Reporting from the battlefront

Had someone put up a bounty on his head? Or had he pissed off some heavenly deity in some obscure way? Something must REALLY have gone wrong. He had half a mind to stare at his palm - maybe under the pretense of wiping his hands? - to see if he could see some line crossing another at an inappropriate angle. But no, he didn't have even an iota of knowledge of palmistry. Nor was he privy to heavenly chatter or mafia murmurings. No, he was just a victim. A lamb for slaughter, he was sure. She was here. And so was she.

Wait a minute. Back up. A brain-freeze is known to induce ambiguous usage of pronouns. She was here. His ex-girlfriend. And so was she. His present flame. A less-than-amicable breakup flashed before his glazed eyes. A reminder and an omen portending an impending doom. He stared at his ex, E, walking up to him with a funny look in her eyes. He stole a glance at the girl of the present, P, happily munching on the KFC chicken, entirely oblivious of the events that were soon going to lead to a position where she was going to be undoubtedly playing a pivotal role.

E and P?? What the fuck? But he knew what his brain was doing subconsciously. Saving him from the conflict for some more time. Any attempt at uttering both the names in the same space could lead to setting up of internal fireworks and alarm systems associated therewith and would send him scurrying to safety, for sure. He was fully aware that running off from a date you have fought for is generally acclaimed to augur an incruciating death to the relationship. And by the look in E's eyes, the P-E meeting was going to happen irrespective of his presence in the same frame. And any possibility of salvaging some unburnt ties from the ashes of the aftermath was contingent on his ability to stay rooted to the spot against all the machinations of his now-overworking brain.

PE. Private equity. Physical Education. One more E and his urge right now. STOP MEANDERING!! He shouted to the little doom-demons doing the death-dance in his deranged head.

The sudden freeze-frame was bound to attract P's attention sooner or later. Out of the corner of his eye, he could sense her staring at him, half-mutilated chicken piece in hand and a small spattering of crust crumbs on her lips. And he could also sense her following his gaze to espy E, her mandibular mechanism stopped in a mid-chewing stance. The raised eyebrow was giving him goosebumps. He was pretty sure it was the goosebumps who noticed P's noticing before he noticed her. Did he have a sixth sense, something that was now awakening in response to this heightened sense of danger? No, that couldn't be. Not warning him of being in E's vicinity was enough reason to write off any ESP.

E in a KFC? Didn't she use to be a vegetarian, one of the few commonalities with him that remained in the course of their relationship running its due course. The bounty-theory he had started with, must be the real culprit. No other plausible explanations came to his mind. And then it struck him. Like a 18-wheeler striking into his puny car at full force - one of his favorite nightmares despite the fact that he had never even seen a 18-wheeler. Alas, after today, this particular nightmare would fade away as a fond memory, to be replaced by whatever-was-going-to-happen here-and-now. And the growing weight in his chest was that of information asymmetry.

Really? His econ lectures coming to the fore? But this was hell - anything and everything was possible and plausible. This wasn't really information asymmetry in the strict sense anyway. So the deal was this. He knew E and P (duh!) and he suspected E knew about P, given her intent expression bearing down on him as she strode down. P, however, was going to know about a few things only a few moments from now - things she should have been told more than a few months ago. Not that he hadn't intended to. But he had insufficient data to model her behaviour in order to predict her reaction and besides, a status quo involving a relationship status that reads committed, takes a lot of courage to meddle with.

The silence was deafening. He was stuck between the eyes-boring-into-him and the clicking-heels-walking-towards-him. His mental ruler was doing the required countdown in inches, with real time conversion to centimeters - just to avoid calculating the possible aftermath scenarios. He braced himself, steeling up for whatever it was that was about to happen, while doing a mental summation of the investment he had made in the relationship with P, wondering if it would be enough to survive the sudden depreciation it was going to be subjected to. A back of the envelope calculation told him he'd done well and might have a slim chance of surviving this catastrophe with the aforementioned status quo. And here she was.

