The Art of giving a Fuck

These past few days have been strange. For reasons that fall into the category of 'none of your business', I'm not going to get into the details.

Suffice it to say that it has me re-evaluating my entire existence of operating in cruise control.

From my early days of toddlerism, I have been taught to be like everyone else, and to this day, doing anything different from what Guddu is doing is considered only next to Blasphemy. Afterall, Guddu is the knower of all things mundane.

So just for kicks, I recently had a 'chat' with the powers that be aka my parents, and in a nutshell this is how that conversation went...

"Mom, Dad, I have a dream, I am going to..."

"You will fail"

"But Mom, Dad, I have faith, and am sure with hard work, dedication and pursuing my passion, eventually I will find success in pursuing my dreams" (okay, these may not have been my exact words. Creative liberties have been enlisted)

"You will fail"

"But mom... "

"Fine. Whatever."

(Awkward Silence. Indefinite pause.)

"You will fail"

Under normal circumstances, I would have considered those words of wisdom to be the grail of all that is holy and my dreams, hopes and aspirations would have been squished like a hungry mosquito. However, these are not normal circumstances.

Thank you Mr. Covid uncle.

Today, I'm looking at the world differently. I am thinking that life truly is short, and you get one shot at living it.

So as I lift the proverbial finger into the air and point it at my arch nemesis, Guddu, it is decided that changes are forthcoming.

However, none of this has anything to do with what I really wanted to talk with you bored folks today. Today's topic, as the title suggests, is about empathy.

Now, emotion researchers generally define empathy as the ability to sense other people's emotions, coupled with the ability to imagine what someone else might be thinking or feeling.

When I was a kid, empathy did not exist. Not once when I was young did my folks go, 'Oh son, I'm so sorry ur going through this situation. We understand you must be an emotional wreck right now'. No. Instead they were much too focused on their crashed car. The trauma!!!

So you could say its not entirely my fault that I am, as they say, emotionally unavailable.

Miss Empathy and I first met each other round about 15 years back. It was my job to help the good folks at an Electrical Company resolve their IT issues over the phone. I remember the trainer at the time saying, 'You have to show empathy. You have to be more mindful of people's emotions and feelings', and what not.

As I nodded, I thought then and still think now, 'You're calling the fuckin IT desk to resolve a computer issue. If you need emotional support, see a therapist'.

Anyhoo, I digress, Over the years, and it has been 15 years since I first met the Lady of the E, I have come to realize there are others like me. Emotionally confused folks who dont get what the essence of Empathy truly is.

For all you out there, Empathy can simply be defined as the art of giving a fuck, when it was never your fuck to give, or your fuckup to begin with - as you speak in a soft voice.

My job here is done. You are welcome World.

Now go back to Youtube or Tik Tok, or whatever it is you were doing.

Syko Out.

The Evolution of Blah

When a kid is born, at some point, it starts to show its talents. Some draw, some paint, some cry, some have a big penis.. So on and so forth.

In my case, however, for as long as ANYONE can remember… I simply couldn’t shut the fuck up!!!

This would have been fine, except, as so often seen in bollywood movies, there was a ‘kahaani mein twist’…

Now, I was raised by a man, who, although was never part of the military, was as close as a civilian to get to being one.

How do I describe my old man.. Hmmm..

Let’s start by saying, Im pretty certain when I was born, I wasn’t picked up. Instead, my old man might have expected a salute and we probably shook hands or something.

I probably had a timer to take a leak, and a board in the nursery that read, ‘Any leaks taken out of turn shall not be attended to’.

Lights out at 9. No amount of crying was going to change that.

We never hugged in my household. We got patted on the back, and got handed 'In recognition of' certificates.

Ahh.. the good old days..

Ok.. Fine.. Maybe I exaggerated a teeny weeny bit there. Point is dad was thoda khadoos type ka.

So back to me not being able to shut the fuck up.

Legend says, I was like Jesus, that we both started speaking almost right away.

Course he went onto become Jesus Christ, the savior of humanity.

Me.. Well.. Not so much.

Flashback.

