42 Quirks

This is a post full of excuses.

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.

“Things make a difference.

It’s your duty to look out for them – or is it?”

- Written in a state of drunkenness, three beers and one large vodka down during the Mirchi Party. The writing is legible, although not one to win any awards anytime soon…

The Mirchi Party happened at Leather Lounge, M.G. Road on Wednesday the 7th. The Pune Office cleared all Sales targets, in fact overshot them. And so we celebrated. Mad music, madder dancing.

I can’t remember for the life of me, when or why I wrote the above. I found it in the morning in my pocket.

Oh, and by the way, this dude is now *officially* an RJ. Hmmm.

(Poem by solbeam, Image creator unknown.)

I am lovin’ it!! :)

I read somewhere that the title to a post should always be something that hooks the reader. I dunno whether that quite matches up but what the heck, I couldn’t think of anything else…

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?

Something I wrote in response to Pree‘s post, “Tears“.

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.

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