It's all a blur sometime. Waking up in the morning feels the same as going to bed at night. It's like the day never happened. In a year when I came so close to losing everything, perhaps even my life if I were a few days late to get to hospital, very little of what I considered normal before, now makes sense.   

My favourite music is all that keeps me going. The songs I listened to growing up. They remind me of those days when life was good, even though back then it felt like it could have been better. But I know now that's probably the best I could ever have hoped to get.

The past pops up in my head in flashbacks -- the first girl I loved, the first job I held, the continuous struggle just to show the world I was worth something. When in fact the world didn't care - for me, or my struggles, or for what I was worth. Because the truth is we are worth nothing. I know that now. 

I'm not perfect but I tried. To be the best version of myself that I could possibly be. On occasions I succeeded, and on others I failed miserably. But like a criminal you are punished for what you did wrong and rarely rewarded or even acknowledged for what you tried to do right. 

In a time when hardly anybody reads stuff like this anymore, I want to write about it, write about everything I'm feeling. Even though I don't want to talk about it out loud. Just like the song. 

I don't want to talk about it,
how you broke my heart.

If I stay here just a little bit longer;

if I stay here won't you listen?

To my heart.

My heart is broken but my body trudges on. While my mind has other ideas. 

People still don't get it. As things stand now, we cannot beat The Great Corona, we have to live with it. That's the only way. Because people and economies cannot stay locked down indefinitely. So if face masks become the number one fashion accessory on the planet, so be it. I see many apparel companies already licking their fingers at the possibilities the humble face mask will have to offer. For women for example a lingerie set might now include a lacy variant. For the lads, well, as long as we don't have something that says 'Jockey' on it in big bold letters, we're fine. And in spite of all the precautions, if some unlucky soul still manages to contract the damn pestilence, we'll just say what we always say when misfortune befalls, -- 'Shit happens!

So if anybody wants to come out of this pandemic making a killing (no pun intended), start making designer masks. There could be formal masks for work and casual masks for the weekend, but what might really catch on are those that make a statement. For instance, I'd love one that says, -- Temporarily closed for business!

***

Doesn't it seem like people have gone a little overboard with the whole video-calling thing these days? Especially friends and relatives in other countries. Suddenly they don't just want to hear your voice, they want to see your damn face. I was forced to install a new video-calling app called Zoom that has all the Indians in the Middle East very excited because the Arabs haven't blocked it yet. It's bad enough having to spend so much time on calls with the folk from work, now you have to video-chat with people outside of work. I don't know about you, but I find it quite exhausting having to carry on a video conversation beyond the hi-howareyou with someone I used to speak to once every few months, if not more. And what does one say anyway? How are things there? Lockdown. How are things here? Lockdown. So the topic of discussion invariably centres around how each one is managing their version of this godawful lockdown. And just hearing about it is not enough, they need visual evidence too. Luckily on weekdays I've been able to cut these interactions short by saying I have just 5 minutes before I get onto an office call. On weekends options for escape are limited.

***

A friend on Facebook shared an old speech by Donny Trump where he told his countrymen to get their butts out there and vote no matter how sick they were. I  hope he doesn't do a replay of that at election time this year. With someone like him you never know -- he pushes the envelope like it's made of spandex! Some will call it stupidity, but I say the man has great testicular fortitude ... even if his testicles happen to be in the wrong place!

One thing I do agree with him though is his argument that the US should not be the largest financial contributor to the WHO. If you ask me that honour should now be passed on to China. In fact I say move the headquarters of the WHO from Geneva to somewhere closer to ground zero, like Wuhan! 

Peace, love, and the right geography!

How many times can you forgive someone for treating you like garbage? You can do it once, twice, maybe even the third time. But when they do it again, you gotta ask yourself, -- Do I really need this? It's heartbreaking losing a friend, more so when it's someone you've known a long time and shared so much with. Even more when it's someone you love. Or thought you loved. Until you realize they don't know what love is. And probably never will.

***

As I get older my head seems to be turning into this big repository of memories. I have frequent flashbacks of things like the first girl I had a crush on in school. She was a gentle, kind human being, unlike so many I've encountered since. I also remember all the wonderful music that I grew up with, which shaped me in more ways than I can think of. And now that the world is in the grip of darkness, and life as we know it will probably never be the same again, it's only these happy recollections that keep me going. 

