May 31, 2015

Would-have-been-Facebook statuses

I always have something to say. A thought, an observation, a review, a critique, a joke, an anecdote. Usually, I post such stuff on Facebook. It's ironical: people add us as friends, but act pained and snobbish when we post stuff we'd tell our friends about. Who doesn't talk to their friends about the movies they watched recently! Or the book they're reading, or if they've started gymming or are learning cooking. It's so normal. But then there are so many snooty memes with holier-than-thou sarcasm. I make a mental note of whichever Facebook friend of mine shares and/or likes such memes. Unless this smart ass is a beautiful girl who uploads pics regularly, I unfollow such people. (If you're about to shoot another uppity comment like "You can unfollow on Twitter, not on Facebook", go check your facts.)

Bloody keyboard warriors. Their ways remind me of a quote I had come across somewhere: "Following someone on Twitter and complaining about what they're tweeting is like stalking someone and complaining about the route they are taking."

If you're thinking I'm pissed off because someone crapped on my posts/photo, that didn't happen. I just don't like this meme culture, which rewards cyber bullying with likes and shares. Ridiculing, mocking at people (mostly celebrities) is passed on as humour. The sheer quantity of memes and 'jokes' that were doing rounds about Virat Kohli-Anushka Sharma after Team India lost the World Cup semi-final was shameful. I don't appreciate Rahul Gandhi 'jokes' either. Let him be. Sorry, drifting...

What I intended to say was this: Of course, I understand that Facebook friends are 'friends', not friends. So if I write there I got a new shirt, it's not like standing with my buddies and telling them I got a new shirt. It's like sending a pamphlet, saying "Hemant Gairola got a new shirt" to the house of my neighbours, elementary school teachers, relatives, college juniors, college seniors, school juniors, school seniors, people-who-couldn't-care-less. Given the number of things I feel like sharing, posting all of them on FB would be akin to sending them multiple pamphlets throughout the day. To avoid that, I'll now post those random updates on my blog, at the end of every month.

I know, there's no point of this exercise. Almost the entire traffic on my blog is due to people searching for "gays in Bangalore", "gays on MG Road Bangalore", "Bangalore Mirror sexpert column" and "how to apply for internship at The Hindu". Still, I'd jot down my thoughts anyway. Just for the sake of catharsis. One day, soon enough, I'll be a rockstar. And I'll have a legions of fan who'd love to devour every word I write. Soon enough. Ok, let's start.

1. Watched a Hollywood movie today. The protagonist was stark naked throughout. A treat to the eyes! Hahahaha... It was a dog. The lead role was of a dog. Marley & Me is such a lovely movie. A rambunctious labrador pup. His life with a cute couple (Owen Wilson and Jennifer Aniston), as they become parents of three kids. The film starts with him entering their lives as a puppy, and ends 13 years later, when his old-age complications meant he had to be put to sleep. The movie became so unbearably poignant towards the end. Reminded me of my dog, Caesar. But we used to call him "Seejar". Or "Seeju". My first love. He deserves an entire blog post. I've been meaning to write it for long. Should do it soon.

2. John Cena needs to stop addressing wrestlers a few younger than him as "son". He's just 37, not 67.

3. Why did an image of purple stilettos flash in my mind right now as I was thinking of logging out?!? Should try them sometime? Hahaha... :P

4. Any girl—no matter how intelligent, beautiful and charming—if she types "ty" to say "thank you", ... God! Just don't do it. As if "k" was not dumb enough.

6. Finished reading a collection of poems of Harivansh Rai Bachchan. What amazing poetry! Goodness! He's brilliant! What a rich vocabulary!

7. Reading Ramdhari Singh Dinkar's collection of poems about Karna. Such powerful verses... They transport you to Mahabharata era, right where the story is unfolding. Ancient Indian mythologies are so full of wisdom and still relevant!

8. My gym trainer got me a protein supplement today, and since bringing the product home, I'm going through its customer reviews online. It's bewildering! I've seen 200+ reviews and hardly a couple of customers have written about whether or not they found it effective in muscle growth. One review: "Taste great and mixes well can not really ask much more out quality protein powder." You bought protein powder for taste? What about muscle recovery? Reminds me of my boss's favourite word: Moron.

9. Lychee trees in Dehradun have started bearing the fruit. They are beginning to ripe. Just a few weeks, and we'll have lychees on sale. Such a refreshing sight to see bunches of green and red lychees hanging from trees. Everywhere! It must have been 8+ years since I last had the fruit. Can't wait! Also, I should get home other pahaadi fruits. Peach, apricot, endemic berries... Been ages since I last had them!

10. Just learnt that the girl who uses "ty" to say "thank you" on Facebook also says "ship" when she means "worship". "I ship him!" She wrote. How did such short forms become 'cool'?

