Indian Ameri

3 a.m. after Potter magic - A pull over for not using the indicator in the turn only lane (Lame), a step out of the car for the ruckus caused by the 4 PUIs (Passengers under influence), trouble sneaking its way into the surrendered life by an address change, an eventual suspension of license, the happy spirit guy calming the next day drunk junior with the fact that a suspension is worse than paying his two speeding tickets (very interesting that all those who criticize my speed driving have at least two tickets.....).

8 p.m some day - The final leap edging the pro's fist by two fingers on the fissure had its pat-on-the-back, a log sheet of mind over matter and a pile of supportive suggestions dropped over my head by the blond instructor.

3 p.m on the weekend field - "Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!!!" and the stolen 'bye' of the fumbled first slip off the very first ball, a six of the very next over, God-speed pushing between the wickets, a few more chaos induced on the minds of the equally talented opponents, an hour's work of seniority gave a final belief that possible impossibles are the true miracles in life.

2 a.m. on the steel roads - a ear to hear, a mouth of memories, a batallion of pollen, a chapter of the book, and a dream of the one eyed mute carved the fear of hope.

1 a.m on the wretched Friday night - 4:19 minutes of Blazin dozen wings, a vision of the candles, pool, and a quizzical game, 4 liquid cocaines, 3 tequilas, 2 three wisemen, 2 draughts of Heineken, a response high of zipped lips and a rapid-chess victory, good food of self-mastered hyderabadi biryani, and a morning of non-dehydrated simplicity undermined my expectations of a second attempt to craze out at high state.

12:30 a.m. on a self-cursing Saturday night - A 8 people tag team push into the melonfest'ed Deja-vu on a self-contemplating walk, a fourth time strip club experience extending a little over two hours due to the first time non-designated driver details, a couple of dancers hitting on the only 'zero-lap-dance in all 4 strip club experiences' from $5 to free, a chivalrous offer of drinks to the semi-nude ladies proving the gravity of mindset, the octaves ogling on the sudden gathering of semi-nudes at the conclusion of melonfest, octave leaders eventual notice on my zero count dances, $75 walleted out of the remaining octaves and there I was picked, carried and dropped for my first ever lap dance - which turned out to be 5 girls at a time for two consecutive songs. An awkward situation of the new touch-phone vibrating as the caucasian girl danced, a later look at the call history showed dad's cell, a friendly chat of the night to dad (alone), and an eventual walk on the steel roads for the lost opportunity from the fidgeted phone early in the day plugged my sleep.

2 p.m today - Ketu Marshall's call asking me to help in his creativity. An one hour hurried up wake up of all coopers, the team's arrival, a look at the $4000 profitable Crown Victoria, an initial volume to count calculation, an experimental trial of 10 guys in the front seats, a sweaty rehersal of 10 more in the back seat, Moti's bf's positive attitude to suffocate for a cause, and a final push of 18 guys of all sizes into the 6 seater crown victoria soon to be added and to be spread via youtube sung the happy moments of a students life.

Minutes before - I, noticing the word A$$hole from the ever good Huggy Bear proving the disappoinment of not making into Div I coz of a partialized result from another games result, half a dozen calls of broken hearts from hard fought team mates, finally settled into my last season of cricket bidding feelings.

Many a thing happened in a short span of a few ten days. While most proved to be interesting, exciting, happening, and changing, a few guiled its way to the mindless original heart. But, in these few days and a month of interesting life, the one feeling that ebbs deep down the vast chasm of solitude is the success to prove that I am failing to achieve goals in all areas of life, at least to myself!!! Guess 'disappoinment' is the guised 'fear' of life.

(Funny, the background soundtrack of Life is beautiful (But it's complicated) from Sister's Keeper keeps coming every now and then after this)
There is a certain sense of blankness filling the void of disappoinment!!! Is it good temporarily or is it bad permanently?

"(Chik chik chik)n"; where n = many, followed by "(kutch kutch kutch)m"; where m = many more, richochetted through his mouth the mimicry of a scissor. He slowly accelerated his wobbling head to a official head banging. Then with the artists' hand weighing his head for control, he slowed down, his eyes met my standing reflection, and his lips parted a buttery smile. I thoroughly savored the sweetness of 'his'* character throughout his hair cut. (* - My 24 kg shoulder dumble, duck walk styled, Indian summer-pink chubby cheeked, yet to be 3 year old nephew). I don't remember a single detail of what/how I enjoyed/boo'ed the art of hair dressing during my childhood.

This weekend, I witnessed something forgotten. Not 1, not 2, but a lot counted till 14, years later, for the first time, I observed the sharp edges of a silvery SCISSOR work its skill through the striated teeth of a brown comb. And black curls (not that dense :D ) fell over the drapped white slope, which eventually at times started an avalanche of flocks that dropped onto the shiny marble floor. I was all Jay* this time and the artist** loved my reaction to my own attention (**considering my property expanding scalp - trimming the black lawn is definitely an art :D). With the glass-thrown-to-trash makeover, my interests in profound observation over simple happenings have increased. But I forgot that things like the haircut, the bottom of a pool/ocean, the microcosm of micron sized eye-squeezing dust during a 60kmph ride, the distant silhoutte of a rain clad figure (yeah! figure! So what? :P), chill winds and the white precipitation of the American winter, and a lot more of the unexplored/forgotten events still remain at its dormant/infant visualization. I can't wait to witness the next event that would blow my hair out....


Off the Kutch and the Chik: