I love Arshu so much. I love her to death. Aarish is just a week old, nothing much happening on his front. Just a lot of sleeping, pooping and sleeping. He will get his share of pampering too. For now Arshu is my jaan.

Christmas in Dallas

Binoy now has two kids he can spoil. Today so far has been a brilliant day, I got my nephew and his mom back from hospital, I saw Arshu open the Christmas gifts, I ate mom's food, I held Aarish in my arms, I sang to him and amazingly he stopped crying :)
Perfect eh!

Among all this there is one thing I haven't failed to notice. My mom. She has been working tirelessly behind the scenes. While my sis and jiju were in the hospital giving birth to the kiddo, mom worked tirelessly at home, feeding Arshu, entertaining her, cajoling her and diverting her attention every time she missed her parents, keeping the house in shape, preparing food, preparing her son's favourite dish, sleeping just 3 hours in the night, getting up early, packing food, getting Arshu ready for the hospital. I could go on really and it never would stop. My sis and I have tried countless times to get her to relax, to make her stop doing things and rest. She will, for that moment (just to make her children happy) agree and next time process repeat.

How can one woman hold so much love and dedication towards her family, her children, her grandchildren? Most of us would say that's what mom's are made of. Maybe. All I know is to me, my Mom is what defines Greatness. Selflessness. Love.

All I know is I have one week to make this Christmas the best Christmas she ever had.

I be.

Anfield Rises Again As An Era Falls

Sir Alex Fergusson has done his job brilliantly well. He has taken Manchester United from a mediocre club to where it stands today. And he has given hope to some pseudo fanatics that have risen during his reign. They all sing, they all chant the clubs name.

Anfield has seen all this. It has seen clubs rise and fall all through the century but never has it undermined its opponents. A Liverpudlian understands the beautiful game, we are the best supporters in the world but we respect them.
Period. Ata bas!

It's time to shove the respect up their candy asses. My brother hopes and hope he will; to not have to pick up the phone after having written such blasphemy. When "You Will Never Walk Alone" reverberates through Anfield, I feel helpless cause I won't be there to comfort my brother. Agony will be felt but I won't be there for brother. I wish things would have been different for him but then there is no cure for shortsightedness.

I will still call him and I won't laugh.
Hee Hee Hee.

I be.

Binoy knows. Binoy does.

December 14th.

Binoy intermittently struggles but Binoy knows better. Binoy awaits the coming of a new life in his family and tries to let go of another. Binoy is almost through but almost is still not there.

I be.

Janral Excitements

Sometimes you get bored of the usual excitements in life, don't you?
No, no. I ain't complaining but sometimes hota hai na? Or is it just me?

Just wondering.
I be.

Evidently Convoluted

I read a post on one of the blogs I have recently started following. I can't say if I got the point of the post, which more often than not, has been the case before but I felt it strike a similar chord in the life that I am leading. Maybe the same could apply to a lot of us, I don't know but to most of us its a reality we accept almost unknowingly.

With each passing year my life' gotten that much more complicated. It's a situation that can't be refuted neither do I try to hide it under the hood of wisdom. Every single relationship has had a new dimension added to it, evolved , getting more and more convoluted which no doubt has increased my understanding but at the same time made me more aware of myself. I am not the person I was one year ago, neither was I then the person I was the year before that.

What really changed between now and then? Every thought has lead me in a whole new direction. It would be interesting to trace the culmination of all our thoughts, our actions, choices that we made at different points in our lives, kind of like a parallel universe running at the same time and be able to look at where they would lead you. A different Binoy would emerge from each of 'em and quite possibly with different complications. I don't want to use the term 'wisdom', it's just such a freaking facade term, no? I could put a breakpoint here, carry on and look back at different points in life and each time I would have a different interpretation of the breakpoint.

I have branded some relations as gibberish, some mediocre and some of more importance to me, added levels of gibberish'ness', mediocrity blah blah blah and I will continue to do so moving ahead. That's life to me, what I do will influence you at some level and convolute your minds. Muhahahahaha!

This wasn't what I had in mind at the beginning but then wasn't that the point of this post?

I be.

Tiramisu. Or Not?

