A marriage and some memories

i was not very sure about going for his marriage, in the first place. It has been a principle not to attend marriages over 'Facebook invites', But it has been 13 years and it wasn't a bad idea to meet up some old buddies. And at the last moment I decided to ask my driver to drop me at the marriage venue.

As soon as I got down, a white scooter stopped right in front of me with a sudden brake ' Hello Jon!!' Here comes Arun. He was kind of sweet guy back from school. We weren't best buddies then. But some years ago he sends me a Facebook request and here comes request after request to read his blog. I didn't have the heart to tell him that his blogs were all equally pathetic. And now, I dreaded if he would want to make sure I read his blog. Thankfully he didn't, in anyway. But I was quite surprised when he peppered his sentences with English in proper American slang. Every distraught techie who hasn't got a chance to 'fly out' spends time to google about life and times in USA. By the time he reaches USA, he would be knowing more about Obamacare than the non chalant American.

The marriage began. The bridegroom, Aswin hadn't changed over years except for the visible paunch. He hadn't lost his trademark look- one eye larger than the other. Something you would see in cartoons. I remembered a joke we made out of  him. He used to doze in class and he would wake up suddenly to twitch his organ as if turning a door knob. He had a best friend- the typical talkative small guy you would find in every class. The small guy was the one who taught me how to masturbate by stimulating it on a pen

Unfortunately I couldn't find anyone except for John. John was of slight built back then. Then we learnt he joined Airforce before joining college. He was talking about the desperateness to get out of the job. We had considered him to be lucky back then.
How wrong we are. I hung around to see if I could get a whiff of air from school. But no, time had flown by so fast and it seemed difficult to me, a bunch of guys who tried hard to masturbate, now getting married

Meaningless degrees

So I am back guys, may be no one really missed me. If anyone ever did, it would be the guys who put fake ads in my space. So I sit here in the morning, thinking of a better way to utilize time. I did miss my gym, thanks to laziness.

The last time I had gone to see off my friend. It seems like yesterday that he had got admission for medicine. How cruel time is. It shows no mercy to the one who wants it to stay on. The years of youth just rolled by, we both graduated and understood the realities of life is so very bad.

For me it was the fight to come into terms with the fact that world is nothing but a huge market where straight men have no place. I got sick of full sleeves and ties, then I got sick of selling obsolete machines. Falsehood given an icing of ethics is the right dose for organizational success.

Forhim it might be the realization that medicine is meant for reaping money and reaping money is no longer a matter of choice. So he had to hunt for college to make his masters. With a lots of uncertainity in front of him, he decides to fly away to USA to get his masters.

The world has no place for the talented as long as you’re not good enough to market it. Tharun was an amazingly talented doctor. He was made to be a good doctor from day 1. I have noticed people opening up to him so easily about their pains, shame etc. I guess he exuded a feeling that he would solve out their problems.  I thought he would go off to community service. Sadly that didn’t happen.

In between that so many ‘brilliant’ guys who got admission to government colleges for medicine simply threw off their degrees and went into the glorious world of beauracracy. I guess they might have been seduced by the tiny tri colour flag, red beacons and men in uniform saluting them. Sad is the plight of the common man who burnt up his savings for the studies of these blue eyed doctors. Now they move into a place where more of tax payer’s money is burnt. Now what’s the criteria of these intelligentsia choosing civil servants ??

Growing up

I was slipping slowly into sleep, when my mobile announces an sms and pulls me back fromt he world of peace & tranquillity. I jump up from the bed to grab it not because I was expecting anything important. I’m a vain man who waits for some unknown girl to text a raunchy sms at night. I was half disappointed to see the sms was from my good friend Vattolli? But why at this time of night? If it’s some stupid forward I might as well kill him. May be he’s announcing some big Arsenal victory. Still it was neither of the above.  I was pleasantly surprised to know that he was getting married. Although a whiff of marriage was in air, it was supposed to happen further down the year. He was a happy go lucky guy who went soft on responsibilities. Seeing him as a married man down the years would be very strange.

The second invitation didn’t take much long to come. This time it was the freak guy of the batch- manga loving , unkempt , crazy behind wheels. But he was very sweet spoken & loved by all. Now he announces his marriage & I’m all the more surprised. We wouldn’t have imagined Kalaam spending a lifetime with a girl. I still remember those days when he fought some online game late into night and caught a nap every two hours. His antics were a source of evergreen jokes among us. When most of us wound up our Engineering course, he was left with quite a few papers to scrape through. He fooled around with some computer courses got into an IT firm. From then it didn’t take much for him to rise through & earn a good wife.

