Minimum Self's Journey to the alleged Maximum City!!!

I am making another move! I wish I could say I am making another movie but Alas! that's not it. I am moving to a city which petrifies me. It is part of my country but it has a vendetta against those who come from the north of it. So, on occasions the people of the city I am petrified off beat the so called outsiders for taking over what is theirs, the insiders so to say. I am not sure what to make of it all cause I don't give a damn!!!
These groups of spattering insider crowd can't keep me out of a part of country which is mine (by way of being its citizen not out of royalty)... even though I'd be kept out without too much persuasion from other places which are also a part of my country but are always in a constant gun battle... Ya! I am not too much of a brave heart though I guess if in recession I was offered a job in another city where gun battle ensues I may just go there as well, just so I have a tale to tell.
I have been called a story master! Not because I can tell a story beautifully but cause I wove stories to get out of tight spots. It isn't a complimentary title FYI...
After having strayed off the beaten path into bizarre like a blind and buggered sense less Cow (Yes! its a pun, Staying at home has converted me into a likeness of a upright Cow, NO! I don't give milk and grow UP! all you people make new cow jokes... Also yes a guy completely out of shape can also look like a guy which is Cow in Hindi!!!)
Oops! I did it again... No I didn't do a Britney, though she wasn't so bad when she was dancing in school mini skirts... BAH!!! What I meant was that I strayed off the topic I wanted to vent about and the topic was me shifting base to this big hunk of a regionist metropolitan legend.
Now the thing is I would at some point like to give my first impressions about the city but the city has been scripted and talked about at such stretchy lengths that I would have to do a lot of copyright infringing to find words which would express my pseudo intellectual first impression of this city...
But then again... How would that be any different from what you guys read all the time?
:-/

So without further ado... I'd like to invite all those who actually stumbled on this piece because you were bored, or were looking for porn, or wanted to read some good net lit to my tame and utterly passable take on my most recent move!!!

PS: With an absolute straight face laced with no sarcasm or devil may care sneer... I'd like to say if you have read till here your reading is appreciated. If you haven't read well then you won't know how I abuse the NON-READERS!!!

SHIT!!!
HOLY CRAP AND THE DEFINING MOMENT GALORE!!!


I can't help it... I mean I think my share of life defining moments is bigger than everyone else's...
I mean within days of being literally drowned in puke I was in a state where my dignity and honour and chastity could be questioned and very much maligned.
I mean just why do I experience such defining moments? Well mostly cause I'll be great and you know other things which legends are made of...
SO Just how many times have you needed a hole/ a pot/ foliage.. some water and well if not soap then some leaves(rather big ones!!!)?
What I really want to ask is that exactly how many times did you feel the need to relieve your intestines ruled over anything on the face of the earth?
And when you are just writhing with the gases doing its rounds and you desperately searching for those four walls to keep your glory intact and you don't see any loo around and you go mad... I mean how many times has it happened to anyone else?
FINE!!! FINE!!!
I didn't ask you shameless loose boweled people to raise hands...
Alright! So all of you at one point or the other needed to use the public convenience is desperate hurry... fair enough... but did any of you feel the sensation of losing control of all your being while you were live on national television giving astute (YA RIGHT!) credible (SURE!!! SURE!!! WHY not !!!) factual (Will you stop it!!! You crack me up Since when is NEWS REPORTING WITH THOSE QUALITIES... YOU ARE SURE YOU WERE REPORTING FOR NATIONAL TV AND NOT COLLEGE BULLETIN???) report of how things are at the airport my bowels (don't mispronounce its not BALLS spelt wrong...) took control And with the mike held under a guests nose I started dancing so as to try and cajole my insides to stay ummm INSIDE!!!
YES DELHI AIRPORT HAS NO GOD DAMN toilet where when in emergency you can relieve... I knew it but I flatter myself so much so was certain I won't be bothered by the lack of convenience.. WELL I WAS PROVED WRONG BY MY OWN BLOODY BODY and NO!!! I DIDNT HAVE THE CHANCE TO SAY ETU BODY...
I just finished the live with a look on my face which suggested that I had other important things to do than MY JOB!!!
While I was locating a car to get to a nearest LOO... I received a call... The conversation goes something like this...
CALLER: (He spoke really slowly like he had all the time in the world) pRICKY
pRICKY: (who the fuck would it be if you called pRICKY???) YES????
CALLER: Next live at top of 9 am...
pRICKY: Can't do it... Personal crisis... Have to find a toilet and I think I am going to be very late getting to it...
CALLER: OH... EWWW... ARGH (HANG UP)
I was jumping talking to strangers deliriously hoping against hope that someone could help me to a toilet... I am certain I was jumping much higher than JUMPING JANE (Refer to last post)... I was positively leaping... NO not with joy... I mean I was wearing my brand new LEVIS... I REALLY COULDN'T... The thought itself was painful... I can't I just can't lose the battle now....
SLAM!!!
The car arrived... I banged the door and pleaded/ ordered/ abused the driver to get me to a bloody toilet. The great man promptly pointed me to the vegetation on one side. I ignored the very welcome suggestion. Still trying to keep my dignity... Got to a stinky SULABH TOILET and relieved myself thanking all my GODS and ANCESTORS (GOD BLESS THEIR SOUL...)
THE best FIVE RUPEES I ever spent....
AH!!!! ULTIMATE RELIEF...
PPS: pRICKY is experienced in pooping in DTL (Deep trench latrines) MILITARY
as also in VEGETATION
also behind rocks and on river banks...
even though he has experienced the best, most comfortable and very expensive loos... HE still loves the riverside relieving experience...

