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?