"I see you've started eating meat for HER."

The tone. The emphasis on 'her'.

Staring at the contents of his hand, he knew he was as dead as the chicken he was holding.

A harmless question

Would you love me even if I hated you?

What kind of question is this?

A hypothetical one.

I can see that. What I want to know is where it came from.

From my mind.

Full points for being a smart Alec. But zero for clarity.

Can't you just answer the question? Without asking a hundred in return?

And could you refrain from asking questions that don't make sense at all?

It's a simple yes/no question.

No, it isn't. I know that whatever I answer, you have an interpretation ready in some corner of your mind.

So how does that obviate the question?

It doesn't. But it does render it moot.

But that doesn't mean you can't answer it.

I will not add fuel to whatever stupid fire you've lit in that little devil's workshop of yours.

C'mon, be a sport!

Fine! Yes, I would!

If you would, why would I ever hate you?


:colon dee:

Point-of-no-return

How can I be sure that I am in love - the love people keep talking about, the love I had always wished I would stay away from??

Let’s discuss the symptoms you have. We’ll make the diagnosis later.

I keep having these dreams of her. I try but they just won't go away.

But this has happened to you for so many other girls. A passing infatuation - a crush as it is called - would have the same effect.

I love talking to her, or rather - listening to her.

This could be true for so many other people - members of both sexes. It could easily happen with people who share their interests and passions with you. You don't fall in love with every person you love to talk to.

There are times when I suddenly remember an incident involving the two of us. And it invariably brings a smile to me.

What’s the big deal here? Look, she's your friend, we aren't debating that. It’s but obvious that you'll remember the happy times you've spent with your friend and this memory will obviously lift your spirits.

I can't watch any romantic movie without imagining the two of us in place of the protagonists in the film.

Now, that's what we call an overdose of this genre of movies. Remember Pavlov and his dog?? You’ve been similarly conditioned by all those flicks you've watched all your life. You have a chat with a girl and the next logical step for you is a dinner and then dates. And then the two of you end up spending the rest of your life happily ever after. Bullshit!
 
No other girl interests me these days.
 
Oh! So you are monogamous?? Now there must have been something that attracted you to this particular girl in the first place. This something must have been a factor differentiating her from the rest of the crowd. So while you're stuck on this one quality of hers, there's a slim chance that you'll like anyone else. But it still doesn't prove that 
You’re in love with her.
 
But she's so beautiful.
 
There you go. It was this superficial attraction from the beginning, wasn't it??
 
It isn't only her beauty that I like in her. She has many other qualities.
 
Of course she has. So have many others - and you know that.
 
But I can't imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else. And I know this didn't happen for anyone else. I want her to be with me forever. I don't care if I don't talk to her, or don't see her - only if someone can assure me that this hiatus would lead to an everlasting continuity.
 
Why, then you are surely, madly, deeply in love. 

Shit!!!

Idiotese

You know, I often wonder - why you chose me over all the others that wooed you. Come to think of it, I didn't even woo you properly.

It isn't a conscious choice that guides you in such matters. It’s just an instinct that I followed.

But what if your instinct proves to be wrong at some later date?

Now that i have made the choice, i am willing to stand by it, come what may.

Even if that means going down with a sinking ship?

Yes, even if means that. But i won't let the ship sink, not if I have a say in that.

Do you really have a hope of reforming a stubborn idiot?

No, i don't. i couldn't have such a hope. It’s for the idiot to realise he isn't so much of an idiot after all.

Oh! So now you are resorting to giving lectures - the very thing i hate.

And now you are resorting to what you are best at - trying to shoo away the very people who love you. What’s your problem anyway?

I don't know.

You don't know or you don't want to know?

Why wouldn't I want to know?

Because that would put on you the responsibility to take corrective measures. And you have been running away from responsibilities all your life.

But being in love with you is a responsibility I’ve agreed to undertake.

