guessed it... the cold again. Your body just went round-trip from Antartica to the Equator and back again and all you ended up with is sweat patches and a cold the next morning. *sniffle*

Life
Its been a while since I blogged, mostly because of the several projects I've taken up. The new job of course, is numero uno, but there's also my recent visit to Strands where I purchased (for $32.00) a hardbound old edition of Les Miserables. And it sits now, accompanie d with a Dictionary waiting for my return every evening. Painful bloody project. Then there's the shopping I've had to do for the new work environment - which by the way is NOTHING like my past experience. Its not that I didn't expect it, I just noticed it... err... severely. I've never seen my boss get yelled at till my first week in this new job - nobody cares - wipe your tears you fucking pussy and put your head to the grind stone. Awh... you got married? Thats nice.. get to work! Awh... you got shot in the arm? Fuck you - type with the other one!

And amidst all this there is the need to build a new social circle. With Tiru moving to Rhode Island, and Sukhi being the only one left, I have to build something again. Its not easy when you're not a Freshman in college where everybody is out looking for a bud. Thats a funny statement because I spent a considerable amount of my freshman year "looking" for bud and a considerable amount of my senior year "selling" it... hahaha... ok ok - i digress.

There is also the unfortunate realizeation that this new job will keep me in New York longer than I wanted... but deep down I knew this was going to happen. I will be here for at least another 2 years. As my folks are seriously considering moving back to India next year - this means I might have to dilute my investment in the apartment and look for a place for myself...

I'm here in New York, moving up the monetary ladder getting the first few glimpses of the catch phrase "...in new york, there's always someone who makes more, fucks more and will live longer than you".

I just bought a Hugo Boss suit. I'm not trying to brag but I have to tell you, to be able to walk into the store... look around, try a Boss suit, like it and buy it without thinking three times was a great feeling. Its mine - I did that. I paid for it with my first check. I don't give a shit about "Boss" ...mostly because it doesn't give a shit about me - but I feel like I have accomplished something. (Ready? - here it comes).

Screw the suits, the watches, the money, the apartments... those aren't accomplishments. But I've accomplished something... (?)

And that inspires me. Look beyond the superficial statement above. It inspires me that I can feel like I have already accomplished something... because god! there is so much more to do and so much more to fucking life... and with the highest level of sincerety, I look forward to blissfully exploring what that "more" is... and its inspiring and its something to look forward to...

- cuz in the end I'm just a fuckin' kid who doesn't know shit.

(I can see my Father nodding in agreement from miles away).

PIC: The REAL Me...

New York, New York...

It was chilly last night and my face lit up like a little white boy descending the stairs on a white Christmas morning. For thats what it was, Christmas season approaches. I can't even believe that we're in the middle of September already.

The "Back to School" sales papers toward the end of August and Labor Day weekend - marked the end to a fairly decent summer. I like Autumn and yes, I prefer to call it 'Autumn' than 'Fall'. I like Spring too, but not as much as Autumn. Spring hints at Summer's sweltering approach. Give me cold. Give me goose-down comforters and the joy of Starbucks and a ciggarette. Give me a ski trip and the bruises to go with it.

And this is one of my primal joys of living in New York. I always have something to look forward to -seasons and all they have to offer. I love winter in the city. It makes me think of jazz. JC in particular. No no... not Jesus. John Coltrane (who is a god in his own right).

And I love walking down 5th Ave. - after its been dressed in its best winter sets. And my eyes tear a little with the cold, which only makes the city's glimmer more noticeable. I love the scarves I wear, and the long coats with leather gloves. Collars turned up, steam rising from my mouth and walking briskly trying not to burn myself with my cigarrette, while balancing a cup of coffee in the other hand. I love wearing my suit covered in an overcoat and descending the steps of Lincoln Center after watching... perhaps... Itzak Perlman wheel onto stage and move me. And I love going out at night, and watching the silly girls in short skirts- as the forst on their knees makes them turn a distinct Telly-Tubby blue.

And I love looking forward to Delhi, as my visits are generally in Winter. Last year, New Year's was in Goa, this year it shall be in New York, with a taste of Delhi hopefully visiting me. I imagine another phenomenal couple of days. Everything else in the middle just seems to fade away.. I'm not sure if its a fortunate or unfortunate occurrence that I look from New Year to New Year and everything in the middle seems to become irrelevant. What is so bloody important about that day? The 1st of January.

What am I ... what is everyone so happy about? Is suddenly everything going to be different? Its become a ficticious cleansing period - when the slate is wiped clean. Perhaps thats why the concept of 'New Year's Resolutions' exists. I'm not going to lie - I like it. I look forward to the drinking. The celebrations. Meeting friends of old and making new ones.

I look forward to it all.

And as this post practically is in its entirety -I don't mind being corny this once. Not at all.

Hope

I have been faced with an opportunity to take a risk over the last several days.

And here I stand, poised, with my first real decision. And when I look back at all my decisions in the past, I realize how well protected I have been from all potential negative consequences. I have always had family to rely on, great advice to lean on and a future to look forward to. And now I stand at a path forking into two.

One path bears the overwhelmingly standardized "you know where this road will take you" welcome sign at its doorstep, while the other says "Who knows? Could be awesome." The decision is mine to take, and the consequences mine to bear.

At 24 years of age, I can no longer rely on someone else's presumed benefit to myself. I have to know it. The best advice I've gotten so far said, "this is it Aman - this is where you realize that whatever whoever says is based on their interpretation of a situation and their presumed understanding of where it will take you, and thats not necessarily right for you."

True.

I knew that already, just needed to hear it from someone else. I'm not helpless - I just have to help myself. My mom's voice echoes in my head as I write that: "God only helps those who help themselves". God. Fate. Destiny. Blame yourself for all that went wrong and praise him for all that is right. Of course, and again, right or wrong - subjective isn't it? Of course it is.

If dreams were like clouds -forseeable, distant, seemingly predictable, tangible yet not graspable -then I am one of those who look forward to soaking themselves in the rain they'll hopefully bring after a long, tiresome drought.

And there it is... hope.

reserved...

Reservations in Inda.

As the cabinet passed the Quota bill, it moves now the Lok Sabha. It will provide 27% reservation seats for backward classes in state funded institutions like IIT and IIM. Apparently, its been a cake-walk for students from "affluent" backgrounds to get into these colleges.

