So the kid playing Jesus was making noises that sounded more like pleasure than pain. And the Roman soldier standing behind him with the whip wasn't helping. I tried very hard but every aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh that emanated from Jesus after the whip came lashing down on his body had me cracking up. Nobody else seemed to find it funny though. I really should go to church more often.

Good Friday. That day when booze is manna (i.e. they way it's pronounced in Hindi as opposed to in Hebrew, which is what it is at most other times). And we can eat only fish. Apparently a fish has less blood than a chicken or a goat so it's ok to eat on Good Friday. Yes, fish actually passes off for 'non-meat' on days such as these - ain't that wonderful?

Personally I wonder about the deeper meaning, or rather the message, behind Good Friday and Easter. I should have listened more attentively to what Mrs. Lemos was going on about during those catechism classes instead of marvelling at how Sonia's bazongas were so perfectly shaped. My bad.

The simple devout people I saw in church this morning though only seemed to know this much: Jesus went through hell for us so that we might be saved. He died on Good Friday and rose again Easter Sunday. On Good Friday we shall be morose and on Easter Sunday we shall rejoice!

For me it's about rising again after all the little deaths we die every day. Every day that is like one station of the cross: On some days a Veronica (or maybe even a Sonia!) will turn up and make it better; on others a good Simon will lend a helping hand, and on the rest you trudge on by yourself, stumbling and falling at times. And the destination always is that end which is inevitable. Hopefully we'll be spared a crucifixion.

The Black Eyed Pees - Just can't get enough. Yeah, I can't be morose on Good Friday. In fact I feel like dancing. Coz I have a holiday and can put my cross down for a bit. Such blasphemy, they must be saying!

Look at the lines on your palm and you know there was nothing you could do. Or change even if you wanted to. Those lines have always been the same, they just got longer from child to adulthood. And the choices you made were many times not choices at all - they were the result of circumstance over which you had no control.

And when you tell me that you find yourself alone, and that life is standing still, and that everyone you know has 'moved on' I ask you, -- Have they really move on or merely changed direction? When the road is long and the scenery the same mile after mile it can seem like you haven't moved at all. But you have. And as for those who were once by your side and later went their own way, who is to say they don't feel exactly the way you do now? Who is to say they scenery on the road they took hasn't changed in a very long time? So don't talk about going back. When you have travelled this long and this far, going back is not an option. From here you can only look ahead. And when one day you get to this small town by the highway you will stay a while and then want to move again. That's just how it is. You will keep going till you reach the sea. For wherever you are on this earth, if you keep travelling, one day you will - reach the sea.

So sit down, pour yourself a drink, and let's talk. Coz though it feels like you are dying inside, your heart's still beating.

I have a choice: Ignore my very badly inflamed throat and tonsils and head out with the boys to have a rocking New Year, not worrying too much about what will happen thereafter, or, stay at home and let my mother take good care of me so that I am fit and fine tomorrow and the day after when all the fun is over.

Hmmm .... I really don't know.

***

2010. A year in which so may people I know found the love of their lives and have tied the knot (or have picked up their crosses ... haha!), it's actually quite depressing. Well - for the rest of us becharas there's always next year. That's tomorrow.

It is also the end of a decade - one I remember was brought in with a big party on Fats' terrace where after about an hour decibel levels reached such a high it took a van full of policemen and a thousand bucks cash to bring things down to normal again. And I remember looking up at the night sky thinking how awesome it is to be alive at the turn of the millennium and hoping that from then on things would be different. I would get my life back on track, forget about the girl who broke my heart and basically just make things work. Have I succeeded? Funny thing is now, ten years later, I really don't care or even think about it that much. Life is what it is - like my friend Lü always says in his Swiss-German accent -- "It izz what it izz" and you just gotta go with it.

I often wonder what it must be like though to live the life of someone else - to be in their shoes and socks and pants and shirts (no, never in their underwear, in case you're wondering). Like I think about people I know, mostly fellow bloggers whom I have never met, and imagine what it's like being a single mother who has just released a book I hope will make her famous, or this other guy in advertising married to this really hot dame (whoa, he must have a life, the lucky sumbich!), stuff like that. Would life have been different for me were I in a different line of work ? Or if I had lived in a different city maybe? Would a career in advertising in Bombay have landed me a hot dame and a flat in Bandra or would I still have been plain ol' me in this boring city? I wonder.

Anyway, not too much to fret about. You never know how things change in the course of a year. Close it with Josh Ritter whose music I've been listening to a lot lately.

For all of you for whom 2010 didn't deliver, here's to 2011!



