The 3 (hic) Musketters (1 am spelling)

 The usual greeting will suffice I presume. Fucked up year again (not to mention the Covid - 19 happendemic still doing its bin bulaye baarati rounds in every landmass on the planet.

As the 21st century progresses, every year's fuckeupness increases (maslows hierarchy from hell) The only sensible vacay destination this year unironically is going to be e every religions version of HELL. Hot enuff to burn off Covid 19 virus and all the extra sanitizer from your skin. 

Coming to the point- I am incredibly grateful for my friends (musketeers obviously) - well career'd but eternally broke ofc - being broke together as friends is much fun - even years after college.

See you whenever I remember to type here again. 

P. S Planning to write a really non canonical (vague) analysis on why I identify so much with Silas (the sith lord in Da Vinci Code) 

I know its all hot-air and nothing. Cross bearers... (ahem) pls don't be cross with me (hehe) with me. 

Tata.. 

Sour Patches.....................

We have all been there maybe once or twice in our lives or maybe all our lives...

An inconsequential workday where the only exciting work thing was when you sent a passive aggressive reminder email about a languishing project or played water jets and secret agent in the washroom. Excruciating traffic coupled with an urgent need to pee prolongs the day some more and then you hit your street , typical south indian homes boxed next to each other- most occupants all tucked away inside their matchbox existence and the MEAN GANG of housewives or just returned from work wives all ganged up to catcall your name and give you a good earfull of moral policing about coming home late. IF people think Harlem is scary, they should pay a visit to my locality.
Anyways, you proceed to get interrogated by early 30's somethings who think its their duty to enact a scene from Godfather and whose husbands have not yet reached home demanding dinner.

Once that very not nice social interaction is done, you finally navigate to your own middle class duplex house, you can hear the tv, a gossip channel disguised as a news channel is blaring. You step in to see what i am pretty sure is one of the most depressing tableaus ever, a half-naked middle-aged Dad religiously staring at the yelling news presenter, Mom in the kitchen hidden from view by the dusty fridge.   

I go home to that scene every day, have been for most of my adult life. While some better-adjusted people may tell me, its supposed to be a happy scene; family gathered in one place safe and belchy. Well..It's fucking not......Apart from the myriad issues i have with my father, i somehow find myself decreasingly less tolerant of his bare-chested dhothi clad avatar glued to the sofa and oogling at the TV all evening and night. Especially when that ass doesn't move for the rest of the night.

After fielding and strategizing my way through a host of perverts and harassers on my commute, i do not want to see my own father sitting in all his half naked glory and announcing his mastery over the house with burps and heavy breathing.

I confess i am not a social person at all, i would be perfectly okay with not having to talk to anybody or listen to anybody for the rest of the evening after a days work. People never shut up.....never ever...the talking, complaining , whining, never stops (so says the author herself is clickity clacking on her keyboard)     

Its not funny anymore.....

I am hesitating to write these days, something that has never happened till date, and its shocking because no matter the number of restrictions put on me writing has always been something I could do. I'm hoping this self-imposed gag will come to an end in the near future...others might be wondering..why did this silly nerd stop writing stuff..who reads it anyway? the thing is ..its practice for the near future where even us average iqed people may have to stop not just writing but thinking and having opinions as well in this country.

the events of the last few weeks have made it clear that most Indians are inevitable players in some sort of sick (BDSM/hunger games)with no safe words.

we are handcuffed by our own culture and religions, the key lost somewhere in our back pockets. Blinded and deafened by media, gagged on a rotting value system and half-clothed in some social media filter trending this month, tied to the post of rabid nationalism. All nice and ready to be whipped. 

Is it too much of a visual..well we deserve it. Its the cost of having politicians who think they are gods but are not, its the cost of having leadership that is equivalent to a fish having wings or viagra in a corpse (completely useless and the second is very creepy). Its the cost of belonging to a country where people are brought up to be just as miserable as their parents.

It's a rude reminder to wake up, to shrug off that casual attitude towards the total lack of freedom of expression, to burst that bubble we put ourselves in and face the harsh truths that while we may tout ourselves to belong to a great nation, its as far apart from the truth as the distance between earth and Pluto.

