Movie Review: Y Tu Mamá También

Rating:  ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

In the beginning you have a feeling that it's going to be another road trip movie, but you are really wrong. YTMB is all about liberating yourself and finally realizing that sex after all is overrated.

The way director has focused on the psychology of characters makes us love them even more. We shun our moral judgement for a while and think whether what we normally believe about life is true or not. In the start boys keep on fighting because they had 'made' each other's girl-friends but later in the movie they forget it and laugh about it. Also, Lucia keeps on feeling sad because her husband has cheated on her but in the end chucks everything and forgives her husband or at least tries to. Lucia help the boys realize that we have take things in our stride and the boys teach her the same thing.

I like the movies which affect the core of human heart, and question our beliefs and what is wrong or right, in short help in maturing the mindset of people. Though not everyone would like what is shown in movie but it surely is another perspective. It makes us recognize that it's we who impose conditions on ourselves and in  certain circumstances we might go against the normal and feel absolutely o.k about it.

Too much of BARFI!

Rating: ★ ★ ★

Yes, after a very long time Bollywood has something to offer (not forgetting GOW). From the picturesque cinematography to mellifluous music, to lovely flow of emotions, Barfi is sweet, feel good and honest cinema packed with strong performances that will remain in the hearts of people for a long time.

Barfi (RK) is a deaf-mute, naughty, carefree, and likable lad living with his single father at exquisite town of Darjeeling. He has nothing to do/give except maybe love to people and pain in the ass to Mr. Dutta the Police Inspector of the town. Now one day, as it generally happens, Shruti (Ilena D’Cruz) a bubbly, and charming girl comes to Darjeeling to live her life before getting trapped in conjugal vows. Quite predictably she gets enamoured by our cute boy and the boy reciprocates and even decides to marry her. Girl’s mother says NO, the girl agrees and marries another rich guy. All set, enters Jhilmil (PC), an autistic, and loveable girl belonging to an affluent family. Her parents don’t love her but she is the apple of the eye of her grandparents, that’s a bit hard for me to digest.

After that I don’t even remember what happens, it becomes more like a game of lawn tennis with Barfi being the ball and Jhilmil, Shruti (after ditching the rich guy) being the players. Most importantly I think it doesn’t even matter to the film makers how the story shapes up because no one gives a shit, when the biggest heart-throb of the nation is imitating Charlie Chaplin on the big screen and time and again few good jokes are thrown in, but for me it takes away a lot.

RK has been immaculate, stunning, and looks deeply engrossed in his character throughout the movie. Maybe there is still some room for improvement but will that be asking of too much from an Indian actor? Don’t know. PC, I really loved her, besides few instances of over acting and pretentious dialogues I think she’s has played her character as realistically as one could. Oh sorry, I forgot to talk about Ilena, well she’s is very beautiful and attractively lean. Do I need to say anything else? Being the narrator of the movie she had a lot of responsibility on her shoulders, and her character depicts many qualities like jealousy, selfishness, avarice but somehow I feel not enough redemption has been given to her character which leads to a certain dislike towards her. I don’t think we can blame her for that, maybe the writers.

Enough said Movie is definitely worth a watch, maybe a couple for its music and few unprecedented scenes that are to die for (one’s that made my eyes wet). I think too much content has been superfluously merged in the film, its wide in scope but not enough in depth, and that has been a fundamental challenge with contemporary India cinema. Characters need time to grow, there got to be rhythm that has to be consistent in a movie, a mood that has to be more or less similar throughout. You can’t put comedy, drama, tragedy, musical, terror, mystery everything in a movie if you are not Shakespeare, so please don’t.  Adding more characters and moving them from one city to another won’t solve this problem, only increase the length of it; you got to think more about the human nature. I think it would be better if directors could spend more time in developing a story rather than spending big bucks to shoot in picturesque locations but I am highly sceptical if that’s what an Indian aam aadmi wants.    

The END.

