Indian Ameri

Simple statements like, "Both Dr. Hi, and Dr. He are busy tomorrow. So, no meeting tomorrow" make me look as confused as a baby in a strip club. The reason being, when someone gift wraps a few hours of 'no work, just play', the mind starts to take the idle devils gameplan. And conventionally like all humans, I hate it!!

Instead of 'so-called' utilizing the opportune moment of the free Thursday evening in years to draw bright tangents with the dark circles, the heart took the road less taken. Turned out, that the road was in fact the parallel wooden rungs of a long iron ladder over which the mechanical monsters pass behind the Desi street hooting every night. Twenty counts of "taken pictures" later, I was stranded soaked from the breezy rain, over a railing deficit bridge several miles from any area I know in Lexington. A pick up by the senior roomie later using the i-phones google maps location finder, discovered that I had actually ran around eight miles on a railroad just by listening to a rhythmic song. Somehow, the jog steamed a great amount of pressure out of the cooked bheja.

Time well spent on finishing an old photography project somehow induced the Ghajini's intuition to make a call to Lady Liz (LL) and Skipper (SP) inquiring about their wedding anniversary. Turned out that the pair got married by registered paper on July 24th, while the real "Thaali/Mangalsutra" episode occurred two weeks later (after LL eloped from her village 'alone' back in the late 70s). Skipper's discussion of restlessness for those torturing 14 days and LL's mute excitement experienced in the presence of my grannies for a lil' over 12 happy days proved a real enthusiasm for the year. Every time I probe deep into my parents romantic adventures, I learn something interesting. As a token of appreciation of their guts, I gutted out the truth of finally passing the final stage of the faculty interview from IIT-K. And as a token of sharing some principles, I also informed them it's just a back up plan if things turn 'fatal' here in the States. This sharing somehow instigated the curiosity in Skipper, and we ended up detailing a discussion on just the phrase, "What is Nano?"

Ended the night with an experimental kitchen attempt to extract rose flavor from a bouquet of bought love using coconut oil, hot water, and a never used antique 10 ml extraction column. A few spoons of mango pulp and milk gave it an exotic drooling taste.

Off the rail roads of romantic adventures:

1. Fortunately every roomie I had in the past 5 years turned out to be good in character. Or is it the perspective of seeing, appreciating, and 'extracting' the rosy-goodness in all that I've been with? For the two days of sleepless fundamental scanning and multiple book reading, I'd been offered Nescafe, given hot soup, compelled with black coffee, and satiated with a nice "busy-belabath." In return, the party demands not one, but two blue labels from me. :))

2. It's early summer/spring and the 'hippy' vision is already kicking some neural dendrites' ass by noticing a lot of things on the walk to the lab. The recent count of non-human materialistic smiley faces on the road has been six (and these are not visions of clouds changing into the faces). And every time I cross the concrete cemented smiley, I think of taking a picture with the phone and sms'ing to the fan.

3. Three and a half years of points of no return were reanalyzed and the pick of the lot ended up on 'turning around, sighting a shut door, getting into the elevator, and thinking "The answer for the long sought question is now."'

4. A lot of muteness is shown by me on the field and it is really making me feel young and energetic.

5. "Screw you" was the exact phrase Dr. Hi used, while he was analyzing my response to the rude reviewers query. Coincidentally it was the same phrase I used as I read the query 2 days ago. Also he used twice the term, "What a d**k!!" in front of me as he read the reviewers next query. Non-coincidentally I wasn't that peeved with the bloke.

6. I am doing another jog definitely when it rains and this time I'm going to listen to "not alone" all the way till I meet the polar express.

Today wasn't like any other day. In spite of going through all the technical sites and forums that satiate my daily need for current information, there was this "indomitable" hunger for more. Mr. Grey Matter started to generate questions on anything and everything that needed an answer. Finally, my mind set straight on one important question - "Why the fudge do they use a silver wrapper for chewing gum?" (Hey, life's big questions need a break too :D). All the various attempts that even involved calling the 1-800 number of Wrigleys provided me with no answer.