***

I don't really want to talk about lockdown and isolation and social distancing which are the words on everybody's lips right now. Because it doesn't matter anymore. And frankly it doesn't affect me all that much. I've always been a loner, quite happy in my own company. Funny thing is sometimes even a loner needs someone to be alone with. Confusing as that may sound. 

***

I'm glad I started writing again. This little space on the www has brought me in contact with so many people, all of who I cherish, and some that I've had to forgive more than once, and probably will again, if they'd only say the word. One of the things this pandemic has taught us is that life is more fragile and shorter than we think. Too short to keep grudges. Too short not to forgive. Because love is greater than all the ingratitude and ugliness in the world.

***

One of my favourite songs, which again brings back a flood of memories. Ever wonder what it's like to sail all alone in a tiny little boat, just the water below you and the sky above. That's what love is in a way. Love is not having company on the trip, love is that little boat that keeps you from sinking to the bottom. Love is something you trust your life with. Sad how we get it so wrong so often.

From 1975, Rod Stewart - Sailing.             

So now we're doing 500+ cases a day! Thanks largely to that big gathering in Delhi of a group I will refer to as Total Jackasses. Chinese torture is what they deserve. But come to think of it, Covid-19 is in a way the new and improved form of Chinese torture.

And people are coping, yes. New skills are being learnt -- women are giving the men haircuts (though I reckon it'll be a while before the men can return the favour) and men are discovering the joys of housework.

We have a small open gym tucked away in one corner of the colony which nobody ever uses. Well, this evening I did for the very first time, even though I could see some of the wimmen in the neighbouring buildings quietly observing me from their balconies, probably wishing their old men would get off their asses. But no, let them watch Mahabharat; I'm very happy having the equipment all to myself. My favourite is the parallel bars which always makes me feel like a Russian gymnast, even though I can't do a handstand yet (and probably never will without serious injury). But I love the shoulder workout it gives me just doing dips. Burns like a biatch!

But leaving aside the gym/exercise bit, wouldn't you say we're actually keeping better health these days? It occurred to me this morning when performing my start-of-day duties, that my plumbing, and I'm talking end-to-end, has never been better, no Drainex needed. Goes to show how much crap goes into everything we eat outside. Frankly I don't ever want to go back to that again, most of which is overpriced garbage anyway! 

Great Leader wants us to switch off our lights at 9 p.m tomorrow and flash whatever illuminating stuff we want to flash. Now he clearly said lights, so why have people taken that to include ACs, coolers and fans? He just wants it to get dark, not hot. The poor guy must be feeling the heat anyway. It can't be easy keeping things in control when you have folks like those Total Jackasses running around. One Whatsapp forward I got says something about the light shining having astrological significance, which rings a bell from two Sundays back. But if it makes this damn pestilence go away I say let's do it. Though I'm pretty sure people will find ways to overdo it again: Last time it was the crackers, tomorrow I'm expecting a full fledged rocket show!

I say a prayer for New York City every night. I was awe-struck the first time I went there, everything was so big and bright. Must be all sad and gloomy now. No city should have to suffer the way New York has; I hope things get beter soon. Governor Cuomo is the kind of man the USA should have as President, not some specimen that belongs in a zoo.

Peace, love, and the right choices.

'Stay home, Stay safe, Stay sane' is what the hashtag should say. Because staying home and staying safe we can manage; staying sane I'm not so sure. In other parts of the world mental health specialists are working overtime to help folks like us who are suffering from the effects of quarantine, but what's going to happen here? In a country like ours where it is generally perceived that one would either have to be bludy mad or completely out of choices to make a career in mental health, who are we going to turn to? There just aren't enough mental health specialists for so many of us. 

