Slumber Days....

Some days are dull and some are ‘lull’ when you drag yourself out of the coffin to pull the curtains and go to sleep ‘again’. I feel like same for the entire week. Hate to report to office, dislike the idea of stepping out…I wish to be wrapped in you. AND SLEEP!

Farms and Farmville

After a much needed hiatus, I’m back to virtual world and with gusto…(huh!) O’yea, been practicing farming on my 16 x 16 farmland with 5-cows, ducklings, sheep’s, and few hen. Yards of pineapple trees, and land that bore artichokes, peppers, strawberries, wheat…the farm looks fantastic and makes me itchy. And, I keep so busy with all those sloughing and harvesting that often I end up the day with a pirate bath. Eeeks!

O.K., you don’t need seasons to change to grow crops; they are timed and you need to calculate the numbers of ploughed lands and crops; get them hackneyed within the time (else wilted) and keep movin’. Ain’t that a fun? Yea…I got no reasons to commit hara-kiri for failed crops. Everything seems to be growing here. When you visit the farm the corn was knee-high or the cows’ are so full that you need to give them an udder-fuck. (Ouch!)

Overall, it’s fun and I’m the mayor who passed a law stating ‘no whistling on the farm’…does anybody care?

I’m…Man Abbreviated

Some thirty years ago…I born (coz’ the mother was pregnate!!). ‘Twas chilly December when things might have been either frozen OR GOD was getting all cheesy puffs over the idea of humans making baby. Since then, I got to life with no football, no praises, no friends, and seriously nobody ever. A life abbreviated.

Okay! What I was talking? A…about myself. I was ugliest of them all, dumbest of them all, and the ONLY gay among them all. Thus, I was silent of them all. All through my childhood. Always! Talk in mono-syllables, walk in pitch darkness I find an escape route to remain closeted. Thirty years…for such a long time – I was nothin’ but an uglyfuck.

School days happen and passed, but forgotten. I belong to group of Forgotten Children only to be discovered by the school bards’ over the Internet as a chirpy flake. Jesus! What the Hell? Life got real messy with *jobs* (with some 7 companies and hordes of projects) and all said, ‘You did it better but NOT the best.’ Fortune (Luck!) greeted to the one who knows the least while I sulk and continue with life no football, no praises, no friends.

A life abbreviated and always the uglyface.

I’m Net-elebrity

Disclaimer: For those who follow me…I intentionally dropped the ‘c’ to sound humble-pie however, the real reason was to escape the most difficult words since I stutter mostly with difficult ‘c’ or‘s’. If you still wondering what it is…honey! I’m a Net-Celebrity.

Ah! Seriously, I never expected somebody to call me that in my weirdest of all fantasies (I got many…so don’t ask which one) but quite flattered. Now, about this gentleman who’s Punjabi-Australian-Chinese-Kannadigan-Tamil descent staying in Singapore is new to my list and seriously mugging up the words from my blog…is my current favorite.

Well…not because he called me ‘a celebrity’ but he’s 24 and young blooded and loves mature. In fact, last night I spend a considerable time to imagine every inch of his *tool*with all precision and wondering how it remain unscratched. Nyways! It’s none of my business…and I’m quite contented with AZ’s. But Net-elebrity???

You're celebrity PI now. You're the story, dude. What? You followers sneak into my private chambers and read out every detail on ‘what I eat?’, ‘how I feel?’, ‘when I last got naked?’ Is there anything called ‘a censor board’. Fine! I don’t need one. Let them all see me with my bare essential. Coming back to this young Punjabi-Australian-Chinese-Kannadigan-Tamil descent (who must be reading this) I’m still trying to figure him by inches yet ‘a big thank you!’ At least, you make me a reason to revive my blog after a hiatus. Thanks for that.

Love'ya! (Waving my hands and offering air-kisses...) Stop acting moron.

