acj and everything after
im going to miss...

the conversations in the corridors and bumping into people.
'hi, hows it going?'
'bad, have two articles to complete and i just don't feel like working.'

'hey, havent seen you all day.'
'yeah, we had a show this morning'
'and, what were you'
'VM, got bored to death'

morning breakfast at VB's, 2 vadas, two idlis and one lime juice. looking at mount road, the vehicles passing by and all the bill boards in clear sight, curzons, inter leather shoppe, konica, vcd, mp3 and acd player for Rs.1222/-

at the computer lab, damn somebody's sitting on my favourite seat, chatting on msn (looking furtively over your shoulder), downloading music, staring emptily at the computer screen, getting shooed away by MJ (digantik work in progress), pc hanging/crashing, assignments, dissertation distress....

saturday morning classic movie sessions, afternoon snooze in the library, early evening mandatory tea sampling, personal humiliation at quiz, group A wins (pds you a rocker), Rs 10 movie tickets (love actually), cappuchino at amethyst.

weather game with deb (i won more than her), late night pc movie sessions and gallons of tea, sainath's 'do you want to be a stenographer or a journalist lectures', jain's, 2-B.

samyar madham, magna and the thick lipped thin boy, chill in and the over polite attendant, leo hair dressers, sachin ka dhaba and free papads, saravanas and super idlis, krishnan and his studio, landmark and its unaffordable books, the free cookie samples at the cookie place, satyam and its hazzar movies, hyderabadi biryani center and the combo meals.

more in the morrow.

acj and everything after
verse 1

i started sharon on a 'there's less than 35 days for college to end' conversation this morning. a conversation she dint want to have. but i like preparing ahead so when its finally hug, good-bye and lets keep in touch time i'll be ready for it.

the first morning i woke up i had 3 chaps sleeping in close proximity to me at 'the temple of love'. my toes were entwined with that of the bengali and my right hand was resting on the bare chest of the maldivian. the malayali was thankfully some distance away.

whoa....whats this? from having an empty house to myself where i could walk around in my boxers and pick my nose i now had to head to the toilet if much needed crotch adjustments and other such activities were required. the move from 'the temple of love' to 2 b was a relief. another bengali for a room-mate, atleast he was a fair distance away from my toes and arms.

the first night it finally dawned upon me as to why normal people become cold blooded killers. rahul had a cold, cough and fever and from the looks of it he had emptied his entire medicine box into his mouth. what started as moan emitted when one sees an object of desire in REM soon became moans, groans, voodoo style mutterings and satanic verse recitals.
the bangladeshi and manipuri's rather hurried evacuation from jains made sense now. they had no intention of turning into raving, ranting insomniacs.

from the temple of love to the temple of doom.

phuq.

fast forward nine months.

ive learned to like his colgate smile, quirkiness, mania (ask arun), good sense of humour, his comp (hehe) and well his moans and groans, which arrive far more infrequently now.

im going to miss him.

p.s:he's still trying to get me to pop his pills and potions.

carnival
the fair grounds have a fog
she hangs low
and if you inhale deeply
merrysprings in your chest will flow

with your head to the ground
the glee of children shall your meet
cackling, singing, ha haing and ho hoing
set to a happy hip hop beat

brain chow
i feed her head and she feeds mine
mutually parasitic or specially symbiotic?

amusement park
sounds of cheerful children
cotton candy and soapy bubbles
stomach churning fares and adrenalin releasing rides
whir of colour and animated suspense
head- rushes and heart-flushes
bated breaths and goose bumps
rise the child within, bury the baggage of adulthood

carpe diem
today is a day when all i want to do is breathe deeply, close my eyes and send a silent signal to the skies.
happy to be alive and looking forward to a life with promise, dreams and a house with a swimming pool with dido in it singing love songs into my johnson bud cleaned wax free ears.

soul-mate search version 3.0, new and improved (google approved)

ok... can i ask you something........

if i dont know who i am and cant find the center to my own soul

will i be able to recognize her when she makes her debut in my dreary existence.

tell me have you seen her?

wishwell
isnt it time i....
grinned more and grimaced less
dreamed more and did less
crooned more and cried less
felt more and reasoned less
accepted more and judged less

...............sometimes i hear myself and the voice is that of a complete stranger. like watching spooky stranger in nelson's head 24/7.

grrrrowl
breathing deeply of the mountain mist
i flew my kite
she danced with the wind
and made for the clouds
only to be clipped by the rude awakening of my alarm clock

pseudo-artist
sometimes i feel like holden caulfield (catcher in the rye), if you have'nt read it please log off quietly and pick up a copy and grok it.
am i surrounded by second hand folks with a mutant phony gene dominating their demeanour. why the carefully calibrated conversations, stating the obvious, sounding like a phuqqing politically correct sitcom. always telling you what you want to hear.
take away movies, books, television and music from their conversation menu and we should be served with oodles of vacant chow. were they always like this empty and borrowed. or was there some voice which they called their own before their souls were sold in the market of mass produced retards.
am i slowly being conditioned to merge into this herd of monkey see monkey do dullards or am i one of them already?
or worse still..... this pretentious prose is my last defence upon the realization of my own phoniness...