I AM NO SUPERMAN...


I promise solemnly that I had nothing to do with being puked on…


Great people always mention certain life altering moments. I am not sure if these moments come face to face with only a few or whether everyone has the privilege of acquainting themselves with such moments.
Moments, which are supposed to shape your life in an inspiring manner. Let’s just say that certain moments provide a certain spice in your life. They are supposed to be the highlighted few which come to your mind and make you wonder how in heaven’s name could you be selected for a moment as defining as being puked on?
That’s right! Entire gut contents spilt on your only pair of jeans.
And what is the feeling like?
Hmm let me see… I felt like an idiot for not thinking! I mean who, exactly who makes a rather ill person sit between two people in a car ride through peak traffic hours? And did I mention the ill person was choking??
Also did I mention that I was thinking that if the person puked I would be in the direct line of fire? But did I make the person comfortable and get them to sit near a window? NO!
There is no easy way of saying it… so I am just going to say it…
One moment I hear ‘ I can’t breathe’ the other ‘ ough… gouugh…’ you know the oft heard puke sounds… And the poor person did try to dodge me but considering I was plume in the zone not much the poor food allergic could do…
Oh! Didn't I mention… Yeah the person suffered from a severe food allergy which by the way I wouldn’t even want my worst enemies to go through. In short what this allergy does is it grows things on you. NO! I don’t mean weeds, it just makes you go bumpy all over and you wish that you could scratch yourself all over like a flea ridden dog!!!
You might think I am exaggerating but I am sure you would give my credibility more credit once you have seen the above mentioned person jumping literally through the roof!!!
Now, let me also mention to all those sick people who would make fun of such a serious situation. While I was helplessly shrugging saying crap things like ‘Are you feeling better?’ while she was ready to punch the wall to distract her from the 'itchy flea' sensation and saying that the world has suddenly turned yellow. The song yellow started playing in my mind. I know, I know I am very cheap.
While, the world turned uni coloured to our ‘jumping Jane’ the doctor’s assistant decided that ice was the remedy which was all that could contain the allergy. Meanwhile jumping Jane started drinking water absolutely neat. Bottle after bottle. Dev D and Devdas be damned!!! THOUGHTS IN THE HEAD: If Jane faints then there is no way hat I could lift her like a hero not cause she was heavy but cause I was in a shape best associated with a potato.
But the distinction of conduct in a situation of stress would go to Dr N and a close run up would be dear Jane. I am certain you would agree.
While Jane was half carried and half pushed into a CRV, which was in a cameo as the ambulance, was quite exhausted by the various itch sensations she could feel. And as the poor dear girl was writhing for some oxygen and looking all around for help and in all this carrying herself impeccably was being explained by Dr N what the scientific terms of her allergy was and consequently stripping her.
I was doing best to utter comforting nothings in a deep heavy and reassuring voice. Considering I have neither depth or weight in my voice, it sounded very squeaky. But I don’t think anybody cared too much about my voice then.
That’s when Jane decided she had enough of my squeaks and took things in her own hands and opened her gut to my jeans and my wood land shoes while apologising, which I must add is a feat… I mean there was only as much you could do… Spill your guts or apologise about something you couldn’t have helped.
Also I need to remind you that Jane puked in a Honda CR-V…
Well, We made our grand entrance into an expensive hospital with dirty toilets, they smelt dirty…
And while I strutted from one room to the other after depositing Jane on an expensive bed trying to walk normally as if puke wasn’t slithering all over me. I could hear Dr N giving courtesy lessons to Jane who decided to stick her tongue out cause it felt dry. All in all it was an experience of a life time. I mean I hope by saying this I would never be puked on again. I think I have had a defining moment too many!!!

