Random Thoughts

With or without intentions my eyes would always sway away in the direction of the terrace of girl’s hostel that was at the end of the street where I lived. There was no telling why I would look in that direction even when I couldn’t recognise any face neither I knew anyone living there. The hostel was only one block away. From my home I could figure out some bleak yet elementary characteristics that would walk and sit there during the evening hours. I could see many of those girls talking on phones for endless hours, girls who would just chat in a group, girls who would just lean against the railings and appeared lost in the emptiness of their own thoughts. The purpose of their terrace would be many but it often caught my thought and had me staring into the direction and wondering. I’ve always fancied to look away at the people at far distance doing their regular tasks be it anything and I wonder simply sitting at my own place, sitting at the boundary wall next to my beloved grapevines and wondering about those people if I had ever or if I would ever encountered them, maybe we crossed our way, wondering about the thoughts that might be running into their minds while they seem lost and enjoyed their solitary retreat. There would be no count of time that I had spend in those summer evenings, lying at my terrace boundary wall all the way absorbed in my own thoughts. I would often catch the glimpse of people from the other side looking into my directions but I could never tell if they were smiling or simply looking away. It was a weird contraption that seems to be in function that would make two strangers, sitting so far to even make out the faces, look into each other’s directions but it would often give me a sense of relief and reflected in an unusual sense of fascination and unuttered desolation. And these thought would appear simultaneously. I felt like I somehow wanted to escape into this unknown block, peeping into the rooms of those people living there and figure out what they were doing. Those figures walking behind those windows have become my idea of amusement and I would catch myself always in the pursuit of answer to outline the lives of every walking soul at that distance. There was no telling why I would do that but I knew that long before the lights of that hostel went off, I give myself enough credit to crawl an inch closer to my quest. And it wouldn’t matter if that makes me look like a perverted stalker, I could only assume myself in the great words someone wrote for Sherlock, “I don’t stalk. I investigate”.

Motorcycle Truths

To argue that motorcycles are more lethal and accident prone then the auto transmission scooters is just an absurd logic conceived by those who had never rode a motorcycle or were just plain retarded and too lazy and try learning to ride. I don’t understand that how could, such an absolute sense of irrationality and callousness may even originate? I mean how could a machine on which you control 4 different mechanical engagement to manoeuvre is more dangerous then something which is driven by only two of them. In a motorcycle you control and command over 4 different mechanics: the clutch, brakes, accelerator and the gear shift. While in a scooter there is only an accelerator and a brake. Now unless someone’s reasoning ability is hindered since his birth or someone whose mind is obscured by illogical and daft conclusions I don’t need to explain which of the either two would make a person more conscious and alert on road while driving. Because obviously, controlling four different mechanics will require more focus and care then controlling two. I had driven both of them over a long duration of time especially the scooter a lot in my high school days. But ever since my dad got me my first Bullet I’d have to admit it knocked more sense and maturity in me than ever before. I take no shame in confessing myself to be an absolute asshole back then. I was careless and used to drive on roads like a lunatic and even though I was running only a puny engine of 110cc I felt like I am riding some goddamn Ninja or a Ducati. This is the exact thought that runs through most of those teenagers and rascals who run on a scooter and believe that if the roads favours them anymore they could literally take-off. And it isn’t just a matter of sexes. I have noticed the women riders to be more disobeying the traffic rule and driving more foolishly than their male counterparts thinking they could get away with it being the women and by the grace of our so generous and feministic Traffic cops they always do. Well, you can’t put the cops to be that faults always. Many a times they just tends to avoid trouble and  insults and a threat to their meagre jobs because you never know when any girl or any lady could throw a tantrum if stopped by any of the cop and could even accuse the poor fellow of assaulting sexually and emotionally. So they let them go most of the time.

There is a reason why I consider the girls riding an Enfield to be an image of a perfect woman in every sense because, as much ruggedness and compassion it tends to develop into a man, it develops the same amount of consciousness and wisdom in a woman.  It’s an eccentric and at the same time, a splendid combination of these mixed emotions which may be contradicting in nature but creates a great human out of anyone who walks down that road. In my opinion there isn’t anything that makes more sense than riding a motorcycle which makes you to concentrate more at the road and also to contemplate your inner self more than before in a completely new aspect. It literally changes the way you perceive your life and the life of all those people and the whole world to which you connect yourself with while on a motorcycle. I don’t know about anyone else but ever since I started riding a bike it had made me kind of sane and less contemptuous. It gave me a mature and responsible outlook which I had never before observed in me and even though I may still like to monkey around and act childish it is just only at the crust and a veil I am maintaining to conceal my true identity but deep down to the very core I know that I am a changed man. 