I can actually picture my parents goin, ‘Say Mama.. Say Dada.. Agoo goo goo’, and then into facepalm mode right afters.. Coz once up and running, I was like the fuckin Energizer bunny.. Just kept goin n goin n goin n goin n goin…

The worst part was getting onto a flight. There I was, Babil Junior, in all my vexatious glory, talking away, non-stop, for the seemingly billion hours between take off and landing, to some poor random, soul, my menacingly tiny brain had targetted. N he didnt have any place to go. As the Gollum would say, 'Stuck with me he was. My Precious'.

Then there were long drives. The ‘donkey’ from Shrek was probably less annoying.

Parties.. Oh God.. Parties.. Nightmares.

It’s no wonder that the old man still sneaks in a ‘I should have used a condom’ look at me, now n then.

Story of my life.

Anyhoo.. Here we are.. A few decades later..

I can proudly say that things have not really changed.

Persistent little prick aren’t I?

But I have evolved. Nowadays my word vomit is more situational based.

I can go through an entire day at the office without saying a word. Ironic, considering my job actually includes talking to people. Guessing, that I hate my job, doesn’t help.

When the volcano does explode, though, it’s a stampede of words. Does all of it make sense? Not really. It just needs to get out. Almost like President Bush giving a speech. U hear the words, but no one, not even he, knows what the fuck it is actually being said.

In my case, however, my fiancé mostly bears the grunt of it. The poor thing.

Yes, I have a fiancé now. Someone finally agreed to marry me. I know. LOL!!!

So, all those 17500 words that an average person uses in a day, plus another 5000 for good measure, she gets to listen to in a matter of hours.

Im almost certain that at some point she just puts the phone on mute, goes, watches two episodes of Friends, comes back n goes, ‘Ahan.. ok..’

I don’t care. I love her.

Anyhoo. Im bored now. Gonna stop writing now n get back to pretending to work.

P.S. Sorry Mom, Dad... N thanks for not abandoning me, when u actually had a chance.

2013

The mayans were wrong.

Damn!!!

'We all make choices. Its living with them thats the tough part.'

They say that, to really know what u have, u need to look back to what used to be.

Im thinking a part of me was longing to find out, and quite intently so..

I decided to come back and revisit a part of my life that was left back gasping in the tabloids of yesterday.

Hyderabad.

For those who dont know the history, i was living in the city for a few years. It was the best time of my life. I discovered new things, cherished new experiences, build new relationships and was happy beyond debate.

Of course gravity had to come into play at some point, and everything that goes up must come down. I crashed and burnt. The specific details are irrelevant.

What is important is that which followed.

For once in my life, i was inspired to take charge of a ship that was spiralling out of control and try and bring it back on track.

Of course, life isnt always kind to those amongst us who want to hit the reset button. We gotta pay the price for snoozing.

This post is about reflection.

Choices. From what to order off a menu, to how to get to the restaurant, to which restaurant to pick, to whether or not to eat..

Life is all about those little decisions we make isnt it? Those little turns in the grand scheme of things that could make us either the most miserable of those, or the amongst the lucky ones.

2012 for me was all about sticking to some of those choices that i had made variably or invariably, and checking to see where it would take me.

Course in true tradition concerning most things in life, the year had started as anything but inspiring. The bottom of the barrel had just gotten deeper, in fact.

Long story short. Choices were made. Decisions were taken.

At the time, although i didnt know, it was by far the best thing i decided to do.

I stuck by it, and honetly life's better for it.

Right now, soaring at 35,000 feet above the earth, heading back from Hyderabad to the land of my forefathers, here i am sitting back, reflecting on that which was.

Bloody hell. I've changed. The city hasn't. The people havn't.

Anyhoo..

2013. Lucky number 13. The year of the snake.

Time to crawl out of the shadows and take the reins once again. Time to reinvent, rejuvinate and replenish the awesomeness of life.

The choices have been made. Decisions have been taken. Again.

Time to live with them.

Woohoo!!!!!

So im finally taking a vacation after about 8 years, and as expected, was super excited, kinda syked and ridiculously scared. Scared for reasons i dont wanna discuss here, but being excited bout anything is definitely worth a bit of ranting.

Now i was travelling from dubai to cochin as every mal man or woman is expected to do so atleast once a year. The holy pilgrimage. Personally, I detest the idea, and all that it entails, but a mals gotta do what a mals gotta do. Again, this post is not is not bout my resentment to a land that im not in the slightest bit attached to.

