I can't NOT Give a fuck.

Today, a friend doing his MBA, sent me an application form- some summer internship application form that he has applied for as a part of his MBA Syllabus.
There was a portion which had to be filled by a close friend of the applicant and I being one, was sent the form. There were three questions
1) Applicant should start doing…
2) Applicant should stop doing…
3) Applicant should continue doing…
The friend had to answer these questions based on his knowledge of habits of the applicant.
So as you know… when you speak about a friend you don’t talk with respect. My first impulse was to trash my way through- to give silly immature answers to everything that was being asked.
Being foulmouth and cracking stupid jokes is what we- the people of NIT Jsr enjoy the most.( OK maybe foulmouth part I like a little more than others :P). We laughed away everything. Never ever paying seriousness to absolutely anything- it was a way of life our dear friend Kunwar Akhilesh Singh, being the only sensible guy amongst us, never approved of. He would get irritated if we created a ruckus shouting at novelty while having the Friday night dinner. He would shout at me if started my abuse chalisa at a public palce. We found a way to even make fun of this seriousness of KAS- christening him chacha for his sobriety against our extravaganza of “I- don’t and won’t- give –a- fuck”.
We were not being wrong- we were being our age, enjoying the autonomy from the supervision of our family, doing as our heart pleased. He was not wrong- he conducted and still conducts himself with the typical responsibility of a middle class Indian Child.( Or Maybe he was also behaving his age? :P Sorry Akhislesh couldn't resist the joke- it was on. :P)
Anyways, so my first impulse was to ridicule each and every question of the form with all the skill that I had gathered in those four years of learning. An impulse which was more of a hangover of the perpetual inebriation of NIT JSR in which the sole moto of everything that you do is “Not- a-fuck-shall-be-given”.
In fact till now I have done that- these MBA Guys keep giving you link for their online surveys- Sachin, Sahu, Auddy and Prabal- if you have read the reults of your online surveys you gave me to fill- I have done serious fuckjob with answers given the anonymity online surveys offer :P
But just as I was about to act on that first impulse- I read the complete form. The part of the form other than the 3 questions I was supposed to fill. It was an actual form. Something serious from the real life that we are all part of. If I fucked with it, he would just have filled something sensible in it and sent it on his own and not been a part of the joke. He would probably not even have laughed- maybe he’d have been frustrated if I did that.
As soon as I realised that it was a responsibility of behaving like a grown man that I was trusted with- that I am supposed to give real life serious meaningful and truthful answers to the questions, I had a sinking feeling. Like some ball had been dropped in my stomach.
I have had this sinking feeling earlier too- when Rajath got married. Then also, I had felt the ball dropping in my stomach. The feeling of finally having grown up. But that was a happy occasion. There was another emotion of being firecly happy for him which probably overtook the sinking feeling. Whatever small intensity of sinking feeling remained- I drwoned it in Rum and Whiskey with Prashant and Rajath.
But today the magnitude of the sinking feeling is much higher. The mass of the ball dropped in the stomach is multiple times more than that time. And I am sitting here alone- We can’t drown anything in Rum and Whiskey on our own. We need the comforting company of friends to crack all those sex jokes that only we laughed at and to let that river of profanities flow.
As I realise that I can’t even drown anything in ethanol on my own… the feeling worsens.
I slowly accept that I have grown up and I have to be responsible.
When one said “Abe pyas lagi hai bohot”, a dear friend’s favorite response used to be “ Haan Muh Khol abhi pilata hoon pani”. I have come to realise that such jokes can’t be craked now. They are history.
If today I go to the very same dear friend and say “abe pyaas lagi hai bahut”, he’d probably qietly go to fridge and give me a bottle of water.
Maybe once in a year or two when few of us Get us and rivers of Ethanol flow… we’ll help ourselves to a few of these- feasting hungrily on the small Joys that these Jokes give. Laughing on punches that none on planet earth other than we people will laugh on.
This sinking feeling is an acceptance of the three and half year long denial of the fact that the days of perpetual inebriation on “i-don’t-give-a-fuck” have ended. ‘A fuck’ has to be given as many times as it is asked for… Maybe it’s for good that I have finally realised this.

This crossroad

I stand on a road. Many such roads are there around me- Going in every direction possible. there are people- countless people. Some are working with spades and shovel. Dripping with sweat. some are just walking... near and far they are walking.

As i stand here and look at them- the outlines are not very clear. The features of this scene are not very sharp.i certainly am not drunk then why can't I make out the details of the scene. Why are these people working? Where are they going? where do these roads go. why are there so many roads? What exactly is happening.
When I set out I guessed I had a plan. I guessed I knew where was I going. Plan! Ha! Who was I kidding. I wonder if there was anything as feeble, as vulnerable and as weak knee'd as my plan.

