Puri sucks

memento

Me and Sudeep aka “mota” M G were in the same class in school since as long as I can remember. Probably from kindergarten. He was stocky, that funny fat guy who used to say and do crazy stuff in school. As a consequence he was a butt of jokes among us fellow students, teachers and he always got picked on and bullied even when was in high school. The bullies didn’t get a free pass, though, and we bystanders laughed our asses off when he got into fights. Although I lost touch with him soon after tenth standard, I was aware of his shenanigans through our mutual friends.

We old pals from school had a mini reunion of sorts this pujas on 8th October back in Durgapur. Thanks to KN who orchestrated the meetup, although poorly, as less than half of the people supposed to come actually did. Thankfully, Mota showed up. He was in a MBA program (who isn’t these days?), and working part-time at a big computer hardware store to shore up the bottomline. As apparent from the photograph, he had changed a lot. He had grown vertically quite a bit and apparently worked out a lot in the gym and built a killer body, which, according to Mota’s own admission, was working wonders with women. I wasn’t impressed by his hairdo, however. I think he has watched way too many 80s hindi movies.

He left early that day of the reunion when the photograph above was taken as he had some packing to do for a vacation in Puri next day. Two days later, he drowned, in the rough waves off the Puri beach.

I came to know today morning. OVe (the guy with glasses to the left of Mota) called me from Jamshedpur.

I always knew something like this would strike one day. It would have been an aberration had it not. But I didn’t expect that the day would come so soon.

I now really hate Puri. I never liked the vibe of that tourist haven. It beats the hell out of me why Bengalis flock to that shit of a beach “paradise” cum religious pilgri-fuckin-mage polluted by greedy opportunistic religiohacks and con men.

Premonitions

I suffer from APS. Acute Premonition Syndrome. I see all those middle aged men every other day in streets, in movies, reminiscing with their school and college buddies about college chicks, highs school crushes, all the what should’ve beens and what ifs and I get the blues of APS. I guess it’s inevitable. Sometimes I think it’s better not to have any memory of the past. It’s better that way. Otherwise, it’s too much blues. Blues blues blues. The weight is just too much.  Then the thought that in 10 years I’m going to be 31 (and I might not live that long who knows?) makes me sit in my chair and plan all the things I’ve daydreamed about. Believe me, without proper planning daydreams remain just that, daydreams.

Meanwhile, my good friend Abhi bagged a really meaty job (besides the one he already nabbed, which he’s now ditching) in his engineering campus selections bout. And by meaty I mean he got the highest pay packet in his campus, and probably the highest of all our mutual friends. I’m happy for him. He was always a mr. smartypants.

In fact every guy from my school batch, except for those doing an MBA/Masters, has a job offer to boot, even guys who weren’t exactly “brains” and even the supposedly hopeless average joes/janes have decent paypackets to stuff their pockets. Good God! India is shining indeed.

Almost

all of the old school day buddies are now graduating in the tech sector. My buddy ol’ pal Abhi called me up from Jamshedpur. With much glee and sense of relief in his voice proceeded to inform the the obvious inevitability. That he has been herded into the farm of Tata Consultancy Services, on the very first day of herding/campus interviews.  Oh happy day, happy I am. Sure I condescendingly mock techies and engineering grads, look down on them and take them to be bigger dickheads than they be. Not that our techie friends don’t deserve it all, they do, well, most of ’em anyway. But I’m loving the fact my friends will no longer have to use their daddy’s debit card to pay for dinner with their women.

Abhi and I go a long way back to 2nd Grade. Been an ordinary day, work work work but all these old school day tiffin break dodgeball playing images are swirling on my frontal lobe. It’s carving a constant wistful smile. A few others will be herded as well in the coming few  weeks. Meanwhile stuttering old Sandy has got himself into TCS way back in February. It should be a meat and booze fest in the next months with all the job treats thrown in. Of course there’s the fact that I don’t booze but in times like these I’m more than eager to share the joys of me friends.

