Just Random

As the day of Diwali dwells upon (or rather has arrived; it already is past midnight over here), it is time to retrospectively look back at the past year, and remove the darkness or cob-webs (euphemisms for mistakes and character flaws) from one’s house (euphemism for heart and mind).

“Oh you are being an idiot (happens to be one of my favorite words) and underestimating of the readers, as they are smart enough to find out the euphemism for ‘house’.”, says my alter ego. I hate to say that I fairly agree (the fair part is very small) with it.

Oh, it was an awesome day, no office, plenty of time to surf on the net (just got hooked to facebook and twitter), listening to all forms of music all day along, and started reading a book (“Keep off the grass” by Karan Bajaj) after more than a fortnight.

Well, sunlight gradually faded and the sun went into oblivion until the next morning and darkness started enveloping the face of earth (ok, technically only the part of world in which I live) , it was time for bursting crackers. I have not been using  them since time immemorial ( actually, don’t remember the last time when I used one, another proof of the decaying state of my mind). It felt as if I had floated back into my childhood memories, living back the innocent and the best days of my life. (How I wish, time rolled back to the day when I was six; please do not ask why I did choose the sixth year of my existence). I even enjoyed making the small churchuri (incense stick structured lighting cracker, do not remember the technical term of it) in circles and running around the terrace. Well, I also used the hydrogen bombs (ah really!) and the small red chilli mini-sticks. The best part was searching for left over crackers on the terrace, once we had exhausted bursting all the crackers.

As if the day could not end in a better fashion, we got invited to a dinner by a couple of kind ladies in the apartment. Must say, it was the best dinner I had in Bangalore to date , both in terms of the quality of food and the family like environment, and this is counting the fabulous restaurants that I have been.

Well, I have always known myself to be a people’s person, the one to whom you easily get friendly and love the company. (Ok, I agree it might not be the case in the company, but then I do not feel like  myself over there, and every time I  decide to correct that, a strong inhibitive force draws me back). I became quite fond of Saanvi and spent a lot of time with her. We spent a lot of time together, chatting all along the dinner (though, it was me doing most of the talking). I felt especially happy because she liked my company and would not go to anybody else (barring her family members); the disappointment and jealously on other’s faces was easily readable by my sharp mind (ok, enough of being pretentious). I love you Saanvi. I was especially glad as I had not lost my most (self) admired mojo. Thanks to the Almighty. 😉

This alter-ego of mine is troubling a lot and constantly demeaning me and forcing me to do things that I would never do otherwise (do not worry, these are not things that would put me to shame, probably just make me despise myself a little more). To any of my admirers (too small a list, would find it difficult to name even five) or my well-wishers (I hope this one is at least a fairly bigger list), I would very well kill my alter-ego (yes, commit a murder) very soon; thank God, nobody can arrest me for that.

Please wait eagerly for my next blog entry: Amazing Journey into a remote village. Shut up, you stupid (another of my favorite words, I actually use only four expletives – idiot, stupid, gadha and pagal), you hardly have anyone following your writings and who would like to read such crap (watching the absolute bakwas saas-babu serials would be a better option given the shit (oh sorry, I used a banned word without the use of special characters) you write.

Thanks to one and all who were able to bear through the entire blog article. Do post your comments to encourage me and to help me get better at my writings.