My country thrives on "Indianizing" things. From movies to education, automobiles to homes, we're post doctorates in making the alien familiar. Food is no exception. I can imagine Chinese folks screaming bloody murder upon seeing their culture's dishes morphed into something completely unrecognizable. How else can one explain the phenomenon called American Chopsuey. There is nothing American about it, neither is it remotely Chinese. But fact is that it sells. It's not just Chinese you know, every country worth mentioning have had their food duly indianized.

So what happens when an Indian leaves his home and comes to the United States? He knows not what Indianization means. All he really cares about is to keep his taste buds satisfied and the only way he has known it. There is a richness about the Indian adaptation that is hard to relinquish and forces comparison. I have known Tiramisu just one way and that is the culinary marvel dished out to me at Sanewadi. Let me give the magician her due first.
Ameeta Kulkarni. Those hands of her' make the most amazing desserts one could ever imagine which quite rightly needs the bottomless pits of Yours Truly' and Ashish' tummies to do justice.


Haan so back to Tiramisu. It's one of those culinary wonders that I can never have enough of, I don't know what goes on under the hood but I couldn't care less. I am now facing a kind of reverse comparison syndrome. Every italian restaurant I go to has to live up to this unfair expectation that is bound to not be met. It is getting more and more evident to me that it's no longer Tiramisu that Ameeta makes. She can, if you ask me, quite rightly give that amazing dish a new name or else these italians have a seemingly impossible task of trying to match up to her culinary wizardy.

Ooooooh the amalgamation of vodka, expresso coffee, cocoa. I tell you, pure ecstasy.
Indianization? What indianization?

I be.

The Salt and Lemon for a Good Tequila

I don't have an idea what I'm heading towards, but I couldn't be happier not knowing it. Some time back, I would take pride in the fact that I was in absolute control in spite of the fact that back then my life was as uncertain as it gets.

Things apparently seems to be shaping up pretty nicely now but I'm clueless. It's what I think I want but I fail to fathom its purpose now. Like I mentioned in my early post, reverting back to my old way of life is an option but me thinks not. I have moved on to something new, probably a new phase in my life. A little bit of quarter life crisis has crept in but then to be honest that was always there. Its not that I am unhappy. I am content, I really am. I have pampered myself tons and still continue to do so. Its not even that I have shrugged my responsibilities or duties, I do not believe in that. I have always tried to be the good son, the good friend,the good listener blah blah blah... but in spite of all that my life' heading in a direction unknown to me.

Do I want it to continue? Yes.
Do I want it to continue? No.
Do I want it to continue? I don't know.

Life' changed. I've moved on to better things, have struggled at times but handled the situation the only way I possibly could; by pampering myself. You sometimes tend to look over your shoulder but then that's normal. Mallya uncle is a big culprit sometimes. But that's alright really, you do not delve on your past but think of it as memories; good, bad or ugly. I never wanted to live a life of compromise, I still don't. But then they say everyone does, at some point accept it and embrace it as a part of life. I still wanna think that's not the case, the Binoy in me says you can still do it without the word 'compromise'. I wanna believe him.
I want to make it back out of the tunnel, I just don't know how.

Was this a sad post? Yes.
Was this a sad post? No.
Was this a sad post? I don't know.

I be.

Two Wise Asses in One Day!

Before I begin I must warn everyone that this is an anger venting out post. Peace-loving guys/gals, this is when you leave.

Today I write about the species that I absolutely loathe, the ones that incur my wrath. The kinds that have their inflated egos oozing out of everything that they do. I thrive on such specimens, almost derive sadistic pleasure venting out my anger and disgust for them. Let me backtrack a bit. I play badminton every Tuesdays and Thursdays. We, mostly guys working in Mentor, have a mailing group to correspond the playing activities. Pretty nice set of guys, some talented, some not really but sporting nevertheless and enthu public. But there is this guy named Laurent, dickhead of a guy, I have never seen him come to the baddy court since I've joined Mentor Graphics. Some of the players who have been playing here for long say that apparently he wasn't getting enough challenges playing with them. Alright, fair enough, maybe the case. I haven't seen or interacted with him ever but you can sense my dislike for him already. His responses on the mailing group (I repeat, he hasn't ever come to play since I have been here; 6 months) have only added to my constantly soaring abomination for him.

