May 14, 2014

Dear diary, I totally rock

A few days ago, I took out my ink pen and my diary to write stuff. Writing diary is cathartic. Oh, and reading it is pure entertainment. You go "awwww" when you read something downright stupid and find it cute. You feel sympathy and empathy for your younger self. And you feel proud for being so cool and so emotional.

So that day, I got so involved in reading my previous posts and getting impressed with myself that I forgot the need for catharsis. I thought of sharing some of my gems here, on the blog. Isn't blog like a diary anyway! The more I blog, the less I write in my diary. The more I write in my diary, the less I blog. Of late, I do neither as I've become lazy.

My diary is going to be published as a book after I become an iconic rockstar (pretty soon). So makes sense that I give my fans a taste of what the book's gonna be like. So let's get started!

There's one thing that caught my eye, jutting out like a sore thumb. "My heart brakes on seeing a heartbreak." Can't believe I wrote this. My heart "brakes" on seeing a heartbreak? Otherwise it accelerates? I was really an emotional fool then, using foolish English when emotional.

When it came to studies, I merrily looked the other way
But there are a few high points too. I had written the following post ahead of the final semester exams of my graduation. And I'm so proud of my devil-may-care attitude. I've got some spunk, man!
"Just 24 hrs. more and I have to write an exam on a subject I scored just 3 and 1 out of 10 in two internals. Hell with exams! My loneliness is killing me." 

That's how that diary entry began. I was so impressed when I read this! So, the next day I had an exam in which I had fared superbadly previously. I mean 1/10, 3/10? That's pathetic! I'm so cool that despite such poor score I couldn't care less about the final exam even though it was just a day away. It takes guts to brush away a semester exam like that. I'm mighty proud of myself!

And the diary entry that came two days after the abovesaid post was like the icing on the cake. "Novel padhte hain. Hope tomorrow's paper turns out to be a cakewalk."
Hahaha... That's something. So, I have a semester exam the next morning but I'd rather read a novel than prepare for the exam! Boy, that's cocky. That's confidence. That entry means, "Who needs to study to pass! To hell with the books and the course! I can cook up answers to pass. Let's party!" I like this immense coolness and confidence I have. This clarity, that I didn't want to score well, needed merely to pass, which I could do without studying. Oh yeah!

Of God and girls
Then there are so many paras addressed to God, devoted to girls. I wrote this one just two days after joining my journalism college in Bangalore. "Why the heck do I get so nervous while talking to girls here! My English just sucks when I'm talking to girls. Man, my Hindi sucks too when talking to them. Shit it's so embarrassing. I'm going to get over it. I'll speak slowly-slowly."

Reading this makes me laugh at myself, for being so stupid. I remember vividly. I'd get tongue-tied and the words that'd come out of my mouth were neither Hindi nor English. I did get over the nervousness in a few weeks. I was 20-1/2 years old and had hardly spoken to girls earlier. A small-town guy amid city people. Shuru-shuru me phatna toh banta tha. 

My discussions with God about girls continued. It went like: "God you know I'm a good guy. I deserve lots of good friends, don't I? 
Ok, I admit I like that girl ______, but nothing like crush so far :-) I wish to be good friends with her."

Ten days later, I was still talking to God about the same thing. "God I'd really like to make lots of good friends, and again, especially girls ;-) But well you know that I really admire/adore them and that's it. I suppose you agree with me that I'm a good guy :-)"

Hahaha... Just because God doesn't talk back doesn't mean you take His silence as His approval. Then, I indeed was a good guy. Many of my prayers were for others. Like this one, in which I requested Him to see to it that the girl I liked (realised later that I loved her) is united with the guy she loved: "And God, get these two together, please. Be kind on at least one couple I know. No, two actually. Include ____ and her love too. Heed to my request.
And great yaar, I'm always given the role of side-hero. Hero kab banaoge!?! And where is my heroine?"

Yes, God, I still have the same question. I'm still getting the role of side-hero in failed love stories. Mera number kab aayega?

Comedy (in brackets)

In my diary, I pester God a lot, request a lot of things. This request was found worthy of putting here simply because of my attention to details.
"I want a physique of an underwear model (male model, i.e.)"

Hahaha... I might have thought that if I don't specify "male", God might grant me the physique of a female underwear model. That would have been a disaster. Thank God for parenthesis. They are a beautiful communication aid. For example, take the parenthetical interruption in this May 2010 entry:
"I want to have a beautiful, accommodating, understanding, super hot, sexy, rich and very loving (not in this order) life partner. Whoever she is. She should be very loving, caring and understanding. I must be in love with her too." 

In this list of qualities, beauty comes first, love comes last. Ouch! But this is not what I meant, that's why I immediately wrote in brackets "not in this order". "I must be in love with her too." Hahaha... Yeah, one-way traffic, don't want. I always paid attention to details.

When I mean business
All of my entries were not about girls and looks etc. This entry, written two-three months after I graduated from my journalism college and was jobless (had chosen not to work immediately after college, so hadn't appeared for a single placement) makes me proud. I knew what I wanted. Finally, I got it.
"I want to establish myself as a very efficient employee at desk. I give the best headlines in no time. My copy-editing is flawless and ultimate. I am MVP of the company. I know every little nuisance of English language."

Yup. I see that I wrote "nuisance" when I meant "nuance". Yes yes, I'm ashamed. The correct sentence will read: "I know all the nuances of English." Being a sub-editor, I cannot not correct an incorrect sentence. Awesome alliteration. Yet again!

Buri nazar wale tera muh kala

I was aware that my diary could fall into someone else's hands. Realised that in the middle of writing some sentimental crap. So immediately wrote a polite note, requesting them to leave my diary alone: "[ANY INTRUDER READING MY DIARY, I'LL KILL YOU IF I FOUND OUT YOU DARED LAY YOUR HANDS ON MY PERSONAL STUFF]"

I just deleted three-four paras about a friend who read up my entire diary. Haha.. Will write about it in another post. But 
I wonder whether anyone's still reading this absolutely self-indulgent blogpost or it's just me, getting amused with my own sense of humour. You know, like new parents who unleash a barrage of their baby's pictures on Facebook. Although me getting a girl and we tying knot seems a highly improbable event, if and when I do become a father, I'll not upload baby pictures. Promise.

I don't like ending write-ups abruptly, but I think this narcissist blogpost needs to be terminated here and now.
“Please read my diary, look through my things and figure me out.”
—Kurt Cobain

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