This post is bout travel. Its bout the miracle of flight, and the pain between the butt cheeks that is associated with the fastest mode of transportation known to common man.

Lets be honest. The idea of getting onto an airplane, as many times as you may have done so before, still excites you. How can it not? You're gonna be dangling in mid air without a harness, held up only by the miracle of technology and magic strings from the sky. God's way of playing puppet master.

Course you can always count on someone to fuck it up.

Insert into frame, me mum.

Now, I love my mom with all my heart and then some, and as much as i would protest, lie on the ground waving my hands and legs, curse, say no, nein, naw, nahin or even use cliche phrases like 'not even if hell freezes over', she always gets her way.

In this particular instance, she automatically presumes that of the 38kgs i am allowed to carry, bout 30 belongs to her. Yes. Belongs.
'Ur single. What do u possibly need to carry???'
'Clothes, Tech gizmos, Stuff.. Err.. Underwear..'
'Did u know ur dad wanted to get u aborted?'
(Ok, she didnt ever say that, but im being overly dramatic here. Deal with it.)
Long story short.. Playstation out, fairy liquid in.

Moving on...

Pretty much every ticket explains to you that u may carry this object with you whilst you may not carry that. This is for obvious reasons. Mallus. Coz there will always be that one retard who thinks its ok to pack two barrels of petrol from the middle east to india. Actually keepin in mind the gas prices, who can blame me right?

Off topic.

So heres what they dont tell u on the friggin ticket. Be prepared to lose every last bit of your dignity, multiple times over.

Two words... Airport Security.

Do not wear anything with metal on it. Do not wear loose trousers, that could slip without a belt. Do not wear steeltoe shoes. Do not carry coins. You may carry cigarettes, but dont you dare carry a zippo. Do not carry a swiss army knife. Also, for your safety, please be prepared to be groped all over, by an ugly stranger, in uniform.

Of course this comes no where close to the part when u enter the craft.

Now we've all seen airline ads. The palace of luxury midair, cute chicks waiting to serve on you, the guy relaxing on his laptop, talking on the phone, checking his emails, FB, whatever.. And in the end when he is asleep someone turns off the lights and throws a blanket on.

This is the point where all those dreams are shattered.

As you enter the aircraft, the following is your thought process..
First class.. 'Hmm.. I could get used to this..'
Business class.. 'Not bad.. Decent seats n all.. Cool stuff..'
Economy... 'Cattle barn! Fuck!'

And if that wernt enough, the 'cute chick' air hostess.. Male!

Kids!!! There must be a ban to getting kids to travel on airplanes unless they're drugged or they got one of them suck-me-thingys in their mouth. Them brats actually cry louder in aircrafts, and whats worse, the sound has got no place to go. Its stuck with you, right there, in your ear. And the reslilience that these tit suckers got, admirable. Like the friggin energizer bunny. Goes on n on n on n on...

Solution. Emirates, Etihad, Indian Airlines, Kingfisher.. Pay attention... Sound proofed kid cabins... Let them cry themselves to the worlds end in there, with company of other loud rascals. Fuckin set up a competition for all i care, as long as it doesnt bother me.

Plane up. Plane down. Safe. Whew!!!

Immigration.

Retina scan, passport scan, fingerprint scan, heat signature scan, full body xray scan, some other god-alone-knows-what-the-fuck scan. Amazing level of security. Approved. Fuck up? All these involve lines, and lines in an airport, ladies and gents, means waiting FOREVER!!! Not to mention the creepy fella in immigration who strips u naked with his eyes, and asks u personal questions. Like why would he care that ur in town on vacation or business or to go streaking in the middle of a football match? I mean, when was the last time anyone actually said, 'Im here to smuggle drugs into the country'. Facepalm!

They could make a decent airport. They could make them miraculous string controlled flight machines land and take off safely. They could even install central AC. Yes, its a big deal in mal land. Somehow, they all fell asleep through the lesson on how to get ur luggage back to you before u grow old n die. Maybe in a few more decades. Fingers crossed.

And if this entire ordeal wasnt bad enough, there comes the part when u actually step out and are greeted by a clustophobia inducing number of people including, but not limited to, those who still think its absolutely necessary that every relative u know, or dont, should come to the airport to pick u up, refuse to give u breathing space, and stuff themselves into one car, an ambassador. Not to forget the million cabbies, the coolies, the auto guys, the beggars, the cops, the money exchange guy, the mobile guy, the pick pocket guy, the welcome band guy, and the congregation of random faces and voices breathing down your neck. Simultaneously.