I started to make plans. Kalaam is going to be the first one among the two. It was Jan25th- The day prior to the republic day. Excuses for a leave is expertly tailored up & here I’m with my friends again. Kalaam is in the traditional attire spotting a pencil thin moustache. I wonder where he got that idea from. As he’s busy getting married we guys hang around making phaltu jokes and gaping at the sleeveless beauties. We wonder on how to spend the evening & Antony comes up with a great idea- Celebrate Vattoli’s bachelors’ party (ala get drunk).

The problem with hitting a pub in hometown is you’ll have to return home sober, early & in one piece. Besides you may have to steadily avoid running into any guy known to your father. But the of caution slowly dissipates along with your first peg. There are lots of laughter and phaltu jokes. But slowly the the decibel levels of laughter goes down and you start bitching about your life, your boss, your girlfriends and your friends. I probably slip into some far off no-man’s land. The three of us decided to shoulder the heavy burden of advising Vattolli about life. The talks got humorously serious. I decided to spend the night out with these guys knowing very well that Dad would go hysterical. I have to somehow hold the fort at home tomorrow. But the head is too bored to think about holding forts now.

Downing our fourth peg we get up, satisfied that we saw to it that our friend started his journey on the right path. All the advices got rewinded and repeated in the car and we didn’t happen to see the policeman waving at us. With amazing athleticism for a mid aged cop he snatch the car keys and roars at us. Soon we find ourselves in police station for drunked driving. Within those few minutes, I found out to my amazement that all what we drank simply dissipated off. I stood there silent for the most of the time as my friends eased us out off the mess and took us home.

But that night I made peace with myself. I no longer wanted my bachelorhood to be a liability. I realized I’m growing old and soon the mid life would loom. I’m hating getting drunk & bitching the whole world off. It’s time you find some girl for yourself..... even knowing very well that you may not like the choice down the road.

(the story hasn’t ended yet.....)

The symbol of manhood

Twitter, Facebook, Blogger, Wordpress- name it and you’ll find a big bunch of unhappy people. They are pissed off with the system, corruption, Shiv Sena, NaMo, SG, RG, Malala, etc etc. We have a awefully huge list of ‘ Things to get pissed off at’. On the other hand I have realized people no longer care about what I think. The finance Minister is not going to roll back because Mr Jon said so. So i have decided to sit back, relax and smile a bit. And I’m going to walk back in time to relearn the art of smiling.

Very recently a former foreign diplomat cum MP cum minister’s son gave out an interview to an Indian daily. He’s claimed to be one of the well known writer on international affairs on a well known international daily. As a parting shot, he gave a swipe at Indian men wearing moustache which is unusual as per international standards.

Down here in southern parts of India, moustache used to be the ‘symbol of manhood’. During  my boys’ school days we shared tips and tricks on how to ensure thick and lusty growth of moustache. Moustache was for boys, what tits were for girls.

My family had a rich tradition of thick moustaches. My dad, uncles etc were symbols of manliness (in terms of moustache). I admired their well kept and thick moustaches. Keeping up with the genes I had the first wisp of hairy growth among my peers. I was looked upon with awe and admiration. Someone suggested shaving can trigger a thicker growth. I went and asked Dad for a razor. I don’t know what prompted Dad to go beserk & i never asked again.

All the superstar actors in Malayalam wore their mundu and twirled their moustaches on seeing the villains. I dreamt of a day when I will chase away the bad guys after twirling the moustache and delivering a few fiery dialogues. Besides the Indian cricket stars too spotted moustaches. Even though they lagged at bottom of the table and never won anything outside the country, they did whip up enough passion on TV screen.

 The fall back of studying at a boys school was we never knew what girls thought on our symbol of manliness. We believed they would swoon over us the moment they see us. The belief was dashed to smithereens on reading a Sushmita Sen interview. She was the hot girl back then. Someone asked her on the link up with Nagarjuna. She laughed it off and replied ‘ I can’t kiss a man with moustache. It makes you tickle!!’ That was something i never thought of.