What people look for during these difficult times is both comfort and release. Starting with comfort -- A colleague messaged me today saying he feels like a call center operative (which is one of the toughest jobs anybody can do) sitting in front of a laptop with that headset on practically the whole day and can't take it any more. "Do you feel the same?", he wants to know from me. Now the obvious answer is -- yeah kinda, and if I had told him that he'd have felt so much better, like he's got a comrade-in-arms. But here's the thing:  I  wouldn't really be helping him; in fact I'd just be making it worse. He'd spend another week thinking he's working a call center and will do nothing to shake his whiny ass out of it. So I tell him, "No man, I'm fine. It's a bit of a change, sure, but I'm coping well". Now by saying that he's gonna start thinking -- Dude, I gotta get my shit together. This guy is fine, why the hell am I acting like such a wuss! So the trick here is don't offer comfort. (Okay, maybe you can empathize a little but don't go so far as to get the other guy thinking he's the one that's fine and you're the one that's fucked up!). Given that this is what our life is going to be for the next few months we've all got to figure out ways to not go loco, by ourselves, without the help of a counselor. Because they're all going to be busy treating our Bollywood celebrity types, given that their barely available services will be so much in demand. 

Coming to release -- Release is good. Someone forwarded me an article today that activity in the bedroom helps to release a bunch of feel-good hormones which in turn somehow also helps boost your immune system. I don't know far that's true but I was surprised to learn that there are scientists actually researching stuff like this. In any case I hope that's not the advice the Italians took very seriously before social distancing become the rule. But now that it has, the article recommends 'self-service' which is fine in countries with advanced broadband infrastructure, not in ours. We're having enough problems as it is with everyone under house-arrest; last thing we need is people working and playing from home!    

So what do we do for release then? I'll tell you what I do: Apart from a few push-ups and squats in the morning (I can't do yoga - haven't tried but I'm sure I'll fail) and a bit of guitar practice after work hours, it's BBC radio. They have this great mobile app where you get a bit of everything -- various genres of music, news, literature, comedy etc. I usually keep switching between World Service and Radio 2 and let it play in the background the whole time I'm on the work computer, except when I'm on calls (sometimes even during those useless waste-of-time calls). Oh and how can I forget the blog posts - yes, blogging helps. Whatever's on your mind - write about it, read it. It helps clear the head, put things in perspective, and may even release more feel-good hormones than the activities in aforementioned paragraph. And it's low bandwidth so you'll be doing your fellow sufferers a service. Plus when this is all over, you'll have the archives to flip through and tell yourself what a swell job you did not going over the edge! 

Peace, love, and grappling hooks. 

I haven't looked forward to a weekend this much in a long time. Don't you feel that we actually spend more time at our computers working from home than we do at the office? They should be paying us overtime, they should. I was so sick of the office Lenovo that I put it away this morning and took out the Toshiba that's been my companion since 2011.  

I think it's wonderful that musicians from all over the world are doing these little performances on Facebook and Instagram, some even taking requests from fans. It's different seeing them do their stuff in a domestic setting; Norah Jones sounded great even thought she looked like she jumped out of bed and sat straight at the piano. What was really cool was Keith Urban and Nicole Kidman yesterday, where she joined in the singing and even did a little jiggy dance. She looks so fabulous she could pass off for a 25 year old!

Wonder what our Bollywood heroes and heroines are up to right now? The overly-sculpted chaps are quite likely losing muscle tone and the women are probably freaking out over their eyebrows getting too bushy. Hell, I say Urban Clap should be added to the list of essential services, along with the likes of Big Basket and Grofers. They must be losing tons of money I imagine, all our beloved superstars - no movies coming out, no ribbon cutting or brand promotion events, and no cricket for our Boys in Blue - oh that must be a bummer. Apart from recycling pics on Instagram, I think they must be bored to death. Same goes for that bunch of Instagrammers call themselves 'travel-bloggers', people I envy like mad. They're probably all done throwing up throwback pics by now. Come to think of it, my life ain't half bad. 

Back to virus related news, just read that the US is planning to evacuate its citizens from India. Assuming many of them are Gujjus going to New Jersey, I wonder how wise it is for them to return. 

