Never Too Late For Some Bug Fixing

I don’t know about you, but the motorcycle bug didn’t quite bite me.

But while in college, bikes were around everywhere – though I never had one – you could hop on one, zip past your campus off to the wide open and empty ring road and feel the wind against your face and all that.

But that bug just sat on me, not quite biting really. And for a while as the bug sat, there was a small possibility of a bite. I admit it might have contemplated a bite, but not quite digging into action.

And around the same time, I discovered that man, Robert Pirsig. I got my hands on Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. And the bug contemplated a nibble one more time. But of course. I was studying Mechanical Engineering, sweeping the ’scalpel like a surgeon’ on all things that were meant to subdue nature’s ways – forces, energy, motion, water, by waving it on Vectors, Volts, Thermodynamics, Mass, Hydraulics and Gravity. 

I was a classic. The Spanner. Not the flower, a romantic.

And I ought to have my hands full of grease and oil. It was a natural by-product to be awe inspired by machinery. By a bike. By the feeling of the two stroke piston reverberating through the clutch plates to your grip on the bar. Up from the foot rest through your foot to the back of your neck, making the hair stand on its end.

But it was Phaedrus himself that had a bigger influence than his hippie, roadie ways and a sudden new bug came from nowhere and bit me with this line that was to stay with me for ever -

Quality is a direct experience independent of, and prior to intellectual abstractions.

And a few others like these -

Truth knocks on the door and you say, go away, I’m looking for the truth, and it goes away.

To live for some future goal is shallow. It’s the sides of the mountain that sustain life, not the top.

Traditional scientific method has always been at the very best, 20 – 20 hindsight. It’s good for seeing where you’ve been. It’s good for testing the truth of what you think you know, but it can’t tell you where you ought to go.

‘And what is good, Phaedrus, and what is not good— Need we ask anyone to tell us these things?’

I guess the bike bug just got bored and left without ever making an earnest attempt.

But after all these years, this video here seemed to beckon the bug back with some desperation. I imagine this might have urged that bug to act back then.

Watch this in full screen. Dedicate a few minutes. Think of nothing else.

Did it bite you? Tell me about it.

This post will have no name.

You noticed I have been scarce here.

You did, didn’t you?

Just been a little too tied up at work. I’m not complaining, mind you. The times are-a-changing and its good to be busy in these a-changing times.

Ok. Now that we got over the cliched apology for not living and breathing Pathe for such a long stretch, and now that we got over the cliche about the slowdown and now that we got over the shameless show-offing that I still have a job*, lets bring on the main course, boys and girls!

Hold it. Just have a small clarification to make before I tempt your tongues to drool or attract the attention of devious moral police and mutt-a-licks. The main course is not boys and girls.

The Main course, Ladies and Gentlemen, is Just Pathe!

I read this incredibly funny post yesterday and thought I’d do a shameless me-too post in the guise of being inspired by it. This is something I wrote a few weeks ago but didn’t post because I had to attend a conference call just when I was about to click the “post” button. (nudge nudge, wink wink).

So lets move on to some kick ass Pathe putting.

This time, I want to share some of my woes with you. The following incidents actually happen not once, not twice, but as many times as Ramalingaraju lied between 2005 to 2009.  Mmmm…actually not that often.

“Aapka naam?”

“Haan ji. Main Sundar hoon.”

“Haan theek hai sir. Aapka naam sir”

“Main Sundar hoon”

“Zaroor sir. Lekin aapka naam batayiye?”

“Oh…err mera naam Sundar hain!”

“Ji bilkul. Aap sundar ho toh aapka naam bhi bahut sundar hi hoga. Good for you sir. But pehle aapka naam toh batayiye!!”

“Yeah yeah my name is Sundar”

“Of course, sir. Your name too! Good for you. I am not arguing with you. You are holding up other callers, can you please just let me have your name?”

“Ma’am. I am telling you my name. My name is Sundar”

“Oh. Ok Mr.Sundar. Our Rep will get in touch with you soon. Thanks for calling”

Click.

 

 

*as of Saturday 16.56 pm (IST)

Boss Is Always Left

Glad tidings, everybody.

I have good news.  But before that, a word from our sponsors.

This blog has, over the past several months that it has been around, brought unmatched joy and incredible delight to its loyal readers. The fan following number has only been steadily increasing from what it was early last year and the only way has been up*.

Readers of this blog swear loyalty and are in fact willing to beat up and even kill those people who write better blogs. First give this blog from our state the recognition it deserves, they say. They swear not to allow new blogs, especially those from other states. There is also some talk about asking for quotas. They are even going to ask for a bill of reservation to be passed. Or so the Santa Cruz West wing of the fan club reports.

Ha. The clowns. What do they know. There can be no one from the state which this blog comes. For though we’ve heard of Andaman & Nicobar, there is no state in India to the best of my knowledge by the name Madness & Chaos, is there?