Where is the forum for discussion on this matter? I can't understand this process. How are we truly democratic if decisions like this are just... 'made'.

Someone once defined a 'perfect' democracy as a nation where all the lobby groups have equal finances and push/pull with the governing body. I see the governing body. But where are the lobby groups? Is the only way to speak to the government through news agencies now? Filtered for ratings? Are they the people's voice of sorts? What really happens here? Medical Students - kids no older than 30 years of age being hosed down on the streets because they want to march up to the Supreme court? What is going on? Do we no longer have the right to protest? To voice our opinion? What is this surreal world I'm living in? -in which it seems even the perception of freedom is trampled upon. Are these protests not enough for the government to re-consider its proposed actions?

I am against the concept of Reservations. This is in line with my views on Affirmative Action in the U.S. as well. I admit, that 'casteism' has held back the "backward classes" and they have not had the opportunities to rise above the past (and present - depending on where you live). But this is backing into a solution rather than tackling it at the roots.

In past posts I have spoken of a cohesive India and this is far from that India. The only thing that has ever brought this country's citizens together is War. Patriotism, if you will. It is rather unfortunate I think.

Amongst us there is a dissention - Casteism, sexism, class-ism, religious sect-ism... and a trillion other 'isms'. Our hope... my hope... rested with the younger generations and their ability to, intelligently, decipher these politically-driven lines drawn in the past and rub them out with time. But then our government, for what seem more like political reasons than anything else, is now drawing a new line. Split down the middle amongst the younger generations - the youth that is meant to lead this nation and carry it into its new era. They're solving the problem by implementing the problem. Not following? How can you think you are creating 'equality' - by FURTHER categorizing and classifying society at YET another level? This rationale is not even arguably logical. It is simply illogical. Period.

Reservations and Affirmative action - a quick way to get the minority vote, as far as I'm concerned. Fact is, you cannot solve a problem by creating another problem -thats hardly a solution. Worried about education? - Good! You should be. We all should be. Stop spending $2 billion on a Bomber Plane and use it to build schools and MORE institutions like IIT and IIM. Use this money for salaries to attract esteemed Professors and provide the right facilities for everyone. Give grants for Research. YES! It WILL fucking take time. But it WILL work. This country did not achieve the headlines in newspapers and whispers in international corridors over night. It took bloody 60 odd years! Sure, a considerable amount of that time was well spent on getting out of Nehru syndrome (a.k.a progress). And this change too will take time.

I can't remember who, but someone in the recent past said something along the lines of - "India has achieved great success over the past few years. It has come to be recognized internationally for its intellectual prowess, strength and contributions all around the world. But it has done all this not with the help of the government -rather, in spite of it."

I couldn't agree more.

What goes around, comes around...

1, 2, 3 - 4

1... 2... 3... 4

What are the rammifications of every action? As a veteran sleuth on his way to find a way... his way.

Late last night, twisted amongst cream sheets and underneath a blank ceiling, I thought of the south side of the town and the wrong side of the tracks. My arms flew from my side. Crazy. Does this make me crazy? Probably.

I bought a bottle of water from the corner store and walked amidst the lights. I looked up and the window shades were drawn. I hesitate - I've done harm to her. Have I? Logic says no. I can't wash it off. Its not a feeling I can share. The backseat of a car in a dark alley - the clay, now moulded into something... distorted. Something unimagineably grotesque. In those ephemeral moments of a disillusioned, glorious conquest, I melted away. It should have been someone else's glory.

Careful, this is not a story of love. Perhaps blinding lust, but not love. I can ask for forgiveness but in truth I'm only really asking myself. To her it is ubiquitous indifference. And it probably shouldn't be. She succumbed to me once and she will succumb again - somewhere else, someone else. To THAT, I am indifferent as well.

Now, I can spend my time alone, redigesting past regrets. oh!

or

I can come to terms and realize I'm the only one - who cannot forgive myself - oh!

And its really the thought of "what goes around, comes around."

Fear grips my heart and squeezes the very life out of it. Fear of god? Fear of some moral standard I have. A good consceince, consistently defied by my actions perhaps. And I always find that mocking conscience knocking for ages after... I dare call it guilt.

I couldn't breathe.

A frown and another sleepless night.

TAG!

I have been tagged by swami. This post is against my will.

THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!

Anyway - read on for useless information.

_________________
I am thinking about... Sex. Thats pretty much standard.

I said... umm... nothing. I didn't say anything dammit! ... weirdo

I am... Colorblind. Coffee Black and Egg White. Pull me out from inside.

I want to... Smoke.

I wish... I was doing ANYTHING else right now.

I love... Words and Wisdom. Honesty and Loyalty. Bright eyes and music. Poetry and lakeside. Running and sleeping.

I cry... not really no. This is not a "I'm a big macho man"-type thing. I just... umm... don't cry anymore. Last time I cried was Dec. 2003/Jan. 2004 period. No - you don't get to hear about it.

I hear... umm... like normal people do (?) I don't understand the "I hear" sub-section of this already retarded questionairre-wanna-be thing.

I wonder... how many stupid "I ____" there will be!? grrrr...

I regret... spending money at Tiffany's. (sigh)... I shall never shop there again!

I confuse... my dog all the time.

I dance...to... errr... music (?)

I sing... constantly.

I am not always... an asshole. SOMETIMES.... i'm also a dick. (figure that one out).

I write... about what moves me. Well... usually. Until I get "tagged" and have to fill out a form obviously prepared by a 4 year old trapped in the body of struggling 14 yr. old girl - who can't make heads or tails of her emotive directives and reads Cosmo-fuckin'-politan for advice. Next thing you know she's bangin' the pool-cleaner's 12 yr. old mexican son, who recently contracted rabies from screwin' the neighbors pooch the night before. And as he hits up his dad's boss's daughter, while rockin' to some AC/DC, he gives her the ruddy disease. So frothing and bow-legged and obviously ticked off, her evil genious shines as she creates a stupid questionairre and begins tagging helpless bloggers who have the fear of god in them lest they pass this on to 3 people. Its not long before this tag gets to her dad. And who knows? maybe he's a valiant blogger himself and gets fired from work for taking 2 hours to fill out this bullshit thing. He comes home and has to fire the pool cleaner cuz he can't pay him anymore. The Pool cleaner, now short on cash, sells his son to a 50-year old man in the South of Florida -who makes tender love to him into the wee-early hours of the morning, while a miscontent 14-yr. old girl sleeps soundly in her bed.