Breathe.

Now, for those who have survived reading this post till this point and thinking, 'No fuckin way could this end happy'. You're wrong. Like every mallu wood movie ever released, this one has a happy ending as well.

In the words of Mastercard..
Purchasing air tickets, expensive..
Airport Security, scary..
Flight, painful..
Getting back home and eating mom's chicken biriyani for dinner, priceless..
There are some things money can buy, for everything else theres the magic word, 'Fuck!'.

The Story of the Hardworking Ant (A Children's Tale)

Every day, a small ant arrives at work very early and starts work immediately.

She produces a lot and she was happy.

The Chief, a lion, was surprised to see that the ant was working without supervision.

He thought if the ant can produce so much without supervision, wouldn’t she produce even more if she had a supervisor!

So he recruited a cockroach who had extensive experience as supervisor and who was famous for writing excellent reports.

The cockroach’s first decision was to set up a clocking in attendance system.

He also needed a secretary to help him write and type his reports and he recruited a spider, who managed the archives and monitored all phone calls.

The lion was delighted with the cockroach's reports and asked him to produce graphs to describe production rates and to analyse trends, so that he could use them for presentations at Board‘s meetings.

So the cockroach had to buy a new computer and a laser printer and recruited a fly to manage the IT department.

The ant, who had once been so productive and relaxed, hated this new plethora of paperwork and meetings which used up most of her time…!

The lion came to the conclusion that it was high time to nominate a person in charge of the department where the ant worked.

The position was given to the cicada, whose first decision was to buy a carpet and an ergonomic chair for his office.

The new person in charge, the cicada, also needed a computer and a personal assistant , who he brought from his previous department, to help him prepare a Work and Budget Control Strategic Optimization Plan.

The Department where the ant works is now a sad place, where nobody laughs anymore and everybody has become upset.

It was at that time that the cicada convinced the boss , the lion, of the absolute necessity to start a climatic study of the environment .

Having reviewed the charges for running the ant’s department , the lion found out that the production was much less than before.

So he recruited the owl , a prestigious and renowned consultant to carry out an audit and suggest solutions.

The owl spent three months in the department and came up with an enormous report , in several volumes, that concluded : “ The department is overstaffed ...”

Guess who the lion fires first?

The ant, of course, because she “showed lack of motivation and had a negative attitude".

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This is one of those forwards that go around, and should make most of us feel like Pawns on a chessboard or Dimwitted Nincompoops for participating in this bizarre circle of bureaucratic prodigality.

Of Course, the characters in this fable are fictitious, and are definitely not in the slightest inspired by our real life bosses. Any resemblances borne to real people within real companies, though highly likely, is purely coincidental.

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The Reel Life

Little did Lumière know in 1896, when for the first time in human history, as he was screening his 50-second silent film of a train getting into a train station, that he would be changing history forever.

The story goes that when the film was first shown, the audience was so overwhelmed by the moving image of a life-sized train coming directly at them that they screamed and ran.

And that, ladies and gents, was the first time an audience left a film halfway through.

Little more than a century later, we can safely say that not much has changed.

This article is dedicated to the all the Mango Peoples of India, who are forced to endure so much pain and torture in the name of entertainment.

Of course, When talking about bad movies and similar type of things, the first thing that comes into mind is Bollywood.

Specifically Ram Gopal Varma.

Think about it. Who else has the talent, vision and dedication to take a movie the likes of Sholay, throw in a star cast that would make any producer bankrupt, give any director a hard on, and yet fuck it up in so many ways, that our poor hands-free Thakur is out for revenge, again.

I mean, What the hell was he smokin, right?

But then again, he's not particularly special in that regard, now is he?

*Flashback*

Ra.One.

*End of flashback*

Comedy.

A man tripping on a banana peel is funny. Rather, it used to be until i was 6.

Fusion the scene with 'modern' wire technology. Throw in some bad graphics.

Man trips on banana peel, goes so high up in the air that he lands on another guys shoulder, who somehow trips on the same peel and both of them fall on the three mock villains that are running towards them in sequence. All of them fall down. Heroes emerge the victor.