For all the impertinent people out there, the jeans have been washed and I also get a new pair for my very overrated services for which I gloatingly take more credit than I deserve… What can I say I was a hero who saved the day!!!

WARNING: pRicky is known to glorify and exaggerate about himself more often than not his role is minimal if not non existent. He continues to be the ass you all adore absolutely useless!!!

A Natural Alcoholic

This would come as a surprise, No, for people who have seen me being a wuss when a drink was being offered in good spirit my confession would come as a downright shock...

But halt just one moment... I have a tale to recount. After which no would blame an innocent li'l boy like me and the things which occured last night...

A fellow reporter gets a transfer and a farewell party is arranged. Dear pRicky makes it the last. And is asked what drink he would like. Which He declines immediatly. It was a kind of denial which is stupid enough to think that it would be obliged.

As luck would have it. The boss over heard that pRicky has never had a drink. She felt obliged to sit pricky down and asked for a drink for him. Then an entire office and a boss on his side he was cheered into downing a rum ... Bottoms up! NOTE: This was his first glass of the drink.

pRicky is thinking. I am going to puke, get high start talking crazy, worse still I might be a weepy drunkard...

But the same horrified people who I mentioned above would now be even more shocked to know that not only did pRicky do a bottoms up but then all through the evening he was made to drink the aforementioned rum in every version possible. With coke, with water and to make things merrier... I had it neat as well.

Now, the most interesting bit about the evening. pRicky didnt puke, wasn't high nor did he lose coherance...
Which brings me to give pRicky the title of a natural alcoholic...

An entire wasted pause…

The second last day of this year begins in exactly thirty seconds. I have thought over this year so many times I just wish it had taken me some where. At the expense of another year, I should have evolved and I suppose I might have but then the idea of having paused in a certain existence, a certain mood…
Its like things have stopped in motion.
It would be stupid and completely unbelievable if I said I didn’t attempt to shift out of this pause but somehow things remained frozen whatever my act may be.
I laid a thousand lies. To myself and as it is proven to most around me. Isn’t something not believed by a majority turn to be a statement of a fantasy which couldn’t be reality.
In most essence what did this year start with? What did I think I shall achieve out of it? I do know I told myself I could be a better person. But I think I just gave up on that bit at some point or other. I feel it probably was about me never having attempted. I lived in a wallow of deep hate and anger.
I am sure my room mate realised all of that but knew there wasn’t a point in pointing it out. She knew I was changing right there in front of her. She knew I was being someone else.
What does it change in essence? That’s one person who knows how things have gone from everything to nothing to knowing that some are just meant to be together. However hate or love some things are made to be a part. There are no names… I guess it was good to know that at least three people knew I was making it a point to waste myself in a pause. I am quite thankful. I know one other almost figured so…
I am quite uncertain if things are going to change quite so much with this year. It’s about what you say and what you mean. Trust and hate, Love and loyalty. I suppose you only feel only as much in these as much as you choose to be. I have been at the both sides of all these and after a while I have started agreeing that what I thought of myself was something quite otherwise. Untrustworthy and disloyal would be apt.
If pauses could be examined it would be true to notice that the anticipated pauses are something which are merely acted out. Other pauses, you just ease yourself in. It’s called a crisis. It would be easier for me to be one or the other kind of stereotype of existence, since unique is just poetic bullshit. Everyone is like any other, wrapped in their own sense of different idea.
Ignorance of not having common sense is one thing but being aware that you are stupid and acting otherwise is something which you can’t come to terms with and when it’s you whose acting then the coming to terms is even more improbable.
It would be entirely another case if you were a wimp but acted otherwise. Cause that just shows, if you live like a door mat. But are you prepared to change it? Not quite, cause take my word I am one and I just wouldn’t.
I am sure the easy answer would be to stop being a sissy but it’s easier said then done. Actually, when you are a wise guy wimp then you most certainly don’t change. You only take offence and act you are hurt at having being called the wise guy wimp…
So does being close to 2008 change anything. Yes, I suppose it gives me a chance to be cruel but I guess I was always known to have a tendency for being cruel. I think things would work quite well… After all, existence would continue in a pause. I would keep acting as a misunderstood honourable genius while being aware of being an idiot and a wimp.
That’s the thing about pauses they create images usually illusions…