ignorance is bliss wrapped in the cotton candy brain world of a five year old

control freak
its ironical that we always love those things that allow us to switch on and off as we please.
they will never refuse, deny, betray, hate, crticise, abuse, ridicule, outshine, ashame or let us down ....
food
television
children
music
books
dance

sometimes we also love those things that help us lose control
alcohol
drugs
sex

can i be my own without being labelled deviant and disturbed?

loveloser
seems the chaps at 'the economist' have cracked the ancient code for love.
they attribute our blindness in love to a flush of chemicals which flood our brain numbing it of reason and creating empty rhyme(think poetry and gooey love songs). the chief culprits being the cousins of cocaine and other such feel-good chemicals, dopamine, oxytocin, vasopressin, serotonin and endogenous opioids
since i've finally grokked the concept im not going to pay constant visits for the full treatment at the spa of rejection, dejection and depression everytime i fancy a possible 'cosmic soul-mate'.
nothing chocolate, coffee or conversations with friends cant solve. wonder why rahul always looks like he's in love and happy when he's not dating anybody. hmmm

desiregrove
step inside, draw the shades and close the door
lie beside me and say sweet somethings
let me walk inside your private universe
the world around us dims and fades
hand in hand our faces a rainbow glow

your hair a magnet flower cloudburst
we rub lips to make a fire that pales the sungod
time and space melts and sticks like mischevious mercury slicks
heart beats, ancient drums, arms and legs flay to a jungle jive
tequila and trance, empty the decanter and pummel the beat

butterflies in my stomach dance drunk on your sweet sweat sap
rise and ride with me to scale this peak
fall free now into a void bereft of pain and purgatory
cotton candy clouds and blue lagoon showers
stay now, lay spent night to rest and welcome shy dawn

paranoid android
i was running a 101 degree temperature and sweating bullets over my interview at acj.
nothing's changed, im shitting buildings now coz im tormenting myself over where im going to end up working once the course is a wrap.
i have a talent to whip up a storm of sorrow in a tea tumbler of tranquility.
i should never have taken andy grove(ceo-intel) seriously. he once said, 'only the paranoid survive'.......paranoid runs in my veins and has me hyper-ventilating over what i should eat for dinner and whether i should have my tea with two sugars or one.
i hate the power of suggestion. it holds my peace of mind prisoner.
shoot.

romance
jack loves jill.
jill loves james.
james loves jane.
jane loves janice.
janice loves jacob.
jacob loves ten year old boys.

vernon goddamm lil
just finished grokking dbc pierre's vernon god little. boy can he write, you would be forgiven if you thought he was baptised in a cauldron of creative firewater as a newborn.
the book is electric. the irony, sarcasm and jokes jump off every page. all the characters have been carefully crafted with a painful attention to detail. a modern day huck finn is indeed vernon 'god he's good' little. the characters reek of rancid rancour. the plot is tightly knit and races ahead like a cheetah on steriods dipped in rocket fuel.
mr.pierre an angry poet.cant wait for him to pen his next verse.
go bury your head in the book gringo. its a scorching pageburner.

nelly come lately
im late for everything.interviews, dates, word deadlines, college, careers (decided to join acj at 27), paying bills, love, sleeping, waking, unputdownable books..ok you get the idea.
and i get a lot of reactions. one girl friend threatened to break up with me coz i made her wait.(if you loved me, you wouldnt make me wait)
my niece(she's three something) tells me with a big smile the other day (got invited for lunch at my sis')
maama, (uncle in tamil) thanks for coming late.
guffaws galore.
and to think i was the one who insisted that she say thanks for everything.

mondaze
road rage is a strange manifestation of mood. it can turn a lamb into a grand ma bashing maniac. today the acids from the pit of my stomach rose and almost made their way onto the face of this monster on two wheels.(he cut across my path suddenly)
only the thought of rat eating faggots at the slammer stopped me from running him over.
amen

serendipity
wake up late sip tea and horlicks. chat with deb and shanu.
wash clothes. iron navy blue benneton shirt and khaki trousers.
rip navy blue shirt while trying to wear with all buttons done.
@#$%^&***$%^&$#@
phuq v-day .
reach college late. get courier. my sweet sis. she sends me two cards about how im the world's best brother and a bar of mars and toblerone.
who needs love and lust when one has love and trust(damn hallmark)
serendipity strikes.
smile back on.
now i can handle mj calling me a loser.

