Too many things to say. Too lazy to say them all.

The most memorable birthday of my life and no pictures, whatsoever. Imagine that…

Disturbing images and worrisome thoughts.

We know what films are releasing this weekend, but we don’t know the headlines of yesterday’s newspaper.

Hungry for news, and thirsty for information. No retention, please, we’re Indian.

Babies born. Babies dead. Babies born again.

One murder per page sells so many copies. How many murders before you can sell them all?

Everybody knows what’s wrong with the world. Nobody knows what’s wrong with everybody.

They all get their 15 minutes of fame - Standing, sitting, lying down… How far does one go?

Push it to the limit. And then pull it back just a little. Call it breathing space.

The young ones learn to fly. They fall down and die. We light candles.

Assumption. Accusation. Action. Acquittal. The new cycle of life?

Music is a recourse, not a discourse.

Roads. Rages. Road-rages.

Itching for a brawl. Macho-ism? Masochism?

Curiosity. Voyeurism. Call it what you want. What’s the difference, anyway?

Yearning for Green. Searching for Peace.

Searching for Green. Yearning for Peace.

Friends. Online. Offline. Invisible. Network. Community. Scrap. Thread. Notify. Wall.

Too many things to say. Too lazy to say them all…

Or am I?

Hmm. Not quite the way to start. But does keep the reader guessing. Sure, let’s keep it. No wait, let’s modify that a little.

I have been terribly busy.

Yeah, give yourself that importance. You self-centered pompous freak!

I have been tied up with certain things that take most of my time.

Right. And the whole world is out fishing. C’mon!! The truth can’t be so bad.

I have been quite lazy these last few weeks. So lazy, I have found it difficult to do the one thing I love the most – write.

A tad too much, eh? What the heck. Let’s just give it to them plain and simple.

Being an RJ is like… like…

Now, where is a good simile when you want one??

…like practicing for a big game? Nah, too sporty!
…like shopping for matching shoes? Nope! Too shoppy!
…like trying to eat a vadapav and a burger? Nay, too sloppy…
…like eating and burping at the same time? Ewww, disgusting!!
…like wearing a Tie on a T-Shirt?? Huh?? WHAT??
…like playing Base-ket-ball

Yeah, that kinda fits.

Being an RJ is like playing Base-ket-ball. Too many rules, too few players, and no idea of who’s doing what. But somehow, at the end of a play, you gotta earn points. Brownie points. And I don’t even like Brownies.

Yeah, that’s a good start. Fits like a glove.

An RJ, depending on whether s/he’s on contract or payroll, puts in around 4-9 hours of work each day.

Scratch that. Sounds like an article for Radio & Music.

I start my day pretty late…

Scratch that, too.

I work hard for my show, and harder after it ends.

Better.

I work hard for my show. And even harder after it ends. Every moment I spend on air has to be crafted to perfection and embellished with the right amount of garnish and adequate spice, and yet, not leave a bad taste in the mouth.

Hey, this one beats the Base-ket-ball simile hands down.

And that leaves me little or no time to spend for myself.

Yeah, straight on!! No chance to block the jab. Just knock ‘em out!

Worse, it has now taken me more than a month to upload this post.

That’s right!! Make them feel sorry for you. Let them have pity on you. Not sympathy, P-I-T-Y, pity. Sympathy is for dogs and cats.

Makes you wonder, is it all worth?

Good! Sow the seed of doubt. Let them feel guilty for having pestered you.

Well yeah! RJ-ing is fun. You get to be a celebrity without having to worry about NOT having a private life. You see, nobody knows you. You are just another person, lost in the sea of humanity. Just another face.

Cute. A sneak peek into the life of a pseudo-celebrity. Pummel on!!

And when people do recognize you, it’s a different high altogether!

Okay, that’s enough. Stop gloating.

But, you do have to adhere to strict timings. You have to live by the minutes and the seconds. Those who have spent an entire life-time watching train time-tables like a hawk (read: Residents of a metropolitan suburbia) would understand this perspective.

The only difference – as I see it – there are no trains on the RJ-ing track. Only stations – Radio Stations.

Guess what, good similes do appear when you get into the groove!!

The schedules on these stations – Radio Stations – are tighter than the trains of Suburbia. There are no delays. Every thing has to – and does – run on time.