Don't you think we're being bombarded with way more information than our already overloaded brains can absorb -- an 'infomedic' is what they're calling it. The worst are the ones that go about concocting all kinds of doomsday predictions which can scare the shit out of simple folk like us. Like one report I read yesterday which said that India could end up having up to 400 million positive cases by July and god knows how many million deaths. I mean how is stuff like that supposed to help anybody? Yes we know the number of infected persons is probably in the tens of thousands (because we cannot test everyone right now) but what are we supposed to do apart from what we're doing already? Or are they trying to tell us to build bunkers and stock up on provisions for the next 1 year. 

Let's just listen to the music instead. Got a notification just now that Playing for Change will be doing a live global jam at 9 p.m. CET tonight (that's 1:30 a.m. IST); they'll be jamming on 'Stand by me' which should be fun. I am reminded of the lyrics of that song by Paloma Faith.

You gotta make your own kind of music,

sing your own special song;

make your own kind of music,

even if nobody else sings along.  

Some random Corona thoughts:

-- I reckon the one place most people will make a beeline for as soon as this is over are the hair cutting salons and the beauty parlours! Because in 21 days the adult occupants of most homes in the country will resemble wolves ... and more frighteningly -- she-wolves!! Being bald never felt this good!!

-- People in extra-marital relationships must be having the worst time ever! Imagine carrying on the whole sordid business on whatsapp or video calling in the car park by making an excuse to go check on the car!

-- Those who have made a livelihood cheating people for years must be getting so screwed right now. One fraternity that come to mind are the Goa taxi drivers and bike/car hire guys. I'd give anything to see the look on the faces of those sonsofbiches right now! They so had it coming!

-- I had to intervene to break up an argument between a man and a woman at the butchery section at the supermarket yesterday. The guy ordered 5 kgs of chicken which incensed the woman because she would have to wait much longer. She looked at him angrily and said, "This is Indian culture!", meaning he was being inconsiderate toward all the others in the line. To which he says, "Aren't you also an Indian?" After which all hell broke loose. When it was my turn I ordered 1 kg instead of 2.

-- If you are Catholic, this years is probably the best Lenten abstinence you have observed. Ever.

Make no mistake about it: This virus will test us and will do everything it can to break us. We have to fight it like our lives depend on it. Because frankly it does.

This pandemic has also come as a brutal reality check for the world. We have been taking things for granted for far too long, and have let misplaced priorities, selfishness and greed drive our decisions. It's ironic that nations have spent decades amassing wealth and stockpiling weapons of mass destruction at the cost of the planet, and this virus just casually comes along and makes so much of that wealth vanish in a matter of weeks without a bullet being fired. When the so-called greatest nation on earth that has the capability to 'take out' anything they want at will, declares a state of emergency because they have a shortage of testing kits and medical resources, it goes to show us what we really are, in a way echoing the words of the Bible: 'For dust you are and to dust you will return'. We thought we were invincible like Goliath, but in reality we are as insignificant as the dirt under David's feet.

I think we will be changed people after this has ended. We will be better human beings - humble and kind, with a lot more respect for our planet and everything around us. We will stop fu****g around, and we sure as hell will know what we're really worth -- NOTHING!

For me the start of 2016 was like setting off on a great big ship to go on the cruise of my dreams to exotic destinations while having the time of my life. 

Little did I know that very soon that ship would hit a storm and capsize and I'd be left stuck in a very tiny lifeboat in the middle of an ocean struggling to survive each day, taking on whatever the elements would throw at me. And now I lie here battered and bruised on a rocky beach after an ordeal that seemed to last a lifetime. 

Ironically enough, another fancy cruise ship just pulled up a little distance away and there are all these people coming ashore, who for some strange reason are wishing me a happy new year.  

I don't know about them, but I'm never getting on a cruise ship again!  

***

So who do I blame? Myself for wanting so eagerly to go on that cruise, or the hand of fate for having such a sadistic sense of humour? While I'm waiting for the answer, the end result is that I have nothing to show for this year, nothing at all. And that can be quite depressing.

So I don't know if I want to wish anybody a happy new year. I'd rather just share some survival stories and pray that your ship doesn't capsize.  

***

This song is dedicated to someone who's had her own share of misfortune this year, someone I love very dearly. I hope 2017 will be kinder. On the both of us.

Peace, love, and a little more luck.              

Do you sometimes feel like you're living a read-only life? Like someone else has the write access and all you can do is look at what's being written for you and go along?