Today was really the icing. There was some discussion on the groups on our level of play (grading sorta thing). This bugger downgrades all those who bracket themselves as a C Grade player ( a reasonable assumption if you ask me) to D and emphatically states that he can defeat most of us even without training. He is now earmarked to receive ample dozes of utter contempt from me. He will come to play baddy, I will make sure of that, his ass thoroughly whipped and his inflated ego shoved up where the sun don't shine post which an email will be sent out to the groups with his Grade duly posted.

Not done yet. Coach of some apparent club/organization whatever comes to play with us. Even bigger ego and you may now be able to probably guess what happened next. Binoy' disgust was funnelled to Mr. Ego personified and Binoy, of course derived his doze of sadistic pleasure for the day.

I came across two wise asses of my favored genre on the same day. How often does that happen?

I be.

Vegas Vegas

Its one of the few cities that lives up to its enormous hype. Complete respect for the guy who came up with the idea of building that city in the middle of nowhere. Alright, not as much as Mr. Mallya but still. You have the casinos, the celebrities, the nightclubs, the buffets. Profligacy, overindulgence, grandiose, pomposity, extravagance. Las Vegas does absolute justice to all of them.

If you wanna truly live the city, leave your prudent minds back home and for once live life Kingsize. Its completely worth it. The one great thing about the city is almost everyone on the strip have come from different parts of the globe with one common goal; to have the time of their lives. Neither knows the other and that's the best part; all strangers with the right attitude. Wanna have a taste of it? Get into the nightclub at Caesar' Palace, experience the crowd, dance all night long and at the end of it try and locate your friends. 90% chances you wouldn't care.
Next night, another nightclub. Process repeat.

The city comes alive in the night, sleeps the day, eats the buffet between 2-5 till its time for the lights to glitter the dessert once again. No assumptions, no pretense (of course not taking into account the absolute pretense that is the city) you get what you see.

Spoil yourself while you're there, maybe dance with one of the pole dancers at the bar, maybe not but do the things you have been desperate to cross off the list of things to do. End of it all rest assured, What Happens In Vegas Stays In Vegas.

Did I mention that I made some bucks too? :)

I be.

Back in office. Staring at the screen in front of me, coffee keeping me awake. Thank God for Dave Mathews.

Possible Dilemma

We constantly keep changing, what we view and perceive is largely dependent on our state of mind at that point. Do we always change for the better? Or is it possible that we know we ain't changing for the good but it feels bloody good to have changed. What do you do when you are stuck in such a situation? Revert back to the old way of life or persist with the change? What if for the first time in your life, you don't seem to be in control of what you do?

This thought comes to me on the eve of my Thanksgivings Vegas trip. I know I now hold the capacity to blank myself to any negative thought and go have the time of my life. The change lets me do that at the expense of clarity.

What path do I choose? Is there a way I can merge the two of them? Buddies who know me would be surprised to see me in this dilemma but fact is I am confused. I think I am at the threshold beyond which my entire life would be determined accordingly. But then there is always this possibility that another change could happen. That said I can think of only one single event that has changed my being. Can lightning really strike twice?

Tomorrow evening I will be on my way. This weekend will rock nonetheless. I know my choice for now.

Binoy has changed.

Moments

How many times in life have we been left asking the question, "I wish I could have re-lived that moment once more?" I have too, a lot many times. The moments that enrich our memories, bring a smile on your face, sometimes tears. Moments that leave an indelible mark on your soul.