How I have wished to write this email and now that I am writing it, I feel that some part of me is getting separated from me with each word of it. Eagerly, I have waited for this day to arrive, and it has, but the sun isn’t shinning bright.

Such is the human nature, perpetually unfulfilled and inherently pointless. Someone said that nothing is as good as it is before you get it, and I absolutely concur with that. Time after time like seasons we change, our demands change, so do our plans, and our desires…but does anything really matter? I don’t know yet.

All I think is that in the end the gleeful times you shared with friends, some jokes you laughed on, the pleasure of understanding, the consciousness of self-improvement, stretching yourself to the limits, the bliss of helping others, the joy of being important, few shed and unshed tears is what that counts. And all that was plentiful during my stay here and I THANK you all from the depths of my heart for it.

I leave you here with an enigmatic quote by Sir Oscar Wilde, ‘there are only two tragedies of life: one is not getting what you want and second is getting it.’ Good luck.

P.S: Above text is my departing letter to the people of my previous life. 

A Letter from the Heart.

Dearest Annie,

Warmest wishes on your birthday, hope you have a very happy time with family and friends (though I know it’s a Monday), eat a lot of chocolates; get an abounding number of dainty gifts, and above all lots of love.

It’s true that I haven’t known you for a very long but still I have been fortunately charmed by you in all the positive ways. You are a veritable assortment of aesthetics and semantics of life. You are a solacing prayer that is perfectly pure, consecrated, and divine and has absolutely nothing sinister about it. You are one of the few people on this earth who completely epitomise the meaning of their names by their idiosyncrasies and demeanour. Like the mellifluent sound of the mystical enchantments or maybe silence of it you can uplift anyone’s soul and make him break free from the self-imposed preposterous shackles of time and space into a trance and find a meaning…

This is YOU Annie this is the LIFE…

It all started on a very bright day, around noon in the October of 2010. A coy, innocent (at least it seemed so) overly conscious girl was sitting beside me sipping coffee. Her eyes were the most beautiful I had ever seen and she knew it for very seldom did she make eye contact with me. I could almost feel that there was something special about this girl and I wasn’t wrong. I mean she had that air of dignity, the high class queens and princesses used to have in the Victorian era. Her exquisite dress, white top with small black dots and skin tight jeans certainly emanated the exuberance of modern Indian splendour. I glanced at the bare skin of her arm and it was nothing less charismatic than the purest pearls found a thousand leagues under the sea. That sophistication, the mannerisms made me realise that how privileged I should feel to be in her company. She on the other hand, just smiled and nodded at the very stupid jokes (which I thought were clever) I cracked. She had that unprecedented enigma, that great respect about herself which is very rare to find. You could just be in her proximity and you will start feeling good about yourself, you wouldn’t need anything else, I mean she was perfection personified.

Out of all the places in the vivaciously lively city we went to a temple. Initially I was very annoyed for choosing such an irksome place to share some moments, but then her wish was my command, and I had no regrets for that. She went inside each of the multiple temples and I followed her like a dog follows his master. I didn’t know what was she thinking or wishing but I really wished I knew. Finally after all the wishes were made, we sat on the stairs that went into the holy River. She was sitting so near me that I was trembling from inside and at the same time feeling utterly happy. Then she or maybe I suggested putting our feet in the water of the river, I think it was me because I am always trying to wash my sins away. Sitting there we hardly spoke anything to each other; it was the sight of the empty sky, few scattered various sized black and white stones, the infinite river, the cold soothing breeze and the music of the wind that said everything we wanted to say to each other. Small fishes kept touching our feet and she was very frightened with every touch. Taking a long breathe and told her she shouldn’t be afraid for she’s also like a pretty fish, she smiled on hearing this and I lost a heartbeat there.

During the middle of July’11, once I had the chance to visit some mysterious caves located on the outskirts of the City with her. Again a shiny day it was and the skies were clear azure blues with certain patches of whites in them. The wind was flowing through her hair while she drove the car and I thought to myself that it doesn’t get lovelier than this. I kept glancing at her, felt so lucky to be with her and couldn’t believe that it was happening in real time. She had that perfect temperament and confidence to do anything whilst keeping you entertained. Parking our car in some non-parking zone we untied our shoes to enter the holy dark caves.