Still not funny. Ok, Maybe a little. Bah!

Romance.

Shah Rukh Khan, Aamir Khan, Salman Khan.. What do they all have in common?

Last names. Superstar Status. Hero Image. Youth Icons. Pepsi???

Well.. All of the above, I guess.

Oh and yeah, teeny weeny detail, they are all, for lack of a better term, old farts. 

Seriously, how difficult is it for India, my favorite country with a population of a billion n change, to come up with a few new young actors, who can actually, well.. act.

And no, flaunting a six pack doesn't mean ur young enough to play ur son's age. Grow up guys.

P.S. Don't even consider bringing Mammootty and Mohanlal into this category. That is beyond the comprehension of my already disturbed mind.

College.

I'm not gonna talk bout 3 idiots. It was a decent movie. I shall try and ignore the fact that a 44 year old man played the role of a 19 year old kid.

Deep breath.

When it comes to college movies, the only name that comes to mind is Karan Johar.

When is someone, anyone going to explain to the guy that not all the students in a college can have washboard abs, that most of them cant be bothered to wear designer clothes, pretty much none of the girls look like supermodels, there usually is more than one dorky kid, and for fuck's sake there are subjects other than 'love' and 'romance' they teach.

Also, as far as romances go, fyi, the biggest problem that most couples face in college, is running out of mobile credit, and the solution to all break ups is alcohol. True Story.

Special Effects / Action

Ra.One.

(Please maintain a moment of silence)

In the interest of complete disclosure, the idea or inspiration for this article / post / write up / ranting of a disaster, did not come from Bollywood. The bar I have set in that regard is, by default, low, and expectations, even lower. Thus, on most occasions, after several recommendations, when i do watch a Bollywood movie, I am pleasantly surprised.

This article was actually inspired by a Hollywood flick that goes by the name 'Premium Rush'.

The movie itself stars Joseph Gordon-Levitt (Inception), Michael Shannon (Boardwalk Empire), and is directed by David Koepp who was involved in classics such as Jurassic Park, Mission Impossible, etc.

That is one helluva team.

Right. The movie itself... There were stunts. Chase sequences. Cliche lines. A hot chick. A good guy. A bad cop. Exhilarating.

And the story.. In Manhattan, a bike messenger picks up an envelope that attracts the interest of a dirty cop, who pursues the cyclist throughout the city.

Then it struck me...

What The Fuck Were They Thinking!!!

That's not a story. That's a line. Literally. One line.

What on Earth has happened to the movies of today?

There was a time when watching movies meant slipping into a land of fairy tale and fantasy, where everything was nice, where good fared over evil, in spite of whatever may entail. There was a time when a war movie was all it took to inspire a young man to fight for his country. There was a time when watching a movie meant falling in love all over again. There was a time when sharing grief, and shedding a tear could not be helped over a movie.

Heck. There was a time when 12 men in a room, deliberating over the fate of another man's life, was compelling enough to hold off someone from taking a piss for over an hour.

There was a time when movies made sense.

Welcome to Today.

Is it just me, or did anyone else notice that most of the successful movies of this year, or at least the ones worthy of being talked about, were based on Comic book characters.

Comic Book Characters!!!

There is no Batman. There is no Green Monster. There is no Demi-God from another universe who can control lightning. There is no billionaire in an Iron Suit that can fly. There is no scientist with spider DNA who can shoot webs, walk on buildings, and deliver pizza. And there certainly isn't any alien with x-ray vision who looks human with skin that HAS to be plastic.

Also, no one walks around wearing a cape, or spandex. EVER. Unless, of course, you were either psychologically disturbed, or lived in Paris.

But Hollywood isn't Hollywood until they find a way to make a sad situation worse.

Allow me to introduce the same shit, now in 3D.

Sir, with all due respect, bull shit served on a golden spoon is still bull shit. Please don't try and make me pay extra for it. I just plainly refuse to do so.

That's it. I'm tired. I'm beat. I quit.

On a parting note, all I have left after this traumatic experience, is a humble request to the movie makers of today.

Try and make something that'll bring back the magic, and take us mango peoples back through time, to an age when watching movies entailed amazement. An age in which every frame was looked at with great awe, and every movie goer went home in bliss.