Beware of overkill.

So, adhering to such time-tables gets kinda hectic and tiresome, even if you have to do it religiously for only a short span – say, four hours a day.

Slip it in. Quietly. They will never know when this hits them.

Imagine having to watch a clock and a pressure gauge simultaneously, answer calls, make witty speeches, interact, watch out for treacherous software, pesky interruptions, listen to rants, pacify superiors, and yet keep a smile on your face.

That’s right. Rub it in.

Sounds like a regular day at the office, eh? Yeah, it does…

WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!! That is suicide!!

Now try doing all of the above when 20 lakh people are watching every move you make. Or rather, listening to every breath you take.

Brilliant!! I eat my words!!

Yeah, that’s what I do for a living. Fun, no?

Short, crisp and concise. Killer finish!! You will have them eating out of your hands!! You ARE a ROCKSTAR!!! Long live the King!!

*****

Yup! I have finally lost it.

I still don’t know whether that is right or wrong, and don’t intend to answer that question anytime soon.

What I do intend to do is, write one or two lines and then let my pen (in this case, the keyboard) take over.

I hate the notion that the “customer is king.” Often it gives insuperable authority to boorish idiots who don’t understand shit about service - any kind of service.

A king is supposed to be royal, all powerful, et cet, yes, but he also has responsibilities towards his subjects. An irresponsible kind is a king of a state headed towards anarchy.

A headless state is like an unstable compound in a chemical reaction. It soon re-arranges itself to some known ’state’. And there are, as we know, very few known states.

Capitalism and free markets do not mean that everyone makes money. It simply means that everyone has an opportunity to make money.

To make most of an opportunity, you have to know when it comes. To know when an opportunity comes you have to be waiting for it.

The lover’s wait is the longest when it occurs and the shortest, after. In restrospect, everything becomes a thing of the past.

Memories are like scars, some remind us of our bravery, others remind us of pain. Why we choose to keep the pain and forget the others is something I’ll never find out.

But I hope to find it out some day…

That ends my short little experiment. Did I get somewhere?

Yes, a long way from where I started. Yet, it seems to be the middle of nowhere. I guess Life IS like that, most of the time, eh?

I wanted to write about my experiences while Training at MICA. But I could not, because I was too busy.

I wanted to upload all the fotos of my MICA trip, and spend lots of time remembering all the MICA moments. But I could not because I was too busy.

I wanted to write about going on air with Mandy for a whole week. But I could not, because I was too busy.

I wanted to write what a fantastic and super-cool jock Mandy is, and how I positively adore her. But I could not, because I was too busy.

I wanted to write about how my first week of going solo on-air has been. But I could not, because I was too busy.

I wanted to write about how despicable I find the shooting at Virginia Tech. But I could not, because I was too busy.

I wanted to write about how I am glad that two of my friends studying in Virginia Tech are alive and safe today. But could not, because I was too busy.

I wanted to write a story because I haven’t written one in a long, long time. But I could not, because I am too busy.

I wanted to write about so many things. But I could not, because I was too busy.

Busy doing what, did you ask?

Making excuses.

Somehow, I seem to have forgotten that I own this blog. And that is a sad thing to happen. Heck, I feel ashamed of myself now. Am I that busy really?

Well, The answer is: No, I am not.

It took me just 20 minutes to bang out this post. So I am not as busy as I’d like to believe I am.

Sincere apologies for the infrequent nature of my appearances on this blog. I’d like to say I’ll be more regular in the future, but I have long stopped predicting futures. Especially, my own.

So here’s hoping that this post knocks some sense into my head.

And yes, the post about Categories and Tags is still pending.

I am lovin’ it!!

The fact is I have begun training as an RJ (That’s a Radio Jockey, folks,) at Radio Mirchi, Pune. And now, I have a new outlet for my silliness and idiocy! Poor Punekars, they don’t even know what hit them…

As a part of my training, I do a lot of things, with the details of which I shall not bore you right now. It might suffice to say that I do not yap as much as I would want to, but I have had a few lucky swipes at unlucky listeners.