Regarding the topic of number of accidents that involves motorcycles I believe one needs to revise their perception regarding the cause of such tragedies. It had to be borne in mind that in most of these cases we come across always involve a car or a truck/bus along with a motorcycle. Now unless you carry the genes of a politicians or had been mind-fucked by some religious preachers I don’t need to explain and elaborate on the matter that who could be at  fault “most” of the time. Moreover I am also against the idea of commuter and sub-class motorcycles. Personally I think anything below 350cc should be put to immediate ban as these sub-class bikes are what littering the roads like pests and insects and put the lives of their and others at risk.  Moreover I believe in some sense the restrictions to sell classic motorcycles to the mass must be strictly imposed and selling policy similar to Rolls-Royce must be set up but instead of considering the social status and money as a selling factor it should be based on psychological test criteria and that whether any individual who wishes to buy one is deemed worthy  to have enough passion, respect and etiquettes to get one and just not some low-intellect and low-class bastard who take pride in howling on the roads and running like a wild boar on the loose.

Riding a motorcycle is an art and it’s not easy to come by. You need patience, dedication and above all a passion and respect for these marvellous creations. That’s the beauty reflected best in the British motorcycles. Be it Enfield’s, Norton, Triumphs, BSA, Velocette or the Rolls-Royce of motorcycles the Brough Superior you never think of them as mere machines but it appears like they are biological and sentinel beings and a soul resides through every one of them. I sometimes feel like that with my own life as if she got a mind of her own and she would run according to her own mood and interest. She demands pampering like a child and care like if you will look after a lady.  I couldn’t contemplate of anything else that can come so close to the Brits in terms of making soulful machines that only grows over you decades after decades and yet never dies.   

Society: A judgemental bitch

Restraining yourself to the society’s standard is as useless as expecting the government to   eliminate the caste based reservation from the country. It’s as pathetic as a Metapod and as disgusting as Kim Kardashian and Paris Hilton. You know it is wrong, you know it all along still you strive to endure it out of some unknown fear and in that act you reduce yourself to those nefarious, so called “code of conduct”, felching your dirt at those who literally had nothing to do with your commandment.  But I wonder what makes the society such an impulsive force that it welds the power to influence the lives of almost every individual on the earth. Somehow or the other, accidentally or intentionally almost every living soul is part of some bloody society or a member of some lame establishment that continues to institutionalise the very existence of each of them.  The qualm of this paradigm is such it doesn’t spare even the dead who had been divided and characterised as per the society’s advantages and there isn’t any luxury to be free even in the afterlife. But if it continues to hinder the growth of civilisation what makes us to compel to the society’s standards and their laws? You see the society is just a void which will be denied from every lucrative prospects if it has to exists on it’s own and even if it did that sort of existence would be malevolent if put in perspective of any individual. But it isn’t so. The society exists due to the perseverance of one individual and the misguided faiths of others, the efforts of those swindling bastards who despite wearing the same skin as rest of the people and running the same blood would restrict the free movement of the growth and development. You see people are as blind as a bat in daylight and in this act of their blindness and ignorance they will follow imprudently every irrational decision they are directed with by deeming them as “wise” and “just”. Because it is in the character of most to follow in the words of others and be dictated upon for they lack the will and guts to stand and fight at their own. They seek the refuge into the ills of those individuals who they consider to be above themselves in their pitting self-esteem. It’s this indispensible weakness of the humanity which proves to be a controlling force and guides them towards their own impending doom. There will always be people who just cannot stand the sight of good and who don’t want the world around them to grow on equal grounds to them. They just feel like they have been chosen to direct over the puny lives of rest of the world, while they drive their corrupt will and vestigial schemes born out of their wretched soul. While there are some who are so dead in their own sense of worth that they will never be able to comprehend the fundamental difference between right and wrong but would still follow in the words of others concealing their impotency behind the filth covered veil of loyalty.

  I believe it could be somehow linked to the human psychology that seeks refuge in some pagan beliefs and in some non-existing entity in the times of desperation and despair because their mind is not sharp or matured enough to the point where they can start utilizing logics and reasons over their emotions. In the course of history, the human might have achieved some great triumph and assisted technological advancement but it remains an agonising fact that over the development of main stream civilisation they haven’t be able to achieve the control over their brains and nerves. They are still like a small child who needs to seek up towards their elder to guide them and like a child they rests their entire belief in those elders without even doubting their intentions. It is who guides them, makes them what they are. They are just a failed outcome of each other flaws.