A 2 year old kid waiting on the veranda, tirelessly and the moment he catches a shadow far away walking back home towards him, the look on his face says it all. His happiness knows no bound, his mom has come home from work. It' freaking amazing how I remember it so clearly. I did that everyday, I don't know how I kept track of time at that age but somehow I did.
The first time I rode my bicycle from my place to grandpa' , not before going through a million falls. The feeling of independence ; of being able to ride away anywhere I wished.
The first time I was named in the school football team, 5th grade. The first time I got to wear the No.10 Jersey :) .My first goal.
My first crush. It' quite true what they say, till it lasts everything seems beautiful and amazing.
The pride on mom's face when 10th grade results came out, second in school. Double doze of that when I made to the merit list in 12th. I did it for mom's and grandpa's sake, 2 people I know had their chests filled with pride. Too bad grandpa wasn't around by then but I am sure he was shouting out to the guys up there, "That's what's called Osmosis!" :)
The first time I drove Ashish' Yamaha. The sessions at the park outside Ashish' place, the school katta outside Nani's place.
Aachaey' laughter sessions, then ground rolling sessions and eventually death by laughter.
The first (and probably the last) time I fell in love. The first kiss. The first gift I got her. The bike, the girl and Sinhagad.
Phone call. Aunty. Covering Ashish' ass, he returning the favour later.
The day my niece announced her arrival. The first time she called me, "'noy"
The day I left India, the day I came back home.
Living 24 hours a day in Canada, the one time in life when I tried the hardest to freeze time.
The day I bought my car, the drive from Gresham to Hillsboro.
The time I bought mom a diamond pendant chain, her look (I am telling you; priceless). I am still thinking of ideas that would let me see that face again.

So many moments still crystal clear in my head. I do not ask the same question now, instead I live to create moments that will be frozen for eternity.

I choose not to document the bad ones, firstly cos they are not worth mentioning and secondly cos I have locked them up with keys that has a mind of its own and I am too lazy a guy to search for them. :)

I be.

Keeda Time

There have been a lot of stuff I have meddled with, a lot of things I have played around with, just to make things a lil more exciting. It could be as serious as doing stuff enough to get me suspended, maybe expelled from college to something as insignificant as nagging Roomy (the man with eternal patience) till even he loses it. I do this on a regular basis much to the dissatisfaction of some, but at the same time entertainment of many others. More commonly referred to as 'keeda's in my part of the country. I have lost count of my numerous actions that could have gotten me into some serious shit. Most of the times I had an accomplice/s but sometimes I have had to go through it all by myself; memorable nonetheless.

Flash back, 2nd - 3rd grade, we had this huge gang in society that would meet up every evening after school. Galli cricket, gilli-danda, dabai...spice ( I still don't know if that's what its called but that's what we said always, so that's what it is) you name it, we played it all. Enter villain, a well-built middle aged, bald, paan spitting 'Uncle' from Building 3, his sole purpose being to disrupt our plans (at least that's what we felt at that time).
Galli-cricket - ' Bhagoon idhar se, humaare flat ka kaanch thodna hai kya?'
Dabai...spice - 'Itna shor kyun macha rahein hoon, samajta nahi yahaan log rehte hain?'
We had enough of him. This man was marked for destruction. It was time for our annual summit meeting behind closed doors. (actually it was more of a weekly get together at a small place we had made out of discarded truck tyres but it needs to sound a lil more serious, no?) March was fast approaching and Holi was the set date for the planned attack. Water balloons filled with 'chemical' colours were installed at prime locations, my 3rd floor flat being one of them, pichkaaris (again filled with 'chemical' colours) given to the brave soldiers to engage in close warfare. We were ready for a 'chemical' war.

I barely slept the previous night. Morning 7.30 am, the Target emerged from the passage of Building 3 walking towards his scooter. I knew what I had to do. Water bombs exploded onto him and the scooter, you could see terror written all over his face. I emptied the rest of the bucket and raced down to assist the brave soldiers in their close combat.
Ata littel twist in story; by the time I reached the spot, the brave ones had already pelted him with the needful and were well on course to shelter and safety. Ahem! Ahem! Your's truly literally ran into the target's hand. I was caught and my weapon snatched from me. I was stripped of my artillery (a few remaining water 'bombs') and was being dragged hanging by my shirt sleeves to be reported. I had to act fast or else I was gonna be in big trouble. You know these are the moments that separate the men from the boys, the true heroes from the wannabes. I was hanging by the man's hands and my fate to be decided by the paan spitting baldy.In that one moment of inspiration I made a last ditch attempt, rotated myself 180 degrees and bit the man's hand as hard as I possibly could. I was let loose and believe you me, freedom never felt so good. I ran as fast as I possibly could, exit society into the next one and hid there for what felt like eternity. (10 minutes to be precise)


I had escaped from the claws of the enemy that day. If you guys are wondering that my actions would have been reported anyways ah! ah! ah! think again. Your' truly had done his homework well. I had seen a lot of Predator kinda movies to know how to well disguise myself and the bottomline is what fun is Holi if you don't colour yourself. I had painted my face in black and white stripes, coloured my hair red and had made myself unrecognizable even to the best of detectives. :) We had our revenge.