I got to do the Cricket updates of the India v/s South Africa test match in Johannesburg, which was quite cool. A lot of Punekars, heard a stupid voice fumble, and fumble again until it got the score right. In my defense (which is pretty much non-existent) I can only say, the wickets were falling so fast…

But it was fun. The thrill of knowing that somewhere out there, there are people who are listening to you, somewhere out there, there’s someone who has switched off their TV set and is waiting eagerly for that sweet aural massage, that somewhere, someone eagerly awaits your voice… yeah, the mere thought of it is fun. And then you get out on the street and hear people saying things like:

“Who’s that idiot fuck who keeps fumbling silly things like a Cricket score?”

“Why the fuck are they announcing Cricket scores on a Radio Station?”

“Aren’t they supposed to, like, play music?”

“Cricket? Radio? Whoever does that these days?”

“Scores on the Radio? That’s so Ell-Ess…”

*Sigh* What can I say?

You should listen to some of the people that call a Radio station. Sometimes, they are plain weird. Other times they are *really* weird. I guess that’s just a part of being an On-Air jock.

This does not mean I’ll be turning into a jock anytime soon. But I think I’d like to do that someday. It’s a cool place and nobody tells me I talk too much, except the listeners of course… But, do I care? Naa-huh! Not me, no sirree!!

Oh well, I actually do…

This is your Jock-on-the-Rocks, Shrikant serving you delicious music on Radio Mirchi 98.3 FM, it’s hot!! Stay tuned!

How does that sound? Good, bad, ugly?

There’s nothing to tell. No direct or proximate cause. You just wake up one day and you aren’t a part of your life. You know this. Your life doesn’t belong to you. Your body is not, I don’t know how to make you feel the force of this, yours. There’s just life, living itself. You don’t have it. You don’t have anything to do with it. That’s all. It doesn’t sound like much, but believe me. It’s like when you hypnotize someone and persuade them there’s a big pile of mattresses outside their window. They no longer see a reason not to jump.

– Quoted by Kryzstof “Dubdub” Waterford-Wajda in “Fury“, by Salman Rushdie.

I no longer see a reason not to jump. And I haven’t even been hypnotized yet. No, not even self-hypnosis. What’s more, I even know for a fact that there are NO matressess outside my window. Yet, I no longer see a reason not to jump.

I read -no, make that devour- books or listen to music to pass my time. I drink insane amounts of coffee, and spend crazy money clogging up my system with carcinogenic substances.

I have a great job and a fantastic boss, and extremely supportive co-workers. I have great friends who are pursuing knowledgeable pursuits.

I talk to people who know what they are doing, who are masters in what they do. I learn from them, more than I ever learnt at the University, more than I could ever expect to learn. Heck, pretty soon I am gonna even become one of those people.

Yet, I feel incomplete, somehow.

There’s nothing to tell. No direct or proximate cause. I just woke up to-day and I ain’t a part of my life. I know this. My life does not belong to me. My body is not -I don’t know how to make you feel the force of this- mine. There’s just life, living itself. I don’t have it. I don’t have anything to do with it. That’s all. It doesn’t sound like much, but believe me. It’s like you hypnotized me and persuaded me there’s a big pile of mattresses outside my window. I no longer see a reason not to jump.

Should I jump?

The words just flowed out as I began typing, and before I knew it, I had finished it. I get scared at such times. Because, however hard I try, I cannot recall what went into the frenzy.

Title: For you…

So many words to speak,
Yet, lips sewn to silence
So little time to spend,
All of it spent in violence.

So many things to say,
Yet far apart we stand.
So much there is to spend,
Yet, not a dime in hand.

Life’s little mysteries
Are wont to cause concern…
You might solve them eventually
But one you’ll never discern.

Coz life’s like that to you,
You hold it full of scorn
While you writhe in self-pity
It goes on, and on, and on…

You take these things to heart.
I’d call that a pretty good start.
People are crazy, times are strange
The world is yours to change.

– Shri

The second line from the last, has been plagiarized from the “Things have changed,” Bob Dylan’s OST for the movie “Wonder Boys.”

Read the entire poem, in context. Here’s a handy link:
http://wenisaynothing.blogspot.com/2006/12/tears.html

Pree’s post reminded me of this post by John Scalzi: Being Poor. Though most of it has a distinct American perspective, it just stops short of being universal. I urge you people to read the comments that readers have posted. There are some really funny ones, and some that tear your heart out.

Call me quirky, or call me insane. I just can’t quit hoping that world can be a better place.