But there is one part of my conscience which forces me into thinking if the entire human race has been stupid and foolish in it’s history. With concrete evidence highlighting the fact that their race had required divine intervention and assistance in every aspect and at every step towards evolution and in hard times it shrinks to the last certainty that the earth is indeed inhabited and dominated by an ignorant and infantile category of organic life forms who reflects no vital signs of ever being called as a admirable race because their progression is like a plague which possess as a great threat to the balance of the universe. However in their desperation to build a castle of dreams by crushing their fellow humans they consider to be inferior, they forget how each of them is nothing but a speck of dust in the perspective of that infinite universe and a location, they call as “Singularity”.

There is no denying the fact that there will always be forces existing in the universe, foul and disparaging in nature which will continue to infect the nubile understanding of the species such as humans. But it is in within one self, they need to discover themselves and their true purpose and free their mind from the shackles of cerebral tyranny and psychological dictatorship that continues to impede them towards an obstinate calamity without any sense of realisation what awaits for them in the near future. Death will consume them all, that is the undisputable truth.

An ode to the Munchkin

All right I’ll be honest on this one. I called dad to confirm what time I should go and fetch “Munchkin” from the dealership. His voice tells me that he is too engaged with his office routines and doesn’t want to be disturbed. But that wasn’t my concern. All I wanted to know that how soon he could handle me the standing amount I need to pay to the pesky sales in-charge who was calling me almost every day since the Bullet arrived. Dad wasn’t convinced enough and told me to wait another day or two to get the delivery.

“I couldn’t handle anymore”, I said to myself and disconnected the call.

“Fuck then, fuck everything else. I don’t want it. Screw you. Screw it. Screw that. If you didn’t want me to get it why didn’t you let me know earlier”, I went around the house shouting and yelling like a maniac on a loose. I thumped back into my room and shut the door tight.

Mom was screaming that I should behave maturely and swear to spank my ass once I opened the door. My uncle on the other hand tried to convince me and was calling for me to open the door. My aunty was trying her clowning techniques from the gallery that faced the window of my room to make me laugh and to cheer me up. But none of that or anything else seems to work. Yeah I was acting stupid. But god damn, I was emotional. I felt my heart crushed. I had waited 2 months to get my Bullet, made calls to the Regional office, fought with the local dealer over the booking issues and literally went around declaring the tool of my independence and my  self- righteousness to almost everyone I had known. And now the people have started asking question about my machine and why is it getting so late. I was running out of excuses to give to these clowns. People go crazy when you declare something fascinating to them but began doubting your intentions once you miss the deadline. In my case, the situation was more than just intense because I had stated about that one thing that stood as a symbol of ultimate liberty and heavenly audacity. The untamed and raw beast which she was that still remains that undisputed queen of every sovereign citizen of Republic Of India and of many other nations. The Royal Enfield Bullet.

Monday went in all dismay and frustration. I didn’t feel like having my dinner. I had made a firm decision in my mind that the next morning I am going to cancel my booking and ask for refunds. And so I slept with this downhearted thought. But over all these years I have learned about myself I knew I was one sly and sham creature and I knew by next morning by anger would subside and I would be back  imploring down on my humble requests to bring her home as soon as Chuck Norris would do. And so did it occurred. Well I tried to pretend that I was still adamant on my decision but the sight of her moving in front of my eyes was making me weak and I could no longer hold on to my juvenile idiocy. I took the money dad had left me the other night in my drawer and called Anshul and Ishaan. What I did expected was a facial series of abuses and some pampering on my ass but it did work out well.

An hour has passed. There she stands outside the glass door, shining in all her glory and draped in her armour. The enormous and a naked beastly engine that appeared to be a seducing character was tempting me to touch her and run my nubile fingers all over and across her hand crafted body.

My dad, his office colleague and my uncle took their leave. Anshul too proceeded towards his home. And now it was just me and Ishaan. I was  reluctant to ride her first as I had never ever owned a motorcycle in my life before and the only one I had ever driven were Ishaan’s Pulsar and my maternal uncle’s TVS Star City. I was just too scared to scratch her body or do anything that may accidentally cause her any hurt so I asked Ishaan to take the rider seat while I was contended from the pillion view. Fuel pump check, kill switch off, downshift to neutral and fire up that engine. A long screech and then the most beautiful thump I ever heard in my entire life. I felt literally like we have just awoken the goddess of war and destruction. And it sang the melody of doom and apocalypse. It was terrifying such colossal and raw power that was waiting to be unleashed from the belly of this monster but there was an ample degree of feministic charm and fierce emotions that allured the two of us towards our destiny. She was a siren in true form and I knew that if we don’t get her all the care and respect she deserves she will cast the most brutal of wraths upon both us.

