Three. Tres. Troix.

Back in Chennai. The land of heat, dust and hypocrites. Yes, I am in a foul mood. Who wouldn't be, having had moronic auto-rickshaw drivers for breakfast? But its good to be back. New Year's Eve beckons. So does solitude. This is gonna be the second New Year in a row that I'll spend with myself. Time to think, reflect and plan. Yeah, right. It's a drag.

Maybe I'll just keep listening to Nirvana, and wondering whether India will win the Sydney Test. Maybe I won't. I don't know. I really need company even to do that. The splendid gift of speech is quite a bane at times. We have to keep up the pretence of upholding the art of conversation, even when we don't really know how. Unfortunately, we always want to. That is the sad part.

Why do we have a New Year's Day anyhow? And assuming we've answered that, why is it celebrated? Just another day in the three hundred and sixty five and a quarter that our world takes to orbit the star Sol. No big deal, you'd think. And yet, every culture across the globe celebrates New Year on some day. Funny. From what I've seen of Hollywood movies, a New Year's Eve party is about tons of people getting drunk in Times Square, and kissing each other on the stroke of midnight. Again, not much different from the gazillions of parties that go on throughout the globe every night in clubs and discos. Except that people are drunk for no reason then. Does the welcoming of a New Year (note the capitals) give us the license to behave like fools? Or is it just an excuse to release our baser, primal instincts? Yeah, like we need an excuse.

Answer, that, bloggers !!

The Second One

Ahh… today has been great as well. I met my loony doctor. Unlike Bertie Wooster, I am not insane. Good.

So life is still good. So is the aunt. And the kids. Except for the hair-pulling bits. And also India suffering at the hands of those marauding blokes from Oz. But apart from that, life has been treating me particularly well. I could do worse than a lazy, laidback life filled with buttered popcorn. The good news is I’m sane. So I’m not gonna stab anyone to death. Or so they say.

Ahh, a little pigeon (a dumb one) just reminded me of Mini. She’s partly the reason why I don’t hunt very hard. Problem is, I haven’t seen her. She must be a doll. Anyways, thinking about that will get me down, so I won’t.

Maybe I should start looking at guys. No, that would totally freak people out. I’d be first. That would be gossip for some local news column, wouldn’t it? . No, Mini might massacre me. I think I heard someone scream the word carnage.

That’s that then.

And for those who’d like a little more info about my universe, maybe you got to come to me. Nah, just kidding. Apply in person and all that crap. Actually, my body is a bit sore from all those amusement park rides. Ouch.

Umm… I’m gonna round off now, I shall leave the mallus for my land on the morrow. Chennai beckons. Namma Chennai. (After the fashion of Amchi Mumbai). Thank you. Good night.

The First One

Well, okay. Here we are. My first blog. Why? Like I said, everyone seems to be doing it, so might as well join the club. A great man once said, “If you can’t lick ‘em, join ‘em”.

Before we start, a warning. Many of these lines are plagiarized from books of eminent authors. Perhaps I’ll be one some day. Fingers crossed.

So, where are we? The story of a chap. A chap who likes his life. Sticks and stones may break his bones, and loony doctors (read psychiatrists) may certify him totally certifiable, but he still likes his life. His universe. Everything. From birth to death. Alpha to Omega. Jayanthi to Nirvana. I’m not making too much sense here.

I’ll begin again. I’m in the land of the mallu, an adorable creation of god, at the abode of my fav’rit aunt (she’s my good and deserving one, as Bertie Wooster would say) , on a medical mission to meet this loony doctor (perhaps a far off distant relative of Sir Roderick Glossop), who’ll presumably diagnose me as being totally off my rocker.

Went to an amusement park today. In Kochi. That’s over two hours away by car. Far. But I had fun. Life is good. My entire universe is. Let’s not start that again.

Where were we? Oh yes, amusement park. Got wet. Soaked. Drenched. I resembled a soggy brown paper substitute for a human being. Did I mention it was a water theme park? Oh yes, u heckler, I CAN swim, and I’ve been swimming for over a decade. I’m a regular fish in water. Don’t do too well on land though. My cousins (two cute gals who’ve never seen life before 1995) had a heck of a lot of fun. Especially while they were pulling my hair. Or giving me a black eye while fighting each other for the last chip (the traditional kind – made from potato, not silicon). So, that’s life. One big amusement park ride. Ups. Downs. Crests. Troughs. You get drenched. Get a black eye. But you enjoy it. Life, ultimately, is good.

Back to the beginning then. Omega to Alpha. My universe? Revolves around me. Myself. Ahh, the universe of an egoistical guy. Being selfish pays off. Ask Ayn Rand. She knows. This universe also centers on buttered popcorn, Calvin and Hobbes, paintings by John Constable, books, books, books, Metallica, Elvis and Simon and Garfunkel. The universe does not include Bollywood films and/or music.

Everything else has to mean grub and girls. I am single and hunting. Not very hard though. I am also lazy. Got to correct that before I get to IIM. Hmm.

Rambled on enough. Didn’t make too much sense, but then a blog is sort of like an online diary. Diaries are private. Things that make sense to me and not to other people protect my privacy. That is optimism. Guiding Principle of my life. Again, life is good. Back at Alpha. I’ll quit while I’m ahead.

I’m not explaining lotusrays.