In which I (re)discover I have a blog – 2

December 3, 2010 § 3 Comments

I am down with sinus. Again. It is one of those things one just can’t get used to. Almost like marriage (or differently sized testicles for that matter). You know it’s going to stay with you forever, and will be a pain in your ass time and again and make you feel all flustered and disabled, but you still gotta live with it. It’s another story that I feel like an outcast whenever I step out of the house, with all the protective layers on me trying to keep the cold out and I run into an off-shoulder garment wearing non-stick non-touchable hot girl with hands in the pockets of her shorts and Egyptian sandals. I am one of those men who accept that we are formed by the women around us.

But I have nothing against marriage in principle. In real life I am all for it. In fact just the other day I was riding next to a bus full of pretty and young things from Lady Hardinge Medical College. A flash from the past kinda thing happened as I remembered how I always had a thing for doctors. Basically anything remotely doctorish and female. I used to have these discussions with Maa when I was barely 12 about how I am going be this hot shot Computer Engineer and will land a charming and nice and warm and pretty doctor girl. I have grown out of it after dating a physiotherapist and a PhD (see ..both doctors), but the idea seems to have evolved with Maa whose only purpose in life before she retires from the active house managing life is to hunt for THAT girl. While her zeal for the project kind of scares me some times (because the prospective girl will have to live up to Maa’s expectations before mine), I also have a defense mechanism to ward off possible successful conquests – my Twitter stream. No girl in her mind would want to meet me for prospective matrimonial alliance after reading my tweets. Unless I have got women figured all wrong here.

So I have been watching Californication these days. I would say it is creepy how you can connect so deeply to a character in a TV show, but then one must always remember you are not the only asshole and definitely not one of a kind on the planet. Needless to say I’m all hooked to the series, given there is a naked breast popping out of nowhere every fifteen-odd minutes in every episode.

And I was supposed to give the IIM entrance this year. But I was conveniently in bed snoring my thundering sinus away waiting for the nymphomanical maid kid to come and make some tea. I guess everything happens for a reason. And I am happy not knowing the reason here until it presents itself sooner or later.

Which kind of throws me back in time a little. I remember myself as a very calculated person. You know the putting two and two together kind. While studying for IIT I used to derive the time I can invest to solve a problem after adding all the problems from the exercises across all the study material and dividing it by the minutes to the day of the exam. I was that freaky yes. Things changed a little after I came to IIT, I loosened up with respect to the ideal importance that should have been accorded to lectures and tests. And IIT Delhi was like the perfect place to delusion yourself. It made narcissists out of every Ram, Raheem and Harinder. There was some kind of pride associated with waiting in the bathroom queue behind an All India Rank 7. We went to lectures with some of the most unattractive girls of the nation put together and back in hostel we were exposed to a treasure cove of scripted porn with Casino grade assets women. IIT had the kind of girls you ended up respecting for all the wrong reasons – for writing fastest algorithms, for scoring an A while you bordered on flunking, for being able to talk to you and other men for years completely asexually etc. Anyhow, any more words and I am jeopardizing readership for the book that should be out soon in the next five years or so.

Right now the priority item on my list of to-dos is to get a full medical/dental check up done. I have been royally ignoring my health for a number of years now, despite having had gentle friendly warnings from people around me. I guess that Tata Safari Dicor ad can be blamed for ruining my good sense in this matter. I don’t think I’d like to remember working out in the corner of a shady gym, when I might very well be downing shots of expensive Mexican tequila in that fancy bar at TGIF. I mean comeon you health conscious people are not going down in the annals of history with any more golden words than me.

Anyway, enough with all of that. This felt good. That is what sickness does. Makes you feel vulnerable and then something happens that just turns things around. Like a she friend going all ‘Awwwww’ and planting a more-than-friendly kiss somewhere on your face.

The point is ..I am happy to be writing again. Hank Moody, after all, seems to get all the girls with his words.


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