Scribbles from Seattle VI

Memories, they inhabit the best of minds and the worst. They keep you going, or distract you from another math homework assignment.

" 'Remember when', is the lowest form of conversation"

Tony Soprano

Now, Tony had his issues.But this was one of the most random yet interesting things he ever said. Why? You decide. Why? I am too lazy and I just had to make a Soprano reference in one of the entries ( has it been already 3 years since the damn show ended, ridiculous!).

But honestly growing up sucks, as the innocence of youth is a thing of the past and the scary realisation about the fact that you are more like your dad than you ever thought was possible. All these sort of accumulate and you feel as if you are the boyfriend of one the broads that Tiger Woods slept with (proud, as TIGER WOODS slept with your woman. But at the same time devastated, as Tiger Woods SLEPT with your woman!)

The reason I write about these things is because as I look back to my sophomore year, I feel a tingling sensation. Its the kind of sensation that you feel when you look back to maybe your 18th birthday or your high school graduation (which, funnily enough was on the same day for me). And the only thing in my mind at that point is the cold fact that "I am Fuckin old". Sweet god! I haven't even graduated from college and its already quarter life crisis time. Its like(bear with me and my poor attempts to add weak-ass humour to this piece) the people who buy iphones. You buy the 3GS version in 2009 and then with a year the iphone 4 comes out. Balderdash! One moment you are the shit and such a technocrat, but then June 2010 comes along and you are just shit.

At this point I am going to take a step back and reminisce about that crazy, convoluted, ridiculous, contradictory,superstitious,cow-loving,sex scandals starved and not to mention happy, nation of mine that I call home. Now, India is a weird country and you might wonder what does that have to do with anything that I have written before this. Well that just means that you are not reading closely enough!

Much like my native land my writing is chaotic. Its full of innuendos, its also somewhat narcissist, its always down for celebrities involved in sex scandals, its all about loving lactating animals( i have a strange affinity towards goats)and more than anything it has a long way to go before it can achieve any sort legitimacy in the big scheme of things.

But jokes aside (i know) one of my biggest realisations in recent years is how lucky I have been in being part of a generation that grew up(well some of us atleast) in a modern 21st century India. An India post 1991 reforms, an India in which traveling to another part on the world is no longer a once in a lifetime opportunity, an India in which our possibilities are so much more than our parents, an India with TATA back in its prime, an India with folks like Dr. Manmohan Singh, Montek Alhuwalia, APJ Abdul Kalam, Yashwant Sinha and Arun Shourie calling the shots, an India which saw Rahul Dravid's prime, an India that handled the recession like Manny Pacquiao after a bout- unaffected and singing, India which gave the confidence to idiots like me to go 8000 miles away and think that they know the world, yet gave them the values to realise that they don't even know their own country, an India that taught me to dream and an India that is so much more and more to be.Yes, all of that in one sentence!

And now I feel like completely slating India, but I wouldn't.Why? Thats just the Indian in me, always positive. 400 million people under the poverty line, but still smiling. Villages full of untouchables and metropolis full of Brahmins, but still looking forward to going back home more than ever. Ridiculous amount of corruption,a bureaucracy less useful than English centre backs against Germany, lesser civil obedience than both my drunk roommates combined( those who know can smile) and more than anything a general lack of ability to self analyse constructively. 2 steps back and one step forward, thats our way. But god damned! I am more proud and optimistic to be Indian than ever.

I am not a patriotic kind of person, but I am definitely nostalgic. I would join the Indian armed forces( and I might if shit doesn't pick up at college, god damn this math homework) just because I get teary eyed and fiery about watching JP Dutta's Border when I was a kid.

Well enough of these inane ramblings.The big question that everyone in world (who matters atleast) right now is pondering over is whether the Dutch will win the world cup or not. Man! What a stupid question.Of Course they will, the real question is how many beers will I be down when that happens. And just for that growing up is good, because I can actually figure that one out legally. Five pints in, quarter-life crisis my ass!

scribbles from seattle V

This world we live in is a funny place; in fact an extraordinarily hilarious one.Every moment is a riot and I am not talking about the ones where a few somewhat angry gents decide to practice their throwing and pyro skills.Honestly, there are times when I am just walking down the street, minding my own business, ogling at the stunning Seattle ladies,listening to some obscure(and obscene) 80's glam rock group (its def leppard) and I just crack up for no good reason. And no I am not sane, but thats not the point.

The fact of the matter ladies and gents is that we all are 'hella' corny!

Just like the girl with the Mark Knopfler underwear, who sits behind me in class( about time I talked to her, I love the Dire Straights) or the dodgy barista, who offered to put extra whip cream in my morning americano, with remnants of shaving cream on his face and ears.