I need... help.
_____________________

I am tagging (which is like inviting a "beat-down") - Arun, Ruchika... and Anahat.

Babylon

4:48 pm - Washington, D.C. I'm still trying to comprehend the weirdest goddam dreams of flying gangsters in Harlem to battling Lions in Bhopal... (yeah... I don't know).

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the world - Pesticides in coke and pepsi in India? (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/4776623.stm)

What are pesticides doing in bloody soft drinks? Why did the Parliament "recommend" purity standards in 2003? Since when does the Parliament uphold a report and "recommend" something that isn't immediately carried out. What... who? (sigh)... why bother. I'm done.

Lets look back -

Friday night - a fundraiser event for the Bombay blast victims. Met someone I'd rather not have. Looking back through time I know it's clear that I've been blind. I've been a fool to ever open up to all that jealousy, that bitterness, that ridicule.

Moving on . . .

Saturday night - I was crushed and levelled by a smile... to the point of absolute and irrepairable paralysis, which was closely followed by a very unfamiliar panic. Amidst this wave of (ahem) new emotions - I let all the opportunities slip past. I was 12 years old again. Experience, confidence, game... all went out the window. I was deserted by what I thought defined me, and stood helplessly as invitations on silver platters for golden opportunities flew at me. I even ignored Tiru's nudges and "dude... GO!... she's looking right at you man!" followed by "DUDE!... she just did it again! go talk to her man!". So much wasted, as this moment kept slipping away. I would rather wonder about what could've been, than regret fuckin' it up.

Sunday couldn't come any sooner. In preparation for the much awaited annual Penn State golf weekend, I headed to Randall's island to hit some balls, take some practice swings. It was one of the most gorgeous days New York has seen all year and as we drove up I noticed a crowd of people filing in for some sort of event in the Stadium next to the golf range. I watched them through the looking glass and moved on.

116 balls, my golf bag and I proceeded toward the range. I was swinging well, considering I haven't played all season. I had moved from my pitching wedge to my 9 iron, then to the 7 and was setting up for a couple of swings with my 5 when it hit me. Music?. "Oh! I guess there's some random concert going on on next door - damn! I really wanted to concentrate on my Golf.. goddamm music!"

...but wait.

What's this? - I recognize it - I know its sweet soothing sound!! Babylon II!? DAVID GRAY!? Performing right next to me!? Damn!

"Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now"

With a turn and a jig I was at my bag searching for the Big Dog.

Ball's on the T.

I set...

*SMACK!*

a slowly rising white ball travelling absolutely straight and covering vast distances all the while climbing toward a beautiful blue sky. 300 yards - could've been. Might as well have been.

I'm smiling.

smells like teen spirit...

I ran one of the best jogs of my life today... talk about memory lane. Try and follow me - I'm a bottle of port down

I started on 47th street (thats where I live) and jogged down to 23rd on 2nd Ave. I passed 30th Street and glanced at the Pizza Parlor where I was so used to fetching Sukhi's pizza on the way to Arun's place. Bastard never shared. Of course, never occurred to me to pick some up for myself. I looked at Arun's window and some dude was standing - looking out into the rain. Thats right I was running in the rain - and someone had moved into Arun's apartment. Ten minutes of pizza, tequila w/ice, jams, broken speakers (hah!), pianos, guitars, smoke (of sorts), autumn, winter, summer... flew by. I had already turned on 23rd and was crossing FDR when I snapped out of it. New horizons of old building were in view.

UNIS. My high-school. My first memories of New York painfully stick to that building and as I ran by it, a familar whiff drew the white out of my bones and displayed its sickness on my face. I almost hurled. I ran up the ramp to Waterside and ran by the old Deli where Nandan and I would buy these dirty yellow popcorn bags on the way home from school... they'd always make my hands yellow and sticky. I descended the steps down to what look like the boondocks and finally broke out toward the water. Ahhh!... my favorite few of New York. T'was short-lived as I approached the awkward boathouse where seemingly rich folk dined. A short sprint and I was on the boardwalk along the river running towards the Helicopter pad... my old building was in plain sight now. 401 E. 34th Street. Rivergate Apartments.

I stopped and kneeled down toward the sidewalk (pavement) - and searched for almost 15 minutes for an engraving I made almost 10 years ago when the concrete was still a mushy cement mix. Hahahaha! Its still there - immortality. Hammad was sour about that for a long time.

By the time I got home I was hungover from memories from the last 10 years. A shower, dinner and bottle of port later - Delhi was back in the forefront. Srijan had called from the plane - on his way to the motherland. He had stuck the phone to his iPod, which was playing "Yeh Jo Desh Hai Tera" from 'Swadesh' - its only fitting. As always we're only living - a day we'll soon forget. Thats not true.

What it all boils down to - is friends and family. A "place" itself is meaningless -without the people it makes you think of. You always land in Delhi's remarkable thick green smog, highlighted by the yellow lanterns along the way from IG Airport and into the city. Vasant Vihar. Memories fade to truths - nothing new here. Truths that I still hold on to, that still drive me while I'm here - in New York. Its not explainable.

How do you explain that I have 4 homes in Vasant Vihar itself? Joy's, Arjun's, Adi's and Srijan's. I don't need to call before. I barely need to knock. I just walk in.

I've just had a long conversation about Sex with Malay Uncle. He's on his fourth pack of cigarettes by the end of the conversation. Fidel. The back door to Joy's room and up to his roof where we're spending the night in a 'fort' we built -throwing nails at the road. We have harmonicas for some reason. We suck. We're in Bangalore... Aunty Meera has passed out after telling tales of Joy's friends... and how loyal they are... and I'm dropping Siddharth and his sparkling new wife to the car to send them off. Joy is (ahem) busy. Pattu is asleep on the dining room chair. He's tired after having ripped his vocal chords to "Alive". INSANIYAT!