Please.

Face Palm

They say that life is all about the journey, not the destination. But im guessing it helps to know where u wanna go in the first place.

In my case, however, like most other things in life, i'm completely clueless.

So I guess all im trying to do at this point is, take the path less traveled  keep my eyes shut, fingers crossed, and hope to God that i dont run into a pole.

But this article is neither about me, nor life.

This article is all bout the little fun somethings that I couldnt help but notice along the way. Things that made me trip when i first noticed it, and still does sometimes.

Warning : Extreme Sarcasm Alert.

1. Ever noticed that guy in a striped shirt, n bad tie waiting on the elevator. When is he ever gonna learn that pressing the button a million times, does not hack into the elevator mainframe and make it go faster. Its gonna take its own sweet time. so please grow a pair, put on ur big boy panties n wait like the rest of us.

2. Women. Love em.
Short Skirts. Love em.
Women in short shirts. LOVE EM!!!
Which does bring up the question, why the heck would you wear a short skirt to a club, if all u gonna keep doin all night long is pulling it down.

3. Never understood chicks wearing T-shirts.
Here's why. They got stuff written on it.
simple rule. If its written, it shall be read.
So dont be giving me the 'Perv' look.
You're the one wearing the damn Tee. Might as well put up a sign, 'Please stare at my tits!!'

4. Hey Fella.. Seriously.. Just coz the T-shirt aint torn yet, doesnt mean that it fits. Buy a bigger size. The world can do without the graphic display. Oh, and while on the subject, the waist size is measured, yup u guessed it, around the waist. Not below the friggin tummy.

5. We all know the three second rule. My mom's been making me follow it for decades. And it totally makes sense coz germs be waiting with a stop watch for a full three seconds. Oh, as a secondary measure blow on it once. Now that makes it totally fool proof.

6. Arranged Marriages. The boon of being Indian. All your life you're told not to talk to stangers, until that one fateful day, ur asked to sleep with one.
Forever.

7. 'He's like a brother to me'.
When are women gonna realize the absurdity of this statement.
So, heres the deal.
Either the guy is gay.
Or he wants to get into ur pants.
Or he wants to show off his new toy and get into ur pants, eventually.
Or you must be friggin ugly.
Or he must be your actual brother.
P.S. On the plus side, it does make for an awesome 'thats what she said' joke.

8. Rahul is the best friend.
Rahul listens to u bitching about Life, Boyfriend, School, College, Parents.. Everything.
Rahul walks ur dog.
Rahul does ur homework.
Rahul never gets laid.
Rahul wants to get laid.
Rahul needs to get laid.
Rahul. Get a life. Move on yaar.

9. If ur 35, married and have like 14 kids. 
Hallelujah!! Thats the sign u've been waiting for.
Move out of ur parent's basement already.
No, their life long dream was not to play babysitters.
No, they don't love u that much.
You are a fuckin leech is what you are.

10. My people managed to generate a population of over a Billion.
We churn out more 30 babies a minute.
Thats more than one every two seconds!!
But talking bout sex is not done.
Coz thats not Indian like.
Face Palm!!

11. The amount of bull crap that gets thrown around at the work place always manages to make my day better.
You need to focus : Stop being a retard.
Lets work on it together : U do all the work, I take all the credit
Be a team player : Quit complaining. You're working the weekend

12. Here's the truth.
You're the ugly one.
The only reason the hot one keeps telling u that ur hair is nice, is coz the rest of u is fugly. Yes FUGLY!!
Your only purpose is so that the hot one can seem to be more popular than she actually is.
You are an extra in a movie.
And now that u finally know it, stop acting pricey n shit.
knowledge is power.

13. Lucky number thirteen.
Black cat jumping theory.
Mirror breaking Prediacment.
Caste.
If u believe in any of this nonsense, you are a waste of sperm, effort and education.
Except, of course, in the case of the chilly and lemon 'protecting' the vehicle. Not ABS, or airbags, or seatbelts, Its all the in the lemon and chilly. That totally makes sense.

14. Three hours. Twelve hundred pairs of clothes tried on.
Almost inspires one to try and choke himself on a clothes hanger
'But I'm so broke yaa, I'm not buying anything now'
Priceless.

15. 'I'm not drinking tonight'
Right. Sure.