I knew she will hold my hand as we would enter the cave for she was quite afraid of the dark and she did. Into the cave of our dreams we entered with our eyes open and hands in hand tightly snugged together like pieces of a puzzle. Cold and small streams of natural water were flowing underneath our feet, and sometimes dripping above our heads. We couldn’t see or feel any one near us or far off. Like we were the last two people left on the planet. There couldn’t have been any perfect moment, so slowly I pulled her towards me with my back supported by the slightly wet rough wall of the cave. I looked into her unfathomable black eyes hugged her tightly, felt complete and drank the elixir from her tender angelic lips. In the background I could hear the faint sound of bells at the temple ringing incessantly.

As soon as we came out of the cave the sky had turned dark black and it had started drizzling. The wind was also blowing heavily and the waves in a river nearby were gushing. We moved towards a bench near the river tearing away the resistance of the wind. We sat down and the drops of water produced by the splashing of the river against its banks kept on falling on our faces. I wiped the water droplets from her face with my quivering hands and I could see in her face the calmness and satisfaction that can make you forget everything else in the world. She took my head and put it on her shoulder and I could smell the scent of her Elysian skin, feel the smoothness of her slender neck and then… I could peacefully close my eyes. The rain started to pour down heavily.

Like every fairy tale this one also had to end but not in a happy way. Last time I met her in Jan’12 and we drank coffee again. Coffee was mostly the same but it was a bit bitterer. The weather was dry, the birds were shrieking and the traffic outside was too bothering. She said she couldn’t meet me any longer and I couldn’t think of any way to convince her though I really wanted to. She didn’t shed a tear and neither did I but yes I could feel that melancholic fluid running through my veins and in it my heart sank like a lost broken ship.

Though I still have many ‘could have beens, ifs, buts’ but I guess I have to accept that not every man is that lucky. I got no one else to blame but myself, blinded and fooled by jealousy, greed and romantic avarice. Always being a collector of beginnings, living life as a way for seduction I finally agree to what Tolstoy says, if a man can love only one woman through the core of the existence he can understand a lot more about female nature than he can by loving hundreds of women.

On this auspicious day dear I want to thank you for all you did for me and more. And I apologise for the pain I have put you through, I know nothing can justify it and nothing can take it away. I just wanted to let you know that you have given me the best moments of my life and I will remain indebted to you till the day I die. Please accept this letter as a small return gift. I wish a very Happy Birthday to You.

Love Always, 

N

Amsterdam XXX

"...Come on, oh my star is fading
And I see no chance of release
And I know I’m dead on the surface
But I am screaming underneath..." -
Chris Martin

Though I always liked Queer Coldplay's song Amsterdam but I really wondered if it was really about the place `Amsterdam'. However, luckily this summers I got a chance to see it for myself. Yes, if you have read my last posts it's a piece of cake to guess whom I went with and if you haven't it doesn't make a difference. Last posts are just like photos or postcards or whatever which you sometimes forget at the back of a drawer or closet. Of course that drawer is my mind and I am talking to myself here. Bollocks, this time I wasn't with that

wannabe. This time the `Anal Boy' accompanied me. I prefer being alone.

Ok, we reached Amsterdam Centraal at around 11 am. It was a chilly overcast Sunday morning. Like everyone does, even the majestic IITKGPites, we went to the nearest tourist info center to get the Map of the city. I remember asking the lady who gave us the map of the city how to say thank you in Dutch, she said "Hartelijk dank" My first glance at the map and as they say, `you see what you want to see' you know what I saw, given that you have seen Euro trip. With red color it was marked in bolds `Red Light District.' Not astonishingly our faces also turned red. Surprisingly not many tourist guides recommend going to the R.L.D. They don't even mention about it but everybody knows why people come

to Amsterdam. In my opinion it's a must see place (*of course not with your parents and god forbid your grandparents).

