Monday, August 08, 2005

Fit Hai Kya !

21-03-2002

A little bird twittered into my ear at 3 AM ! Goddamn sleepless bird I thought. It was only my alarm clock going off. No no, I am not mad waking up that early in the morn ... it's that guy Sketchy. Maan, he can get real weird ideas and the fun part is, he follows it up with some serious action. The guy does some holy circambulating every Thursday morn some 15000 times. He says he's not interested in a bride and all. What other earthly reason can get you off bed at 3 AM to walk a million miles !! He says the reason is not earthly. He is plain zany. I told him that. He doesn't believe me. Either you won't believe what I say next or you'll think I'm one of those guys who sees things, as in apparitions, first thing every morning. I swear on God (the same one Sketch circambulated) that at 5:45 AM when I opened my eyes and all, I saw Sketch doing push-ups on his bed. Clear as hell maan I tell you. I figured I hadn't woken up fully and so I promptly went back to sleep. Amen.

Top Side Down

18-03-2002

There was this fire engine clanking down the main road of Parthi, or so it seemed, when I was rudely awakened at 6:45 AM. It is late by the spirit of the soul of this place, but my soul finds no peace if I'm up earlier. If I do manage to sleep earlier than last night, which was way past 11 PM, as I was reading this swell book by Salinger, I may wake earlier than 6:45 AM. Coulden has misplaced priorities in his life. I wonder where he got them from. Some people are born funny and some become funny by association, but the ones that beat all of these are those who become funny all by themselves, for no good reason. I mean, you look at them and want to laugh. Coulden was the phoniest kid (to borrow his expression) I've read about. Anyway, I slept well and felt happy to reach the end of the book where his poor parents would put him into another school, which he'd get kicked out of anyway. Somebody show him the road please ! So, I was telling you about the fire engine that woke me. I have these two absolute jokers in my room. I actually have another joker, the third one, also, but he prefers to make his aunt laugh and so we don't see much of him. These two jokers, Sketchy and Reg are usually asking each other questions a seventh grader would be ashamed to ask. The asker is usually Sketch and Reg would try to be patient as hell for three questions. After the third one, he'd get mad as hell and begin with a warning growl. One thing Sketch doesn't know is when to seal his trap and this gets very annoying for Reg. It's very funny watching them. So what really happened was that Reg was bathing and Sketch wanted to have a pee and was beating the hell outa the darn door. You see, I need a good eight-hour nap at night and I get very sore and all if I miss a few minutes. This morning I missed 45 and I woke up mad. I don't like it when I get up mad because I get madder till I sort of swallow some water, which is not till I bathe. See … these complications make me want to sleep for a full 8 hours. My jokers woke me and I was groggy like hell. I don't say G'mornin on such days. I mean, hell, would you say 'nice weather' if the person has just picked your pocket ? You don't. So, Reg got out of the bath and Sketch could ease his bladder. I hate noise in the early mornings. I plonked the tooth brush in my mouth and fooled around a while. I like the taste of my toothpaste. I squeezed the life out of my last tube and cursed myself for not buying one yesterday. My buddy Reg is worse than me. He's not had a toothpaste tube in 10 days and spends his mornings squeezing the hell out of Sketch's or my tube of toothpaste. Actually, Reg has run out of soap and shaving blades too. Yesterday I cursed a neighbourhood punk for washing his plate of noodles in our basin. Reg coolly told me that it was his shaving brush disintegrating. So now you know, he doesn't as hell have a brush too. I mean, how can you grow up to be 32 years old and all if you can't buy your daily provisions ? Amen.

Sunday, August 07, 2005

Think

Philosopher : A fool who torments himself while alive so that he can be remembered when he is dead.

Baby : A long alimentary canal with a loud mouth at one end and no responsibility at the other.

What matters is not the size of the dog in a fight. What matters is the size of the fight in a dog.

Seven days without laughter make one weak.