How hard is it to write your own destiny if you are powerless to do so? And what is destiny anyway? Is it even a real thing? Or is it just a word somebody coined to describe a situation you can't change, whether for better or for worse.

I like to believe that we are never really powerless to change a situation. It's just that sometimes we run out of ideas.

Peace, love, and a little more inspiration.

Doing the right thing is so damn hard at times. So damn hard.

***

Played guitar after so long at a friends place last week. Can't believe how rusty I've become. But they loved it all the same. Goldilocks called my little performance a 'treasure'. Nobody's ever called it that before, but come to think of it music is one of the most precious gifts I have. Without it I'd pretty much be dead.

Not sure how many of you been watching the The Stage on Colors Infinity. Amazing how much vocal talent there is in our country. If only we could write them songs. Last season it was Soundarya and Kamakshi who had me captivated and now it's Sharvi and Aishwarya. Sharvi is wonderful and I'm pretty sure she's gonna win it, but Aishwarya, she's the dark horse. Problem is she's not the girl for every song, which is what the contest seems to be looking for. But when she's in her element, she can rip the pants off anybody. Like when she sang Birdy's Skinny Love. Birdy's been a favourite of mine for a long time now, but with her rendition of Skinny Love I dare say Aishwarya kicked her ass!   

***

Seeing Chelsea send United to the cleaners this evening was good fun. People ask me who I support and I say nobody. I've been watching English football since the late 80's way before cable TV popularized the European leagues here, so I find it a little weird when people tell me they're Chelsea or United supporters. Because when I ask them why, why United and not say Crystal Palace (which back in the day were a pretty solid team), they usually don't have a very good answer. Which is why I reckon Leicester City's success last season left many so called 'supporters' of the bigger clubs in something of a quandary: should we stick with them or proclaim our support for the Foxes? And more importantly, what do we do with the Chelsea and United jerseys now! 

 
Skinny Love by Aishwarya Suresh. You're a star, girl!

In my view he is the greatest songwriter of our generation. And long after he is gone he will be remembered as the greatest songwriter that ever lived. Because his songs are more than just songs - his songs are anthems that have left a mark on the lives of millions. Whether he deserves the Nobel Prize for literature I really can't say given my limited knowledge of literature, however if the Nobel Committee were hard-pressed to find somebody more worthy, I'd say they chose one hell of an  alternative!      

***

I love the BBC radio mobile app. For one it's got me listening to the World Service again, something I would do for hours on my dad's shortwave radio when I was a kid. And surprisingly it's still pretty much the same: I always marveled at how they'd go to all corners of the earth bringing you stories and giving you insights into stuff you'd never have known otherwise. Sadly it's also the same in how much killing and destruction and desperation there is prevalent around the world. Thirty years and so little has changed. What are we as a race doing to ourselves?

And tomorrow the rest of us will go back to our jobs, to toil away like ants. As if there is nothing in the world that can harm us or cut our lives short. When in fact there is danger lurking all around, above and beneath, inside and out. Such stupid little creatures we are.

***

There is a girl I want to fall in love with. I see her at work every day. And she sees me. And somehow I get the feeling she's thinking the exact same thing I am: What's the point?             

To fall in love with you. Bob Dylan. The one and only.

I'm willing to bet Donny Trump woke up late one morning after a heavy night of partying, groping and all the things he loves to do and said to some bimbo in the room, -- Hell, that was fun! But I wanna do something REALLY crazy. What do you reckon, honey? And she after putting her mind to it for a second went, -- Maybe you should run for President!

The next thing you know some of the more knowledgeable staff were summoned and asked: Who do we have running for President in 2016? And the answers would have been Hillary and a bunch of other geezers nobody knows. And then Donny must have thought to himself: You know what, this could be just like that time in sixth grade when I stuck my finger in Bethany's birthday cake right before she could blow out the candles! Hell, that's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna stick my finger in Hillary's goddamn cake!

Donald Trump doesn't want to be President. Simply because when you have everything a man could possibly want without being accountable to the people, you'd have to be a complete nut head to go and put yourself out there. And a nut head he most certainly is not. No Sirree! All he wants to do is turn the race for the most powerful office in the world into one very big joke. Or in his case a series of little jokes, from building a wall to keep the Mexicans out, to refusing entry to Muslims, to Obama's birth certificate, and most recently about the nasty things he likes to do to the ladies. 