Even jokes on the pathetic state of our nation are intolerable both literally as well as figuratively.

I end the rant wondering if the bottom of the barrel that we live in has even more false bottoms that are yet to be descended into? The song in my Shazam is perfect for this mood....its Everybody Knows by Sigrid..for non-nerds it's from the movie Justice League. 
Ironic that a song from a comic fantasy movie describes reality better than reality itself....


With that, i take my leave..feel better and worse now. Next update will be lighter and funnier i hope...Au Revoir and Alvida (so that andh desh bhakts dont get triggered)               

Why Like This ?

Hello Fellow Misanthropic s (I'm being generous here...) its been so long that i had forgotten about the sort of type of blog i had attempted at so long ago......

Just kidding....i wont use so many long ago's...suffice to say its been 7 years already (aiyayo) since my juvenile attempts at selfplaining....i'm older now, just as crazy and eccentric, maybe a lot rounder and more weathered......Anyways the lines i write here are just mine, my own!!!!!(my precious).....Have to give that DisClaimer ya know otherwise i might be attacked or something (Where is that pepper spray?) Here you will find musings, stupid questions, venting s, rantings, opinions, lots of smiles and laughs.....and some long gyaan sessions. Have fun taking a trip through my buzzing head.....


Today started not so specially, just normal Friday shennanigans your mind might throw..like making you wistfully think of time travelling to tomorrow just so you could fondle your pillow some more and then remembering that its your turn in the chore chart to clean the bathrooms in the house (epps!).That wakes you up nice and proper. Brush...Bath....Look disappointedly at the wardrobe for dress choices that will magically appear (accio jeans pant). Rush to office hoping the traffic more runny( like last nights dal) than today morning's bricky Upma (yuck!) but the traffic gods and goddesses are not on anybody's side. Now dont worry i'm not going to bore myself with long rants about the traffic disasters in my lovely also stinky city, i like being stuck in a jam(sort of) it gives me the opportunity to observe all the drama happening around me, tbh its better than Agnisakshi(for the kannada gotilla's, its a kannada soap opera which can be included as punishment in Dante's hell). From that creepy uncle who cant stop eye fucking the zipper on my jeans, the nosy wife interested in everything but her husband who is dropping her to office anyway, to the nervous guy checking if his zipper is closed protecting his honor, to the guy actually showing the brand of his boxes to the universe (insta would have been a better place no), to the college girl wrestling with the helmet which doesnt want to be parted from the hair to the veggies hawker trying to hawk his wares( nice business model) to this very interested author who's grinning for no apparent reason....Traffic jams have become "married" to the lifeblood of the city and whether i 'ship this madly in chemistry couple or not, they are here to stay......


Happy Friday everyone....As the traffic moves i can hear the refrains of that famous B Jayashri song "Car Car Car Car ellodi car" (Again for Kannada Gotilla's- it means Cars Everywhere...)

TATA BYE Bye...     

to a new start(hopefully)

a new semester has started and i am looking forward to learning new things but at the same time very wary of the  big boss syllabus which is much bigger than the previous sem's.am pretty hyped up now,its no fun being cooped up in the house and it feels so good to meet up with the bungling 11 again,but i should revise some things from the previous sem ,it wouldn't be good to tick off my poor lecturer again she has had enough of us these last few months.my 2 best buds finished their internships and am pretty proud but it was also slightly irritating.anyway they will(am sure) have my hide for talking about it on blog.have to leave now,planning to watch Real Steel,heard its very good cute robots and hot hugh jackman et al.au revoir  

ouch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

normally being insulted in front of the public is nothing new to some people in this country and i believe that after some time the said people develop buffalo skins,but as of today i wonder if there are some limits as to losing face in front of many and also being caught on the cams with excellent video capture.the joke is that while publicly condemning the violence many of us are chortling with glee and some sort of satisfaction as it would have been more good if a few kicks would have been thrown in(ahem,this is only my opinion and this treatment according to me should be reserved only for select people and that to as last resort)but anyway what done is done.no matter the amount of anger or condemning done the poor guy would always remember the sting and the pity and amusement in the public's eyes.whether he gets any consolation or not he has earned a few sleepless nights for which he did not ask."that was one pretty hard slap"