nothingsane: A Bookworm's Tale

nothingsane: A Bookworm's Tale: B Worm was born amidst the squander of the damaged books section. He learnt to crawl on discarded pages of forgotten masterpieces, grew up ...

A Bookworm's Tale

B Worm was born amidst the squander of the damaged books section. He learnt to crawl on discarded pages of forgotten masterpieces, grew up on a steady diet of archaic words and spit up on calligraphied scrolls of folk lore. When he reached the adventurous age, he ventured out into the attractive world of the newly minted books. The smell of fresh paper and ink intoxicated his senses and the discarded pile knew that they had lost him forever. Some scraps followed him for a way, but were soon left behind – dwindling into nothing but a shadow of faint childhood memories. B Worm did not even look back. He headed straight to the Erotica section and spent a racy time winding across supple breasts and erect penis’. He learnt the subtle art of seduction in the classical ways of the Gentlemen Diaries and the ways of forbidden love in the pages of Lady Chatterley’s Lover. When erotica lost its lure, which wasn’t anytime soon, he moved on to the lanes of money and romance. A turn down the food lane, led him to B Wormess. They bumped into each other while feeding on the delightful recipes of French cooking and never looked back. They had a rather dry wedding at the legal section but more than made up for it during their honeymoon in the long rows of the Travel section. The honeymoon period ended only when they had traversed every inch of the genre – right from Afghanistan to Zimbabwe. Wandering back, they decided to settle down in the Home and Garden section. B Worm went crossed the aisle and went to work in the Business section daily – and on his way home, dropped by the shopping aisle to take home little bytes for his darling wife. Time went by, and the two produced many precious Wormlets. Alas, they went their own way. While one immersed himself in the rows of Rock and Roll, the other ventured into medicine and lost his way in the section of drugs. The third wormlet however did her parents proud by making a hole for herself in the thesis’ of geo-politics. Today Bworm and his wife have retired and spend their days in the wide enclosures of the Encyclopedias Section. Where they are rarely, if ever disturbed.

It’s so sad, it’s funny.

No I am not being frivolous. I am just being honest. The latest Delhi gang rape is tragic. And so was the one before that. And the one before that. And the one before. And every time there has been a case – registered and publicized, there is a hue and cry about it. The hue subsides, the cries remain. And why? Because every time a woman gets fondled on the bus, eve-teased on the road or hit upon in a bar – the response is ‘Yaar ignore kar’. I have been reading a lot of advice by people – experts and others – who say that parents should teach their sons to respect women. But what about their daughters? Shouldn't they be taught to stand up for themselves? Shouldn't they be told to respect themselves? To live without fear? Be cautious, yes. But also dare to live fearlessly. Wear what they want. Speak their mind. Live the way they want. Taught to face up to the men who think they should be raped because the smoke, drink, wear short clothes, have sex, love or just simply because they have a vagina. I am not proffering a solution here. I don’t know if there is one. But yes, as a woman I do demand the right to live without fear. I desire to tell the MP who said that a woman raped is a living corpse is incorrect - that woman is a living woman. She is the one who will fight for justice. She will get the respect she deserves. She will have a family. Be loved. Be treasured. Because she will be part of a community that will not teach its daughters to live in fear and ignore daily humiliations. She will be part of a country that teaches its daughters to live. Just live.

A question to ponder

When did we become so scared of saying “I love you”?. When did love become the sole prerogative of a romantic relationship? When did it become uncool to like someone for just being ‘a nice guy’?

Somewhere along the way we grew up.

And somehow, while the world evolved, growing up became about being a little less open, a little less emotional, a little less wordy and a whole less human.

Today maturity is about being aware of the complexities of the world, the sensitivities of the situation, the dichotomies of the quandary ... Really?

Unfortunately the answer is yes.

The world around me is so into using the right words, the best phrases the correct syntaxes that somewhere, somehow we have become all about the using the right words but feeling the wrong emotions. Cautious reactions and uncaring actions.

And I admit I don't have the courage to change either the world or myself, but here's my advice to the kids of today and the creators of tomorrow.

Be a child as long as you can.
Be outspoken as often as you can.
Be dramatic at very minute.
Be inarticulate, petty, honest whenever you can.

If you pull all that of, then to me, and to shamelessly copy a great author, you will truly be a man, my son.

You will be a man, an entity, and a natural phenomenon - You will be a true human being.

Chapter 2:

Lucifer called, lucky devil! That guy played it smart. He decided to cater to very a niche audience and by Me, he has it really good. Select but very loyal followers, enjoys every sin imaginable, scares the hell out of my followers and has plenty of time leftover to party with those slutty chicks! Admittedly he scores low on the popularity charts, but his services have real demand.

Even Godie Jr prefers him. Now I don’t waana sound like a broken harp, but these that God is a handful. He thinks Lucifer is real cool. Cool? The devil resides in burning hell! But then he does have style. Black and red Vs sissy white? Bah!

If I hadn’t been busy listening to my clients, I would have given that designer a piece of my mind. White with halo and wings? Who wears that? And then he goes and gives Lucifer that horny look. What right-minded soul would prefer my look. GAh!

Goddamn it - Chapter 1

Mr God was severely depressed. Mrs God was complaining about how he never spent time with her nowadays. Godie Jr was caught partying in hell again and to top it all, his customers were complaining about his deteriorating servicing skills.
What can a God do? You create 24 hours in a day thinking it’s more than enough to cater to a thousand odd people and have enough time left over to be with the wife and kids. Next thing you know, people decide to procreate! There are now billions of people demanding your time and effort. The wife’s unhappy and the kids? Don’t even ask! “Virtue is boring”, he says. Who wants to sing songs with those pious angels when you have sexy devils to hang around with – painting the netherworlds red?

One must admit, the boy has a point.

One must say, on these days, I can’t help but swear. But then it’s written that “thou shalt not swear”. I know, I wrote that goddamn rule!

Adulations of a New Driver

Oh what a joy it is to drive on these pristine Delhi roads.

Every road is filled with bumps and cracks that jiggle you from head to toe. Even an hour in the gym can’t work out your muscles as well as riding over a hole in the ground does. It’s true exercise, from head to toe, not to mention the mind numbing effect it has on your nerves.

Mental exercise is another brilliant side effect of fiving here. Ever day you search your vocabulary to find new abuses that you can level at your fellow drivers. Who by the way, are the salt of the earth. Cutting lanes, incessant honking and exhibition of road rage are just some of the qualities that make them a joy to have around. What can I say, they fill my life with such adventure.

And how can I forget the sheer brilliance of the municipalities that actually construct our roads. Flyovers that stop the flow of traffic rather than ease it, incomplete construction sites that never fail to live up to their promise of jamming the roads… ah! What saints!

As a new driver, I can safely say that my days and dreams are filled with my driving adventures. This tribute was indeed well deserved.
What do you think?

Next week: The joys of parking.

One for the Road Debjit Da!

I remember you as the first guy to treat me like an adult when I was still the ‘little sister’ for everyone around. A brilliant conversationalist. The man who introduced me to the intruging world of photography. The friend I could discuss sidey films and great books with. You were all this and much more.

You have not been a part of my life for a few years now. And while distance did not really make the heart fonder, your death makes me recall the fond memories I have of you. A hunt for ice-cream at 2 in the morning, a debate on Secret Seven VS Famous Five, a lesson on photography and the one on how to smoke properly.

Thank you for all those times. Thank you for being the person you were. I hope you find peace wherever you are going now. You will be missed.