deadline non-meeter
im sitting here furiously hitting the keys trying to finish article two for 'digantik' and i'm thinking that I maybe headed for a second straight C.
am i genetically programmed to be self-defeatist.I hit the self-destruct button the moment i start smelling success.
drat.

vasantha bhavan, masala dosa, madras kitchen, helen, chill inn, farm fresh, magna, canteen coffee(sucks), anna salai, sambar, chutney, stream work, quark, digantik, group a (wins quiz-always), viji, photo journo, key issues, covering deprivation, sudha umapathy, roadside, biscuits, khadi bhavan, MJ, dissertation, investigative project, rahul(cough syrup), tea (acidity), mr.kumar(lazy dude), nalini, front page, anchor, anita cherian, media law, library (snooze room), shree kumar, computer lab(no experiments here), lockers(keys lost), reporting, kodambakkam, nungambakkam, hyderbadi biryani place (sharon hates it), swimming pool(never got in), gym(went for ten days), jains anatarikhsa (accomodation rocks), art and culture, sadanand menon, mahabalipuram, saravanas, german bakery, amethyst, galloping gooseberries, coovum(industrial grade super stink), oberoi dhabha, sachin ka dhabha, block A 2-B, term three, internships, the word.
nevermind.

constipation of creativity vs verbal diarrhoea
im thinking ...what is better let flow a volley of words with no significance and meaning or hibernate with sleeping words hoping they would emerge colourful and beautiful like an unexpected rainbow.
after i wrote 'sunswallower' i was thinking to myself, a writer has been born. too long he lay in solitary suffocation. he had found words to whir him to life, alive he cried. words ran thru his veins and pumped new found rocket fuel into his heart. his senses open he felt everything in a heightened state of awareness.
sounds and sights, people and places taking on new meanings, like a microscopic being coming to life after being magnified- manifold. now im jaded already, super faded and growing insane. time to sip sorrow with my familiar friends frustration and boredom. i need a word wand, to conjure images seldom seen or consumed.
need a permanent membership to the wizard of words club. cant stand this paralyzing feeling being perpetuated by the guest in my head mr. kreativity killer.
there shall come upon me a moment, when will everything will appear crystal clear and i will throw a party to my agent miss. muse and her friends clairyovance, imagination and enterprise.
strike me soon dear muse.

asian college of journalism(acj) and everything after
ok.i hate to admit it, but I'm going to miss acj. the faculty, hmmm, yes and my buds with whom I have have been with for the past 8 months.
When my buds(outside acj) ask me about how it's going I tell them that this has been the best part of my life(other than the drug phase i.e hehe). like Ive mentioned earlier I'm finally doing what I love most.
venting myself, throwing up my inner thought processes, connecting with the larger picture while I'm at it, trying to find practical solutions while thinking out of the box and most importantly.....writing.
my dissertation is heading nowhere. its on this gradiose sounding subject, 'corporate social responsibility'.
transnational companies are running the world, bleeding the environment, pulverizing local businesses and pummeling indigenous communities.since they are the ones in control they need to address social development issues and protect the environment rather than just concentrating on the bottomline.
ok, all i need to do now is write 8,000 words on the subject.
geez. more in the morrow.

life
if your life were made into a movie would you recommend your friends watch it?

i slept well last night, thank you god.
the previous two nights come back blurred reeking of tea and tete a tete with flat mates and solitary guest.
watched kill bill for the third time. tarantino at his gory best.
uma thurman, languid, lean, mean fighting machine.
vixen with an appetite for vengeance.

group photo yesterday for acj.time is ticking and how.im thinking about all the people ive met here. about whoz going to make it and whoz not. whether i want to keep in touch with anybody at all. or whether anybody would want to be filled in on whats up in my life. looking forward to the real world actually. working for a newspaper.what ive always wanted to do. write.
right.

monday morning brews
one of those days when you think and you feel that ...
today will be different
from everyday and its mindless mundaneness......
rambling people....
choking on their own inanities and their carefully choreographed conversations
when the only way to feel alive is by riding like a suicide.....
my brain responds with head rushes everytime I put MY life on the line
wheeeeeeeeee.............my drug peddler the mind
the price i have to pay to travel new roads in my head is to nuke the paralysing montony in my life
however the payment for self induced adrenalin/endorphin headbuzzes are getting more and more expensive and elusive.......
i have to ride harder and more dangerously everytime........
one of these days i shall get the ultimate bonus.......
the mother superior of all highs
.......... a phuqqing near death experience..............
funny how i feel most alive when im closest to dying
drool....double drool....