In any case, point I am trying to make is that old mechanical typewriters are difficult to swallow. A nice glass of sherbet is any day better. Just as much as Juhu Beach is salty. But nothing can match that nice wall painting across the moon.

That’s right. There is no point.

I love my readers cuz they find my humor delectable. In case you are new to this blog, my humour, is the kind of humour that calls for a very refined taste and an acute sense of perception to the finer things in life. Typically, smart people tend to find my humour humorous. What? Did you just say you don’t find that funny? Oh, I know what that means, it means th…what? you just realized you find it humorous? oh good. I thought so.

Anyway, as I was saying, smart people find my humour humorous. Which explains why all of my readers are smart. I read my blog posts the most, incidentally. And a lot of people have always said I was very smart. One of them was of course, my mom. The rest of them was a lady who was in fact my aayah when I was around 3 or 4. I dont remember her. My dad apparently had insisted on sacking her after he realized she was a compulsive liar too old to be an aayah.

But seriously. I love my readers. You can say something stupid and they see something deep and philosophical. You say something deep and philosophical and they go into raptures of laughter. What a sense of humor hahaha. I love Pathe, they say.

But then again thats the way it works I guess. Like back then many years ago, a man tripped and fell on his head. And the fall was so bad his head started spinning. Thats when he, Copernicus, saw the world spinning and then immediately ran to the Church to tell them his new theory. All they did was laugh at him and ridicule him. Soon his head stopped spinning as he recovered from his fall and he stopped caring about his own theory.

I felt rather like him right till a little while ago. I saw the world spinning. No one else did. I am fine now though. I think.

Let me explain – BiggBoss Season 2 is finally over. Ashutosh Kaushik is the winner. Let us all clap and get the hell back to our lives and hope we recover soon.

Before you think I am a deviant species, let me tell you frankly that I hated the show. The concept is warped. I think I may finally have the answer to making a super mega-hit reality show. I will put a stone in a cage and shoot it for 3 months and beam it prime-time into the homes of 3 million unsuspecting idiots. If they are not busy going crazy in Big Bazaar and buying things they have no clue about or use for, they can watch the show. And it sure is going to be a super-hit. I will have every news channel cover it like it was some world event and juxtapose it with APARTHEID ENDS. Or some such other microscopically more significant news.

Great. Thank you very much. Now, can I Please change the channel?????

Would you believe this?? Bigg Boss even has a site! You have no idea how the great Shilpa Jetty affects me. Its worse than Rupa Baniyan. (And you can look that up if you even care).

Many of us have been going through a rather silent, rapidly affecting sickness.  If you have sensed a difference in me by now, there is a good chance it is because of this affliction. For, I am one of those unfortunate souls that’s been infected. It is not quite a disease. More of an affliction. It takes over your immune system slowly and silently and before you know it, it has taken control over your body, mind and soul. And you realize too late that you are a victim yourself and it is going to be very difficult to reverse the situation.

Over the last several weeks, I have been silently suffering. And now that the good news is out, I feel like a free man who can tell the world his story. Let me take more joy by saying, “Bigg Boss season 2 is finally over!”

Allow me to milk it some more. “Guys! Bigg Boss season 2 is finally over!!!!”

How many times has it happened to you that your friend(s) or people at home high-jack the TV to watch a specific program and you have to submit passively and join them. First it’s for a few minutes. Then a few more. One episode, then two and before you know it, you have been sucked into it because you were too passive and to lazy to take a stand. And thats precisely how I got sucked into this infernal, otiose ‘reality’ show.

But hey, guess what? BiggBoss season 2 is finally over!! Really, really over!

 

*Of course. That’s the only direction – for, the number in question early last year was 1 (guess who?).

To Do, Or Not To Do?

I recently discovered one significant, yet unnoticed fallout of crossing the dreadful 30-year landmark of life.

And that is losing the ability to laugh hysterically at shallow Agony Aunt columns.

But before I spread panic and anxiety among my readers, let me quickly suggest that you relax and take a deep breath. That particular source of inconsequential joy life offers us is not entirely under threat. Regardless of whether you are 30, 35 or 60.

In my case, I am finding it increasingly difficult to laugh at one particular column that deals with the problems of the young adult audience. This column addresses the agony of late teens and twenty somethings that have social adjustability problems for whatever reason.

This particular Aunt, with a name Martha, has one solution to ALL problems. Consider a few -

“Hi Martha, I am Teju from  Colaba, and I hate college because I don’t have any friends. I feel no one wants to talk to me because I am fat.”

Hi M, I am Lucky from Chandigarh. My classmate cum best friend from the age of 2 and I had a bad fight yesterday. I feel very depressed. I don’t know what to do. Please help!”