But enough with these dismal attempts at humour. What with Sachin Tendulkar's orgasmic innings, Craig Ferguson's twitters, Ferderer's constant endeavours to become something more than the greatest legend ever, Tiger Wood's sex drive( am I the only who is more jealous than outraged by the whole issue), the British economy(talk about being funny),George Clinton and the Funkadelic crowd (still making booties shake like no one else does), the IPL (Lalit Modi= 100 Kerry Packers + so much more) and America's love for sports that simply baffle me and thus, cannot be cited in this opening crescendo that so typifies the drivel that I constantly subject my extremely limited readership(Tiger probably has slept with more women) to. Lackadaisical E. is back, much more delayed but with a bigger bang (insert a Tiger joke in this space).

Now I know in the previous version of the entries ( I can't believe I am actually assuming somebody read it and more over remembers it) I talked about writing more frequently and what not. But there is a reason why these entries are called Lackadaisical (common, i even spelt my blog's url wrong) and its my job to stick to the theme.

But enough with the narcissist scribbles. The real bones of contention are my erroneous sleeping habits (its 3 am as I type this). But more seriously, terrorism. Now one of the highlights of this quarter is that during spring break I will be on a short and sweet (10 days, thank you quarter system and your daft short breaks) trip back to India. Ofcourse the other highlight was my 21st birthday, but due to a lack of memory of that fateful Friday, thats all I can possibly share. In fact ,if on the 15th of January 2010, you saw a funny looking and a very drunk Indian walking around the U District, please contact the writer and share your account.

But coming back to the point about terrorism and my prospective journey back to the motherland. It really bothers me that because of the inane and insane behaviour of a few zealots cunts(the terrorists and their cretin leaders), folks I call my countrymen cannot enjoy even the smallest pleasures of life like sports or music.

Lets talk about the IPL, the glitzy and quite amazing domestic cricket league that dominates headlines in all cricket playing nations. Its a festival like no other in sports, for about 45 days India comes to a standstill. People go to the gym and just stare at screens; lifting up their expectations instead of weights,discussions in various corporate offices tend to vary between De Villier's last innings or the length of the Bangalore Royal's cheerleaders skirts, even the debates in the Parliament tend to get heated up if the team from the capital city loses and more than anything, it makes India believe in itself and its possibilities. An event of this magnitude and quality is a first for this overpopulated and still largely impoverished nation. And to host it, indigenously, is a matter of pride for millions of people.Lalit Modi, you are a self obsessed and a over confident megalomaniac, but take a bow sir. This cricket fanatic salutes you! But terrorism strikes again and security concerns after threats from many of the aforementioned cunts, has meant that the event is under a cloud. The same goes for the Commonwealth Games and our prospective Olympic bid for 2016.

I would not like to go into details about terrorism and its threats, but its an issue that is personal for every Indian (or for that matter everyone who has suffered from it). But the need of the hour is the belief and the desire to go on with the plans as scheduled. To give up would be a victory the for the cunt- side.

As the vivacious and brilliant Harsha Bhogle wrote is his column:

'In spite of it all, sport needs to exist, to flourish because it is one of the few things that brings a smile through honest efforts; whether it is football in Africa, or cricket in Afghanistan.'

But despite all these slight discrepancies, I am really excited about going back home. Spending Christmas, Diwali,New years and my birthday( pre bar hopping at least) wondering about whats being cooked back home or my dad's next bad pun, makes it momentarily that tinier bit harder (and the next thing you know you wake up with a terrible hangover, in some random girl's bed, smelling like a bottle of jagermeister). But home!

The last winter break of the last decade taught me many things. A few select realisations included that Manhattan is much better explored after 5-6 pints(I get lost there sober, so why not?); for exploring Brooklyn, 7-8 pints( and Grimaldi's pizza, highly recommended); when alone on Christmas eve in NYC with a bottle of wine and left over pizza, watch Lost in Translation; bums in the Bronx are far more fun than the bums in Seattle; when Seattle mistimes the new year fireworks, start a massive rendition of the Bohemian Rhapsody ( makes you less pissed off at the culprits); and well, that the dodgy looking barista at the cafe I have been frequenting for over a year, might be using shaving cream instead of whip cream in my morning americanos.

But all in all, as I look back to the past decade and look forward to the current, I laugh.And you might wonder why? Well that just means that you skipped the beginning of this piece, you cheeky bastards. If not, keep laughing.This corny yet hurting world could use more of that. This fucked up yet hilariously enumerating journey continues...