Moral of the Story: Watch T.V. for educational purposes only.

This ones for all my partners in crime, my life is as colourful as it can be.

I be.

The Kop

Liverpool defeated Fulham this weekend, we moved up to 4th with a game in hand. This year we look like a force to reckon with but we have lacked the consistency needed to win the League. That said I am an eternal believer that glory days are just round the corner.

I have been a childhood supporter of the club, the club I dreamed of playing for. I remember the first time a 19 year old curly haired Scouser by the name of Steve McManaman, walked onto the Anfield ground. There was an air of expectancy and being a local lad the Anfield crowd were behind him in his first game for the senior team. It took him time to showcase his skills but far away from Melwood, in a city that sits about 3 hours from Bombay, a Liverpudlian was born. Soon Robbie Fowler hit the scene and I knew I was gonna be a Red for life. Back in those days (in the 3rd - 4th grade) Doordarshan was synonymous to T.V. and the 'internet' was as cryptic as Einstein' Theory. Forget the club, I don't think people even knew what EPL stood for. You might wonder how the hell did I follow the club. Simple really, everyday without fail, the first thing I did was to open the second last page of Indian Express and on the right hand topmost corner was a small section on European football updates. My parents might have been proud to see their son with a newspaper in his hand at that age but all I really cared about was to see Liverpool kick some ass.

Actually I started out supporting AC Milan but in about a year' time Liverpool became my passion. How did Liverpool appeal to me is a pretty juvenile story in itself. As a boy in school I always wanted to end up being in the Red House. Red as a colour appealed to me and being a part of Red House filled me with a sense of pride ( I eventually ended up in the Blue House). The picture of Steve McManaman in all red, the tradition that was The Kop and the Reds undying support for the men in red just seem to fit in the scheme of things. Over the years that bond with Anfield has grown manifolds. I am a Liverpudlian for life.

I always dreamt of playing for Liverpool one day. The Kop behind me singing "You Will Never Walk Alone" meant everything to me. You might have already guessed that football runs in my system but beyond that playing for Liverpool was a dream I cherished and hoped to achieve. And then of course the boy grew up to realize that he had to wake up from his dreams and do something "realistic" in life. But dream that will always be and maybe not as a player, I will be in Anfield one day cheering my team on from The Kop. I plan to visit England in summer next year and I am drooling at the prospect of stepping foot on the sacred ground of Anfield, maybe get lucky enough to get hold of tickets and watch The Reds in action.

I be.

P.S: Hrishi, Anoop I hope you get the drift. :-)

I saw the pain again. Everything came rushing back to me as though it was just yesterday. This time the pain was someone else' but it was agonizing nonetheless. A good soul he is but that counts for peanuts. I honestly hope history doesn't repeat itself, if at all, I hope there isn't a history created. Hope. The word on which so many judgments come to rest upon. The reason for rejoicing or dismay. The person who had thrown hope out of his dictionary now comes to hope for someone else. Irony? yeah but for what it's worth, he wishes it be the reason to rejoice.

That said and if God forbid the worst be true then I won't give you cliche gyaan such as time heals but I will show you how to live life to the fullest in spite of it. There is so much more to life that we can't dream of accomplishing in one lifetime but I assure you that dream we will and that we will experience.

Keep the faith brother.

Laughter Theory

There is a simple way to gauge some of the really involved stuff in life. Take for instance friends. How do you differentiate between your friends, buddies if you will? It isn't a difficult thing to say who are your friends and who ain't. That's not what I am talking about. Its within this domain of friends that there are a few who are just beyond anything. The people who don't, so much as move an eyelid in protest, when asked for something to be done, the ones who have your back covered no matter what the situation.

There is a very easy way to know them, rather realize them. Pick up the phone and start talking to them. If you continue to only talk over a period of 2 mins with those occasional smiles; naah they are just friends. On the other hand if you end up on the floor laughing your guts out, you know your talking to one of your buddies, the beyond anything ones.
Simple, no?
It works. The ones that you laugh the most and the hardest are the ones you keep close to your heart. It doesn't matter how lame the conversation is, how long its been since you spoken to him/her, the first 2 mins will confirm my theory.