Random Thoughts

Given up! Thoughts dismantle and tumble…ideas goes discreet and unnoticed. From cluttered to politeness, to bold to meekness; I groom. Sounds crazy, no? I’ve changed and changed a lot…In last 8-months, I dreamt of him. I made long and short trips to be with HIM for a couple of hours and felt his touch to every pore. Now, even the small prayers have HIM and I wish to join him to a frozen wasteland and marry him there?

Helpless now, I stand with him, watching his dreams grow stronger. Oh, I know, isn't it wonderful? I feel like a whole new person! I've never had this much fun in my entire life! I feel so good and confident about myself and Him! Let me a small wish: ‘Be with me forever’ and I promise ‘I do.’

All for Love

Okay! Today we're having a little pop quiz. Think for a moment and then write your answer below. So sharpen your number 2 pencils and put your thinking caps on. Ready? Here's a quote: ‘Did it make any change to your life, with the archaic law losing the tag to criminalize ‘us’? Does life change after that?’

Let me take my take. It doesn't change a thing, but even so... After thirty and half years, it's nice to know. If God lived on earth, people would break his windows! And, ask for a match…later to dump and continue living with loneliness. But, it did… (though few baby steps)…bring a change. And, now we dreamt of wedding nights!

Still, the question lingers ‘Do you love me?’ I suppose he does and I suppose I love you too.

Mysore - 151 Days

It’s either coming to full circle or settling with my wandering boots, I'm personally disappointed and confused with the way my life is shaping up from nothing to nothingness. It all began with February 2006 and life thence, unsettled.

Living as a nomad, [the worst thing that I've realized that long-time back but failed to resurrect], I've gradually distanced from all and everyone. The feeling gives a numb expression similar to last hours of passengers in Flight 447; inching to its doom and now lost. Now, the entire world seeks for an answer, 'what's gone wrong?' Do you have any clue? NAHH...

What if, sometime later, a passenger stays afloat from the heart of Atlantic Ocean and narrates the untold hour. (Hmm!) My life is quite similar to. What, if some day, somebody tells me what's gone wrong with me since 2006. I think, I know it all and have lost hope long time back. I lost myself to nothingness and the feeling is numb.

Mysore morning; Time: 9.16 A.M. sitting alone in my desk I'm trying to recoil. My resignation letter is yet to be typed. The office boy wiping the un-manned chambers with an unclean duster; Ain't they all doing things because they have to? Ain't they all doing alike?

I'm a sage who lost his hymns and the tambourine rings.

Chat Version

People [which not necessarily men] shower me with compliment for having wittiful remarks, and writing them naively by nicely. Here's one of the extract[s] from one of the recent chit-a-chit and interestingly, I'm mesmerized of the fact...how truely people judged me.

31. May. 2009 - 18:18
Hi
Rahul 31. May. 2009 - 18:20
Hi
May. 2009 - 18:22
I think we have spoken b4 on phone, m I right.
Rahul 31. May. 2009 - 18:23
Forgotten...lost my memory, few days back. Can you help me to recall?
31. May. 2009 - 18:26
I'm Faraz, work with Infosys...any bells ringing?
Rahul 31. May. 2009 - 18:28
Well, you never called me after talking to me over the phone, once upon a night. Did I recall you correctly?
31. May. 2009 - 18:40
Yes! That sure is me! I lost Ur number since I nvr saved it, n then...cudnt find u here too.
Rahul 31. May. 2009 - 18:44
I am sooooooooooooooo nondescript that finally, I'm written off...and no mobile book could do the honor of storing my name for some lame reason. So, let's learn from our actions...what's not done should never be. Hence, let's NOT UNDONE things now.
31. May. 2009 - 18:47
Lol...this is what I was in need of...a sudden but wondrous jumbo of words! Love u for that! ;)
Rahul 31. May. 2009 - 18:50
I'm man with abundance of word and hence, keep dropping it here and there...Few people think its precious while other finds it hilarious. The rest of the crowd call me lunatic. I love the third one coz' they know me the best.