*sigh* Seems like it’s one of those days again.

Now, where’s my coffee?

PS: Pree, I hope you don’t mind.

“Is everything alright, sir? Are you ok?”

“Uhh, err.. no. I mean, yes, I am fine. Ummm… well… yeah, I am fine.”

He signed the papers and gave them back to her. It was an invoice for ordering some equipment. He flicked the thought away from his mind as soon as he registered it. Obviously, there were other more important things to think about.”

“Sandy, wait.” He called back after her. “You didn’t, by any chance, hear something strange outside, did you?”

She furrowed her brow in thought and replied slowly, “Now that you mention it, I think I heard something.”

“What? What did you hear?” He almost grabbed her. She was both bewildered and scared by his actions. He realized his foolishness and immediately let her go. Somewhat awkward and frightened, Sandy instinctively took a step back.

“I am… I am sorry.” He drew a long breath. “What was it that you heard?”

He had seen the expression of nervousness and panic beginning to set in on her face.

“Umm, well I thought I heard some noises in your room, and…” Sandy

“She’s right,” the voice again.

“Did you hear that?” he almost shouted to Sandy.

“Hear what?” Sandy asked, with a hint of apprehension and confusion in her voice which had already reached the tremolo point.

“C’mon, you think she can hear me? You know what, you gotta start believing in me by now.” the voice had a sadistic edge to it. It was as if the entity behind the voice was beginning to enjoy the beginning of an insanity. An insanity for which it was the cause.

“No… nothing. Forget it.”

“Are you sure? Do you want me to get you a doctor or something?” - Sandy again.

“No… no… it’s fine. I am fine…” he said.

“Sir, I think, I should - ”

“I SAID I AM FINE!! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!” This time he did shout.

Sandy looked at him in horror and with her slender little fingers on her mouth hastily stepped out. The office would start buzzing with the news in a short while now. But that was the least of his current concerns.

“Tch, tch. You shouldn’t have yelled at her like that. Poor thing. She’s all shaken up now. Look what you did to her…”

And then the walls in front of him dissolved into thin air and he saw a crowd outside, right in front of Sandy’s desk. She was sobbing and somebody passed he a Kleenex. She took the Kleenex and continued sobbing. One or two of the other employees, shot curious glances at his cabin door. The other women were trying to cajole her and console her. They tried, at the same time, to coax her to tell them what had happened.

And then the opacity of the walls returned and all was as before.

He groaned and made for his chair.

Technorati Tags: story, bizarre, conversation

“No, you’re not.”

Again. The same voice.

“Who are you?” His voice betrayed a hint of fear.

There was no answer.

“Hello?? Are you there?”

“Yes. I am here.”

“But, who are you?”

“How does it matter?”

“Erm, I think, I need to know who I am talking to, I guess…”

“Why?”

Beacuse, I can’t be talking to a voice, he wanted to say. But he thought better of it and instead said, “It’s better that way, I think”

“What if I told you I am no one? What if I told you I am simply a voice?”

He looked up, startled. Could this thing, this voice, read his mind? Did it read his mind? Or was it a lucky coincidence? Who was it? Rather, what was it? Before he could say anything, the voice prodded on.

“What if I told you I am real and yet unreal? That I am everywhere and yet nowhere? That I am no one and everyone? That I am what you belive and what you don’t? What if I said, I am right here, where you can see me, and yet you cannot, or rather, don’t want to? Would you believe me, then?”

“No way! That’s impossible!”

“Why?”

“Because, then you would have to be God!”

“Good, that’s close enough.”

“What?”

“You heard me the first time.”

He reeled back, trying to comprehend the situation. This can’t be happening, he thought to himself. I can’t be talking to… to… He couldn’t bring himself to utter the words.

“Oh, come on! Don’t be so naive! You have been expecting me haven’t you?”

“What? No, no… You… I… No… Wait, there’s -”

” - nothing to say.” The voice jutted in. “It’s time now. Let’s start, before we get too late.”

So, this is it? This is how it happens? I had imagined it to be a little more grand. I think I deserve much better. Wait a minute, you can read my thoughts, can’t you? You know what I am thinking. Why don’t you answer me, then?

At that precise moment, there was a knock, and the door opened.

To be continued…

Technorati Tags: story, call, bizarre, conversation