Funny thing is Trump is not the only one laughing. A lot of people are. While a lot of others are getting mad. Which is usually what happens when you make a joke that isn't politically correct. And Donny sure as hell ain't no politician!  

***

Big Presidential debate tonight. Too late for us unfortunately. But if I were living in a friendlier time zone, I'd call the boys over and pop a few drinks while letting Donny provide the entertainment. He hasn't said anything about the Indians, I wonder why. Maybe he's saving the best for last. Let's wait and see.      

Peace, love and surprise endings!

I hate bludy dentists. Because they rarely have good news to give you. If fact it's almost like they exist only to give you bad news. It's so horribly depressing when after six months of brushing three times a day and flossing and treating your teeth like they were the bludy crown jewels, he takes a look inside your mouth for exactly ten seconds and goes, oh ... ohh ... not good. And you're like, tell me fucker, what is it!?!     

But he will take his time. With that stupid little mouth mirror of his. When was your last visit? Without waiting for you to answer, he will swivel his chair around to look at your dental record, as if it doesn't matter if your last visit was yesterday. 

Err ... about six months back, you stutter, disappointed. But still he won't break it to you. Then slowly, the first blow. You will need at least three appointments. Followed by the knock out punch. Four fillings and one root canal ... maybe two!        

At that point it's almost like they suppress a loud bwahahahahahaha!! While you go, nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!

But there's nothing you can do. Except maybe make a sad face and hope he will give you a discount!   

***

GAP opened its first store in the city yesterday. The desi edition somehow does not seem worth the money. And as far as the jeans are concerned, they seem to have not taken into account one very important fact about us Indians: If we're paying 5 grand for a pair of jeans, we need to say it loud! One little tab on the behind that says '1969' will not simply cut it. I even saw one bloke looking at the label and wondering what the hell 1969 was. Perhaps the only thing that would have made a difference is if it was the year of his birth. That would have been okay.   

Conversely you have some brands that take it a bit too far. Ever seen those broad underwear waistbands with the brand name on it? I don't get that. I guess it started with Calvin Klein but theirs don't look so bad. It's quite a sight though when you see a guy bending to tie his shoelaces only to get a glimpse of his dirty grey or dark orange knickers with CHROMOZOME in bold! Yuck! Something like this. 

I buy mine from M&S. Yes, you didn't need to know that. The women's lingerie section at M&S looks like one big candy store, doesn't it? Yeah, I seen some very happy wimmen prancing about in there!    

***

Check out Putumayo World Music if you got nothing else to do this Sunday. Found it when I started looking for Colombian music on YouTube after a marathon session of watching Narcos. I tell you in the next life I want to be born South American! Hijo de puta is what I will call my dentist!

The music of Colombia. Great stuff!      

The Barcelona Gipsy Klezmer Orchestra plays in the background as I type this at a half past midnight. Music that I find completely tantalizing. The underplayed energy of vocalist Sandra Sangiao along with the magnificence of Robindro Nikolic on clarinet is a treat to the ears. 

***

Something I've come to realize this year is how seriously messed up so many of the people I know are. Not that I hate them for it or love them any less, but it has made me retreat more and more into my state of lonerliness. Yes, that's a word  I coined for myself. To describe someone who at the end of the day realizes he's happiest being a loner but misses the company all the same.   

But how do people get so messed up? Is it that they just don't know what the hell they want in life, or are they simply that impatient to get whatever it is they do want, they end up in a very bad place. A place difficult to get out of or away from.  

***

The years have hardened me I think. Because I am turning into that person who can sympathize with another but at the same time just doesn't care. You dig your grave you lie in it, as my father used to tell us. It is not my job to get you out of it or to breathe life into you. Because honestly I'm having a hard enough time staying alive myself.

Does that make me a bad person? Maybe it does. Or maybe I am just a little messed up myself. 

***

To keep playing the same record I usually do, I don't know how January and February turned into bludy October. Another year nearly wrapped up. Once again with reused wrapping paper.  