Almost a nasheri!!!

So I went and parked Bajaj right in the middle of the road. Now I just didnt do so cause I had lost my mind but this is where the parking is supposed to be done. I get a parking ticket and take of my helmet in a filmy ishtyle and shake my head and hope that I would seem like one filmy hottie I just get poked by my hair in my eye and some in my nose which makes me sneeze. Rather nosily. I am sure some thng flew out in the face of another guy who was whizzing past me at just that opportune moment. I think it was gods way of providing him with natural moisture to his face...
I come back to retrieve my Scooter and I take out a tenner to pay for the parking.
He, the pot bellied, tikka sporting parking attendant, looks at me from top to bottom. I squirm but act as if it doesnt puzzle me after all i stand a couple of feet above him and I really hadnt done anything to worry na...
He: dus ka nahi chalega. teen rupey do. Khole do.
Me: (with an amused actually relieved grin) Nahin hai.
He: mein kya karoon phir?
Me:( in an aside) Chai pilaon kya? Choota karao, aur kya?
He: Kay saab!
'Saab'
He had saab. Yes, now I can be all superior and arrogant.
I wish I had said nahin chahiye kya but with the same amused grin. I offered him the dus rupey ka note.
He: Wait karni padegi.
I just shoved my hands in pocket (my pockets of course!!!) and stood around being a cool guy. I remembered not to shake my head again.
He abuses some guys mother and another’s sister and expresses what he would do to his daughter and wife to another and cribs about lack of change to a ten rupee note.
He comes purposefully towards me and gives me a dilapidated five rupee note. I look at him and accept it. He saw my look and turned apologetic.
HE: Kya karoon saab, choota aisa hi milta hai. Agli bar yehin de dena mujhe hum chalalenge is ko.
Me: yaad rakhoge kya?
He: aapko kaise bhool sakta hoon?
Kyun mere saar pe seeng hai kya? I wanted to say but desisted I was scared he would say nahin jungle hai.
I stand around not doing much but standing around.
He walks back his hands full of gutka packets. In a rather awkward position of hands he puts in my hand a one rupee coin and one sachet of gutka.
I waited for an instant thinking he would pick up the gutka. I looked at him. He returned my gaze.
Me: yeh kya hai?
HE: Saab sabse badiya gutka.
Me: To mein kya karoon iska?
He: Ab saab paisa nahin hai to yeh dono rakh lo.
Me: Arre par mein to gutka nahin khata
He: to shoro kar lo saab. Acha hai yeh. Bidi se acha hai.
Me: Arre mein bidi nahin pita.
He: Yeh cigerrate se bhi accha hai
Me: Arre! Mujhe nahin chahiye yeh gutka
He: Saab kaunsa brand khate ho? Wahi laa deta hoon.
What is with this guy. I am sure he was employed by one or all of the PR companies of the gutka makers.
Me: Dekho. Mein nahin daroo, bidi, cigerrate or gutka kuch nahin letta. Mujhe bache hue paise do.
(aside) arre meri shakal pe likha hai kya ki mein full on nasheri hoon???
He: kya saab. Aisa kya karte ho. Hum kya borre hai?
Me: Nahin tum to bahut acche ho main hi burra hoon.
He: Saab actually paise hain nahin agli bar le lena. Mein aapko hamesha yaad rakhunga.
I cant even convert how much two rupees would be in pennies and I took my scooter and with an exagerrated throttle I made myself scarce...
Aur kya karta?

