When we were "ch*tiyas"...

I was recently reminded of a book I read in the first year of my undergrad- "Of course I love you (till I find someone else)". The book was about the life of a horny engineering student in Delhi, a community that makes up at least 50% of Delhi's male population. The book not only reeked of desperation for social acceptance, it also to some extent glorified the sadhu-culture of India. But the saddest part of it all was that I liked it. So much so, that I even recommended it my friends!

How could I like a book so awful? A book that makes Chetan Bhagat shit look more sophisticated. Was I crazy? Was I possessed? Was I a ch*tiya?

I dug deeper into my memories and found that this wasn't the only thing that made me cringe. I was reminded of the occasion when I sang a Backstreet Boys song in high school. Can you believe it? I, who listens to Porcupine Tree and Tool today, singing "Show me the meaning" as a 16-year old?

What kind of a faggot sings a Backstreet Boys song at the age of 16!

These were not mistakes of my past life. Bowling a last-ball half-volley that was hit for six was a mistake. Watching South Africa chase 434 one day before my Chemistry exam was a mistake. But these! These were conscious choices I made over a long period of time. How could I?

I realized that ever since I became a person aware of his own existence as a human-being (which sadly for me was as late as the age 19), I have suffered from the "KCTM syndrome", where KCTM stands for "Kya Chutiya Tha Main". This ailment makes you constantly think of your past self until you feel so angry that all you can do is lie on the bed and go to sleep (sigh!). It is what causes you to not reply to that friend from high school who made you into a Linkin Park  fan coz all that you would be thinking during that conversation is- kya chutiya tha main.

But then I realized another thing- I would have probably scoffed at my high-school self even in college when, in retrospect, my taste in books was as sophisticated as Donald Trump's taste in women. How do I know the future me wouldn't mock the person I am right now?

Perhaps KCTM is just part of human nature. It is our way of creating a progress report in our heads. Perhaps that's also the reason why we're more likely to justify our present selves compared to our past selves. Maybe it has an evolutionary advantage associated with it. And conversely, perhaps doing the opposite has an evolutionary disadvantage associated with it- if you constantly think of how pathetic you are compared to your past self, you're very much likely to be depressed, a very ominous proposition indeed.

So it looks to me, that the KCTM syndrome is inescapable and not even bad for you. Which indirectly means that the future me is gonna look at this blog and say- kya chutiya tha main.

Colourful Curses

If you're thinking why the hell has this guy spelled "color" as "colour", well you can fu*k off!

But you see, that's my problem. I have a very limited and dull vocabulary when it comes to abuses. Have tried incorporating the "good words" in my lexicon, but all that comes out of my mouth is the sadakchaap stuff any person gets familiar with after having stayed in New Delhi for over 7 minutes.

So as a last resort, I have decided to assemble together some of the most creative gaalis I've come across. Hopefully writing this blog will remind me of doing this very important task of my life. So, here's the list in my majestic mother-tongue, Hindi (have added their English translation in case you don't know Hindi):

1. Choot ke bhoot (Ghost of a cunt)
2. Bhoot ki choot (Cunt of a ghost)
3. Lawda pakoda (Dick sausage)
4. Choot ke paseene (Sweat of cunt)
5. Choot ke maindak (Frog of a cunt)
6. Lund khajoor (Stupid Dick)
7. Sust lund ki paidaish (Son of a lazy dick)
8. Teri chut mein chugli (Itch in the cunt)

(FYI, it sounds waaay more awesome in Hindi!)

And now for some English in case you were thinking I lacked sophistication:

1. Inhuman cunt worm
2. Gaylord ponker
3. Senile douchewaffle bender
4. Indeterminable cock stain
5. Pus licking hole plugger
6. Dried out arse excrement

Hope this endeavour helps my vocabulary. And if you're still thinking why has this guy spelled "endeavour" and not "endeavor", well you can take your dick and stick it in a maggot infested llama cunt you animal fondling nutsack!

(Here are some very useful links in case you wanna explore this fascinating field further:

http://www.youswear.com/index.asp?language=Hindi

http://foulomatic.hnldesign.nl/

http://www.buzzfeed.com/robinedds/ways-to-swear-like-a-pro#.oanla0435)

The fan, the star and the hypocritical cycle

Have watched all of this guy's videos on Youtube!

I’m a fanboy. If I like someone, I can’t help but know everything about that person. It’s like an obsession. And yet, I can’t help but flinch at what fans do- they stand in lines to get autographs, they fight others if they diminish the image of their star, etcetera, etcetera. What kind of lame people are these? Don’t they have any self-respect? Why can’t they actually do something with their lives?

This is not a blog where I have realized which of these sides is right. I write this to acknowledge the hypocrisy. My hypocrisy. Where I can listen to all Thom Yorke interviews one day and silently mock the people who watch Salman Khan on Big Boss. And yet I feel proud- proud of having read all that Carl Sagan wrote, all Anurag Kashyap interviews, all Noam Chomsky lectures, all Cyrus Broacha books.

It is a vicious cycle. But in between the mocking and the following, I sometimes wonder what it must feel to be like these men. And in these moments of delusion, I wonder what Richard Feynman might say about my research. I wonder how Shoaib Akhtar might feel when he has a cricket ball in his hand. I wonder what words Gulzar may use to express an emotion. And then there are moments when you don’t have to juxtapose anymore. You are yourself. You are a scientist solving a problem, a writer penning his thoughts, a man throwing a ball. You are that and nothing else.

But is that really you? Or has your impersonation got so refined that it escapes detection? Perhaps the only way to answer this is to see if you can defend yourself against the point of view of the star you admire. If you can do that, you’ve become your own person, now capable of poking around with the workings of the world.

So perhaps, we have stars not really to be like them. They are there to inspire the others to become who they are by showing how they became themselves. I guess till we refrain from the "star-worship", there's nothing wrong with this hypocrisy. 

Anger Management

We've all been there. You feel like screaming so hard your sound waves blow people away. If you were batting instead of Yuvraj Singh in the IPL, you feel you could smash the biggest six that has ever been hit. You wanna take your mind off it. You pick up a book and try reading it but can't go past page 2. You wanna hear someone shout! Or at least rant. So you pull up George Carlin's videos on Youtube. But you've already laughed and guffawed at all of them. As a last resort, you play ‘Anger Management’ but can’t watch that atrocious movie beyond 13 min. What the fu*k is wrong with the world! You wanna grab a bottle and smash it to pieces. The sound, oh that sound! Only that sound can satisfy this most passionate feeling of rage. Or can it?

There are many ways to vent anger. But although the above may seem like the most natural things to do, venting by itself is not the ultimate aim of anger. The purpose of anger is to have its subject at your feet and beg for forgiveness! You want them to burn in the fire of self-repentance and cry till their eyes dissolve! That is the principal goal of anger.

But alas, anger in its purest form can only be experienced if you know you’re right. Confusion has no place in this. If you have the slightest of doubts about your right to be pissed, then I’m afraid you’ll be deprived of a wrath that ancient Indian sadhus enjoyed when they cursed their subject of anger to die lest they intended to make love and so on. It’s an awesome feeling of self-righteousness, this unbridled anger. It may even border on the sadistic! But don’t worry, you aren't doing anything wrong. The person’s asking for it.

"I am become death, the destroyer of worlds" is what you feel like

Don’t let others confuse you. Running 5 miles in the gym won’t solve this. No amount of punches on boxing bags will quench this. There is no damn way of channeling this anger “constructively” (and that includes writing blogs like these). This is the time for destruction! Destruction of your subject’s very idea of happiness. Any means to achieve that is justified.

And that my friend is what anger management is all about.