Over the years me and my buddies have evolved this system where things, no matter how bad they are, are mere tools for situational laughter sessions. There have been times when you have your back to the wall, bloody messed up in life and what do you do?
Enter buddy. The next 15 mins are spent on tearing apart the situation to shreds and ground rolling laughter session follows. Passerby' look at you with utter bewilderment but you don't care no shit. As grave the situation was just a few mins back, utter mockery of the situation is what is accomplished and by now, no one really cares which one of their buddy is in bad shape. Nusta uncontrollable laughter is all that remains.

I spoke to my friend... oops buddy today, I marooed a random statement, there was 2 long secs of lambi khamoshi and laughter followed. There was no point but bhaat's the point anyways. These are the moments that define your buddiness quotient. Cling on to them with all that you have and maybe more. Life seems a lot better with them around. This post' dedicated to all those buddies out there, you know who you are. Happy Laughing.

I be.

Bhaat a Homecoming.

Dec 15th.
1.30am. Sahara airport, Mumbai. Ashish, Dennis. Tapri-chai. No trash-bag. Desh. :-). Dennis' hostel. Aloo paratha, pickle. Sleep.
Lunch.
4.30pm. Neeta Travels. Lonavla. Baner. Delirium.
Paud Road. Cherry. Durga - Cold Coffee. Cold Coffee. Cold Coffee. Cherry' car. Aundh Road.
1.30am. Anuradha Apts. No.15. Doorbell. Lights. Mom. Bewilderment. Happiness. Love. Hugs.
3.00am. Me. Ashish. Mutton Biryani. Ecstasy.
4.30am. Kinetic. Karve Road- Chai Tapri. Gokhale Hostel. TT.
7.00am. Breakfast. Home. Slumber.
1.00pm Lunch. Bliss. Siesta.
5.00pm. Sanewadi. Ashish' parents. Evening Tea. Conversation.

That was the weekend of Dec 15th, 2006 when I came back home. Desh. Who would have guessed that 24 hours prior to that I was going through the most painful time of my life. I have been on an extended vacation ever since. This Dec I won't be going back, I won't be going back to the city that has seen me grow into what I am today. There are certain things that hurt... really bad, which seem to be spread all across the city and till I get comfortable with that fact I will continue my vacation here. But the weekend of Dec 15th, 2006 will always remain embossed in my heart, it got me through a barricade of pain.

Ashish, I never did thank you for this but I'm sure you know how much that weekend meant to me. Haan fir!

I be.

All of Mine

Yesterday I paid up the loan for my car. My first car and I own it now, completely. My first big and the single most special purchase that I have made to date. At least for me, this seems such a huge achievement.

I remember the time in 5th grade, mom had bought us a new bicycle. It was primarily for my sister but I refused to accept that. My sis hated me then, I didn't like the fact that she was my elder sister either. But at the same time it made getting hold of the bicycle and cycling away to some place far, that much more exciting. Those days I dreamt of owning a Yamaha. That was like the ultimate achievement for me. Today I own my own Honda but not before going through a crap load of transitions. See the thing was that whatever my sis discarded would be invariably given to me so you see I didn't get to do a lot of choosing. She left the bicycle for a Sunny, then the Sunny for a Kinetic. Yours truly got his sis' discards. Binoy wasn't too happy but wasn't complaining either. And then one day Binoy turned 18 and it was time again for the switch to happen, sis' Kinetic was the natural outcome but he put his foot down. It was time to realize his dream, his very own Yamaha - RD350... alright who I am kidding here, a Yamaha RX100 (you see if I had asked mom for RD350 then my sis' Kinetic would be the natural outcome) Turned out RX100 didn't happen either, the buggers stopped production and mommy dearest wasn't too keen to see her son on a second hand beauty racing away on her investment. So Honda Splendor was what I got and boy did she serve me well. I was able to convince Ashish to get Yamaha RX100 (the bugger still thinks he owes me big time for that) which made my life that much more easier. I had the bike whenever I wanted ( the bugger always gave it willingly with a deep sense of gratitude). The ride to the Sinhagad's and the Mulshi's was that much more ...... aaaaaaahhhhh! ( you can sense the nirvana attainment type sa mode) better still your girl with you, with the wind behind you and the mountains in front, the river flowing by.... kay ata! What Buddha!? What kinda nirvana were you talking about sitting under a tree.