Djelem djelem. 

You can do everything you can to avoid it, but sooner or later misfortune in some form or the other will find its way to you. And when it does you can either curse the daylights out of everything that comes to mind, or you can be brave and say -- You know what, I have to fight this thing. I have to move forward and get it out of the way, or else all I'm gonna be doing is standing here cursing. And nobody really gives a shit!  

***

A friend confided in me that her marriage of four years is what most people would call over. Apparently the husband loves his mother a helluva lot more than he loves her. Mommy is first priority and wifey must see to her every need. After four year of being a maid she's had it.  

My take was life is short, so dump the excess baggage and move on. She said you know, it's not easy to just up and leave. Marriage is being like super-glued to a chair: if you try to get up it will either rip your clothes off or leave a very ugly mark, in any case leaving you exposed and/or embarrassed. The stronger the glue the more the damage. 

Then there's this other friend who's doing everything humanly possible to end his marriage. The unbelievable thing is he claims he is powerless to stop. Such a bludy mess!  

***   

Have we become a generation that gives up too easily? On everything and everybody? I think so sometimes. 

Peace, love, and staying power. 

Can I start a crowd funding initiative to help me retire? My story is quite sad. The love of my life dumped me in 1998 and since then all I've done is work like a donkey to save away the little I've been able to save away. It's not a lavish retirement I seek, just the basics - food, alcohol, fuel and a little left over for clothing, travel and utilities. I reckon a crore should about cover it, so let's say a 100 bucks from 100,000 people, that shouldn't burn a hole in anybody's pocket. 

Something that has always fascinated me is what makes a person give their money away. Whether it be to a beggar on the street or to somebody whose child is suffering from a life threatening disease, what is that little device inside your head that decides if it is a cause worth giving to or not? And does it always make rational decisions? For e.g. would a sweet little beggar girl stand more of a chance of getting your money than a gruff looking chap hobbling on one leg who probably needs it more and makes less than the girl anyway?   

Apart from the impact of outward appearances, I guess people need to be convinced that their money is going to be put to good use. Plus you cannot take from them to do something they've been working hard for themselves. Like retire. So instead if I said that I needed a couple of lakhs to do a motorcycle trip across the country, their donations may be more forthcoming. Because then you get them thinking another way, as in -- Hell that's something I'm never gonna do anyway, so might as well help this poor sod do it. Here you go buddy, ride your damn motorcycle to wherever you wanna go! And post lotsa pics on Facebook. But if I had to start by saying I needed money to first buy me a big motorcycle for the trip, they'd tell me to get lost! 

***

Virat and Anushka are no longer a couple it seems. I read somewhere he blamed it on her being a 'controlling' girlfriend. What he obviously doesn't know (yet) is that deep down every woman wants to be in control, even the ones who say they don't. And they're the ones that go crazy because on the outside they have to show the world they're oh-so-cool about letting their man do his thing, but actually not having their finger on the button drives them nuts!

And this poses a problem for the next set of potential Virat girlfriends -- He dumped Anushka for being controlling, now what the hell do we do different? And how long can we keep it up?   

Celebrities are the ones who should be giving away all their damn money if you ask me. Because they waste it on stupid things anyway - like girlfriends they're gonna break up with in six months!

Which is why somebody should start a funding website focusing entirely on celebs, what say? With qualifying criteria and all that. To a point where people actually start to say -- you ain't a celeb till you've made it to Cilaap! That should get the vain bunch of bastards to part with their bucks.  

       

Peace, love, and golden handouts! 

January's gone. And so is Glenn (Frey). News of his death took me on an Eagles nostalgia trip for a couple of days. We grew up on the Eagles. It wasn't the greatest of music, it was more like a nice glass of whiskey after a long day. It made you feel peaceful. And easy. 

***

Things at work are going downhill so fast I think it's useless to even try and hold on. How battered, bruised or dead we will be at the end of it is something I'm trying not to think about. The saddest part is it was completely unnecessary. A change in management and so called strategy has taken a well oiled machine and broken it up into so many pieces nobody knows where anything fits anymore.  