FOREPLAY

So We planned first to calm down and eat something then try finding that sacred spot. It's not that we got any erection or something just by glancing at map. I know I didn't. But we surely felt as Diane Lane feels when she sees her boyfriend in the movie Unfaithful for the first time. Now you got an idea, haven't you?

After eating like pigs at KFC and paying 50 cents for taking a piss we came onto the roads of the holy city. Nostalgic Trams running across the main roads, numerous sundry branded shops at one side of the road and an abounding number of boats, ferries running in beauteous canals to the other side. People sitting at the road side restaurants, smothered by the deathly ciggy smokes, eating Italian cuisines, drinking French wine, saluting toasts, wasting time, girls sitting in the laps of their lovers, some kissing, some cuddling, some circling their

fingers through the curly unkempt hair, feeling the heat on a cold day. It makes me jealous. In short, not much different from any typical European city.

I like swanning; I really want to do it. Lately, I have felt this immense wanderlust. It won't go away, like a baby's desire to be close to his mother. To wanna know everything about her and more. Inside out. And I don't know but I really wanna spend more time in future knowing her, for travelling is my drug now. Sorry, I started talking to myself again.

Yeah, Anal boy has O.C.D. He likes wandering too. He has lots of doubts or fears all around him. Doubting penetrates his daily life like Diego Forlan penetrated various football teams this WC. He spends almost 2 hours a day in the bathroom washing his hands mostly, but somehow can't. He tells me as a child when the fears first become prominent, he attempted to ignore them, but unsuccessfully. But now he no longer actively resists these fears. He often gets jealous while encountering semi-nude girls with their men. Sometimes he starts pulling his hair and go on forever. It sucks. He can't think for himself.

But I didn't have no choice, did I?

So we kept rambling through the narrow streets throwing caution to the wind... and suddenly we saw three unique doors having windows. The glass windows covered about 2/3 part of the door. But one couldn't see anything through the windows as the multicolored, predominately red drapes were hanging. All the doors had an unique hoods on top of them so as to keep small area in front of the door always shady. We moved further along the same street and we found more and more similar kinda doors with windows. I had a feeling that

this was the place we have been looking for, but I wasn't sure. Until, a curtain was drawn upon and a black, little fatty, middle-aged lady in maroon bikini appeared. Oh, this is it I whispered. And then another curtain was drawn, a Caucasian thin lady in pink aphrodisiac two-piece could be seen. The windows kept appearing and we kept watching one after one.

Red bikinis, voluptuous mongoloid Asian girls, some looked weary, some were faking a smile. Black erotic bikinis, leggy, athletic, European chicks whose nipples can easily be seen. Some dismissive, bootylicious white girls with huge bosoms wearing green luminescent swimsuits. Thin African girls with disproportionate amount of flesh on their lips and breasts. Few standing, few sitting on the chairs, few lying down on a soft bed with pristine white sheets, seducing everyone exactly like the ones we find in Porn movies. Some talking on their i-phones presumptively with their pimps or boyfriends and at the same time talking to the customers with their eyes. Some manicuring fingernails, now that's something I really liked given the whereabouts of them fingers. Few older and fat ones lowered their panties all the way just to seduce some customers. Some stood like robots, catatonic.

I looked straight into the eyes of one of the prostitute, she smiled and winked. I smiled back. I and Anal Boy kept walking and we entered a very thin street having room barely enough for one human to walk. The street ended abruptly to some sorta club with pink lights on, playing trance gay music and smoke coming out of it, it wasn't scary but we were terrified. Men were going inside causally so we followed them like we always do. Dim red and pink lights were glowing through the club and it smelled funny. It was a big hall divided into

small transparent but colored glass cubicles as in a big restroom minus any wash basins and shit. Not all the cubicles were open, but the ones which were, were occupied by prostitutes. Packs of cigarettes, drugs maybe marijuana, coke, meat injection, heroin or some herbal sex tablets were lying beside these women. They were impelling everyone to join them and experience the pleasure of it. One guy comes outta the cubicle, and the women says, "Come again baby! it was nice", "Yes fuckin' A I will."