We're driving in Delhi. We're always driving. I never drive. More truths - always having a seat in Joy, Arjun's, Adi and Srij's car. A silent code - Aman has shotgun and he'll fight you for it.

The sheeshah is on and music is blaring at Srijan's place. We're all there and stories are being re-told for the 400th time and still being laughed over. 'Didi' has brought my nimboo-pani. Can't beat her nimboo-pani. And of course, uncle is always calling - "Srijaaaan...." "yes babaaaaaa". They sound like bleating goats - but it's mustic to my ears. Aunty is worried about Srijan - so whats new Vineeta Aunty? You're little Sadhoo is doing just fine.

The bamboo sticks on Surdy's new Iron gate - built when he got Rambo. Late-night visits to his guesthouse became a rarity while that f-in beast prowled at night. Mickey is taking Vandon's case - as always. That kid is brilliant. We're making prank calls to Kabadi - poor kabadi. We're watching Football on Surdy's Aiwa TV and drinking Kingfisher straight out of the bottle. We're playing football in the park in front of his house. We're... ok ok... I'M... throwing stones at the neighbors Fiat and breaking its windshield. FUCK! RUN! We're running through the neighborhood ringing disgruntled Japanese residents' bells from the gate. We're coming home to our Mums who've already gotten the phone calls. We're in it now.

Anahat has transparent shorts on. (sigh). Lodi gardens and Child's play - enough said.

We're in London, UK - Patts, Joy, Surdy and I. We're crying... well pattu was too shell-shocked to cry. Thats right - we all cried. Don't say it. Shut the f*ck up.

We're in Goa. We just beat up a transvestite, fought pretend cops and watched a 35-yr. old woman breast-feed her baby at a rave. We just slept through New Years eve. wow.

We're in 4th class (we're like 9 yrs old). We've just fortified D-base with traps so no one can come in. I can't remember if I was Michaelangelo or Donatello. I drop a wooden log bigger than us on Joytan's head (he still thinks it was a mistake).

We're just driven to Sariska- Adi almost smashed the car into a tractor - but we're here now. Beautiful place. Shaggy's at my window screaming at Joy, Arjun and I - "YOU CAN'T FEED THE MONKEYS!!! THEY'LL DIEEEEEE!!!!" Arjun and I are about to slap her.

We're in a car driving at night in Delhi... we're drunk. Karan has just told a midget driver who we're getting into a fight with - "bhaisaab pleaaaseee!... NO!"... later on - his explanation was "dude... vo doh the" (There were two them).... The four of us just look at each other - no words.

I've met this girl online. 10 years later - she's still my rock.

I've just met this arrogant bastard going down a stairwell. He's recognized that I'm singing "Just Friends" - Musiq Soul Child. I love him. I meet 3 other people through him - and we just signed "chautha sikka" on a guitar. Fuzon has rocked it.

I'm in my room writing a blog about my fondest memories at 1:00 am.

I will die with these people in my heart. Hearts and thoughts they fade... fade away. I don't think so.

It never stops...

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/5194172.stm

In a fantastic turn of events, the Indian Government without providing ANY reason has banned certain blog sites (from this very blog provider) - Blogspot.com

Awesome. You can't even be angry anymore. Censorship has a mind of its own in India (or a lack thereof... 'mind' that is). So much for my argument about a Democratic nation where its the f-in people that decide what they want. I was with you on this. I was with you. Now you've lost me.

Protests and "wants" are immaterial. Similar to the ways a Tyranny operates, the Indian government without any public debate or consensus has ORDAINED this. Thats it. There's nothing you can do about it either.

Here, I'll drop my pants for you and bend over. Maybe if I offer the lube, you'll make it easier on me. What is it? Fear of propaganda? Fear of conversation? Discussion? What? WHAT!? ARGH!

I can't even think about it... its driving me insane... that this is what our government spends its time on.

No No... we don't have any other pressing issues. (AIDs, illiteracy, Terrorism, Kareena Kapoor's latest makeover...)

Thats what we all want Indian Tax Rs. to be spent on - "cyber nannies". Mother F-kers can't uphold simple laws in the country but cyber laws! YEAH!

Government of India, as represented by its Actions:

Don't worry about us... we will continue to allow the individuals who run us (i.e. politicians) to rape, steal and kill in their successful efforts to build their personal wealth. We will continue to allow them to get away with murder - literally.

Oh yeah yeah... don't worry about the 100 crores found under Politician X's mattress or his villa in Italy... (illiterate mother f-kers - do you even know what a "villa" is? ... H-a-v-e-l-i... yeah stick to that).

OH! Yea yeah... if you're 25 yrs old and the son of a rich, powerful man - you are automatically entitled to run over sleeping policemen in the middle of the night with your BMW (which is easily identifiable since there are only like 30 beamers in Delhi)... yea yea.. we PUT the policemen there for you... so you can enjoy the crunchy noise when you run over them in the middle of the night... yea yea... go home yaar... have another beer... what? - oh... you've already had 20 before you got behind the wheel of a car you probably know nothing about - thats cool... have another... no problem yaar... everyone will know you did it... but no one will arrest you yaar... but if we have to... we'll get you out in a matter of seconds - no problemmmm yaaarrrrr....

achha... we've also got a semi-famous heroine serving drinks in a bar in Bombay... feel free to shoot her infront of everyone... yeah yeah - its not a big deal yaar... we'll have a fake trial and let you go... after all your daddy is an illiterate politician who does nothing for his country - why won't we take care of you...?

wait wait... wait... what did you say? an obscure friend of yours who works his ass off to earn a few Rupees and generally acts within the boundaries of both State established and Morally recommended laws on a regular basis - who your daddy and his rich friends take advantage of - has a Blog site where he freely expresses his opinions?

BHEN KA LODA... BAN HIS B*TCH ASS!

Olives and Wine Anyone?

Some olives and wine.
I'm struggling to sleep, I need my dreams.
Ferocious, I claw my way forward to
more wine and olives.
Outside a graying man nudged
a red swing cautiously while
inside there were more olives and wine.
Blurry-eyed I envisioned with fear
an apparition with fiery eyes.
it stole from me. Everything.
I heard her scream
and the rotting corpses of spiders
in dark corners of my closet shook
in their curled up indifference.
Nobody came. Nobody saw.
But there was more wine and a few olives.
I slept on moist sheets soon after
and awoke later, somewhat soaked within.

playlist...