It's like being one of the crew on a ship that's heading straight for an iceberg despite all the warnings. No matter how desperately you want to grab your stuff and jump overboard, the only thing you can do is wait till the inevitable happens and hope for a place in a lifeboat.       

***

I learnt a lesson this month, the hard way needless to mention: Never bring yourself in between other peoples battles. Stay neutral and keep your mouth shut or just get the hell away from them, however much you want to 'help'. Because sooner or later one party will run out of ammunition and use you instead. Which is exactly what happened. And it's a bummer. 

***

So on to February. Somethings gotta give, I keep telling myself. Just hope it isn't me.

Peace, love, and a new kid in town.   

Isn't it crazy how everybody and their grandmother is running marathons these days? If not the whole shebang, those half thingies and dream runs. Why is it even called a dream run I wonder? Perhaps because two months ago you would never have bludy dreamt you'd be running 10 km at a stretch! 

Madness is what I call it. From what I know of the human body there can be nothing more potentially injurious that waking up one day, be it in your twenties even, and realizing you've done absolutely nothing worthwhile in your life, so hey - let me put on those shoes I got real cheap on Jabong and run for it!

I was a terrible runner in school. Nothing screwed me more than running. Sports I loved, the start and stop variety, but start and don't bludy stop till you reach the finish line was not for me. And so when some chaps at work who now call themselves 'runners' asked me to join them, I said, yeah right! If I could not run in my teens, ain't no way in hell I'm running in me forties. But a couple of them went on to complete the half marathon in Mumbai today. Which frankly is quite surprising. Footwear can't have improved that much that a bunch of guys who've never run in their lives before are now doing 21 km in the Mumbai heat!    

And what's with giving people medals just for completing the damn thing? I never got no medal for finishing the 100 metres or even the 800 metres which was a marathon in itself for my poor legs! Whatever happened to winner takes all and no prizes for losing? Because frankly I wonder how many people would still go ahead and compete if they got nothing for participating. Not even the free T shirt! 

***

Start of another damn week. The Starbucks near my office plays the most amazing jazz music - Coltrane, Davis and all the greats. After a long day of corporate drudgery that music late in the evening is like a balm for the soul. Even if I can't afford the coffee, just listening to the music makes me glad that they're around. And it's surprising how many people have asked me - what is this music? Can't blame them if all they're exposed to is Bhangra bludy crap pop and Bollywood. Yes, that's a genre of music these days!  

But Starbucks really have to do something about their pricing. I don't care where their ingredients and shit comes from, 150 bucks a cuppa makes me wanna have a beer instead! 

Peace, love, and more beans for your buck!    

Just like the winds eat away at the mountains over thousands of years, people I once knew as beautiful and strong now look weathered and worn. The winds of life have eaten away at them slowly and deceptively such that they cannot see it themselves, but to somebody seeing them after a while it is clearly apparent. Man you look old as shit, what the hell happened to you? is the first thing you want to say, but then you stop. Maybe I look like shit too.

2015 went by so fast it almost took me by surprise. Holy crap, another one gone! And all I did was work, work, and work. For whom, for what, I don't know any more. The thought of leaving it all and riding away into the sunset crosses my mind every single day. It was made worse by seeing so many people who have been an inseparable part of my life for so many years collapse with the weight and give up the fight. Like a comrade wounded in battle you try your best to carry their weight over your shoulders for as far as you can till your legs start to buckle. At some point you must set them down and carry on alone, which is probably the saddest point in a mans life. When he knows there is nothing more he can do for a friend.

you must leave now, take what you need, you think will last

but whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast

yonder stands your orphan with his gun

crying like a fire in the sun

look out the saints are comin' through

and it's all over now, Baby Blue     

It would be nice if we knew for sure it would all end soon. Maybe then we could grab what's important and run, instead of dragging it behind us in a one ton trailer. I wondered what must have been going through the minds of those refugees making their way to Europe last year with only a backpack over their shoulders. But then again perhaps the only way to start anew is to let go of everything you once held precious. 

***

In 2003 it was that I first started this blog. The past few years have seen it die out somewhat, but now I want to resurrect it. Because I have so much to say. And nobody to say it to. 

Peace, love, and a new lease of life.