My plan was an illusion that I had. It was a mirage that provided attestation to my extortionate sense of self worth that led me to believe I could dictate my destiny. Could I be more flawed. Now that I realise this... let me try and figure out which road should I go. Ha! Like my choice matters!

THIS street

There were roads- which I loved to travel,
Slippers in feet and wearing THAT combination,
Of some t shirt and dirty jeans
I loved to walk on… those roads.

I used to walk,
I used to Jump, Play and laugh.
With those Slipper wearing,
T shirt and dirty jeans Adoring Playmates.

But gone have the slippers,
The feet have the leathers of finest make,
Gone is that combination-
Of dirty Jeans and Tee,
To be replaced with crisp Pants and shirts.
Gone are the jump play and laugh
And have been replaced by the void-THAT void.

This void when acknowledged,
Threatens to engulf you- reminds you,
That you are alone,
In a street crowded with people.

This street is not the same as
The road I travelled in slippers.
That road, for some strange reason,
People say I’m not allowed on.
I’ve outlived my quota of that road,
Oh, ok I agree…
Anyways that road was too good to go on forever.
But why is this street this difficult to walk on?

On this street,
The finest leather in feet
Alone and sweating… I’m running,
Racing with people,
For god knows what!!

i'm....

I'M drunk.
yes! I am.
They say,
You shouldn't speak
when drunk
OK! I won't.
FUCK! I'll write.
Yes, I will.
I want to write.
But i can't.
Words elude me,
when i wish,
they'd espouse me, the most!
They do.
This treachery of words,
I fail to comprehend.
oh, I so don't understand.
Perhaps, these two had a fight-
words and 'Old Monk'
I am sure they did.
Chuck it. Let 'em fight.
I don't want to write.
Not Anymore!!

Plight of a UPiet in Chennai

Disclaimer 1: I have many Madrasi friends. If you are one of them, Saalon gussa mat hona. I’m only trying to look at a lighter side of the problems by exaggerating a little.
Disclaimer 2: If you my non Madrasi Friend. Ap to samajh hi sakte hain.
Disclaimer 3: If you are not my friend, jo samjhna hai samjho.

So let me describe the day of an average UPiet in Chennai.