“Hi M, I am Evenmore  Lucky from Chandigarh. I finally managed to pick a really bad dirty fight with this girl who has been annoying me from the time I was 2. We ended the fight on a very bitter note and it has given me great hope and now I look forward to the rest of my life. My worry is, what if she wants to make up? Please tell me how to keep that bitch out of my life. She pisses the life out of me and I don’t want her again in my life.”

Hi Martha, I am an 24 year old girl and I have had 3 crushes so far. Once when the lock fell on my big toe, the other time when my dad ordered the orange flavour and the crush came in a nice cocktail glass. The last Crush I had was in my iPod – by Jennifer Paige and someone deleted the song by mistake. Do you think it is normal for me to feel this way? All my friends laugh at me and even my elder sister keeps giggling when I tell her about my crushes.

And Martha advises:

Teju from Colaba: Teju, you sound like a very nice and sincere boy. I think you must not feel bad about being fat. You suffer from what is called a bad body image. It is the personality inside you that is more important. So meet more people and find more hobbies to do. You will be happy with the results!

Lucky from Chandigarh: Hi Lucky, I am very sad to hear about your fight. Learn to love yourself for what you are. Look at the mirror everyday and say “I love you”, “you are a wonderful person” say this 40,000 times each and every morning(if you lose count, you must start over from 1 again). Such incidents will happen less frequently because it will leave you little time for anything. Soon you will be able to have a better body image and like yourself for the way you are and others will stop fighting with you!

Evenmore Lucky: Hi Even More. Your friend seems to be a horrible person and a rotten pain-in-the-donkey clinger. But you must learn to become more comfortable with who you really are deep down inside in the hollow depths of that mindless awkwardly shaped skull. When I was young I felt that way every time I had a fight with someone. Especially when I hear a loud crack after slamming a big cricket bat on the persons head. But I took a long time – about 9 years and 49 cracks – to realize that though there was some joy it was short lived. You really need to make peace with yourself and love yourself more. A good body image helps a lot.

Hi 24 year old: You haven’t left a name, so I can’t really help you a lot with such limited information, but I think nothing is bad. Everyone is normal. The next time you have a crush, ask yourself what is really affecting you. If it is because you are a little more plump than the other people in your age, then you know what your problem is. A bad body image can give you many sleepless nights. Begin to like yourself and you can yourself give a crush to that cute boy in your office that you like – in fact you can make him scream and beg! Just find a right moment and sit on him! 

That’s Martha. The great Agony Aunt.

Why I cannot laugh anymore is because when I think about it, no matter what problem of mine I write to Aunt Martha about, she is going to get it right about the biggest problem I have in my life right now.

Yes, my dear faithful reader. I have a bod bady image. And I hate to admit it so much that I had to mis-spell it. If it wasn’t your unshakable love for me and your faith and obsession with this incredible blog, I would have little in life that would give me a reason to push on.

Sigh.

It’s true.The first signs began in September last year. My neighbour knocked on the door and asked if I was OK.

“Yeah I am. Why? Should something be wrong?”
“No no. Not at all. Just dropped in to say hello. So, Hello. (Hehehe.Muahahaha)”
“Hello.”
“OK… Bye”
“Bye”

I didn’t know it then, but my neighbour was actually wondering why he didn’t anymore hear my mad, hyena-like hysterical laugh every Wednesday morning. For, you see, that is when I read Aunt Martha’s column.

A few Wednesday s later, I stared at the situation in the eye and understood the deeper undercurrents.

I enrolled in a Gym. And the swimming club. For three months it was incredible. I enjoyed every moment in the pool and every stretch in the gym. I lost 4 kg and was my average 71kg self again.

And then as usual bad luck struck me. My Airoli days began. And the pool went out of one window and the gym out the other. And back came the 4kg flying. Bringing a 2 kg friend along.

And the 6kg now weighs me down. I can hear Aunt Martha’s hysterical laugh in the distance. I can hear Teju, Lucky, Evenmore Lucky and the 24 year old girl who left no name, all laughing in lunatic Ecstasy. All of them rolling about the floor holding their stomachs as if to prevent their humongous guts from spilling out.

I nod my head in disgust. And immediately stop shaking my head when I feel my fat cheeks and the flab in the neck flap about in the air causing low pressure in the room. I look up heavenwards in dispair. My cheeks restrict the view and I suddenly can relate to how the world may look to a horse wearing blinkers.

“If you ever come back home rolling, I’ll never open the door for you” Said mom when I returned from Baroda 7 years ago with a waistline that went from 29 to 32 after being introduced to Gujju food.

I now have spare keys. I wear size 34. And I think I may need a new wardrobe.

But the brighter side is that I have a plan of two action points.

• Learn to have a good body image.
• And then get rid of that image.

Hmmmm. Sounds like a good plan. But the only reason I hesitate is that it might make my die-hard fans sad, for they will have less of me.

Troubling visions of upset fans, hunger-strikes and self-immolation bids tear me apart and compromise my resolve.

Life, like Aunt Martha, is a Bitch.