-Regards
Blogger

GenNext Election

Let’s make some interesting chaos. As India votes for 2009, electioneering has stooped to a record low and I’m enjoying the brickbats. (Monologue: Do Indian people care?) Much of the political rallies and stage shows end with ‘blue-collar netas’ winning charge sheets and pay the bail. Interesting…!

And, yea! The inflammatory speech (the new thingee); which lacks inflammation and garner to media hype. Let’s look at this way, “I’m a born to a Hindu mother and sold my heart (or my ass!) to a Muslim man. I carry both the chromosomes and willingly converted.”

Mr. Gandhi, I’ve an advice for you. The game plan is perfect but its’ not what a GenNext expects today. Agree, the impetuous, misguided boy is growing up fast. (Monologue: Do India care anyway?)

Ehsas!

यह मेरे कानो में तुने क्या कह दिया

संवर गयी ज़िन्दगी मेरी

पहले भी कहा था, किसीने कभी

वोह प्यार नही, तू गैर नही

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

इस रात से कह दो, थम जाए आज

की अभी मैं यार के बाँहों में सोया हूँ

कल फिर होगी सुबह, फिर वही तन्हाई

अब रातों में तड़पते हम अकेले तोह नहीं

Tweedledum and Tweedledee

Finally, I decided to do some serious blogs and look at the world around me. And, what’s best but to catch the catfights (can’t stop being gay) on nation’s biggest soap opera – ‘India Votes’. Honestly, no one does it better than the politicians when it comes to selling dream, Nah! Hollywood is clichéd. (Remember: As a common being, you have a single task to do – book the ticket or cast it, whichever way you like.)

Hmm! Lemma look at the most funniest of them and voila – all looks punks. But, the unchallenged ‘desi diva’ from West Bengal or Mamata-di (who I’m sure would have given Silk Smitha - the infamous sex oomph from South) is dearest of dear. She’d have given her a run for money and life, if she were alive. Ah! It’s not being imaginative but I’m serious. Have you ever counted her adjusting the pallu to cover the unchewed bosoms? That’s being too suggestive Mamata-di.

A deep down analysis on this woman shows her losing foothold and obstinacy from CPM-bashing that made her darling to Bengal junta until she’s exposed. The debacle of Singur and later Nandi gram, followed with Nano made her the exemplary ‘neta’ with anti-industrial bastion and credibility dissuade.

I find great similarity between these two ladies:

• first both of them use their tongues unnecessarily in public
• secondly, they’re always shabbily dressed and drawing close attention to their heavy breasts
• third, lacks adequate motivation and has settled down playing a cameo with top grosser
• last but least, comfortable in swapping with unpredictable partners

In fact, both acts childish even at 40s with desirable ambition lost and ideologies (do they ever had one) changing every seconds. Interestingly, I got to this newsfeed, “A few years ago, Mamata Banerjee of the Trinamool Congress claimed to have a doctorate from “East Georgia University,” which is no more real than London Oxford University.” Interesting... (hmm!) And, she swear not to ride the ‘Nano – the budget car from the house of Tata’ (unless, she’s given a complimentary drive, ofcourse).

The great rise and fall of ‘once a superwoman’ reminds me nothing else but the sexy-siren from South famous for her thunder thighs and rolling tongue who find substantial repute with critics for one-time classic and never regained.

Tweedledum and Tweedledee.

When you said ‘I dump’

In an age of timid, consumer love world it always happens the same way – to others OR me. Like a scoop of melted ice cream, once your romance start to stink and ‘banging is over’; you’ll be dumped like a sour milk and go back to being ‘uninvolved’. All... vacation romances have an expiration date and got heartache.

To which we say, oh buck up, possum; it might have been worse. I did not expect him to turn away from me so casually, as if he was changing his shoe.” And, wanna be left alone in his cloister. It doesn't make sense to me. Is that coz’ I am on libido-crushing Prozac and have a terrible body image problem, low self-esteem, etc. Don’t tell me ‘you dump me’ coz I smell like a bin and acted ‘bottom’ for the first time.