After much trial and error, I was able to create a playlist of songs to which I love falling asleep. I used to do this in college - fall asleep while listening to music that is - but had to use headphones so my room-mate wouldn't be grumpy. For those of you that have tried that - I'm sure you agree that sleeping with bloody headphones on your face is not the most comfortable experience.

Anyway, so I haven't had the roommate problem for a while - but only recently began doing this music-before-i-sleep business again. Haven't slept this well in a long time. Here's the current playlist in no particular order -

Indifference - Pearl Jam
No. 41 - Dave Matthews Band
White Ladder - David Gray
Cannonball - Damien Rice
Do you Remember? - Jack Johnson
Just Friends - Musiq Soul Child
Nothing Even Matters - Lauryn Hill ft. D'Angelo
Walk Away - Ben Harper
You've Got Me - The Roots ft. Erykah Badu
Present Tense - Pearl Jam
Crash Into Me - Dave Matthews Band
Older Chests - Damien Rice
Me and Those Dreamin' Eyes of Mine - D'Angelo
The World I Know - Collective Soul
Seasons - Chris Cornell
Use Me - Bill Withers

All of these are brilliant songs - so if you don't have em'... get em'.

g'nite...

The People

In an interesting discussion I had recently with an Uncle of mine, we spoke of the supposed atrocities of M.F. Hussein. As it turns out, Hindu gods and godesses have never been portrayed or expressed artistically in sexually comprising situations. As a theme, the illustrious act of human perpetuation has been displayed artistically for centuries in India -in art inspired and created by humans of Hindu and Muslim descent, but these have always been of Humans and never the gods. Interesting.

I mulled over this for a while. Perhaps my former post was prematurely ejac... (no wait... - lets not test the limits of intentional puns here.) Let me re-phrase. Perhaps, I jumped the gun with my former post (better?). The moral outrage here is the apparent de-sanctification of a religion. Most importantly, committed by a muslim against the Hindu religion. "How dare he?" cried the good Hindu boy and maybe rightly so. Weren't the Muslims equally upset over the portrayal of Mohammad by a Danish cartoonist - of course they were.

My argument in this discussion rested solely on the concept of "freedom of expression". In a secular, democratic state, it *should* be irrelevant that the artist is a muslim, and the art is about Hindu gods depicted in this fashion. You don't like the art? - don't buy it - I said. No one is forcing you to hang it in your foyer. You don't have to appreciate it. Ignore it. Accept it. Do whatever you want - but don't ban it. Logical thinking would prevail in this argument and I would've won. But this uncle made some very good points and I gracefully conceded and stopped arguing.

Herein lies the dilemma. India is a democratic, secular state. Correct. There is no such thing as a perfect democracy (defined by many as a State in which every lobby group is equally powerful and influential). Correct. A democratic rule is theoretically one inwhich the people are empowered. Correct. THUS, it is their wisdom or folly that rules. As a result, if there is a large enough contingency, then their voices MUST be heard AND heeded. I see. And I'm dumbfounded. There is no plausible solution to this. Many would argue that there is no problem here to find a solution to - and thats the point of a democracy. It all falls back on a lack of cohesiveness and understanding. It falls back on a subject matter I have already addressed in a past post - http://bahel.blogspot.com/2006/06/bod-contd.html

...no luck so far with a solution.

Protesting M.F. Hussein

It is my sincere request to all my viewers visit this blog and write comments asking the owner to do some research regarding Indian Art History. You may also point out that he/she is a spastic.

These people need to hear that they are morons.

http://vivekajyoti.blogspot.com/2006/03/protesting-auction-of-m-f-husains.html

Thank you.

Shaded...

As I stood at Gate 20, waiting to board my flight back to New York, I couldn't help but watch an older Indian couple in front of me. I tried my hardest to listen in on their conversation but the stupid flight crew kept making announcements making that impossible.

Nonetheless, the woman in front wore a green-ish sari, very typical and simple and was constantly smiling and making jokes in hindi to her husband. They must've been in their 40's, no doubt ending a short trip in D.C.

Amidst all these people, most of which were professionals, shuttling between New York and D.C. (as I do), here stood this very 'Indian' couple. Not only very Indian - but very Delhi. The lady wore her black shades on her head, almost like a hair band - ohhhh... so typical. This isn't something that’s easily explainable but here goes.

There is a noteworthy difference between wearing D&G Bumble-bee shades above your forehead thereby making some sort of fashion statement and wearing a plain pair of shades above your head as a convenience. This lady wore it as a convenience. The typical Aunty style - right on top, serving two essential purposes. (1) It kept her hair back so they wouldn't fall all over her face while she committed herself to the current task of boarding her flight. (2) It was blazing hot outside, so in a second's notice, she could bring them down to serve the purpose they were invented for. Brilliant. Delhi. Nostalgia.

She then pulled out an Ericsson phone, one of those bricks that serve 30 functions, only 2 of which will really ever be used. Ahhh... but wait... can't see the screen -out came the reading glasses from her bag.

Lady: "Anilllll.... what the bloody hell is this? Sameer has just sent a text but I can't see it"
Evidently Anil: "Uffff... why do you buy these complicated things if you're never going to learn to use it baba...."
Lady: "Arre... if you don't teach me then how will I learn baba..?"
Anil: "Read the manual... there's a reason the phone comes with one"
Lady: "But the manual's at home ya... and I don't have the patience so just tell me"
Anil: "I don't have patience for you... achha... do you have the boarding passes"
Lady: "Yes baba... no need to get so hysterical for no reason"
Anil: "Hysterical? ... I just asked you a question... ismae hysterical ki kya baat hai"
Lady: "Achha shuttup now... I have to read Sameer's message"
Anil: (sigh)... *shakes head*

Behind them stood a 24 year old man, thrown back to his Delhi days with a severe longing to be home. All it took was 5 minutes of watching this couple and I had an awkward affection for them - more as a sincere "thank you".

I got on the flight and flew home. I have three homes. The one dearest to my heart, Delhi, is the one I'm fartherest away from. The next is New York, which I'm mostly away from. And my least favorite is my hotel in D.C., which I'm constantly in. For the past year and a half I have lived Monday through Fridays in a hotel away from New York and much too far away from Delhi.

