To all the fillies....

i guess incompetence in any aspect can be very depressing and demoralising to one's
esteem and dignity. and imagine how bad things can turn out to be if u realize such
things in a toilet!!oki folks... m not goin in the sense that u might have been tempted to think by the
previous line. it jus so happened that i was at this pub called 'thousand oaks',
wid ma friends....Pune was wet and ppl were gettin drenched everywhre. i was excited about the
prospect of meetin my old skool frnd after 6 long yrs and i also realized that time
can change ppl wen he said that " pune mein baat karne ke liye bhi peena padtha
hai.. come over to thousand oaks" .. i obliged n the plan was set.we met up and started talkin loads of things abt the past and the present with me
feelin ever claustrophobic in that 'ambience'. i was quick to correct myself.. it's
not time that changes ppl, it's booze! We were 6 of us and of course i couldn tell
them that i was a 'tam bram' or maybe "i don't.. at least anymore", and accepted to
have a mug of beer. Of course i had my eyes set on the plates of finger chips and
other delicacies that were being ordered parallely. The cold atmosphere and the
beer did what they r so good at doin and in due course of time i had to go to the
loo....i found my way to the restrms and as all of a sudden i felt like the villge guys
they show in movies, who come to the big cities and stare at unseen or unheard of
things, not knowing how to react or what to do. there were two toilet doors as in
most villages but what was written on them, caught me unawares. one had colts
written on it and the other had fillies on it!! i almost screamed, "for heavens
sake someone tell me where to go?". i waited there tryin to guess which door was
meant for guys. it was almost a minute as i stood staring at the doors wen a really
hot female came by, apparently for the same reasons as i. "Nature s SO NOT not
biased", i felt. to prevent myself from a potentialy embarassing situation, i
started itchin my eye as if some evil force was tryin to pull it out (m sorry to
all the smart guys readin this, but that s the best 'I' could muster at that point
to show that i had a valid reason to be standing outside the toilet doors!). Out of
courtesy, i guess, she asked me if i was fine, jus as i felt that she would end my
confusion by openin one of the doors. i wanted to do a "chance pe dance" and tell
her that i had somethin in my eye and expect her to blow it away.. at least out of
more courtesy. but u know what... sometimes u need serious balls to do things!! she
was too hot for me to even speak. but what i DID manage to see thru the eye, that
apparently did not itch, was the fact that even she was a newy to the place, and
was wonderin at which door to open. immediately i felt SO much better that i told
her that i was fine... now. she gave me the "which door?" look. i told her, with an
attitude that was cooler than the beer that i had jus consumed, and with a smile
that would make an ass bray, "'F' for females... so 'F' for fillies..." and
confidently opened the door that boldly read colts, jus horribly wishin that my
lucky stars were out and blessin me. As i went in, successful with my guess, i realized, that the fact that a colt s a
male horse, had crossed my mind wen i made that dumb statement and as i answered nature's call... a shiver went thru my body as the thought emerged
"what if it was 'C' for chicks.. and so 'C' for colts?"!!!! n then of course 'F'
would have stood for f****rs like me.

HARRY.. WHO??

I saw my cousin sis read some flicked manuscript of the deathly hallows with such vehemence that I started wondering if there was any Hogwart graduate on the screen trying to mesmerize and pull her inside. She remained blissfully ignorant of whatever was happening around her till she finished reading the entire thing. There were moments when I was getting bored and wished I was Harry da puttar who could do some magic and pull her back!
I came back home a couple of weeks back and I happened to go and watch the order of phoenix last Monday. To the amazement of most of you folks… it was the first time I was seeing Daniel Radcliffe anywhere else other than paper. I have always wondered what was so great in the entire series of Rowling’s production that generated so much interest. And throughout the movie, I was still wondering, because the movie came very close to beating jhoom barabar jhoom at making me doze off.
My friend had given me a synopsis of the previous 4 editions that morning so that I would accept his invitation and give him company for the movie. I couldn’t believe the glare and excitement on the 23 yr old guy’s face when he said, “ U know what, avada kedavra ( or smthin of that sorts) when cast on a person, can kill!!”. And ,oh yes!! I saw him jump off his seats when the spell was cast on Sirius Black by the ‘Dark Lord’.... (apparently the bad guy should never be named??!!). I just waited for the interval to get my hands on a pack of Lays and then waited again till I could get back home… safe.
Past two days there has been a fervor, unimaginable, for the release of the deathly hallows. I just fail to understand the craze. But, neways everyone is always allowed his/her own share of stupidity and…. Skewed thinking.
I have been staring at the broom ever since….. Wishing that the train from Manchester to London, 17 years back, hadn’t been delayed by 4 God damn hours. And why on earth didn’t Rowling make it “The Boy Who NEVER Lived….”…………….. with due regards to all u Pottermaniacs.

Fascinating Desperation

The ball whizzed past the cover fieldsman as Makhaya Ntini looked in utter disbelief at what had just happened to the well pitched up delivery of his, outside off stump and a hint short of good length. The entire cricketing fraternity watching the match would have expected any batsman to have left the ball go through to the wicketkeeper and allow the bowler to derive the weird pleasure of giving the batsman a “did ya see that?” look. Herchelle Gibbs was standing at covers and had the best chance of stooping the thunder bolt, but he managed to just watch it fly, two yards away from him, in awe, and they said he was the best in the business of fielding within the 30 yards. A.B. De Villiers, at point, immediately tried to mimic the shot he had just seen, secretly imagining if he could do something similar to that, at least once, in the 15 odd years of cricketing that he still has in him. Greame Smith didn’t bother to go up to his bowler to utter words of encouragement because he himself looked in desperate need of some. Somebody fetched the ball from the fence and Shaun Pollock, the seasoned campaigner, immediately was working on it to try and maintain the sheen that the bowlers require. One thing was sure, the ball was 3 overs old and the sheen was fast disappearing with every impact that it was receiving. Jacques Kalis was at second slip and was wondering if this, otherwise dominant and famed bowling attack of his team, would be left with any dignity by the close of play. His figures read 12-2-65-1. Like Navjyot Sidhu says, “statistics are like mini skirts, they hide more than what they reveal“. In the initial 8 overs of those 12, Kallis had conceded just 23. By now he probably wished he fell unconscious on the ground out of dehydration and they carried him away, before his captain would ask him to bowl again. He hadn’t by any means received the respect normally expected by a cricketer who is rated as the world’s best all rounder. Pollock had just been murdered the previous over and it was obvious that the bowler would be changed the next over. Andre Nel was the first change and he wondered from deep third man if he should start complaining of a hamstring. In his initial spell he was his normal aggressive self and had compulsively taunted, stared and bounced the batsman who had , then, just looked away, and was now staring right down his throat. It was PAYBACK time! The scoreboard read 364-7 and the tail ender was batting in total comfort with the unconquered batsman who had come in at no.3 and was now batting on 174. Ashwell Prince had missed a chance to get rid of this menace when he was on 23 but then it was a chance that some lenient gurus of the sport would dismiss as being called a ‘chance’. Now the Prince Himself had a chance to build his repertoire of making big hundreds and he was doing it in his unique grandiose style that has been unmatched since the days of David Gower. He was the prince of the island nations of Trinidad and Tobago and probably even the Gods watched from the heavens when he came in to bat with the maroon jersey and helmet and held his magic wand in his hands that read LARA 400. With all that was going around with the decline of Caribbean cricket, he was God’s gift to the game and they call him Brian Charles Lara.