11. Another couple of friends of mine got engaged or married this month. And I'm yet to be good friends with a girl who doesn't see a brother in me. Man!

Dang! I logged into acting on a brainwave, to jot down a would-have-been-Facebook status. Totally forgot what it was.

12. May 31 is Anti-Smoking Day. All chain smokers celebrating their birthday today must be having a good laugh. But what to do! There's no day a smoker isn't born.

13. Recalled the status I mentioned before point number 12. This: My computer's mouse has a ghost in it. Suddenly it disappears from one place on the screen and appears at another. Like an angry ghost who throws things around, it's closing tabs on Chrome (web browser) and clicking on random links.

14. Didn't feel even a pinch as the injection needle went into my vein to draw blood for some tests. Eyebrow being pierced five times (excruciatingly, on the last two occasions) and ears being pierced six times, I guess my pain threshold has shot through the roof. 

May 11, 2015

I was born to be a journalist

How old were you when you tendered your first resignation? Your early 20s? I was nine when I proffered mine. I happen to have a copy of it. Read on. Try not to judge me.

"tention", "jailer". Nice. The sheer frustration that's jumping off the paper indicates how awfully awesome I must have been at making a mountain out of a molehill. I had realised more than a decade ago that I was an obnoxious kid, this resignation letter just confirmed it.

By the way, to this day, I employ (dumb) analogies and metaphors to explain my arguments. Until I stumbled upon my 'resignation' letter, I used to think I picked up these tools when I was striving to improve my English. Now I know better. I was born this way! 

Me at it again
Well, that letter came about when I was in class V. Two years later, the school had pissed me off again. So I shot off another letter. And it's a genuine grievance. I so loathed it when it'd happen.

I didn't need to finish that letter. One day, when the princi(pal) was on rounds, I jumped right in front of him and poured my heart out, to which he just laughed and asked me to go back to my class. That was three much (pun intended).

But, I had raised a genuine issue. Half-yearly exams of class VII. My downward spiral in studies (which became a free fall only in class XI) had not yet begun. Every single mark mattered. I had voluntarily got my two marks deducted in science. From 93, I came down to 91. Was being honest despite the race to the top. And when my female competitors went to get their marks cut, they were told it would be effin adjusted in annual exams! What the hell is that! Biased teacher. Unfair. Boys were being discriminated against.

Unrelated rant
And girls of my class were such phony, backbiting creatures. Ahh... They'd report to our beastly sports teachers almost every time we'd bunk classes and play cricket. All of 11-12 years, but so sadistic. That's how I started hating girls and swore not to talk to those lowly creatures.

Since then, I've had only my boys for company, and we totally rock it! Band of brothers. Ok ok. I concede. One side-effect of choosing not to talk to girls was that I don't quite know yet how to talk to girls. That's why no girlfriend. I don't know what to say after "Nice pic". 

Sorry, drifting off. Yeah, the point is... I wonder how I grew up into a hardcore feminist despite having such pathetic girls as my classmates till the age of 17!

Back on track. More narcissistic anecdotes
Sorry. The actual point was, I always had that journalism-thingy in me. Whenever I was pissed off, I wrote. Captaincy became a burden? Write to principal. Teachers guilty of partiality? Write to principal. Unconsciously though, I believed in the power of the pen. I always had that anti-authority thing in me.

Ahead of the half-yearly exams when we were in class VI, our sadistic class teacher instructed us to stay put in the classroom and study in the games period. Why the hell would we do that! How could she take away our coveted games period! Boys of my class were apprehensive of defying her diktat. I charged them up (was always a leader) and we all had a ball. Literally and figuratively. 

(Yeah, the dumbass girls reported this too to the class teacher, who was then fuming. Called me a rotten fish that spoils the whole pond. But did I care? Ha! Do I ever care!)

I can narrate n number of such anecdotes. I always had it in me. Netagiri ka keeda. When 'wronged', others would whine, but I'd do something about it. 

S***! This netagiri ka keeda has made me do some stupid things too. When we were in class VII, I had taken a complaint against a guy three years my senior to the principal. What plaint? He was hitting on a girl of my class. Making advances, stalking her. She was scared (or so my friends told me). I reported it to the princi, who referred the matter to the sports teacher, who then beat that guy black and blue.

Five years later, we were class XII students. My friend who had accompanied me to the principal was now himself in love with a junior. So was I. Hehe... We'd bunk our physics lab period together, go to the first floor lavatory and let out cold sighs while drooling upon our love interests, who had their games period that very hour. They'd be playing volleyball/kho-kho or something stupid. The point is, as time had turned the tables on us, we realised how we were wrong in telling on our senior. (Sorry, buddy. We regret that.)

That was one occasion where my zealous side... Ok. Nobody is reading the blog. (And it's getting scarily rhetorical!!) Let me just end it here :P