It felt suffocated inside that place; I thought to myself this is not happiness nor misery, this is not what I want. So after few minutes anyhow I reached the exit. Anal boy was looking restless yet happy I don't know why.

It had started drizzling when we came out. We saw numerous sex shops like the candy shop and few sex theatre at one side of the road and the boats, ferries in the beauteous canals to the other side. Sex shops generally contains different types of soft objects which can be used for self-stimulation and can be put in places where you know, god hasn't made you equipped enough of reaching. And Sex peep shows, strip-tease, pole dances, banana shows and whatever you have dreamed in your wildest dreams were available in those sex theatres. Anal boy asked one of the Guys selling tickets how long the show will be? the guy answered by showing him the distance between the ring fingers of his two hands. You know what he was indicating.

As the night fell every tourist began to move towards the R.L.D as the ants move towards sugar. Earlier, sitting in a Chinese restaurant we decided that we won't go to the RLD again, but who cares about that now. So again, we entered the region whose entrance had small metallic equally spaced cylinders having small red lights on top of them. Literally the red light zone. All them doors with the windows had switched on the red light above them so that no one should miss them. In the morning also the lights were on but we didn't notice.

Without wasting anytime we started looking up to and admiring the windows again. Suddenly one guy was kicked out of the door and door was closed back in a flash, he cried "Fuck..Fuck." I don't know why he was thrown out but after all women of the street like Roxanne also have respect. A lot.

We saw a prostitute running after an old guy probably from the USA and finally when she reached him she slapped him right on the back of his skull. Thud...People laughed, a drunken girl said, "He must have taken her photo clandestinely. Dumb fuck." I raised my head and saw a sign saying "PHOTOS NOT ALLOWED." and it should be taken fuckin' seriously. Meanwhile, many people kept going inside and coming outta them doors. Mostly old hideous fucks, few muscular young lads who zip up only after they come outta the room to save time maybe, few Indians perhaps from Madras.

AFTERPLAY

"Hey Indian, come on!" some guys screamed standing outside a door which had an Indian looking woman sitting inside it. "Bhangra Bistar" song from the movie 'Dil Bole Hadippa' was being played inside the windows(*not Microsoft) Anal boy tried to control me but I couldn't

myself this time. I knocked on the door with trembling hands, she partially opened it. She

had brown eyes, brown skin, long hair, was around 30, wore black bikini, black high heels, had a sultry body to say the least. Her red lipstick was all out of the place, like someone tried to forcefully kiss her. I say, "Hello, I Just wanted to know the price of...?", she says " 50 euros for 20 minutes", "And what all can I do?", "SUCK and FUCK. Fixed Price." and she makes a gesture with her body and mouth when she says this. Then she asks , "You wanna come(*please don't confuse this with cum) inside baby?" The next moment just froze, everything stopped. War with all the moral fibers I have embedded in myself over my lifetime, all the fuckin' hypocritical scruples imposed by them phony people of this mad world on me, started inside me. I was shaken through my roots, shivers went down my spine. Can I for once think for myself? Did I really wanna do this? I could almost imagine vividly what will happen inside that door. Is this the fuckin' pleasure I crave for? Will it be real? Do I feel

sorry for the prostitutes?...

Suddenly Anal boy pulls me away and she looks at me in a way similar to a famished puppy looking in the eyes of his master...

Before we reached Amsterdam I kept telling the anal boy that, "I will go to a prostitute only if she didn't look a prostitute." I don't know what the fuck did that supposed to mean. Many of them looked like supermodels. On the way back home I said, "It really feels like a shite loser to go to a fuckin' prostitute man, plus I am virgin and I don't want to deflower myself by paying money for it. I mean you gotta love someone to have sex, don't you? It's all about getting respect innit?..."