Oh!! And what a task it is - to carry on a conversation when we meet and to keep in touch through mails and phone calls when we don't. You call that a responsibility??

Shouldn’t I?

Ask yourself.

I think it is one hell of a responsibility.

You really make me doubt my decision sometimes.

There, I caught you. What was all that talk about going down with a sinking ship, eh?
 
What’s this?? A debate competition where you try to score brownie points for every grammatical mistake??
 
Whatever it is, you admitted that you doubt your decision sometimes. That means you are not sure that you are in love with me.
 
The decision I was thinking of was the decision to try to talk you out of your idiot world. But I guess you revel in this pastime. So I guess I’ll have to live with this.
 
You know, you are an idiot yourself. Because of your choice you are stuck with an idiot. We’ll have no problem communicating, i think. There isn't much difference in our intelligence levels anyway. We’ll call our language idiotese.
 
Sometimes, i hope you stay this lovable idiot that you are. 

Immeasurable love

How much do you love me?

In meters or in kilograms?

Huh?

"How much" and "How many" imply a metric. Hence the question.

Can't you just say something nice?

I wouldn't be answering the question then.

So how would you exactly measure love in meters/kilograms?

That was a sarcastic comment. But you really got me thinking.

About what?

About this metric.

You must be kidding.

No, I am not. There could be pheromonal or physiological measures but since those would require specialised equipment, I think we will have to come up with social measures.

Like the time you spend with me as a percent of total available time?

Hmm.. we will have to have a weighted average. Some activities like a date will have to have greater weightage than say, talking to you on the phone while watching tv.

Agreed.

We could build a dictionary of words I use in my mails. Do a before and after. Do the same for you. And find out how many words/phrases I picked up from you. Though I can't think of a way to convert it into a relative measure.

Hmm... We can't have a comparative measure here as I'm the only one you have ever fallen in love with. Your emails go back about five years. I'm sure if you could isolate your normal rate of vocabulary increase, you can get the additional impetus the interactions with me have given.

That could be done. While we are with words and sentences, I could measure the frequency with which you figure in my social reactions - in mails, status updates and blogs. 

That would be like every single time!

I know. I am so in love with you! But I think any measure of love should not just factor me.

What do you mean?

I mean, why stop at quantifying the amount of love. We should also measure its efficacy. In other words, how it has made you reciprocate.

Couldn't we simply use the same metrics on me?

We could. But it wouldn't underscore the importance of our relationship vis-a-vis our other social interactions.

Ha! My phone bills would be ample testimony!

Mine have also shown a spike.

Not as much as mine.

Well, that is maybe because whenever I call, you are busy with something. And I always make time for you when you call.

If you are going to call a hundred times in a day, I'm going to be busy for most of those calls. 

It's not a hundred.

I agree. it's more!

I love talking to you.

I know that.

So that settles it?

I love you a lot?

I guess it does.

:D

Instant Shadi

Will you marry me?

What did you say just now?

Will you marry me?

Are you out of your mind??!!!

No, I'm entirely in my senses.

But we met only yesterday!

So?

Isn't it presumptuous of you to pop that question in what is only our second meeting?

See, I could go about the whole courtship business. Take you out on dates, get to know you better etc etc. And then put up that question. 

I'm assuming you find something amiss with this process.

See, it's thus. The whole dating process (and I'm assuming here is that it ends with the couple tying the knot) is a four-phase process. Made-up phase, make-out phase, make-up phase and make-do phase.

Huh?!!!

It's all quite simple. In the beginning, the made-up phase, the two people try to put up their best selves forward (which might not be their true selves). This is followed by physical attraction - the make-out phase. The closer they come, the more the faults become glaring, leading to fights and burying of hatchets, only to dig them up again. Hence the make-up phase. Finally, having spent so much of time loving and fighting, they realise that even though they can't live with each other, they can't live without each other too. Ergo, the make-do phase.

And going straight to marriage is the solution?