Soon the Saurav Ganguly era started in Indian cricket. His stylish footwork and majestic off drives were a beauty to watch. Unlike the seniors he whipped up passion on and off the pitch. He never wore the thick moustaches. He preferred the thin, soft one. Soon I became a fan of it. It gave you a look of adolescence. I decided not to shave my moustache so as to stunt the thick growth. Meanwhile I fell in love with Roberto Baggio’s thin one and tried it out. Then came Veeru Mandi from Kamal Hassan & i wore it for sometime. I was a source of amusement but I loved it.

Slowly the Hindi film industry brought out a new change in the way men looked. Hrithik Roshan swept off half the country off the feet and left the other half burning with envy. Soon men started waxing their chest , shaved off their facial hair, wore skin tight jeans & tank tops. They hit the gym and sculpted up the body.

South India was the last foothold for the moustache loving men. But it didn’t take long to give way to clean shaven men. New heroes appeared on screen without any moustache. We all tried to dub them as too effeminate and flash in the pan. But it couldn’t keep the box office coffers from ringing.

Meanwhile Mohd Azharuddin was unceremoniously thrown out of the team. Soon Ganguly took over. He decided to give the team a new spirit and passion to win. Apparently as part of an image makeover, everyone shaved off their moustache. Yea imagine, Kumble too. To make it worse india became a team to beat.

One fine morning i woke up and looked at the mirror. The college days were over. I was still single and no girl had fallen for my external symbol of manhood. I would be joining an MNC in a couple of weeks. Besides I felt it’s taking awful lot of time to groom the moustache. So complying with international standards I took a razor and shaved it off.

Soon I was flooded with love letters ( Well that is a figment of my imagination. Sigh)

Afternote: One day we noticed Dad running around with a funny expression. To our utter horror, he shaved off his moustache. Mom went hysterical. Me and Bro had a great kaugh. He realized it was a mistake and sat at home for a week, until it started coming back. But today he wears it thin more as a stubble!!

Aren't we all desperate?

So i met Sree through the Facebook. We had been blogger buddies for quite sometime. I searched for her name and found her online. I came across a few pictures of hers- happily doping with the friends. I asked her the usual idiotic question- don’t you guys get ‘indecent’ while doping. She replies ‘Yea only the Mallu men do’ Wow, ok this is a compliment for my clan. 

What makes the English men so prim and decent while on a high? Why do the Mallus can think only about getting indecent?

My friend Aliyah says the same too. She says the new age Mallu men pretends enjoying all the crude jokes and then goes arounf labelling you a slut.

Now why is it? A famed poet wrote a poem titles ‘ The purity of Indian women’. We had a tradition where the property was inherited by the elder sister’s son. The whole thought process behind it was that women carried purest blood of the family. 

May be we got a little so obsessed with preserving purity of the blood. The women were placed at highest pedestal of divinity and isolated from the world. The men were expected to find a living when the women were expected to breed pure blood. 

The times have changed and the women have started earning their dough too. But sadly they have refused themselves to be brought down the pedestal. As far as i see it, the real challenge is to see your friend, sister and wife as humans.

Its just ok if the fall for someone else, or if they play around a bit. For we are humans after all.

A tiny adventure Part I

Read the following stuff with utmost diligence and care. The protagonist of the story hails from a society where it’s not so easy to enter into a dalliance with any girl. For an average guy it would be difficult to woo a girl, let alone get kissed. The society tells him that most women have no sexual feelings and their duty is to fake an emotion so as to quench the thirst of man.

The average guy, AG, hails from a somewhat orthodox family where sex and girls are a taboo. He has to live with a little extra curiosity and sensuality than the rest of the boys of his age. One day his friend mimics the process of ‘masturbation’. After many unsuccessful attempts in the secrecy of darkness AG triumphs.

Years go by AG enters college. He see many beautiful girls and handsome guys. After a few unsuccessful attempts he realizes he lacks the capability to attract someone from the fairer side. Years role by, he draws close to new ideas, ideologies and dreams. He interprets his sexuality and his dreams with respect to them. AG started despising the so called feeling of chocolate love which leads to marriage. Although quite weird, he tries to land in some raunchy ‘internet’ relationships, which again burnt his fingers.

Then through mutual friends he comes across this beautiful girl. A few chats later she openly tells him, she finds him attractive. AG is stunned and shocked. This is the first time in his life. The years have left a whiff of maturity in him. AG is not ready to get carried away, as he knows this is not the girl meant for him.