He didn't say a word for he knew I was just like him. And all the fuckin talking in this world won't make a fucking difference. For we are all abject slaves of this crazy fuckin' society or are the internal chains binding us .



**THIS IS A PURE WORK OF FICTION. ANYTHING LIKE THIS NEVER HAPPENED AND NEVER WILL AMEN.

When we fell for Paris...

“We are so lucky to be here (Paris), I mean how many people have seen this in real? (*According to Wikipedia 45 million every year)”; “I like Europe because there is a great degree of respect given to women, plus they can wear anything or nothing”; “Tu mereko judge karne aaya hai ya Paris ghumne ? Dude, Do you see a ‘born to lose’ tattoo across my chest?”; “Tell me one direction where you don’t see a hot chick (*I say vertically upwards and the joke is on me)”; “Paris has a latent soul I tell you, that’s been greatly missing in other European cities (*apparently he has seen only two European places one being Paris and other being some obscure Swiss village)”; “We are absolutely fucking (silent)free tomorrow!!”(* on being asked by a French girl about his plans); “I like French music helluva lot, I eat, live and die for it” (on being asked by the same French girl about his music taste, but I guess he has heard only one French song his whole life, that too during an official French language class) …

Partly because he knows Francais (French) and mostly because he is my Wingie back college, I planned a trip to Paris with him. No, this whole story is not about him and his queer adventures, come on I am not that useless and irksome. I have just used him as a fucking tool so that people can laugh a little. Yes mortals enjoy sarcasm and scoffing. But, seriously I read somewhere “Though sarcasm is a kind of wit but of the cheapest kind”. And I say “Kindly fuck off” to the person who said these lines. I mean its pure fucking fun ain’t it? aye?

I just told you what this applesauce story is not about, I think my job is done (*as if you are paying me for this). Not even one page long, you are thinking what the fuck! I argue back by saying I am being very fucking honest with all you people because many legendary authors don’t tell you so easily what their book is NOT about. They just keep writing pages, flurrying, misleading fucking brats who try their level best to finish their first ever novel cover to cover. But everyone knows that the brats have read Playboys, Penthouse, other Desi magazines (*I refrain from mentioning their names here, it makes my article chinchy ) cover to cover, line by line, word by word, between lines, between sheets, over the sheets, inside out, audio mode, visual mode and whatever fucking possible way you can imagine in your wildest of dreams. I ask why these magazines ain’t considered as a cussing piece of literature shit, they seem pretty fucking honest and straight to me. Strange are people.

On Metro Train to St. Remy, around 11pm

Ok, I see a 5’ 7” long, blonde, blue eyed, about 20 years old girl standing in front of me. She is wearing a transparent white shirt (*but I know you are rather more interested in what’s beneath it), knee length black skirt and some fucking whore like black see-through stockings on her legs. I can see bruises on her legs, maybe she got them from her last customer or maybe she is the Catwoman. I fallaciously think that she hopes that these stockings will get her laid and I guess she is pretty fucking aright. I would fuck her and I know you would too. For that matter I would fuck anyone right now because I haven’t till now and I am 21. But again, I don’t think any chick worries about getting laid more than she worries about Om getting reincarnated in Kahaani Ghar Ghar ki? Not worrying about getting laid is the only area where they score heavily over men (*because an average male spends more than half of the office time per week in worrying about it) and I think it’s some consolation they got from God when he took their (females’) brains and exchanged the brains for a few pints of Bavarian beer, a pack of Marlboro cigarettes and sex with some angel or whatever played the role of holy prostitute at that time (*pardon the cruelty of language for I am follower of St. Richard Dawkins).