Downshift to first gear and we experience a slight motion and a heck lot of vibrations like if someone had planted a vibrator into our asses. A huge smile ran across our faces. Upshift to second gear and we were on the road. What seem unbelievable was that we were actually dragging a 190kgs of pure guts and adrenaline and extra packed up horse power down on the most unforgiving roads of India. The way he thumps, the way she moves, the way she drove the attention of mass where ever she went. People making inquires at stops. Ogling at her, some admiring her, pretty girls passing smiles, it was auto-orgasmic. I could feel a tingling feeling in my balls and like something was getting pumped up with the intensity of a turbocharger. And so we drove our way all the way from Chappan to the Residency Area and into the University Campus and then back on the roads. And before even we could realise, we noticed we had already lived 52 kilometres of futile yet the most beautiful moment ever. My mind was asking me to let myself go with her alone on a long drive but some sanity was holding me back from acting all nuts. But then there comes a moment when you finally decide to keep all that good sense at bay, sidelining all your virtues and just do something that is purely stupid and retarded. Not because your brain fathoms you to or your mind compels you to conquer your fears but because for that moment you want to feel the thrill of that one act. For that one moment you want to live and breadth.

And so I did, the same night after having my dinner, I sneaked across the parking area, removed the veil in which she was wrapped and fired up the engine. The next thing I know I dragged her down in the first gear for few yards and finally gained some courage, put it into the second one and I was cruising at 30 on the dark street behind Holkar College. Yes I made a lunatic call and I loved it. 3 days have passed, I have done 150 kilometres on her. Tomorrow I’ll be going to get her some crash guard to protect her perfectly chiselled and seducing body and I will be back on my way. And as the saying goes about her:

“Made like a gun, goes like a bullet”. She and I are making the love I were dreamt about. Me and my  Munchkin.

Drenched in Sadism

It’s Sunday. Almost the end of it. 10.30 in the clock. The media player is playing tracks from “The perks of being a wallflower”. I loved the movie more than anything than the fact that I consider could see a reflection of mine in Charlie’s character. There was a sense of subtly and a kind of truthfulness in that character that would not be appreciated by a lot. But rather be tagged and then hurled around calling it a pussy or a jackass. I don’t blame such folks. The world is just a confused place and most people are just too stupid to comprehend any situation and appreciate the beauty that lay in the bespoken complexities of human nature. So as the playlist continued to play the utterly compassionate form of concealed melodies as I browsed through the countless photographs through facebook of those whom I ever knew celebrating their graduation. I see happy and smiling face. Hands in hands. Throwing each other over the shoulders. Emotional comments and long lasting promises to stay forever in touch.  For that was the moment I was confronted by a austere realism that had me wondering since then. I opened the gallery in my laptop, browsing through hundreds of photographs and realised that there wasn’t even a single photo that I could cherish for a moment. All those pictures of me and my friends in which either I was missing or in which they appeared like someone had just compelled them to put a smile on their face were mocking in absolute wretchedness like it has been some impure form of entertainment to them. I could look at my friends, they appeared happy while I clicked them or when I was missing from the picture but I couldn’t reach for even one that I might look upon in desperation and when I am low to recall those faces and think of all those times we spend together. I look upon those dust gilded memories and wonder whether if it was just a coincidence or an act of ignorance and preservation of self esteem. After all I had taken my place in some of the deepest crevices of human existence where I had no further regards and virtues for any sort of fame and recognition. I am just too contempt with my life. I enjoy my solitary times. I speak only to people I find worth talking to. All I ever ask for is a plain but merry life. But to the contrary I am mocked for my music and movies, made fun of my accent often and called for being an egoist and too much absorbed in himself. Sometimes I wonder writing all this crap makes me look like a sadistic asshole who disdains the joys of small things in life or somehow who is just too blinded by his misery to see the brighter side of it. I don’t know if anyone ever reads my blog or ever find it worth a dime but writing all this gives me an excuse to let it out what I might be holding in my heart otherwise. It relieves me of the agony and mental breakdowns I might witness if I do not express them.  

I wonder how many of the plans people ever make are going to work out. Or if they will ever find a moment to even call each other or send a text once the reality begins to consume them all. Maybe someday they will run into each other. Maybe it will be a formal reunion for them or maybe they will see each other from two distinct corners of some diner, they will recognise each other. They will feel an urge to talk but will hesitate to make a move. And then they will just smile across the distance and walk their separate ways. I don’t know what life holds for anyone in the future but I have a feeling that it’ll end up good. It might not be as you expected it to be but it will be joyful and it will be worth.

In all these years ever since I ended up in college, I have reached to a realisation that I am just an old man trapped in a young man’s body. But of  many things in our life we become, we are infinite.