Peace, love, and fresh promises.

Pam Anderson on Bigg Boss 4 ... apparently to push up the ratings! Indian television really has reached new lows. Or new highs depending on how you look at it.

As for Big B and KBC, what's with all these people acting like they've been granted an audience with God? I should be on that damn show, -- yeah yeah nice wig, now lets get on with it! And no, I don't wanna listen to any of your old man's bludy poems!

The Social Network. Good movie. Reaffirms my belief that sometimes all you need is that one big idea. Or someone else's big idea. I heard some guy in front of me say, -- Shit, he stole the idea!! Can't help thinking that if he hadn't, Facebook as we know it today might never existed. Also I'm wondering: If I steal a hundred bucks from you and turn it into a million, how much do I owe you back?

What I like about Facebook is how it's constantly evolving. What started as a I wanna check out your hot fotos.com is now so much more. Last week, believe it or not, I got invited to a wedding on Facebook. Which can't be good news for establishments such as these. Took a while to sink in - a wedding! Not some party at a restaurant or a pub, but a wedding with a bride and a groom and all the nonsense that goes with it. Unbelievable! Soon to launch is Facebook email from what I hear. Facemail. What next? One can only guess.

***

Two awards in as many weeks at work. One a big-ass one ... which'll look really good on my resume. But I'm beyond that now. I want something else. Timing is everything - the difference between win and lose. This man more than anyone will testify to that.

The Grateful Dead with a song I love. Loser!

Love is ...

having someone to hold

It's funny how we Indians, or should I say just I, struggle with what should be the simplest of things when we travel abroad. Like automatically flushing toilets - the kind made by Kohler. Now you'd expect manufacturers such as them to have thought of everything, but with their automatically flushing toilets I daresay they haven't. They will flush just fine if you have your bum firmly down on the seat for some stretch of time and then get up. But if you're a guy just taking a leak (or perhaps a girl doing the helicopter thing ... with your helicopter hovering a little too high) nothing happens. And this I have experienced at least three times now, in three different places, the last being yesterday at the Borders store in downtown Boston. I tried everything to get the damn thing to flush - from waving my hand (and later my foot) in front of the sensor a couple of times, to putting my ass right there in front of it thinking the bludy thing is programmed only to recognize the shape of the human behind. But no would do - our friend just refused to co-operate. So I had to exit the stall leaving things the way they were because some not-so-gentle man outside was making sounds indicating that all hell was about to break loose. Needless to say I didn't wait to see, or hear rather, his reaction on not having a clean toilet to drop his load. And lest he come out and say to someone, -- Look, that's the mothafcuker who didn't flush! giving me and my race a bad name, I beat a hasty retreat from said bookstore.

Damned automation! Always making things more complicated than we can handle.

***

Boston, MA. My second time here and I am loving it. Actually I feel that to really enjoy a city you must visit it the second time. Because the first time is more exploratory; the second time around you know exactly what you want. Like the Berklee BeanTown Jazz Festival starting Sept 15 that I am hoping I can catch. Also on the cards is a quick dash to the Big Apple and New Jersey.

Oh and did I mention I had my little bit of fun with Indian co-passenger before flight to Amsterdam? Barely had he sat his ass down on the seat next to me at the airport waiting lounge when he introduced himself and started, -- So are you working in Amsterdam?

No.

So you are going on holiday?

No.

(Now slightly confused because his IT brain can only think the flowchart way: If Yes, then... If No, so and so. )

So what are you going for?

Sex.

As you can imagine nothing further was said.

Peace, love, and a handle on things.

I couldn't help laughing watching Fake IPL Player reveal himself today. Poor sod. Nobody was giving him any attention after all that shit he wrote two years ago. And I'm sure the book that followed didn't do too well either. And after Twitter and Facebook failed in their respective jobs he was left with no option but to reveal himself or see the brand he created with such a bang die a quick death. So what now? Will we see him emerge as the Real Fake IPL player?

***

Even better than Beijing says Moneybags Kalmadi. I wouldn't go making statements like that if I were him. Because then you have to live up to them. See nobody really expects Beijing, or Manchester or Mogadishu even. They're expecting New Delhi, and New Delhi is what we'll give them. Whether they like it or not.

Which is why I get slightly confused when people talk about the nations image taking a beating and start using words like prestige and reputation. Do we have a reputation? For what? Someone please enlighten me.

Steph Rice isn't coming. Bollocks! I'd have gone all the way to that rotten city just to see Steph do her stuff. The woman is amazing. Though something tells me she'd have spent more time around the Taj and other such touristy places than in the pool. Which might be the case with a lot of other athletes, I reckon. Which will leave us Indians to win all the medals! Who says the games will be a flop?