Me being on course to the academia (horrorhorror), i got six long years to go at least before i beg, whine and asswipe people in big chairs to a nice comfortable tenure track position in a respectable (now c’mon that’s the least i can hope) research-intensive university. Okay okay, a Tier I LAC would do as well. That I’ve got to get meself a Pee.eich.Dee before is a different story altogether.  Damn I would be nearing 30 and my buddies will go around in mid-sized sedans taking their kids to kindergarten. Jeez.

The next two weeks however will be really exciting. I can’t wait to see Wall-E and The Dark Knight in the cinemas. Then of course there’s the holy grail for all the X Philes. The X Files: I Want To Believe, the sequel to the 1998 movie and ode to the greatest asskicking TV series of all time. Agent Scully, I want to be with you all the time. I don’t even want to leave your vaginal area. You rock! And Agent Mulder is a cool dude I’ll give him that.

God, I’m a purebred geek. Heck yeah!

Boyfriends of ex-girlfriends

Last night i got the sms from, we’ll call her Mahadevi (don’t ask why) i was praying i wouldn’t have to get. I quote it and my reply verbatim.

MD: “hey, i’m missin u a lot. remember u said u will mt me at d PC gates after d xam? pls pls come. r u comin 2mrw 4 d xam?”

Me:  “no, i’m not coming. i have an important meeting in Washington with president Bush.”

My fate was sealed. I knew what was coming.

As expected while i cursed myself outside the PC gates on screwing up the easiest maths paper in the history of the university with last minute screw-ups and there she was. On my cell.

MD: “are you outside the gates?”

Me: “No, i’m inside you.”

“shut up. come up to the coffee house.”

“why don’t you come down?”

“please please come up? it’s just across the street.”

“why don’t you listen to me for once and come down?”

This went on for 4 minutes.

I had my reasons for not crossing the street. For one, i knew what was going to happen if i went and the lunch would bore me enough to sell my soul to satan in lieu of a candy bar. I was hungry after 3 hours dueling bloody maths but not hungry enough to go through a fake smile boredom grinder. Besides i was really shit-housed looking really crappy in a tee with yellow food stains near the chest buttons, my hair all  over the place and was wearing a light mud-colored three-quarter pants (which ended 4 inches above my ankles) for which i was gaped at by every co-passenger, young women and random people as if i’m a retard who just got out after 9 years in a mental institution. This city is really slow picking on comfy apparels. Seriously. (More on this later.)

Anyway, she came down, and lo and behold! there was the boyfriend tugging along behind her as if she’s his mother. It almost made convulse into laughter in middle of all the busyness around.

Typical engineering grad. Same type of glasses, all too common hair setup, the smile, usual “i-work-in-a-cool-MNC-and-you’re-an-unemployed-sucker” vibe. I think they both deserve each other.

I smiled the “you are a lucky man” smile, patted on his shoulder and left arm and generally acted like the most agreeable chump around. Poor soul. I wanted to pull him aside and say “what in god’s name are you doing man? If you want a fling you’re only cockteasing yourself. She’s pruder than a Vatican nun from hicksville, Kansas. You’ve better chance to be Governor of redneck Texas. If you’re really serious with her, then well, good luck buddy.”

I wanted to get away as fast as i can so we small talked for a few minutes. I was offered lunch but i begged off saying my father was waiting for me to have lunch together (who incidentally is in the Far East). I asked when did he came from Pune and how’s the long distance thing working and all that shit.

I scurried back home quick. I was hungry. Well, there goes another 15 precious minutes of my life I’ll never get back.

Meeting with friends’ boyfriends/girlfriends always cracks me up. You can really have fun for a while. But meeting with some new guy of your ex is awkward and plain boring. I mean we’re both through with each other so why do you want to show and tell especially when the showpiece is not someone George Clooney handsome, rich or genuinely uber-cool and show-worthy enough to make your ex feel like a dick? As if even if he was George Clooney i would wallow in self-loathing and regret.

Look, we had our good times thank you very much. You’ve nothing to prove to me. So who are you trying to convince?