I hope Joy's able to make it out to New York in December, and Anya too. Ooh... and Maya too. Fuck it... if I can't be in Delhi, I'll bring some of it to me :-)

Alive

June 3rd, 2006
East Rutherford, New Jersey - Continental Airlines Arena
(Home of the NJ Nets and the NJ Devils)

Pearl Jam ended the first leg of its 2006 tour here in the "greater" New York area. Karan flew down from San Francisco for the concert. I had tickets (see earlier posts) through the "Tenclub". The only entity that I am a fan club member of - Pearl Jam.

It has taken me a while to write this blog. It seems I am unable to find the appropriate words to express what I went through for those 4 hours. I still haven't found them. There are no adjectives to define the euphoria ... of being in the presence of Pearl Jam performing live, 20 yards away. This is my definition, rather my version, of a musical utopia. A field of dreams... where your dreams are actually realized. They're beyond a "band" to me. They're beyond rockstars. They are the last, of a dying era.

Scores of people had pulled in from everywhere, most were tail-gaiting outside the arena. Playing Pearl Jam songs and throwing footballs around. Karan and I smelt the beef, chicken and pork on the grills and were hungry instantly. We got our tickets from the booth, got a T-shirt each... and waited around looking at the crowd. I had no clue what to expect inside. This being my first concert - ever. (I'm not including a performance by Itzahk Perlman that I attended in Lincoln Center).

Vedder, considered by many, including myself to epitomize the word "cool", spent the entire night, singing, playing the guitar, sweating, rocking, drinking his wine (straight from the bottle of course) and smoking his cigarettes. I have never seen Stone Gossard dance before (in any videos or pictures). He danced a lot. Mike McCready was on fire, jamming and running all over the stage - absolutely phenomenal performance. Matthew Cameron... wow... he had a tremendous night too. My camera sucks, for some reason I wasn't able to zoom in enough and it always made the stage and the band friggin' tiny. But I decided to pose two of the pictures anyway. Once I take the 5 minutes necessary to figure out how to put up a 165 MB video - I'll do that too.

Here's what I didn't expect. I didn't expect the turnout (crowd) - since PJ had performed 2 days ago in the same arena. Apparently that wasn't a full house (or so I've heard). The arena was absolutely packed. Of course we were on the floor so it looked like everyone was rocking, while that may not be the case (i'd imagine the people in the nose-bleed sections might've had a hard time). I didn't expect the sound to be so clear, whenever I could hear them over Karan's singing... (sigh). I didn't expect Vedder to be drinking and smoking on stage (although I knew for a fact that he is known to be sloshed by the last song - but I always envisioned him getting wasted before taking the stage). But what surprised me - and what blew my mind was them 'being' a band. A rock band. The last rock band as far as I'm concerned.

I've performed on stage several times now, and have a decent idea about performing in front of audiences. Sure, the largest crowd I've performed in front of was about 5,000 (while PJ performed in front of 20,000 that night). Nevertheless, I remember how hard we practiced just so we were "together". Just so people came in at the right time, we sounded right... we hit the right notes, we sang the right words, we moved together, we were in... well... unison. And we were 'ok' when we performed. Pearl Jam executed each and e-v-e-r-y song with masterful precision - a clear sign of undeniable experience and dedication. I was thrown off my feet, as they moved from song to song absolutely perfectly. Here is the set list:

Open

No Surrender - Bruce Springsteen song performed solely by Eddie with an Acoustic guitar.

Set 1

Severed Hand

Corduroy - absolutely phenomenal performance

World Wide Suicide

Hail Hail

Animal - they had electricity problems which Eddie blamed Bruce Springsteen for.

Love Boat Captain

In Hiding

Even Flow

I Am Mine

Whipping

Gone

Comatose

State of Love and Trust

Rats

Garden

Inside Job

Porch - awesome slow version. Very unlike the record version - truly awesome.

Encore 1

Army Reserve

Hard To Imagine

Last Kiss - the crowd really got into this song - everyone did.

Black - absolutely fantastic. Beautifully sung... we sang till our throats hurt... and then some.

Crazy Mary - the most amazing version - I actually cried during this song. Read below for more on this one.

Last Exit

Encore 2

Wasted Reprise

Life Wasted

Lukin

Leash

Don't Gimme No Lip

Why Go

Leaving Here

Alive - truly amazing

Yellow Ledbetter - which tailed off into 'Star Spangled Banner' played by McCready, Hendrix style.

The cover band was called "My Morning Jacket". They were good except for the singer - he would go into an extremely high-pitched (ear hurting) voice a little too often. But they had some very good music and were very remniscent of older famous bands.

After years of deliberation, I have concluded that my top 5 favorite songs of Pearl Jam (in no particular order) are: Crazy Mary, Black, Release, Alive & Indifference. To hear 3/5 of these... LIVE... has been a life-changing event. PJ were assisted by Boom Gaspar (a Hammond Organ player) on some of their songs, including Crazy Mary. This song is absolutely amazing and to hear it live was an experience on its own. Now, I'm not gonna lie - but Music and Movies always move me... emotionally. But nothing has made me cry yet... Fucker Vedder successfully drew a tear out of me during Crazy Mary. And to top it off the hair on the back of my neck rose when McCready walked across the stage to Boom and they jammed for about 5 minutes - it was unbelieveable. I don't care much for the organ as an instrument (sort of has an Addam's Family feel to it) but to watch these two go at it was awesome. McCready, in my books, has elevated himself to become one of the greatest guitarists. At times, he would get in the zone by standing at attention, closing his eyes, looking up... and playing... awesome - those were great moments.

More awesome moments - at one point the lights on stage suddenly dimmed and Vedder stood in the middle of stage facing and jamming to the drums... his back to the crowd. The music had subsided to a low volume but rigorously being played... the drumming got louder and more intense as Eddie began to raise his guitar... higher and higher... until it was way over his head... the band continued to play and the music was at full volume again. Vedder was shinning the light from the lonely spotlight... onto the crowd. Wherever he shone the light, that part of the crowd erupted into a chaotic and adoring cheer. It was awesome.

