Stocktaking

31st December. It’s time to take stock of the year gone by.

It’s time to gloat over the highs and crib about the lows of the past twelve months. The events of the last month are actually too fresh in my mind to count as history, so while they may be the highlight of the year, they do not get recounted here.

Some vignettes of the year gone by.

My Trip to Ladakh.
Fantastic experience though I regretted the fact that I was too timid to take the Manali Leh bus option in the absence of a confirmed booking.
Flying in to Leh – mind-blowing!

Flying out – take some sedatives before you leave for the airport.
It takes about three hours of lead time for a flight that takes less than an hour. Blew my top at some ABCD who tried to cut ahead of me in the security check line. Did wonders for my ability to sit out the next 45 minutes in the security area.

My Birthday holiday in the Konkan.
This was my off year so no Party. Drove down to some amazing beaches along the Konkan. Goa is way too over-rated. The beaches in Maharashtra are way better, cleaner and less crowded.

All that being said I ended up spending the Birthday in Goa itself because like so much else in Maharashtra, we as a state can never develop the infrastructure to match the potential.

The idea of spending the birthday in a situation where I have to have dinner and retire to bed (alone!!! I might add) by 9 in the evening was way too unacceptable.

Goa certainly had a lot more to offer besides the sun, sand, and sea that Tarkarli did.

Managing to break the 90 K barrier on the downside.
Considering that I started the year at 102 getting down to 86 was a major achievement. A lot of sweat and hard work had gone into getting there. The downside was that post 9/11 (2005 that is) circumstances conspired against me which tipped the scales upwards to the point where I am today back at 92.

Comparative snaps of me on a camel in Pushkar last year and in Ladakh this year.

Considering though that the last month has been a dietary disaster I guess I should be grateful for the fact that I managed to keep the weight flat through that tumultuous period.

Taking the NSE Certification Exams.
Considering that I was going into student mode for the first time in over 2 decades, I think I managed pretty well. 70+ in one and 80+ in the other. I guess I still got what it takes to be a geek.

The fact that all the cramming for the exams happened only in the last 48 hours shows that while a part of me has matured (I had carefully planned the two exams with a months gap between the two) at heart I am still the immature kid that pushes deadlines to the furthest point only to see at which point I start to panic.

The last month! (Sorry could NOT resist putting it in)
One of the best times of the year –without a doubt. The Downside is that with all the paperwork that has been piling up over the period, the next month is going to be a bitch.

Live 8.
Entertainment beyond compare! Watching and listening to the bands and the music that I grown up on was amazing. Would have loved to have able to been live at any of the venues.
The Downside was of course having to see a sexy band like Duran Duran as senior citizens. Plus the fact that they showed Pet Shop Boys only do one number.

Live 8 also features on the list because it pretty much broke the writers block that I had succumbed to. For those of you who may have not had the (mis)fortune of having been e-mailed that one I am posting it.

New Addictions!
The Hash Harrier thing started nearly two years back so that does not count.
This year the commitment to doing the Dream Run surprised me. A friend was supposed to get me registered and then missed the deadline so was on the verge of giving up when the Tsunami struck. The net result was that they opened up a special category of registrations for guys donating for the cause. I don’t think I have ever sent in an SMS as fast as I did this one.
Seriously looking forward to the run this year. And working towards the next target of doing a half marathon before I am 50.

Blogging!!
Has to feature in the list. Came late to the party but knowing me I will catch up with the rest pretty soon. A friend who reads this and makes rude comments about them in public has been pushing me to save all these posts with the idea that I can at some time publish these as a book. (and you still believe I (!) have the Sindhi genes).

With all these new distractions have missed out on my Scrabble Tournaments. I don’t do great in these pretty much because I refuse to buy and cram the Scrabble Dictionary. Which is why I very often forget that Koa, Koi, Kon and Kyu are all vaid word forms. As are Qadi, Qaid, Qats and Qoph. But I do enjoy the tournaments and am determined to make time for them this year.