I'm not saying it's the perfect one. But marriage brings a seriousness to the relationship from the very beginning. You might think it's a spur-of-the-moment decision but any decision involving forever can't be anything but serious. I'm willing to forego the "trying things out" part of the relationship.

You think you are quite smart, don't you?

Well, I'm quite a bit, I admit.

And you think a litany can substitute for almost everything?

Well, if the words are sincere, why not?

How long did it take you to come up with that convoluted logic?

The whole of yesterday night.

You must have rehearsed it then?

Only thrice.

Hmm.. You are really committed to this, aren't you?

Yes, I am.

Okay, I'm willing to give it a try.

You are really going to marry me?

Are you stupid? I said we'll go out and we'll see. 

Ohh! The courtship business!

Do you have a problem with that?

Not really. See, the whole process can be re-classified into three phases with an optimal strategy for each. 

Shut up. And take me out.

Oh. Okay.

Poetry meets Reality

आप कहते रहे जाने क्या
हम आपको कहते देखते रहे
जितना प्यार करें कम है
ऐसा कुछ सोचते रहे
दुनियादारी के ज़माने में शायद
बातों पर भी थोडा ध्यान देना था
अब खड़े हैं यहाँ सर खुजाते
कि पता नहीं आलू कितने किलो लेना था

:P :D

folly story

Ingredients of the case:
A flight ticket that bears the correct time, both on printout and boarding pass.
A check-in counter attendant of the same breed as me.
And finally, stupid stupid me!

The story:
Flight at 6:30. Naween Kumar wakes up at 4:30. Gets ready. Cab arrives at 5:00. Leaves for airport. Arrives safely. Checks in a bag. Goes thru security check. 15 mins to boarding. Tries to take a short nap. Is unsuccessful though. Is the first in line at the boarding gate. Asks the lady if boarding for the mumbai flight has started. Lady asks for boarding pass. Naween hands it over. She smiles.
'' Sir, you are booked on an evening flight!''

Consequences:
Surprisingly, minimum. Corporate booking ensures no rescheduling charges or fare difference. Naween books himself on a 8 am flight. Reschedules cab in mumbai.

Embarrassment:
Unsurprisingly, maximum.

Things that could have happened:
Naween could have noticed the time on ticket in the one week he has had it for. The check-in attendant could have noticed the time on the ticket. Naween could have done without the mental translation of the 24 hour format time on the ticket.

Learning of the story:
Wake up!

Chances of learning getting implemented:
Dim. Since Naween had arrived at a similar learning when he had done a similar exercise for a train booking.

gibberish

when you get blue
it's just like glue
messy and sticky
baddy and saddy
but the sky is blue
and the sea is blue
and both are happy
though sometimes saddy
so blue isn't bad
actually a fine lad
glue is also better
keeps things together
so when you are blue
you need some glue
but the problem is
you can get the blue
but need someone else
to get the glue

- i am on a draft-clearing mission. there are some twenty of them in my account. this was a draft dated June 2009. I have no idea what i was trying to write then, and still i thought i might as well post it :P

arm-twisting tactics

ask me out to lunch.

but i hardly know you.

would you have asked me out if you knew me?

that would have depended on the outcome of the whole knowing-you-process.

so how exactly do you expect to carry out this process?

you are assuming that i want to know you in the first place.

don't you?

i may or may not. but i am certainly not taking orders.

how do you decide who you want to know better?

it's not an exact science.

i bet it's not rocket science either. what are your thumb rules?

i don't know!! i don't put conscious thought into that decision.

ok. so you are saying that your knowing-you-process starts from a shaky premise.

i never said that.

yes, you did. and in so many words.

but it's my prerogative. i choose who i want to know better. and i am free to deploy whatever techniques i might want to.

yes, but you could at least be consistent in your approach.

i am.

are you sure?

i don't have a recorded scientific cause-effect analysis on this subject!!

ok. coming back to what we were talking about, would you like to know me better? what do your ''techniques'' conclude?

hmph!! having spent so much time arguing, i very well might.

and how will you go about this knowing-you-better-process?

by spending some more time with you.

in ways such as?

in ways such as.. taking you out to lunch.

there you go!

