42 Quirks

One gulp.

That’s all that was remaining. And a gulp was a life-line.

Should he use it now? Or should he wait for things to get a little clearer. But, using it now would mean that they would get clearer. Yeah, he’d use it.

No, wait! What if things would get clearer anyway? What if using it was actually wasting a perfectly good gulp? And the only one? No, he decided. He’d wait.

The horizon stretched before him, and his vision was sort of blurred at the edges. A trick of the light, he told himself. A few meters more, and I’ll find it.

Find what, came the question. Whatever it is that I am supposed to find, went an answer from nowhere, to nowhere. An oasis, another question was instantly shot back? Yeah, maybe. Just keep moving.

And so, he kept moving.

(more…)

Three simple words:

INDIA, COME BACK!

And now, the lengthy discourse that usually follows a simple message…

As of a few hours ago, Harbhajan Singh, a.k.a. Bhajji a.k.a The Turbanator a.k.a. the Wizard Of(f) Oz a.k.a. “Symonds, go back!” was reportedly banned for a duration of three Test matches, for a racist remark dealt to Andrew Symonds.

Symonds has faced Indian ‘racism’ before. Indian fans at Vadodara and Wankhede repeatedly pestered him with monkey chants during the One-Day series in late 2007.

Cut to, circa 2008. The Sydney Cricket Ground has been a witness to some memorable moments in cricketing history. Another moment was added to the list, withe Symonds-Bhajji spat on Day 4.

Reams and reams of paper, Unimaginable tape lengths and gigabytes and terabytes of data will be spent trying to reconstruct the incident.

Not one will come close to what happened.

(more…)

It is now time to introduce a surprise element into the story. Nothing about her existence will be revealed except for one small fact – that it is an entity of the female specie.

Alright, alright, it is a woman, to be precise.
——–

She watched the events warily as they happened

Each time the universe collapsed, she had distinctly felt an almost uncontrollable urge to snap her fingers.

Of course, she had no clue that doing that would bind her irrevocably to three other destinies that she had been following closely – albeit, merely out of curiosity.
Mercifully (and surprisingly) she had not yet given in to her almost uncontrollable urges - snapped her fingers, that is.

She had observed the entire proceedings right from the beginning. Her interest, however, had been piqued when she saw the duo collide.

Before that she had been vaguely aware of six cups of black coffee being delivered to the same table – all within a short span of two hours. Only, she wasn’t sure if the coffee was being consumed by the same person each time.

You see she was trying to focus her Chi. So she couldn’t really have noticed. You can’t focus you Chi if you are busy noticing inane things such as six cups of black coffee being delivered to a table and wondering whether they are being consumed by the same person. Tut, tut!

(more…)

Here’s the pep talk that SRK gives the girls of the Indian National Women’s Hockey team before their final Match against Australia.

Anyone care to make the necessary changes and give it to the Coach of the Indian Cricket Team? (The ‘official’ BCCI XI, of course!)

Wait, do we even have a coach?

Well, anyway, here goes:

सत्तर मिनट.
सत्तर मिनट हैं तुम्हारे पास.
शायद तुम्हारी ज़िन्दगी के सबसे ख़ास सत्तर मिनट.
आज तुम अच्छा खेलो या बुरा,
यह सत्तर मिनट तुम्हे ज़िन्दगी भर याद रहेंगे.
तो कैसे खेलना है, आज मैं तुम्हे नही बताऊंगा .
बस इतना कहूँगा की जाओ,
और यह सत्तर मिनट जी भर कर खेलो
क्योंकी इसके बाद आनेवाली ज़िन्दगी में
चाहे कुच्छ सही हो, या न हो,
चाहे कुच्छ रहे, या ना रहे,
तुम हारो या जीतो,
लेकिन यह सत्तर मिनट तुमसे कोई नही चीन सकता, कोई नहीं.
तो, मैंने सोचा की इस मैच में कैसा खेलना है,
मैं तुम्हे नहीं बताऊंगा, बल्कि तुम मुझे बताओगे. खेल कर.
क्योंकी मैं जानता हूँ की अगर यह सत्तर मिनट इस टीम का हर player
अपनी ज़िन्दगी की सबसे बढ़िया hockey खेल gaya
तो यह सत्तर मिनट खुदा भी तुमसे वापस नही मांग सकता.
तोह जाओ. जाओ और अपने आप से, इस ज़िन्दगी से, अपने खुदा से,
और हर उस इंसान से, जिसने तुम्हे – तुम पर – भरोसा नही किया,
अपने सत्तर मिनट छीन लो.

{Thanks a ton to Google Indic Transliteration. They always manage to surprise me… :)}
(more…)

And so we continue…

——
The Story so far:

Nothing much, really.

A girl who drinks a lot of coffee. A guy immersed in Tarantino-Kubrick-Greenway films. Another guy who does not believe in omens. Put the three of them together at one coffee shop and what do we get?

Nothing, really.
——

He couldn’t see him, since he had his back to the entrance.

The waiter approached him and without warning suddenly swooped down towards his leg.

The first thought that flashed in his mind, was typically Tarantino. Is this waiter a were-wolf? Is he gonna bite my leg off? His questions ended up in disappointment as the waiter retrieved a pretty silken scarf and held it in front of him.

It was definitely pretty. Colors seemed to jump in and out of it. It would have looked pretty on any girl, even the librarian. It would have looked even prettier on the girl who had just collided with him, a few minutes back.

A faint thought rumbled in the deep confines of his brain.

He remembered thinking about olives when they had both fallen on the floor. Now he realized why. The girl had been smelling of olives and lemon. Maybe it was her perfume, maybe it was her shampoo.

And then, another thought rumbled in the deep confines of his brain. This one was quite far from the first one. But somehow, with a mighty effort, his brain managed to co-relate the two, and he brought the scarf near and sniffed it.

And then, the Universe collapsed, again.

(more…)