We came out of this concert, sweating, tired, energized and moved. Both Karan and I couldn't believed that were just witness to this unbelievable time. All we did was recount every single moment from the concert. "hey... you know when vedder did.. this!"... haha! Of course i do! I was right there with you!... we did it to each other nonetheless. We needed to tell someone else... fucker Arun didn't answer his phone.

Something important needs to be said now. While we waited for 1 of 50 buses to take us back to New York City, Karan mentioned U2 and a concert of their's that he went for which didn't even compare to this one. He described a catwalk, that circled through the audience and back to the stage, upon which Bono would walk around singing. Now... I like U2 and I like they're songs... but I didn't care for the catwalk shit. I can't even imagine Eddie, putting on leather pants, a blue velvet shirt, orange goggles with a headset instead of a mic... or mic-stand... walking around singing to the crowd. Thats just too fucking Britney Spears for me. And thats what I mean by PJ being the last rock band out there. They are the last of an unfortunately dying era... when rockers would hit the stage and liberate viewers by liberating themselves. There is nothing liberating about whats out there now.

In my 24 years of existence, this concert has become one of my favorite moments. It is grounded in, and will influence in many ways the rest of my life. How and why is not the point. I whole-heartedly hope (ah.. that dangerous word again) that everyone has a defining moment like this... early in their lives.

Godspeed.

BoD... (contd.)

Punjab, Nagaland, Goa and most recently Tamil Nadu have BANNED the release of the Da Vinci Code.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/5036094.stm

I'm past the stage where shock and disbelief tied my hands behind my back and my words fail me. Perhaps it is time that we accept certain nuances of American Political psychology/culture. Perhaps it is time... we embraced them.

I have never been a fan of American Political Culture (not that India's political characteristics are something to be particularly proud of..) but nonetheless - I find it a little sickening. I almost kneel over every time I hear a politician in the U.S. throw out those stupid phrases - "Liberty..." and "freedom" for all. It is preached in the alleways and yelled from the rooftops "freedom to speak!"... "freedom to express!"... "freedom to think!".... "freedom to invade sovereign states!" ...oops.

These are their civil liberties. Their Bill of Rights. How much of this is actually afforded to them - is questionable. But you know what? It works. These freedoms for the most part ARE afforded to their citizens. People in this country live under the impression (whether falsely or otherwise is irrelevant) that they have these rights but MOST importantly that because they have these rights - other citizens have these rights to. Now bear with me. I'm going to ignore states like Mississippi, Arkansas and Alabama etc. These are like the Bihar's of America. The idea here is that the awareness of your rights AND your fellow citizens rights is what I like about this country. This is a concept that is lacking in India. ME and MYSELF is all that exists.

Our communal riots, though spurred by wicked politicians are still mostly attributable to an emotional and unstable public. Sure, you can blame the politicians. But they are merely taking advantage of an obvious rift. Wholistically, we are bound only by our Patriotism. Even in our metropolitan cities there is a severe lacking in our civic sense. There is a blatant disregard for other citizens and this comes in all forms - whether casteism, stature-ism etc. etc.

Please note that I don't praise the U.S. for much - but this cohesiveness - amongst their citizens (whether misguided, wrong or right - is irrelevant) is something that I do give them credit for. I don't care how they achieved it and I don't care what they use it for... they have it. All else is inconsequential. And it is something I envision for India. I don't see it yet. Maybe because I'm not there. But acts like this aren't very encouraging.

In the end, its disheartening to see Movies, CLEARLY stating that they are fiction, being banned because a religious group claimed that they will riot. This says nothing about a responsible State Government. It speaks volumes, however, about the perceived irresponsibility of the public. It speaks VOLUMES about the Government's lack of faith in their citizens' ability to accept and/or ignore and/or appreciate ANYTHING that hints at a contradiction in their current beliefs. The Brethren of Dolts runs deeper than I had imagined. They are more than a Brotherhood. They are part of the fucking system... (sigh)

Tamil Nadu? - don't they have one of the highest literacy rates? what the fuck is going on? I will ponder on a solution, albeit, I have a strong feeling there is none. Perhaps my acceptance of morons will set an example.

(impossible)

The Brethren of Dolts

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/4985370.stm

Excerpts from the article:

"Roman Catholics in the Indian city of Mumbai (Bombay) have received Muslim support in protests against the release of the movie, The Da Vinci Code."

"An umbrella organisation of Islamic clerics in Mumbai have labelled the film as "blasphemous" because it spreads "lies" about Jesus Christ. One Roman Catholic activist has gone on what he says is a "hunger strike until death" unless the film is banned. "

Maulana Mansoor Ali Khan, general secretary of the All-India Sunni Jamiyat-ul-Ulema, said "The Holy Koran recognises Jesus as a prophet. What the book says is an insult to both Christians and Muslims," and "Muslims in India will help their Christian brothers protest this attack on our common religious belief".
___________________________________

Great.

What did we need more than individual idiots to deal with? Morons of the world unite! A Brethren Of Dolts (hereon will be referenced as BOD). I could name several acquaintances who would merit an induction. No test required. "Can you breathe? Ok. Is your framework of knowledge built on dumbfounding principles of a generally retarded nature - great! you're hired"

Does the concept of "Fiction" completely escape these people? "...an insult to both Christans and Muslims"? It's called a s-t-o-r-y morons... You know what a story is right? Well here's an example... Once upon a time, in land far far away and naked man and a naked woman frolicked in a Golden Garden. Subsequently, they were tricked by a reptile into eating an apple and...

Oh no, I'm sorry... thats not a story... that really happened. right right... (yo... puff and pass man...)

Honestly, what is their purpose on this planet? Why do these morons come out of the wood-work in these times? They rank up there with the "lets establish Prohibition in India" folks.

Give me your addresses. NOW! Arrrrrggghhh! I just... (sigh)... want to grab you by the shoulders and... grrr.... *shake* you... yelling "what!...is!... your... major malfunction!!!???"

The unfortunate thing is none of them will have access to this blog. I bet the Internet is a sin right? As is knowledge? Thats right - according to the book(s) that you take so literally and hold so close to your heart - 'knowledge' was the forbidden fruit. The root cause for mortal sin. Hmm... interesting. So that would mean - *learning* about your religion as a child was sinful... SINNER! Wait wait wait... that means that preaching (as per above and in so many other ways) and thus propelling/spreading the word of God (whatever f-ed up version you hold true) and perpetuating *understanding* (an off-shoot of knowledge) should be a PRIMAL sin no? It's only logical. But wait! Logic must be a fucking sin too. How can you do all of the above and leave out logic? How can these people miss that one? Well, at least you're *saved* on that count - since logic is clearly a characteristic beyond your stunted capacity.