Honestly speaking something died in me that moment. Now, I’m nursing my corpse.

Let Me Drink the Poison

मैं बन के मीरा...
भटकूँ गली गली, ओ! गिरिधारी
अंग्ग ले, रंग ले, मोहे तू संग ले
अब विष का प्याला दे
गिरिधारी

Adjustments and Adjusted

Why do I start writing my blog again? Mebbe’ I’m tired of biting my fingernails which overgrown the Bamboo stalks. And, how’d a begin? (Why not try to recall my grammar book that I’ve long-ly put to the bin.) There’s more to tell…

Settled back in Mysore with ease, I finally managed to get a way out and make an adjustment. O! I always hated the term ‘adjustment’ but now I do into it yet not lovin’ it. And, there’s some more adjustments to do, Dahling! Not out of vanity but for love. Ah!

When I try to count them, I figured I’ve done more numbers of adjustments than the lifetime.

• First, I stopped ‘being ambitious’ any more. The only motif of living today is to reunite with the love; I left on the streets of Hyderabad.
• Second, I agree to disagree but not forced myself to tie with ‘one of the most hated ex-colleague’ coz’ he’s being my ‘ticket to Hyderabad’. I’m waiting for him to buy me as I left my love on the streets of Hyderabad.
• Third, I stopped responding to lucrative job offers that keep by inbox alive for they offer me anything but not the desired job in the city where I left my love.
• Fourth, (dats the best part) I stopped cribbing and left all to ‘Dear Lord’…turning down my atheist part.
• Fifth, I made it a point to use my ‘leaves’ to go to Hyderabad once a month irrespective of how much it costs.
• Sixth, I start to concentrate on pedicure, manicure, and attending beauty salons as a practice and team with female colleagues to share grooming tips for the ONE whom I meet on the streets of Hyderabad.

Gawd! I didn’t realized unless have written them…I’ve given myself to adjustments too much.

Post Valentine Thoughts

February 14, 2009. Tied to pile of screen notes and design, my mind is still at work. Yet the heart yearns for him and the entire day spend thinking about 'Az'.

When most of my friends were busy sharing their 'moments of love' and the weekend plans - I wished him to be near and go out to a moonlit candle night dinner OR hold each other and gazing the stars. O! We're distance apart and Az....(But why was I whinning?)

Love is a delirious passion! And, what’s the point of love, if you don't die from it, get killed for it, or feel incredibly broken hearted for a lifetime?

Ode To My Gaydom

O! Yea… For a long time, I was planning to say it nicely but ended so uncouth. As an ageing gay geriatric and one-time bitch who sobered with blooming love life – is there anything called as ‘permanence’ to us (read ‘gays’).

Trust me, we’re nothing else but a bunch of hack writers, lazy minds, and innate bigotry who think they know better than everyone else about LOVE. Let me correct, ‘we all know the best ways to make LOVE’. There’s a difference.

Gay men act like a Greek chorus, cheering on to victory, make funny stylists or the hilarious neighbors with swinging posteriors. They’re often hilarious. In fact, all gays are funny, except, when they’re thinking about settling down. Noticeable, they often have a major attitude, a mean face and are quick to temper and violence if ”dissed” and suddenly talk all ghetto while flapping their fingers saying, “Hmm…OMG! Etc. etc.” Ain’t you stereotyping? [Soliloquy: I’m trying to loosen the hard side of being a gay and been funny when gays are actually not funny.]

Get real. Yeah, some men are like that. Partly because of the head trip you’ve laid on the culture with your anti-gay propaganda. But frankly, this is a load of crap. It’s as mean a stereotype as the one they used in the old days with all sissy guys being flighty, screeching crybabies. They’re like little lost lambs who can’t think or act for themselves and don’t get credit for anything.

Look around, man! Our futures are bleak, boring, and lonesome! We’re all doomed. Yet we rejoice living.