She looks at me and I look back at her, then suddenly I look in some other direction just to make sure that it isn’t just a fucking coincidence, but it’s not. Then I think Oh maybe she is looking at the bald scumbag sitting beside though chances of that are minimal. I again look at her and she grins and I think to myself it’s my lucky day though after 21 years of useless chickenshit life. But yet again ‘she’ proves me wrong, the bloody bald guy (*about her biological father’s age and is uglier than Hugh Jackman) asks her something possibly to entice her into a dirty conversation and she seems very fascinated maybe she is a whore after all (*I was never sure). Not to forget the dude (my wingie) is also standing there rock solid. I look at him and I laugh. I go into my visual mode and remember how earlier today he took a pee in the bushes present to the sides Avenue Des Champs-Elysees. I even clicked a picture of him committing that flagitious crime. I mean it’s not a big deal in India. There you can shit anywhere in the streets nobody cares but you can’t kiss in the streets, the case is exactly the opposite in Europe. The dude seems to have to a good time standing to the proximity of the whore and why he wouldn’t. He looks at me and moves his eyeballs and head to point towards the whore’s shoulder touching his shoulder because the train is too crowded. I know it’s the happiest moment of his pretty dreary life.

Train stops at a station, the bald guy and few other passengers leave. Their departure leads to a happening that’s quite unfavourable for me and quite favourable for the dude. Now the dude and the whore are sitting in front of me, beside each other and what the fuck! They start talking too. I pretend I am not looking at them, I must admit that dude has for first time in 3 years gained some respect in my eyes. I am observing her in a clandestine way, I like the way she smiles, and ‘She is like the wind’ comes up on my iPod. But then the dude ruins the moment by asking me something, I remove my one of earphones and try to listen to what the fuck he is trying to say. I want to say “You talkin’ to me?” but I don’t, he shouts, “In which university are you in?” I say “I don’t know” just to shut him up and plug my earphone back again. I don’t know what has changed in the past few minutes but I have developed a strange attraction towards her, I won’t talk shit about her from this point onwards. I think just because the dude has an upper hand that’s why I am feeling this firm urge of talking to her, knowing her, taking her to Austrian Alps, then sit naked by the fireplace, drink Sangria, probably paint her and then to forget myself. We can live happily and make lotta children.

“So what all places did you see today?” she asks me, I don’t have any words. Suddenly “Where do you go to my lovely” comes up on iPod, though the song is so beautiful and makes you fall in love in with Paris every time you hear it, I still remove my earphones and try to answer her. “Hmm…Louvre Museum, then took a boat tour on Seine river and clicked few pictures”, she replies “That’s lovely did you go to Notre dame too?”, “No but we will surely”. Then the dude interjects and starts asking her about India, “Do you know the Taj Mahal? It’s one of the Seven Wonders of the World like the Eiffel tower, but it’s not a tower”, she answers smilingly “Yes I know, I have been there”, the dude adds “I have been there too, actually I go there every summers and take a picture with Taj in the background. You wanna see it?”

I am listening to “Tiny Dancer” now, I periodically look at both of them and smile just show that I am very cool with dude doing all the talking and I don’t care if a stranger girl wants talk to me. I am acting as if it happens to me every day except for the fact that it doesn’t and I don’t remove my earphones and keep listening to the songs. “Lisztomania” comes up and I remember that Phoenix is a French band and currently my favourite too. Maybe because of the love for Phoenix I ask her “There is this new French band called Phoenix do you know about their upcoming concert?” She says “I know them, but they talk in English” she meant they sing. I say “Yes they won the Grammy awards this year and they are fairly cool”, she replies “I haven’t heard them but one of my cousin is friends with them, and sorry I don’t know about their upcoming concerts” I love the way she speaks English, it’s like a baby talking with lollipop in his mouth. She makes me mad.

Dude comes between us again and starts talking like the RJs of the cheesy Radio stations of Kanpur city. She then asks us “What plans you have for tomorrow?” the dude replies forthwith “We are absolutely free!!” For a split second, I too think that she’s gonna ask us to come out with her, like what happens in the movies after all this is Paris not Kanpur. But, thank god she doesn’t for it would have been very difficult to handle over-excited dude if she had asked. Instead she writes down names of some places on a piece of paper and suggests the dude to visit them. I feel ecstatic.

I lean back and put my earphones on again. I try to see outside, I can see few hazy street lights glowing and the lonely crystal drops of rain on my window pane. "The Only Living boy in New York" plays in the background...