A break from this bheja fry was evident and so a skim through my work schedule was made just to fit a walk to the univ bank. With every chew of the early-taken chewing gum, every blocked issue in the mind started to seep out. Eventually, the acidity of the thought-burden increased along with the juicy gum flavored salivation. As I crossed the most fluid-dynamically challenged model of a gusty path between two buildings, I retracted back into the product of intellectual aggravation for emotional dampening.

As I fiddled through the pocketed contents of my sweat shirt, I felt the silver wrapper. Cloaking the lost-in-translation-extremely-dried-and-rigid-gum with the wrapper, I searched for a trash bin. There, standing in bold black was the bin. Was it the univ's awesome basketball season or was it mere deviation from normalcy, I don't know, the involuntary head amalgamated a series of serious issues with the ever so undependable physical ability into a final wager equation that had an If Not command.

If I can throw this silvery trash exactly through the bins rectangular side opening, then so-and-so would happen. If not, then I'm very well screwed. Forgetting the wind velocity as a vital parameter, I gulped the instant the shot was attempted. As my eyes focused on the twinkling wrapped ball of gum shearing its way through the wind, I felt "Uh Oh!" A milli second later, my heart leaped with joy like a munchkin celebrating the birthday in Chucky Cheese. The ball passed rimless through the opening. "Instinctively both my arms were going up in celebration". But then.... my 1 million watt victory face-bulb fused into a frown as I saw the piled up trash inside the bin repelling the ball to the other side. Like a neutron squeezing its way out of the nucleus and the electron cloud for instigating a chain reaction, the silver gum found its way through the opening on the other side of the bin. And the instigated chain reaction was, "Was it If or If-not? Crap! Both occurred"

Instead of the unsatisfied mind playing tricks on guessing a solution, a void formed inside me. The only way it got filled was by a sudden surge of extreme happiness. And the reason for this glee was that the whole random event was silly. The rest of the bank job was; as the Italian from Malta would phrase - "Piss in ze 'ead" :D


Here's another silly hit - Today marks the fourth anniversary of me making a living in the hall [9 different apts and never had a room for myself or a bedroom shared with someone else. Never complained, and so feeling extremely content. Interesting warm memory - Exactly 4 yrs and 1 day ago I spent the cold winter night sleeping on a park bench. How silly!! =)) ]

(A sillier comment 24 hrs later - I might try this song on my next karaoke night. And I'll bow to all those ppl who can sing this song without any tongue-twisting-blabber....)

Four years ago, a merry conversation on the prospectus of a future initial ended up with a confident challenge. That, I'd shave my head off if I don't become the untreatable kind of a doctor, before I turn 26. This week, out of NO curiosity, but in hope of a change, I 'did' stick to my word of defeat. :D. Therein, started the mental pen of 'baldy logs' which in turn amused many a merry event outta me.
A license bargain wasn't enough to shackle my fourth anniversary celebration of rioting the land of opportunities. A 13 mile biking of the best kind shed a full moon bow at the river of candle memories. The return journey at 4-5 in the morning was drenched with an electrical storm. Concerned, the monkey with the cymbal of the ever so wandering mind worried about the lightning greeting. Nothing had changed and everything might have changed as per the half yearly report.
An ankle twist later, a viru knock later, a math-crack later, a life of million little happy things later, and a feel of an aeon later, the belief on self was shattered. A single statement, so strongly put forth, so emotionally divulged, so abruptly loose-tongued, I understood that I am deeply entangled in the web of my dark ages. What's in it, if a son is not what he is to his father? The last time a similar feeling occured, I tried to mend the error and it ended up as an air punch that still spills my gut. In spite of a million little happy things that happened before, and will happen later AGAIN, somehow, the feeble heart struggles to the fear of finding a way to compensate for all that was truly, wholely, and entirely attempted for good.

"How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart, you begin to understand. There is no going back. There are things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep. That have taken hold."

The irony is that of the compulsory next four hour sleep, which will bring in the power of the professional mind to maraude over the personal beliefs of failure.