Storytellers, Molesters, and Gays

Have you read the morning post? Ew! I hope you stay tuned as the nation’s marching band does its salute to gun racks; a group of rogues shows their sense of patriotism by molesting women in Mangalore pub. Would you still ask me ‘what makes me a gay’?

Extracts from one of the media channel read, “Suspected members of 'Sri Ram Sena' assaulted boys and girls, accusing them of behaving in 'obscene manner'. About five girls were beaten and chased away from the pub, two girls are being hospitalized. Reports also suggest that the girls were molested by the activities. Activists claimed that these women were against tradition and that these were Hindu girls, who were trying to get closer to Muslim men. Activists also accused of serving liquor to women.”

Nice alibi and then they think homosexuals are ‘child molesters’ and ‘pedophiles’; Ah! Give me a break dahl’ng.

Mysore (Day 21)

First, a quick update on me and *I’m famished*. [Munches on the chicken sandwich with toothpick still in it and munch a large one.] O.K., I’m fed a bit and the ready to jabber…and, finally I managed to rent a place that’s enough to cover myself.

It’s pretty nice for a singleton with a mattress, two chairs and couple of newspaper. And, when you bolt the doors there’ are windows which keep you connected to the outer world. Ah! Interesting. Remembering the time, when I was a kid and the biggest worry was like... if you'd get a bike for your birthday or if you'd get to eat cookies for breakfast. Being an adult, it other side of the story. Adults have to be places and do things and earn a living and pay the rent.

Adulthood also bring authority to make rules. And, since I’m paying the rent, I will make-a-da rules. I like to take showers every morning and I don't like the panties drying on the rod. Also, I play the guitar in the middle of the night whenever I cannot sleep and I meditate every morning complete with chanting and burning incense so if you've got to walk around I'd appreciate a little tip-toeing. Also, I sleep in the nude. Au buffo.

Life is all about renting and been rented. Ugh!

Once When I Lived Happily

I am big dumb ass who learns things hard-way and best in goofing. Luckily, there’s Providence that keep me on-check and interestingly, it works faster than any lubricants to shove it down my ‘clenched-arse’ hard way. The week was nothing less than that and now, I’m rejuvenated with twisted, messed-up, toffee-nosed arseline’ with goddamn itch.

O! It all started with a prospective phone call and I assumed to get into the real big audition that promised me a starlet. Worst happened when I started mouthin’ it across the town with the hope, ‘I won’t be ignored till they really ignored me. Jesus, I fled from my work coz’ of that. F***! Now, I’ve a year to live repenting. (I’m a big dumb ass, didn’t I said you that?)

The entire week I spend as big-slob sitting in a corner of a fishbowl and sulking. The ENTIRE WEEK…uh! But, I’ve no regrets for that coz’ its ends on a sweeter note. And, ah…the sweetness remain on my lips when they touched a pair of petulant. (Blush me) We kissed tonite and he cried. I hold him in my embrace tight wishing the world never to change the date. But, tomorrow will be a new day and I'd have been gone leaving my love ashtray yet, tonite I lived my life that I mayn’t have ever.

No SEX, No booze, No wandering could’ve take me so high. Thanks Cupid, for being so kind.

When Dreams Come True

As the swearing-in-ceremony of first-ever African-American U.S. President inches for the big storyline for media; it's one of the longly awaited dream that world has ever dreamt. For 45 years now, after Luther's historic speech, seeing a black man takibg the oath of world's most powerful position, is something that few people in King's generation and later would ver have thought and, thus they dreamt.

And what happens after you dream? You wake up, get ready and go out to work. That's what Obama has now. He got the biggest job and the world like to see how the President do it before the world economy meltdown.

With the world, India is awaiting.

Dated Love, Last Night

Love isn't some treasure that needs finding; it's something that *just happens*. It happens to anyone, at any given moment; even to the most sceptical mind.

I read somewhere that falling in love happens when someone sees you like you see yourself. Whatever happens tomorrow, or for the rest of my life, I'm happy now... because I love you. Last night, Az came with his usual charm and I was disarmed. To those, who like to know *the bedtime story*, we had it but it was more than that. We discussed many a things (even the victims…) which put in uneasy for certain reason till I sensed ‘it was love’. (I beg your pardon, shhh!)

Lost My Lyric

This part of my life is called ‘Confused’. I am waiting for big news but that seems to ditch me. I’m trying other options but seem to trying in vain. Wasting myself and for god knows, why? Yet…I love to wait.

When the President is Ignored

His 13-minute talk from the White House East Room, as a customary practice among American Presidents, but the nation was not paying attention.

The tradition of a farewell address began with George Washington. His stern defence of an independent America free of foreign entanglements and deaf to the intrigues of Europe was the nation's first great speech. Citizens in villages across the country staged annual recitations for decades after Washington's death. Dwight Eisenhower used his valedictory to issue a memorable warning against a permanent "military-industrial complex" - an alert more quoted than heeded.

Bush clearly had these examples in mind, as he wove an inventory of the familiar American virtues into the fabric of his urgent priorities. But the nation stopped paying attention and been oblivious to otherwise telecasted TV.

As my friend from US quoted: "Before last night, there were only two noteworthy presidential farewell addresses; Washington's and Eisenhower's. After last night there are STILL only two noteworthy presidential farewell addresses." Thanks, Monogamous

The Lost World and Crooked Me

The only best part of my work life offers is to visit cities and monuments across the country; otherwise, the job sucks. And, yea! Despite of my ON / OFF relation with Mysore (presumable the shortest halt station) I managed to walk into the Wodeyars royal chambers.

A high disappointment except of the shameless disposal of silver and golden artefacts at every nook or things you look around; Mysore Palace (unlike as its title ‘magnificent’) lacks the lustre. Built in Indo-Saracenic style, in the heydays of puppet Maharaja’s of British regime, the architecture is a fusion of many worldly style namely, Hindu temples, Moslem and neo-Gothic line of buildings; with domes, turrets, arches and colonnades, the palace is a treasure house of exquisite carvings and works of art from all over the world on to luxuriously furnished rooms of royal India.

The lavish interiors were stunning with rich Victorian iron girders & columns, colourful stain glass, intricate ivory inlaid doors and gem-med flooring. [I can’t explain the pain of not being allowed to take photos.] O! The majestic Durbar Hall has an ornate ceiling and many sculpted pillars, icarved rosewood doors and ceilings some with inlaid ivory work, marble figurines, collections of caskets, paintings of the members of the royal family and other objects of personal use exhibit such opulence, though age as worn them out a bit with slight discolouration.

From the kaleidoscope of colours in the stained glass windows (I stole that line from the lonely planet, it just fits so perfectly) it was absolutely amazing. Nevertheless, compared to other royal palaces (leave aside Rajasthan), this one lacks artistic sensibility and aesthetically decrypt.

If you ask me the seat of Asaf Jahi dynasty (near the landmark of Hyderabad) – Chowmahalla Palace is a one of my most visited palaces which mesmerized of its style and elegance. What attracts the most is the marble-floored Durbar Hall with 19 Belgian chandeliers adding splendour to the lost era and Yeah, the priceless line of cars including Rolls Royce of early 1900s. Extravagance unperturbed. (Worthy to mention, what add to Chowmahalla’s beauty is the priceless picture of Niloufer Khannum Sultana – O! She’s the woman and have you seen the man.)

Chowmahalla Palace was built in the 18th century and until today is the world’s most outstanding royal household and interestingly, the clock above the main gate to Chowmahalla Palace (or affectionately called as Khilawat Clock) has been ticking away for over a thousand years. Mysore Palace has none of these and yet always a recommended. Huh!

What's wrong with me?