Gets up by 8 am in morning. Yaaawwwnnsss… fuck. Why do I have to go office every day? Anyways, ab bhaiyya office hai to jana hi hoga. Irritated at the fact that he has to work for the rest of his life and can’t just sit at home and make merry on dad’s money he gets up, gets done with daily activities and gets ready for office. Sala formals me jana jaroori hai. Jaise ham agar jeans pahin ke chale jaenge to kaam hi nahi karenge. Farji nautanki! So after getting ready, this guy sets out for office. But before going to office our guy has to have breakfast. Misery time boy. Bhaiyyaji Goes in a decent looking hotel and looks up the menu card. Ame Gajodhar, ee ka ka likha hai be menu me? Bhaiyya Fatte, pachaas nautanki na karo, khana ho khao sasur nahi to bhookhe maro. So our guy orders a plate of idli, sambhar and it is served to him. Ye kaha aa gaye ham… Gadaulia ghat pe poori sabzi aur jilebi ka kitta badhiya naashta mil raha hoga :(. Anyways he finishes his breakfast and then orders one coffee. Kyu be Gajodhar. Coffeeya to badi badhiya banai hai. Haan be Fatte hame ummeed nahi thi. Anyways he finished the coffee and sets out for office.
On the street he calls an Autowallah to reach mount road where his office is located.
UP Guy: Bhaiyya mount chaloge?
Auto wallah: Hindi ille saar.
Beda Gark!!
UG: ok, will you go to mount road?
AW replies in a sideways head motion which makes it difficult to comprehend whether he is willing to go or not. This can be yes and no both. Its amazing how they produce that head motion.
UG: Yes or NO?
AW: yes saar.
UG: How much(with an exaggerated hand motion)
AW: vaan twenty rupis saar.
Saala chor. Ye autowale sasure har jagah chor hi hote hain kya? Hamko laga Gorakhpur wale hi aise the, ye to yaha bhi wahi hain. saala pachaas rupaya kiraya hai aur ek sau bees bol raha hai. Ruko batate hain.
UG: Thirty rupees.
AW: what saar…
UG: No No I’m not going with u.
AW: saar seventy.
UG: No man. Sorry I’m taking another auto. (You bloody come down to fifty else I actually am taking another auto)
AW: No saar (speaks some tamil) seventy (tamil) rate (some more tamil).
Now, UG is thoroughly irritated.
UG: Bhag bh***. Jane do.
AW started speaking angrily in tamil.
Saaale haramkhor, abhi tak izzat se baat kar rahe the to samajh nahi aa rahi thi baat ab gariya diye to samajh gaye wahi hindi. Latkhor nahi to
UG walks speedily to another AW(AW2). AW1 follows him speaking angrily in tamil
UG: Going mount road?
Before AW2 can utter a word, AW1 starts speaking to him loudly.
AW2: how much u give saar?
UG: Fifty, not more than that. Sala chutti le ke ghar baith jaange lekin pachaas se jada nahi denge.
AW2: ok lets go.
UG is relieved and AW1 is still shouting in tamil.
Anyways, UG reaches office. Thank fully in office almost everyone speaks hindi and those who don’t understand Hindi speak English. Bhala ho angrejo ka jo angreji chod gaye bhaiyya, nahi to aaj ham naukari chod chad ke azamgarh bhaag jate .
Works till lunch and in lunch goes to office canteen.
There’s rice and three daal type things in small bowls and curd. Kya Roti hai hi nahi. Ham to bhookhe mar jaaenge Gajodhar. He bhagwaan aisa kaun sa paap kiya tha hamne? Kaha subah dopahar raat har waqt roti khaate the aur yaha chawal ke alwa kuch hai hi nahi :( :(
Anyways, he starts eating.
Abe sab kuch khatta hai. Teeno katoriyon me khatti daal hai. Saaala imli daal ke banayi hai kya.
Somehow, still half hungry, the guy leaves canteen.
Feeling sorry for self, the guy somehow endures the rest of the day and reaches his room.(luckily has less trouble with autowallahs this time).
When he reaches his room, he finds that the maid to whom he had given his clothes for washing has returned with the clothes. He takes the clothes and counts. One pant is missing.
UG: Where’s the black pant?
Maid: (very fast tamil)
UG: Listen, speak a little slow and speak at least one or two words of English.
Maid: English ille saar.
Fuck!! I must have been a sinful bastard in my past life. That’s why I have to endure all this.
Dear UG goes, finds another person in neighboring room of building who speakes tamil and asks him to be the interpreter as he speaks English. And finally UP wale bhaiyya learns that the black pant has been given for ironing and he’ll get it in morning. Dhat tere ki. Khoda pahad aur nikali chuhiya.
Frustrated, UG thinks, after such hard day he has earned himself at least a good meal. Goes to a north Indian restraint. Has a lot of chicken Tandoori, chicken Kashmeeri and Roti. Then devours some soft drink and pays a bill of four hundred rupees(sala dhang ka khana khane me kangaal ho gaye). And then mentally preparing himself for next day, goes to bed. Bhaiyya kal office bhi jana hai.
Badi kathin hai dagar panghat ki bhaiyya… Pitashree bolte the ki paisa kamana asaam kaam nahi hai to hame lagta tha ki yaar papa to bolte hi rahite. Jaake paav na fati biwaiiii….


Chaliye ab bahut der ho chuki hai aur hame bhi kal office jana hai.
I’ll write again when and if I have a new story to tell.


Signing off,
Miyan Fatte

attempt for resurgance

you might(not) have noticed that i have not been very active blogger. but recently i turned into a dead blogger(as not a dead blogger but dead who was a blogger). i tried to find out reasons and the only one thing that i could think was that i was bored with this whole blogging thing. so i kinda tried to reinvent myself with a new name. lets hope this name motivates me to blog more.

aapka,
miyan fatte

Glimpses of Arunachal

I was brought up in a place called Pasighat in Arunachal Pradesh. Now, whether or not I like the place is an issue for another day but there is one thing that is unmistakable in Arunachal Pradesh- its scenic beauty. Every day, this State is first to witness sunrise in India hence it is also called 'the land of rising sun' and that’s how it gets its name- ‘Arunachal’. Like other Himalayan states, this state too is generously gifted in terms of Scenic beauty and hence has a large potential as a tourism hub. In fact the place could well be country’s signature in wild life tourism, adventure sports and most importantly- Hydro electricity. But why the promise in all these fields is still only a ‘promise’ and why any attempts towards fulfillment of this promise are thwarted is again a debate for another day.
What I’d like to share with you are a few stills of Arunachal Pradesh displaying God’s genius at aesthetic.
The photographer is not a professional and the pics have been taken using a cell camera… hence probably might not be awe inspiring (mind you, the place has potential to give awe inspiring stills). Also the photographer has a bias towards taking sunrise pics, he has clicked a lot of them so bear with me :P.
















PS: The photographer happens to be my brother and i'm publishing the pics without his permission... so i thought might as well acknowledge him :)