sunswallower
i'm a filler in your every day conversations.
i come and i go.
can i throw a pebble in your lake of thoughts and watch the ripples.
would you like some coffee and conversation.
can we be together.
alone.
with dilated eyes and silly smiles.
do you want to step aboard my helium heart.
slip past clouds, to a vast open blue.
you and me together.
alone.

will you be me coz I would love to be you.
one.

shall we dance with sweat mingling and skin tingling
on a rollercoaster thru a diamond dust milky way
ecstasy erupting like a vesuvius
will you walk with me
thru fiery sunsets, supernovas, silent valleys.
would you like to drown with me in this sea of serenity.
im waiting soul soup searcher somewhere between twilight and moonlight

about selling out:
I am a walking billboard for Nike and every other super brand I can afford.
I pay them so that they allow me to advertise their products.
My self-esteem is directly proportional to the number of branded products I wear.
I have Nike shoes, wallet, track pants, tee-shirts, socks, bag, sweat-shirt, jacket, shorts.......do they make undies...........i dont have their watch.
not as yet atleast.
JUST DO IT......thats how I live my life......i let some copy writer sitting in madison avenue or whereever the phuq he's sitting decide how my entire outlook on life is constructed.
just like a hallmark card will decide on the finer nuances of my love for my mom, dad, sister, niece, brother-in-law, dog and every festival and event of religious significance they can buy the emotional patent rights to.
I like selling out. maybe I don't.
I buy Nikes because their products are aspirational and not everybody wears them because not everybody can afford them. maybe nawt.
I want to be unique and yet I want to be part of a sub-culture which is daring, does its own thing and lives on the edge.
Does wearing Nike make a part of that culture yes and no.
Jesus. I love their ads but they make millions from making their shoes at sweat-shops where children labour for insane number of hours without getting paid minimum wages.
these children will never be able to own a pair of Nikes.
ok now I sound like like a Naomi Klein wannabe.
I will continue wearing Nikes because they make world class products.
I wont sweat bullets over the sweat-store conditions they were made in.
But i can ask for them to pay better wages in the factories they make their products in, not employ kids and improve factory conditions.
when im down i shop.
being a student sucks.
plan on standing near Spencer's with a signboard
"will shop for money".
hehe hee ha ho ho

geez......joint editors need to work too besides looking important at edit meetings.
my mind is in cold storage.....mr. nelson vinod moses (joint editor) has no idea for an editorial.
k...when viji kix my arse the ideas will roll.
there's this guy near my house in bang. i call him 'mr. leaving last vegas'
he's drinking himself to death a la nicholas cage.
except he does not look half as dashing or reckless as cage and he's got no elizabeth shue to rub his back when he barfs.
he looks like a maggot who's eaten worm shit and having a bad face life.
and everytime i wait for news that he's kicked it, i spot him at the bar.
five times a day. walking stick in tow.
the phuqqer is refusing to die. im a tee totaller.
all alcoholics must die miserable deaths. thats my reason to stay sober.
ok its nawt.
i hate acting all stoopid after a few drinks and barfing after i've had too many.
im hungry and sleep deprived.
ta ta

three peaceful days in bangalore. home food, grape and apple wine, niece on rocket fuel, vintage bangalore weather and plenty of sleep(on my own bed.hmmmmm)
the chennai express on the way back. reach chennai at 4:30, groggy and bleary eyed. the filter coffee does nothing for the drowsiness.
get into the rick after serious negiotiations.
this is how it usually goes.

me:anna salai, how much?
auto conman:80 ruppees saar
me: what? 80 ruppees!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (the expression on my face is like he asked to sleep with my sister)
sorry only 50 ruppees boss
auto conman: humph....ok saar (rather sheepishly)

....its still dark when we make our way to anna salai and then it hits you like a sledgehammer.............a brute wide awakening.......the industrial grade super-stink of the coovum river........
chennai.... the arm pit of india...... the crotch garden....
the coovum beats freshly brewed coffee beans anyday.....

resolutions till the course ends:
*will finish course strongly like a 1500 metre runner who comes from behind to beat the field.
*join gym
*sleep early so that i dont end up being sleep deprived and writing lousy articles.
* dont drink hazaar cups of coffee coz im sleep deprived.
*stop search for soul mate whoz proving to be as elusive as Loch Ness, yeti and WMD
*read more and not look like deer looking at headlights on highway.
*write better and submit articles on time.

qoute for the day: what does not kill you will only make you stronger.

and i am a finally JOINT EDITOR for my laboratory newspaper
whoa qwul..............guess im a power fiend. i cant fire people though or decide as to how much they get as a raise.
shoot!their future is not in my hands........
anyways i am joint editor for a week,
i can pretend that i am master of puppets, captain of the ship, king chef, director of the movie, web master, ceo, what have you............
whee .headrush.heartflush.

k.....more in the morrow.