Behold! - the saviors of mankind have revealed themselves! No seriously guys, thanks for your concern and attempted censorship/ban and everything... but you know what? I'll take the rough sex, drugs and Da Vinci Code.

No no... (sarcasm) the censorship of this movie is most definitely worth going on a hunger-strike for. Please do... and rid this world of your stupidity. These are the things that you can check against your list of positive contributions to this planet. Without doubt, you will be recognized in the present and remembered in the future for this stupidity of biblical proportions.

Pun-fucking-intended...

*frustration is evidently rampant*

The Goa Chronicles: Mausam

Chronicle – “a usually continuous historical account of events arranged in order of time without analysis or interpretation.” Of course, some of my chronicles will include opinions so forgive the deviation at times. My chronicles are an attempt to capture (to the best of my memory) events occurring on a travel experience. The first of these (hopefully many) posts relates to my recent travel to Goa, India.

Brief Intro: Goa is located on the west coast of India, in the region known as the Konkan, and is bounded by the state of Maharashtra to the north and Karnataka to the east and south. The Arabian Sea bounds it to the west. Panaji is the state's capital, and Vasco-da-Gama (Vasco) its largest town. Portuguese merchants first landed in Goa in the 15th century, but colonised it soon after. The Portuguese colony existed for about 450 years, until it was annexed by India in 1961. Internationally renowned for its beaches, Goa is visited by hundreds of thousands of foreign and domestic tourists each year, and has become one of the most popular holiday destinations for European travellers.
December 30th, 2005: It was around 1 am in the morning. Joy and I had been walking along the beach sharing a bottle of Old Monk, laughing at the locals dancing in their kachhaas . Before we knew it the bottle was done and we were devastatingly sloshed. Now, between Calingut and Bagha, there was a short stretch where there were no Shacks to light the beach. The sky, though littered with stars and a big bright moon, was not enough to provide the light we needed to navigate effectively so we followed the foam of the sea toward Calingut.

As we dawdled toward our hopeful destination, in a drunken haze, I noticed a girl walking about 40 feet ahead of us. She was in shorts and had a shawl wrapped around herself, no doubt to shield herself from the increasingly chilly night. I nudged Joy (who was barely able to keep his eyes open) and pointed out this lonesome girl to him. As expected, he turned to me and a familiar mischievous smile came across our faces. With inflated chests and longer strides we moved quickly through the sand. Completely drunk and severely lacking female companionship played an important role in our motivation here.

Before we knew it we had caught up to her. Our girlish, impish giggles were more than a give-away and she turned to face us. Wait a minute. No no. This can't be.

She... was a HE!

That’s right ladies and gentlemen, imagine my surprise when the girl who's face had run through our minds several times over was a dude's ugly mug! Our dreams of a midnight romance with a girl strolling the beaches of goa... smashed. But this wasn't going to damper our spirits! No! We weren't about to pass up the opportunity successfully harass a transvestite. So we spoke. Well, Joy spoke. I was still a little upset at the disappointment.

Joy: Hi!

It: Hiiii…

Joy: So umm…whatcha doin?

It: Just walking on the beach – how about you guys?

Joy: Oh… we’re just looking for some action… whats your name?

It: Oh… I’m Mausam.

Joy: Mausam?... ok… (pointing at me) this is Barsaat and I’m Roshni.

(nice...)

It: (smiles) – nice to meet you.

Suddenly, Joy leaps toward me, hugs me and turns us away from “it”. In a fraction of a second his palm is on my face and he’s kissing the back of his hand. So to poor Mausam it looks like we’re makin’ out on the beach. Meanwhile, I’m like – what the fuck?

Note: It is important to keep in mind that we are severely wasted here.

Joy uses his other hand to grab Mausam and pull “it” closer… and I’m starting to get a little worried here. I’ve got a brown-haired dude on me and a transvestite approaching nearer. Never thought I’d say that. At this point Joy pulls away and starts yelling:

“YOU LOVE MAUSAM! I KNOW IT! YOU DON’T LOVE ME ANYMORE!!!” and then... he’s gone.

Nice… thanks a lot Joy. He races off into the darkness and has vanished in a matter of a few seconds. I’m too bewildered to move at this point until I realize that not only am I standing alone in the dark with this transvestite but “it” has moved uncomfortably close to me. With a nervous laugh I call out in vain “umm… Joy?”… no response. Great.

This is one of those moments that you prepare for with ‘think fast’ games in high-school. I am rarely faced with these situations where am forced to react physically and mentally in a fraction of a second. Mausam reaches and grabs my package. WHAT THE FUCK!?

SMACK!

I slap Mausam as hard as I can and “it” falls to the floor helpless and sobbing. I’m looking around desperately unsure of what to do next. Now Mausam, sniffling, tries to stand up and is on its knees when Joytan comes running back. (sigh)

Cut to Joytan’s view: Aman Bahel standing on the beach with a transvestite in front of him on its knees… precariously close to him. No one else is around.

Joy stopped dead in his tracks – looking at me shocked. “NOOO!” he yells and runs over…

SMACK!.... and Mausam hits the ground... again.

Now Joytan is pushing me “what the fuck are you doing you sick bastard?... what’s wrong with you!?”. Now, I haven’t realized what Joy saw and perceived but I’m taking a lot of pushes here.

Suddenly there are voices in the distance.

Joy and I take one look at each other and we’re off. We ran for about ten minutes as fast as we could and with no clue of direction – completely unable to comprehend what has just transpired. Tired, drunk and confused we fall to the sand and sit idly – staring at the Sea trying to catch our breath. No words are spoken here. No words are appropriate. After about five minutes, we find flashlights in our eyes and two bamboo sticks nudging us from behind. Cops. But that’s an unrelated story for another time.

I think back and I suppose I feel sorry for Mausam. But in the end, having this story to tell made it all worthwhile. Yeah yeah... it'll live.