No plans for tonight!
Big negative. The idea of being a wallflower at Karma cribbing about the senseless music is way too off-putting. The only upside is that there will be a lot of familiar faces there and you want that at the start of a New Year. Though there’s 11 hours to go and knowing me that’s time enough for things to change.

PS Here is evidence of what a free half hour provoked yesterday. A New Look for the New Year.

Breaking the Block

In case you are wondering why no leg of the Live 8 concert was scheduled in India here for the first time is the real story!

Bob Geldof originally planned to have a leg of the concert in Amchi Mumbai but gave up on the idea when he heard of the ordinance planned by the State Government which would require the organizers having to pay a tax of Rs. 2,500/-- per lakh of African Debt that was paid off or cancelled.

The next choice of the Bangalore Palace Grounds ran into a hurdle when a fringe militant group insisted that they would not let any artiste from Maharashtra perform unless the State Government of Maharashtra agreed to give up its claims on Belgaum district. Seeing them the Kanada Krishi Kamitee (KKK) insisted that they would stage a dharna against the show unless Tamil Nadu agreed to release its claim on the Cauvery waters.

Delhi unfortunately was never an option since the Left Front had made it clear that any performance that was used to retire government debt of a Foreign Country would be a clear breach of the UPA Common Minimum Programme. Sitaram Yechury went on record to say that if any person tries to sing at the Jawaharlal Nehru grounds the Left Front would immediately start barking and may even get down to sniping at the heels of the UPA. Mr. Raja categorically stated that this was a sinister plan by Multinational Companies to take over the Peoples Movement within the country which for years had been the private preserve of the Left Front.

Mr. Lalu Prasad Yadav withdrew his offer to host the event in Patna when he realized that all the funds collected would be distributed outside of Bihar."Ee kaisee na-insafee ki hamre Bihar me hum Tamasha karvaye aur paisaa auroo ko mile?"

Plans to host the event in Luknow fell through when the proposed Chairman for the event Mr. Amar Singh saw that in the seating arrangements planned for the event "Bade Bhaiya" Amitabh would have to sit in the eight row.

Dr. J. Jayalalita categorically went on record to say that she would not permit any performance by any artiste in Tamil Nadu unless they agreed to perform only in Tamil. "This whole show is merely another sinister attempt by the Centre to impose Hindi on the ancient Tamil culture and we will ensure that it does not succeed".

At the national level protests were also lodged by the Shiv Sena who threatened to destroy the stage at any venue planned if any Pakistani artiste were invited to perform.

The BJP also objected to the plans for the event claiming that it was a sinister plot to undermine traditional Indian culture by allowing artistes in skimpy clothes dancing to music played on "western instruments". Sushma Swaraj lamented that this was to be expected from a party led by a foreigner who had no idea of our Glorious Indian Traditions.

An idle mind...

To all of you who are bored with the three wise men in the background of all my webcam snaps I promise I will move them elsewhere in the New Year

Wishlist for the New Year

No way am I going to ask for World Peace or an end to poverty. This list is about Personal Gratification. This is totally Hedonistic and altogether about ME.

It's a list of the 10 top desires that I wish I can fulfill in the next year. So all of you who forgot to buy me stuff for Christmas I've just made life a lot easier for you.

Most of it is stuff that money can buy (except for the No. 1) so it should not be too difficult for any of you to get them for me.

Give me any of these things before the New Year and I will forgive you:-

At the bottom of the list at No. 10 A 32" waist

At this point I'm about 7" away from the target. Nibbled away 4" last year so I guess by the time I qualify for the "dirty old man" title I should be stunning enough to be irresistible to all the young men that I may choose to seduce.

No. 9 Tickets to the Confessions on a Dance Floor Concert

Let me be a tad specific here. I do not want tickets to a show where the likes of Navalkar & Co may be involved as Moral Police.


No. 8 Neuroshell Trader Professional Edition

Probably one of the best charting and analysis programs.