*THIS IS A PURE WORK OF FICTION. NOTHING LIKE THIS EVER HAPPENED AND NEVER WILL.AMEN.

Muenchen Mag Dich

Somewhere in Europe, precisely Munich, Germany.

Many a times I had thought of writing about my journey from India to Deutschland but never really took this seriously till one very guten day. This Voyage has been interesting and pure fun. Maybe it is exactly what I wanted plus (minus) a lot more covariation effects, but now asking for more simply feels so covetous.I mean I am not like those geekiest nerdy pussies (American English meaning intended) who keep crying even when they get 98 on 100. I hate ‘em suckiest losers's bitches. Never mind, now it is the good time; well time was always good but I don’t know this time-zone feels so fine. One thing leading to another and this is what casacade called life is; full of small coincidences, few lovely faces, good food, good music, sleep and NOTHING else. Everything is so random. But more you try to find out what the purpose of life is the more confuse d you are, so I will not waste much of your time, just a little. You wake up one day and you don’t know how a very small object in this wild universe that doesn’t matter at all in the long run can make you feel so happy or unhappy. The dumbest thing is that we all are so stupid to cry for things. But again these small things (can be people sometimes) are what every moment is all about and I am not Gandhi I get angry when someone(read chicks) calls me ugly, or when I get low grades ( yes I am very serious this time, mommy) or when India loses to Bangladesh or when...ok leave it.

So coming back to this very momentous day, this was my first day at the Der Universitat Muenchen (University of Munich). Prof Dr. Eva (*she’s my angel, don’t worry I will explain everything) told me to be at the entrance of Psychology and Psychiatry Department by 8:30 am and so I was there sharp as the tips used in electron microscopes for shuffling atoms around individually, metaphorically speaking of course. The wind was very cold as moon and dry as IITK but, I was feeling restless and nervous as a Schizophreniac paranoid delusioned patient. I entered from the main gate and what I saw was what I had expected to, a bunch of doctors, running wearing their lab coats like the way the coolies run on New Delhi railway station but come on..desi coolies are way cooler. The feeling in the room was similar to the NewDelhi station to say the least. And then the really Big Kongress (meeting) of all the rich doctors started. It was in a big library containing all the similar looking books, you know what is being talked about here. Those books that no one has ever read and if a child asks his father, "papa why these all books look the same?" his dad would answer that they are different edition of the same book by his favourite fucking author. But the truth is that they are just kept there to make worthless junkies feel miserable about their inane multidirectional life. Fucks feel like they could have choosen a different path all together by spending their time reading these fucking books while actually they spent it scoring, fucking and doing nothing.

Surprisingly I was also invited to the Kongress, just as a new member( I felt like newbie of Scrubs) of the department. Okay, the Big Boss started asking the doctors something in German which I didn’t understand even a word. I say this because for past one week I was trying to learn german when I could have utilised that time doing something productive something like facebooking. Anyways, I guess he was inquiring what the cuss they all did during the past week or maybe whom they did. Still I was pretending hard to look serious & that I understood everything that was being talked about, few times even faked some laughs. Hahaha…guten..shit…that word goes with everything and then...

Yes this was it, the very moment which has inspired me to write this piece of story that might change lives of many people of the coming generations. Seriously this massive it is, I know you all will thank me in the end. Actually I mean my life and my progeny’s given I am productive enough. It goes like this, Prof Eva stood up and introduced me to approx 50 big doctors, big as in age, so I assumed they know a lot more than me about anything but that could have also been possible if they were younger. They all welcomed me by slowly tapping the round table around which they were sitting. It was a moment of pure joy. I never had achieved such great high in my life. I don’t know but it was AWESOME. At that moment an immense respect for the German people was born inside my heart and a new inspiration to work with 100 % on my project arose. You know back in India no professor or doctor would ever welcome a naïve baby boy like me by beating their desks or anyother thing. But they did, yes they did and nothing was ever the same....

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