Flash forward - Things have changed, countries have changed, I sit in Portland writing this blog with a car of my own and money at my disposal but I would, without a second thought, let go of all this to live that life once again. Don't be mistaken, I love my car, she's gonna be mine for a long time to come but it's just a matter of time before I will be back home, to good ol' Pune, vroooming past the chai tapri at Khadakwasla enroute to the bhajias up on the mountains.

I be.

A child who blogs

Of late I have been wondering why I do the things I do. It takes me precisely 20 seconds to give up and get on with my merry way. But with blogging... things are different, I am actually trying to continue to wonder. I need something to write, don't I?

This arbit fascination to trace myself has lead me to blogging. Alright, sounds like a logical explanation but blogging?!?! I don't think Binoy is the kind of person who blogs. But then that's the thing right, Binoy has this undying need to do everything in life. He has been like that since ever. Which gets me back to my original question, does this answer the question? Maybe, maybe not.

It's beginning to rain more consistently now. There are gonna be days on end when people here will start questioning the existence of an entity called sun. The North-west cities are known for such weather, it could get depressing at times. Not to me though. I live a life where I choose to get depressed or not. People might say that might not be completely in my control but fact is I have been doing it for the past 10 months and with a good degree of success. There are those occasional niggles; alright sometimes a tornado of sorts but at some subconscious level you choose to trigger its termination or continue to propel it. To a large extent my support system (for the record I have an awesome set of people doing that job marvelously well) help me stabilize. Sports, this might be a first for many, brings me a lot of happiness. No I don't mean fun by happiness, happiness as 'happiness' was meant to be used, speaking of which mid-week I played a lot of baddy, thankfully my arm was responding well and I showed no signs of the tennis elbow problem that has plagued me in recent times.

That said I just realized what is the point of this post. I still refrain from letting reasoning cloud my decisions. I am still a child. I haven't grown up, in fact I never did intend to grow up. 20 seconds is the attention span permitted, beyond that thinking is just a waste of time. So here's the situation, I am a child who blogs!! A child who wants to trace down his thoughts someplace... sounds ridiculous to me but it sure does sound like a thing Binoy would do.

I be.

P.S: The Ducks defeated the Trojans. Ashish, if you ever get hold of my blog I repeat... The Dhucks defeated the Trojhanzz, what you keep telling me about Red Sox. Shya man.

This time golf to the rescue.

7.45 am.
I woke up to the sound of the alarm. Like its happened so many times before, my past catches up and for that fleeting second, I can choose to ponder further or continue to keep myself happy. I choose the later.

I spoke to my friend yesterday, she told me that we speak differently now. I know that but pretend to not know, she does the same. Pretense seems to have become my way of life really, I am not too happy about that albeit it keeps me happy. Irony I know, but to be frank I pretend not to see that either.

Monday morning but I wasn't getting the blues. Post lunch I was heading out to Lake Oswego for a golf lesson. Golf, btw is not that bad...at all; in fact it can get pretty exciting. For that matter most sports do. It funny how I get a kick out of sports. It's true what Ashish keeps saying, I am a sports freak. They taught us all the basics, putting, chipping and the drives. I figured out a rather strange way to hit the ball hard and long, kind of a modified Gilmore way, unconventional but does the trick. I came back home hugely satisfied, had dinner and sat down to write this post.

I have decided to write myself somewhere and thus the post. It seems a largely eventful and satisfactory day for me but at the end of the day when all' said and done, a big chunk of me is still missing. Tomorrow morning I would be faced with the same choice but then that's to think for tomorrow.

I be.

P.S: I made this really awesome gulab jamuns on Sunday, my first attempt at it and I must say, not bad at all Mikey!

29th October 2007

I have been regular at Ashish' blog and sometimes Dennis too. I'm not half as gifted a writer as them and do not intend to be one either.

Until now my status at gmail was an indicator of my thoughts. A lot of things have happened, a lot will still happen but this time I hope to be able to look back and see myself in it. This might just be my first and last post or maybe the first of many to come.

I be.