No. 7 St. Athanasios Island

A small little plot of land to rest my weary body on this 2.5 acre plot is available for a steal at around a million USD



No. 6 The Tiburon SE

Lets face it I am a loyal Hyundai customer and I think that despite the fact that this is a manual transmission car I would buy it merely because I love their after sales service. Two door, low slung, leather trim, it's totally my kind of car.


No. 5 The Nikon Coolpix 8800

The old Sony Cybershot is looking seriously dated when compared to the newer cameras available and what makes it even less attractive is the fact that I have the same resolution on my cell phone.


No. 4 Bluetooth™ Music Handsfree HBM-30

It's a fantastic little gizmo that pretty much makes my life at the gym a lot less hassled. An MP3 player with a phone blue tooth integrated into it. It's a combination that is as perfect as vanilla ice-cream and chocolate sauce. If I get this I promise I will not ask for the new O2 phone.

No. 3 The Thinkpad XTablet

Ok so the sticker says Lenovo but we all know that behind it is the BIG Blue. If you have to go mobile you have to do it in style. And NOTHING says style more than a Tablet (The carbon alloy Ferrari laptop - maybe).


No. 2 The Apple MacMini

Yeah I know you are going to say that Apples and IBM do not mix. But honestly they are more compatible than we give Microsoft credit for (they own Apple after all). Though the reason that the Mac figures on my list is because IBM do not make as sexy a desktop machine and Apple make very dull laptops.

And at No. 1




Need I say more.

Christmas Cheer

It’s that time of the year when everybody starts posting very kitschy messages about spreading goodwill and good cheer all around.

Would probably have done the same except that with the exception of a couple of hours on Friday spent at the Club at a Christmas Party this whole weekend has been about my Zoroastrian Roots and my family.

Saturday was D-day. The Nephews Navjot. Given that I am the last leaf on the Doctor Family tree it’s always been an issue in the family that the leaf was painted pink and was unwilling to make any efforts at sprouting new shoots.

So the nephew gets pretty much all the attention from a Doc Baawa Biradari that has not had too many occasions to congregate and celebrate in the past few years. Since sis is not married Local all the ceremonies were run out of Me Casa.

6:30 in the morning and a whole contingent of friends turned up armed with stencils and coloured chalk to start the rangoli from the ground floor main gate to the 2nd floor landing. And a wonderful job they did. Thanks Dinoo. I promise to reciprocate at your daughters wedding. Breakfast stretched into a champagne brunch followed by lunch and by 3:00 we were all set to leave for the Baug. A dozen Cars filled with Uncles, Aunts, Cousins and neighbours who have become family over the course of so many decades of living together. Moving along in a convoy from Dadar to Colaba along a route that had been analysed and debated all morning so as to take into account the traffic and Municipal road-works.

The ceremony took an hour. The planning for this had started more than four years back. Mom was still very much a part of the picture at that time and while we knew that she was ailing we were hoping that she would have been around to see her grandson inducted into the faith. Missed her terribly yesterday. But I know that sitting up there with Dad by her side they would both have been overjoyed at seeing Ashdin don his first kusti.
Drank, Danced, caught up with people I had not seen for years, and ate. There’s something about Baawas and food. We had been hogging something or the other non-stop since morning and yet the moment the aachar and rotli were served we attack it like we were breaking a week long fast.

Got back way past midnight and crashed out till around 6:15 this morning when Mithoo darling calls up to check what time I am bring the principal characters over to the Hall so that they could check out the lighting issues. Also made some last minute changes to the slides to be used and got back to the School by 8 in time to go into costume and make-up. Over 50 people to be painted up as marble statues when we boarded the bus we pretty much looked like a troupe of Kabuki Dancers.

Suddenly it was 12:30 and we were up on stage. Getting our cues right, getting off stage rushing to the green rooms and getting into a new set of costumes and a complete change of make-up and then back in the wings again in time for our next entry cue, most of the show is a complete blur.