Here ends the first part…………………

A better gift- concluded

There comes a point in life when you come to believe that you have met with your destiny. Years ago, it was my turn when I thought I had met the love of my life. It a;; happened thanks to a bundle of books she carried along. I decided this was the girl I am going to spend rest of my life with.

She was well read, a good movie enthusiast, decently principled. And she was very good looking with a slim figure and decent curves. Would I have fallen for her otherwise?

It was relatively the first time for me in life. I didn’t want to leave any stone unturned. I remember fondly the amount of time, I spent to pick a gift. I didn’t exempt the cheap stuff too from the list of gifts. Then I phoned, texted and even chivalrously gave her a company on the way home.

I know, this sounds high school stuff. But then you realize only when you are out of it. It took me some months to get out of that. One day I tactically asked her if she was seeing someone. Thankfully she replied in negative. That was a welcome green signal for me. Even then I wasn’t sure of when to pop up the question.

My blogs became the only mode of retribution. Then a mutual friend, whom I had met through her, pinged me. He asked me if there was any chance we would meet. We met over a lemon tea. It was then he told me they both were seeing each other when I was busy thinking about gifts. How nice!! The first thought that went over my mind was the perfume. But then the burden lifted off my chest. I am free again. Life is tough and is a gamble. You cast the dice and you win or lose. Bu then you expect some level of trust.
Last day she called me up for her wedding. The mind was totally free of any bitter feelings. I would have gone, if not for the long travel. I haven’t thought from her shoes. So it would be quite unfair to do a single sided bashing.

Signing off by wishing her a great life.

Hero of our times......6

Living in a men’s hostel can be very edgy and itchy at times. The place can be interesting if you have the ability to thrive around crowds and when you have lots of friends to hang out with. I am a little short in both the above mentioned qualities. I love loneliness and silence to read, write and watch movies.

Hostels can be a great place to come across different kind of people from different situations and backgrounds. I love talking to people while at the same time I draw a secret pleasure by analyzing them and picturise their life, situations and fantasies.

I was back to hostel after a very long day at the bank. I decided to seek for solace at the feet of ‘idiot box’ in the common room. There was only this guy in the common room. I had found him as a very striking personality who always ran through the newspapers in the mornings and news channels in the evenings. The young people in the hostels rarely have such a routine. He struck a conversation with me by commenting on the large, old fashioned, thick glasses I wore.

The conversation turned to my hometown, our friends and the jobs. I was impressed by the language he used and the way he spoke. He gave off the impression of giving a speech. He used the best words from literature- both English and Malayalam. He looked very young and at the same time very learned.

Slowly he turned the conversation to religion. I realized I had ended up in a trap. He belonged to a version of Protestant Christian who lived with a terrible superiority complex and other Christians have to be lead shown the ‘right’ path through arguments. The last thing I would want to get into on a tired night was argument.

I made sure that I didn’t argue back. Although he seemed to be so sure of himself, he sounded so illogical. But I was fascinated by the way he spoke and the passion he generated. My tactic of staying silent worked. He did stop his religious discourse and told me his story.

Jobi is just a high school graduate. He was just an average student, but was confident of getting through to college. Sadly he couldn’t make it. He couldn’t stand the ridicule of people around and decided to learn some useful trade and went off to Chennai. He apprenticed himself to a Tamil to study welding. Life turned hell for him. He was made to do all the menial works from cleaning the shop to fetching water. His working hours started from 6 in the morning to ten at night. At nights his quarters doubled up as drinking haven for his boss. Working without protection in front of radiation made his eyes water when he tried to doze off. He sat up at nights dazed on seeing himself rot away.

I sat listening to his story, feeling sorry for myself. How I used to sulk at a job where I do not have to do anything menial and left me a good pay packet at the end of month.

After some three months, he learnt of a christian elocution competition happening back home. The prize money was huge and the competition seemed very stiff. He had to fight it off with theological students who spent best part off their life practicing the art to earn a living. He was very unsure of himself. But then a good politician-friend helped him polish off the rough edges. The other tough part was the huge distance he would have to travel for the right rounds.

The judges were mighty pleased with his raw ideas in the first round. He started climbing up the levels when he managed to get a place to stay which made his preparation easier.

As the fairytale goes, he won the competition and managed to get a job as the manager of book stores run by the management. He told me how he was surrounded by load of books with none to disturb him. He still goes off to preach gospel- but for wages.