*dumbfounded silence*

OCD

शैतान चाँद रोज़ रात
पोटली भर अनगिनत तारे
इधर उधर यूँ ही बिखरा
सारा आसमान गन्दा करता है
फिर सुबह बेचारा सूरज
गुस्से में लाल हो कर
हाथ में झाड़ू लिए
सब तारे साफ़ करता है

Focus, focus!!!

Tears streamed down his face as he thought about the past few days. ''Broken beyond repair'' was how he felt about his life. He ran a finger along the sharp edge of the knife he was holding and then he just sat there staring at the thin rivulet of blood. The doors were locked, the suicide note was written, the stage was set. Life, as he had lived it, raced past his empty eyes. And then his eyes caught a sudden movement. A Pizza Hut coupon had freed itself from the pile of newspapers and was fluttering about under the fan. Two days ago, they had ordered pizzas and she'd sat with him at that very spot on the floor as they watched their favorite show on tv. He wondered what she would think of him when she heard the news. Or did she care any longer? The coupon suddenly felt heavy in his hands. He stared at it for some more time. He felt he had to do something. His hand scrambled for his phone, the pain of the cut finger forgotten. The number was on speed dial.
''Hello! I'd like to order a small chicken supreme pizza...''

the class divide

the key for the success of a fraud is always in the details.
[consistency in spelling is another such detail.]

[btw, i didn't know the smiley for a kiss. had to do a web search :P]

who am i

i just discovered that a search on yahoo india for who am i gives my blog as the top result. you can see it here. feedjit showed that there have been people arriving on my blog following this result.

which is ironic in the sense that the title of this blog is a question the author keeps asking himself. and anyone who comes here isn't going to get even a sliver of an answer. also, i understand that some people search that phrase to get to essays etc on that topic. which again, they won't be getting here.

even more ironic is the fact that this post will maybe strengthen the position of that result further.

damn dan brown!!!

it doesn't always work. but worth a shot anyway.

ragging

काली चादर से ढक उसे
रात भर धुनते हैं तारे
तभी सूरज लाल आंखों से
सुबह दुखते पाँव पसारे
पिटाई की सोच ही वो
इतना घबरा जाता है
शाम होती नही कि उसका
रंग फ़िर धूमिल हो जाता है

responsibility

-> i know nothing beyond paint :P
-> in case you don't know where this is inspired from, you don't deserve to be told. but still, the 'architect' lives here.
-> i failed in art class in std 1 :P

the thing is...

there's this lump in my throat
all the words i want to say
stuck in an incoherent bunch

there's this urge i'm holding in
to jump up and hug you tight
hold on to you and not let you go

there's only so much i can look at you
i steal a furtive glance and look away
i know you're everything i've ever wanted

there's this wish you stayed still like that
your hair thrown back, animated eyes talking
and i could hide that moment somewhere safe

there's this thing i've got to tell you
i love you

a more detailed (and scientific) explanation of this phenomenon is here. :P

ensemble

kludge:
A kludge (or kluge) is a workaround, a quick-and-dirty solution, a clumsy or inelegant, yet effective, solution to a problem, typically using parts that are cobbled together.
[source: wikipedia.]

hindi translation:
कहीं का ईंट, कहीं का रोडा, भानुमती ने कुनबा जोड़ा

came across this word while reading an article on snow-leopard-vs-windows7. it was used for the native xp mode on windows7.

anyhoo, isn't this what we all do everyday? for all our problems?

i love kludging. :)

jlt

joke of the day:
naween to shopkeeper: bhaiya, bees 'cadbury's shots' waala toffee dena.
shopkeeper to naween: arre! kya baat hai! ye toffee to kismet waale hi khaate hain!
:D :D

pj of the day:
when asked in the employment form, what gender did the gigolo write?
fee-male.