***

I leave for the United States in a couple of weeks (just on a holiday). Something I am very excited about. Of course I hate travelling in a plane full of my countrymen, but hey, you can't choose your countrymen, can you? So you should do what I do - have fun with them. I'm telling you there's nobody you can have more fun with than us Indians. Oh yeah, we rock. And if I wasn't flying to the United States I'd be wearing my kuffiah looking like a bludy Taliban. You should see the looks I get when I go about unshaven with that thing wrapped around my head - priceless! Can't go to the US with that though. Or maybe I should, see what happens. You know what, I will. I am just slightly terrified of getting someones hand up my bum. Those Americans have big hands.

What if I use that very famous Indian escape line -- Do you know who I am?

-- Yeah, yeah, the last guy said he was Shah-rookh Khan or something. Now bend over quietly buddy!

Why is it so hard for some people to believe you want nothing from them. Nothing at all.

***

The end of August. Good things have been happening. At work I finally get my license to kick ass. Like that guy sitting in the dugout waiting for his chance to make centerfield. Waiting waiting waiting. Until one day the coach decides, -- Ok you, Blues, get in there! Behenc#@d ab mein dikhaunga, is the first thing that comes to mind as you're walking out, bat in hand, so sure you're gonna hit a home run the very first time you make contact with that sweet apple. But I'm too old and too hammered to do that, ain't I? Of course. Just take it cool brother, take it cool. Your success in battle depends not on how much ammo you have or how sophisticated your weapon, but on how well you keep your eyes and ears open. The best of men get killed because they try to be heroes. No, I would rather be the coward who lives to fight another day than the hero who gets it in the chest.

***

So I don't get this thing with some people: They actually think they're worth the attention they demand. Well I hate to break it to you pal, you're not. It's like someone once said: One of the most important things you can do for yourself is take a good hard look in the mirror from time to time.

We had a session the other day where we had to come up with answers to the question, Who am I? One guy said he's James Bond. Yeah, and I'm Lady Gaga!

A tough question to answer though if you really think about it -- Who am I?

Don Henley and the lads call themselves The Eagles. From Long Road out of Eden, Waiting in the weeds. Nice weekend.

"It’s not till sex has died out between a man and a woman that they can really love. And now I mean affection. Now I mean to be fond of (as one is fond of oneself)— to hope, to be disappointed, to live inside the other heart. When I look back on the pain of sex, the love like a wild fox so ready to bite, the antagonism that sits like a twin beside love, and contrast it with affection, so deeply unrepeatable, of two people who have lived a life together (and of whom one must die) it’s the affection I find richer. It’s that I would have again. Not all those doubtful rainbow colours."

-- Enid Bagnold (1889–1981), British novelist, playwright. Autobiography, ch. 6 (1969).

***

Dan Seals with a song I used to listen to when I was in college - Still a little bit of love.

Perhaps it makes more sense to live for the day. And love for the day. Ignore the larger picture, because sometimes the larger picture is so damn large you can't see the ends of it.

More and more people I know are doing that these days. And you know what - the little joys, the temporary thrills, the highs that wear out in a day or hours, they can be as satisfying as the long lasting ones. And if you think about it even the long lasting ones don't last forever. Though many would argue they do.

And so in our search for that thing, that one thing that we want, we miss out on all those things we don't really want but are there for the taking. I don't know if I'm making much sense here but the more I think about it the more I'm convinced that the world is going to hell and we better grab what we can before it's too late.

Unfortunately we are programmed to think long term. But like someone said -- many short terms make the long term. It's not easy of course to change that way of thinking, but if you think about it practically, given the times we live in, maybe it's the smartest thing to do. It's like how when you're in an airplane all you care about is making it through that one flight, life and limb intact -- Lord please don't let this baby be struck by lightning! (And if you're flying Air India your prayer will be a little longer). You don't really think about every flight you'll be taking after that, do you? No, it's just get me back safe on the ground from this one. Perhaps that is how we should be living our lives.

***

So yeah - that's what has been on my mind lately. Too much to post on Facebook. And no, I won't ever let Facebook (or that stupid thing called Twitter) take what belongs here.

For all of you who kept coming and keep coming (it was 7 years a few weeks ago) this is for you -- one of those few Bob Dylan songs where I hate the way he sings. So instead here's Van "the man" Morrison with his rendition of It's all over now Baby Blue. It ain't all over yet, but who knows how long we got?