The year begin with controversies, falsifying accounting that rocked IT giants, and ongoing recession grappling harder; my life continues in an unusual way. In fact, it's complicated enough and the last thing I need, is more drama. For reasons unknown, I'm yet to make up my mind (in fact, I tried hard) and get to more confusion when a new leaf branched. There's somethin' drastically wrong with me.

Nah, it's not the Hamletian or Macbethian syndrome (that often I sufferfrom) but a strange complexity. Truthfully, I don't like what I get and crave for new. When I acquire 'the new' the weird ME starts disliking it. Ihate to continue till I drop it as fast as I could. (Hmm!) I'm sick. [Sic]

What's wrong with me? I dunno, I seriously dunno! I'm exhausted, bored to death, and want to escape. On the second thought, it strikes me when I've to work. (Give me a minute) I think I nailed it there. I'm happy daydreaming inthe cozy comfort of my laptop while the finger toggles between tabbed iExplorer. I'm busy scheming to find a holiday and get to love, anyways!

Life is happy when I am not doing anythin' and I've nothing to do. WTF! (Confessing: In past 72 hours, I enjoyed smoking 100 sticks, I talked,thought, and day-dreamed about Az for uncountable minutes, and I lazily dozed off every single ticks.) I am sick. [Sic]

'.my job sucks! Or, that's the way I perceives it" and has somehow convinced yself.

Mysore (Day - 3)

Work finally begin and so does the life.

Couple of things start to move (yet to take a momentum!) but rollin'. The day begin as the regular chores of workin' with spreadsheets and trying to devise all that done is imperfect. But, sooner or later the dies within me fast and I find myself inside the glassed cubicle with the speaker phone does all the T-A-L-K. (Hmph!) It means more spreadsheets, more documents, and gawd! I don't have the access to Internet yet. (Hmph again!)

Sooner or later, few good ol' things start to pour and I had a coochie-coo with Az. He was warm, flirty, and 'missin' me'. (I am missing you too. [Monolouge]) We talked a while and complained of how much we miss each other and both were serious at our end. We really meant the word. Partha was another who keep me busy with his usual snubs. (I love that too... [Monolouge again])

Mysore, otherwise is a nice place to stay but unsuitable to me. I think 'its gonna be a shortest stay' and if Providence plays it right: I'm goin' back home but what about Az! (Flight charges.... I always have the solutions.) Till then its sleep time at 22:49 P.M.

Hmph!

Mysore (Day - 2)

I am yet to dig to work and start complaining. It's 48 hours and more when I confined to the office campus and literally jabbering... initially, I was skeptical about my role and potentiality. Now, I'm scared coz much is being expected and I've no clue how the success meter will tick.

The city is otherwise quite sleepy and there's nothing much to do. By the noon, when most were either dozing before their desktop or tapping the keyboards nonchalantly; the city roads were washed with winter sun filtered from the net of palm groves. I sit in the cafeteria and take a sip.

Life has somewhat relaxing. Not much work to do, nobody much to talk. (O! I am sitting in a distant cubicle and thus, there's nothing to play prank or jolly around). Thought of A.... and Partho's phone call keep me somewhat occupied. O! There's a good news (if it could be consider as one) I suddenly realized that I've minimized smoking. And, compensate that during the night time.

Let me record each day for this job and figure out how soon I get bored.

When Cupid Strike

Looks like Cupid just shot an arrow when reindeers were marching their way with the chirpy Santa Claus from chimneys.

Oh, I know, it ain’t a wonderful feeling. I feel like a completely new person! I've never had this much fun in my entire life! I’m otherwise a freaky, boring techie guy who flirt over Internet and drink cups of tea. Suddenly, I start loving musicals and nachos. I visit malls and overpowered by shopping frenzy. The list is growing within me like enzymes and I’m worried.

O! I love the night sky and the starry dreams. I love the seashore and entangled feet. And Jesus! I suddenly love the idea of ‘getting married’. Isn’t it crazy? Now, I look at myself and ask what I’ve done to myself. Worried of what love has done to myself.