Tribute to a lost suitcase which had no suit in it!!!

I am careless and I lose things. Actually now I construct situations because of which I lose things. Its been a few days now since I have been allowed in through the customs to the nation to which I boast as my own. Like I went and bought it or some such. But I feel the more you take something for granted the more you consider it your own. See I can give out statements which are quite utterly irrelevant to the entire scheme of what I intend to say in the first place. I mean I digress too much. But that's something I cant be helped with. You know we men get distracted quite quickly by the mobile beauty all around us.
While I dodge the brick bats and others, I shall continuing the heart wrenching tale of me having lost some of my oldest companions and some recent acquired and utterly delightful ones and some odd and ends moments which are now only in my head. No back ups.
SO if some social worker drunkard truck driver plowed me with the rear wheel of his pig transferring stinking sty of a truck before spitting on my soon to be crushed head then those companions and moments too would be evaporated. and the pity is I have no USB port installed into me or a DVD writer or bluetooth so I could transfer it. I cant even get a human compatible printer so I could get print outs so all in all they would slowly melt away na?
It really is torturous and tumultuous to remember the small messages which those companions had scribbled into them, they came with the associations you made with the people who became your family away from family. Those awards which you fought hard for. Those gifts which you begged for and those which came unexpected. But mostly the words written in by friends and authors who you considered your friends.
Those words I remember. Those words which I consider a complete mockery because they weren't true. Those words which displayed amusing associations. The books given to reassure by the people that they are around.
Signatures of all those with whom I was familiar with, some more than the others.
" Most promising speaker of the year"
" Come back fast. YOU owe me a question"
" From a person who you love to fight with"
" Don't be down. When you reach rock bottom you will find me there."
" Hope you enjoy this read"
" Many happy returns of the day"
" to the best bhaiya in the world"
There are some moments in your existence which stand starkly, frozen but not cold. There are books which you had but never read but would have someday. I know now I should have read all those I had. If I could have written an ode it would be to A dictionary, some books and two comics. All I do is smile with nostalgia of having them with me for comfort and having lost them with callousness.

London:

I wander through each chartered street,
Near where the chartered Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet,
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every man,
In every infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forged manacles I hear:

How the chimney-sweeper's cry
Every blackening church appals,
And the hapless soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down palace-walls.

But most, through midnight streets I hear
How the youthful harlot's curse
Blasts the new-born infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the marriage-hearse.

To each one his own interpretation of the above. London was a myth, a mystery. I am not sure but I lived London. One year of it.

The rain, The snow, The grey clouds.

Each step, each sight
Overwhelming tales of time,
I walk a child with wonder in eye
That child be me for all my life.

All stone, all dark cloud
Fascinating the entire rain,
I walk each time to feel the warm chill
That chill, the frozen cold broken, be me.

The wind, the cold metal
London, you walked me through
Tales in my head...

I mused and to end I must halt,
I stared through your skies
And bid adieu to musing of you, with you.

As melancholy lays and be me,
I bid you with a fond hug.
This be a double adieu.

My silence for you!!!

This is the end of London musing and Desi. this should have finished on 12th sept but I didnt. No harm done though. this is as good as any time

But didnt a great man say at end we begin again. So forget your brains at home my friends. Because this would no longer be known as the DESI and this address would no longer be the same.

Change is a near good thing. Yeah right! Stuff it whoever said that. If Hutch can be Vodafone and still use the pug well then I suppose DESI RERUNS and desimusing20-19 wouldnt be a bad campaign either.

Its a good thing that I wasnt imprisoned on account of cooking, which can be compared with the destruction nukes can cause but I am glad to have escaped like Monte Cristo. But I rather need a panache to be able to carry of the return with as much finesse.

HEY! I JUST RHYMED... THIS IS TO REMIND ANYONE WHO WILL HAVE THE TIME OF THE DAY THAT THE NONSENSE RETURNS AT A DIFFERENT ADDRESS WITH A DIFFERENT NAME so sit back and roll over cause the age of sense has had its day and the bedazzling age of the ever popular uncouth slothish extremely buxom sinfully naked nonsense returns ...

Namaste no more... This is the disappearance of Londonmusing... PUCHIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!