A living person I would like to meet:
Just one meeting wouldn't be of any great use. Fed can't teach me any tennis in one meeting, and neither do I see any realistic chances of 'getting lucky' with Elisha Cuthbert on our first and only date. So, it might as well be someone who will be fun to talk to, maybe Jerry Seinfeld.
A dead person I would like to meet:
Ekta Kapoor, after I've killed her. I would enjoy killing her again.
An event in history I would like to change:
I would like to change the day I conducted the school assembly without realising that my zipper was open.
You say this isn't history? Well, I say this isn't a question for a tag.
A movie I would like to witness in real:
"The Motorcycle Diaries", as Alberto Granado. I think he had much more fun than Che.
A literary character I would like to meet:
Do Penthouse letters qualify to be called literature? If yes, then I would like to meet the Loving Nurse.
Otherwise, Karla Saranen from Shantaram will have to do. In fact, even Dr.Watson would be fine.
And now the part where I pass on the goodies to others:
Neon (or Dr.SafetyFirst, as he calls himself)
GKay, can I turn this into something like an infinite recursive function call? Tag-back the person who has tagged you, and then he tags you again, and it goes on... till one of you dies (or alternatively one deletes his blog).
Friday, March 23, 2007
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Tag!
I had started contemplating a post about how I am completely falling short of ideas to blog about.
I'm not following the World Cup, I haven't read the newspaper in ages, I don't have enough background information to write about the internet ban in IIT-B, I haven't watched any great movie, even the time I spend listening to music has reduced drastically, I don't know what happens in classes since I'm never awake there, my grades are miserable enough to prevent me from mentioning them, I haven't managed to finish a single book since January. What am I supposed to do?
In times of such great despair, of such dire need for topics to blog about, the only hope which keeps a desperate blogger from deleting his blog in an uncontrollable fit of frustration, is a tag. All you have to do, is a little blog-hopping, find a blog where someone has been kind enough to pass it on to 'anyone who is willing' (read 'all you jobless f***s out there!'), complete the tag and post it!
But, just when you start feeling all cheery and optimistic about your blog's future, everyone in the blogosphere decides to be very choosy and specific about the people they tag. They waste their tags on bloggers who have either stopped posting or who have long been dead. Some of them even decide not to pass it on to anyone. It is gone, even before you could lay your hands on it! Like the ice-cream at a wedding dinner.
The wait goes on. Every time you read someone else's tag post, the song "aaega aane waala" starts playing in your mind. You give up all shame and start posting stupider comments on exceptionally stupid posts. You consult a pandit and plan a 'tag-siddhi pooja' on the 3rd amavasya of the shravan maas and even make arrangements for giving special daan to all the fellow blogger yajmaans, to satisfy all gods of blogdom.
And finally the day of salvation arrives. You scroll down, with bated breath to the part where the fortunate tag recipients are mentioned on someone's post. Your name is there! You rub your eyes in disbelief. After confirming that it is indeed you, who as been tagged, you run out into the corridor shouting, "ooparwaale ne meri sun li!". You start hugging all wingmates and even people you've never met before, exactly the way it was done on numerous occasions in Ramanand Sagar's Krishna.
And then you sit down to complete the tag, your heart skipping many-a-beat, getting impatient to hit the publish button. It is at this precise moment that you realise that you can't think of answers that are interesting enough to do justice to this brilliant opportunity.
That's what happened to me when I tried to complete GKay's tag. Maybe some other time, hopefully in the near future, when my neurons are feeling less lethargic. Till then, why don't you read my previous masterpieces?
I'm not following the World Cup, I haven't read the newspaper in ages, I don't have enough background information to write about the internet ban in IIT-B, I haven't watched any great movie, even the time I spend listening to music has reduced drastically, I don't know what happens in classes since I'm never awake there, my grades are miserable enough to prevent me from mentioning them, I haven't managed to finish a single book since January. What am I supposed to do?
In times of such great despair, of such dire need for topics to blog about, the only hope which keeps a desperate blogger from deleting his blog in an uncontrollable fit of frustration, is a tag. All you have to do, is a little blog-hopping, find a blog where someone has been kind enough to pass it on to 'anyone who is willing' (read 'all you jobless f***s out there!'), complete the tag and post it!
But, just when you start feeling all cheery and optimistic about your blog's future, everyone in the blogosphere decides to be very choosy and specific about the people they tag. They waste their tags on bloggers who have either stopped posting or who have long been dead. Some of them even decide not to pass it on to anyone. It is gone, even before you could lay your hands on it! Like the ice-cream at a wedding dinner.
The wait goes on. Every time you read someone else's tag post, the song "aaega aane waala" starts playing in your mind. You give up all shame and start posting stupider comments on exceptionally stupid posts. You consult a pandit and plan a 'tag-siddhi pooja' on the 3rd amavasya of the shravan maas and even make arrangements for giving special daan to all the fellow blogger yajmaans, to satisfy all gods of blogdom.
And finally the day of salvation arrives. You scroll down, with bated breath to the part where the fortunate tag recipients are mentioned on someone's post. Your name is there! You rub your eyes in disbelief. After confirming that it is indeed you, who as been tagged, you run out into the corridor shouting, "ooparwaale ne meri sun li!". You start hugging all wingmates and even people you've never met before, exactly the way it was done on numerous occasions in Ramanand Sagar's Krishna.
And then you sit down to complete the tag, your heart skipping many-a-beat, getting impatient to hit the publish button. It is at this precise moment that you realise that you can't think of answers that are interesting enough to do justice to this brilliant opportunity.
That's what happened to me when I tried to complete GKay's tag. Maybe some other time, hopefully in the near future, when my neurons are feeling less lethargic. Till then, why don't you read my previous masterpieces?
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Glimpses on a lazy day
The construction worker's kid playing on the felled tree. Pure joy.
A Bajaj Pulsar going at an unbelievably high speed. Its rider weighs at least 150kg.
The durbaan says "Thank you, Sir" as we walk out of the restaurant. I should thank him for sparing the salute.
A drunkard sleeping on the road in the hot sun. No daaru this month. Had a little too much in February.
A really pretty Firang babe. Extremely attractive, to the extent that I take the stairs instead of the elevator so as to get a direct look.
A taxi driver swinging in his seat to 'wo ladki bahut yaad aati hai'. A few seconds later I find myself humming the same song. Damn!
A bunch of fellows drenched in colours. Somehow it evens out the differences between people.
A squashed rose in the middle of the street. Only a fortnight was enough for it to lose all value.
Another kid, in a lemon yellow frock. Reminds me of bygone days. 12 years suddenly feels like a very short time.
A Bajaj Pulsar going at an unbelievably high speed. Its rider weighs at least 150kg.
The durbaan says "Thank you, Sir" as we walk out of the restaurant. I should thank him for sparing the salute.
A drunkard sleeping on the road in the hot sun. No daaru this month. Had a little too much in February.
A really pretty Firang babe. Extremely attractive, to the extent that I take the stairs instead of the elevator so as to get a direct look.
A taxi driver swinging in his seat to 'wo ladki bahut yaad aati hai'. A few seconds later I find myself humming the same song. Damn!
A bunch of fellows drenched in colours. Somehow it evens out the differences between people.
A squashed rose in the middle of the street. Only a fortnight was enough for it to lose all value.
Another kid, in a lemon yellow frock. Reminds me of bygone days. 12 years suddenly feels like a very short time.
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