What I do remember is that at the end of the show we had three curtain calls and a standing ovation from a two thousand strong audience. Suddenly two months of rehearsals every night just did not seem to matter.

What mattered was that we had done it. A show that had had a very successful run over 15 years back had been redone, better (or at least as good as) than the original.

This weekend, as I said, was for me not about Christmas, but about living up to expectations.

This weekend was about coming out of the shadows.

This weekend was about being VIRAF DOCTOR. Not someone’s son or someone else’s brother but about being accepted as me.

And I succeeded.

Which probably explains why after 60 straight hours in which I have slept less than 12 I am still not feeling tired.

Just exhilarated. It’s a high that no amount of booze or substances could ever give.

And it feels great.

A Timeless Gem

OK So I’m partial to the lady. To all three sisters in fact.

I first heard them long before most of Bombay had since they were a regular on the Adi Marazban Parsi New Year Variety Shows. And like any “not willing to be called eccentric by other Parsis” Baawa Family, Parsi New Year meant going to a Adi Marazban play in the evening.

On stage in these shows she was invariably the other sister, since the focus was always on Uma who was married to Jimmy Pocha another fixture of the Baawa stage.

She had an amazing voice then and hearing her live on the Telly last night I realised age had been very kind to her.

More interesting though was the reason for her being in the news. She has just recorded a song for Mumbai in the aftermath of the floods and was in Chennai to support and record for an Album to help the Tsunami Relief effort.

“Bombay Meri Hai” sung in a slightly slower tempo and accompanied by a series of video clips of the Mumbai Deluge was amazing. (Check out the visuals that accompany the "Ladies full of spice line)

At a time when the trend is to take any classic old song and screw it up by zapping up its tempo and adding some dhinchak beats to it, Usha has taken sister Uma Pochas song and surprisingly changed a dance number into a soulful ballad.

For that alone, Usha Uthup in her traditional Kanjeewaram Sari is a far more relevant and important celebrity than most of those Page 3 bimbettes clad in little scraps of toilet paper and whose contribution to the community is even less.

From a time when Talent (spelt then with a capital T) was the only thing that really mattered, and not how it was packaged. Like Sanjeev Kumar – oodles of talent served up with equally huge volumes of body fat.

Her attitude and her persona were so in your face at a time when the world was a far more genteel place that she could have been the fag icon long before the term became popular.

It’s people like her, who without making a fuss, are doing so much without any fuss, that make me proud to call myself a Mumbaikar.

Eine kliener Nactmusik

That's me in the corner,
That's me in the spotlight,

Losing my religion

(I'm going to go to hell for that line... considering that the play is meant to get the kids enthused about the Zo. Faith)

Stood up on the stage at Shanmukhananda Hall today, after way too many years.

Somewhere out there is a black and white photograph of me the last time I was on - Third standard class Concert. Welcome Song. Red and white checked shirt, white short pants (about the same size as the little things that CT tends to wear these days), A bow (I distinctly remember the elasticaed bow).

Thanks Mithoo, for putting me up there again, even if I look hideous.

Perhaps more apropriate than the REM number is the one by Supertramp

The actors and jesters are here
The stage is in darkness and clear
They're raising the curtain
and no-one's quite certain
Whose play it is

How long ago, how long?
If only we had listened then
If we'd know just how right we were going to be
For we dreamed a lot
And we schemed a lot
And we tried to sing out loud
beforeore The stage fell apart...

Suddenly all those weeks of rehersals and cribs just dissapear.
The white gunk that they put on my face... Thats a whole different matter.

No, I'm not dead...

Been a hectic week!

Since Wednesday I have had daily complaints that I am responsible for the intensifying depression that has been observed near a certain Marine Lines Travel Agency. (Should that read Petrol Pump or would you prefer to be called a kirana shop?)

Anyway here goes.

I hate Deadlines. Not because they force me to run against the clock but because of this stupid attitude I have of pushing things off till the last minute and then working all though the night.

I did that throughout college. I remember my final year project got typed and bound with exactly 4 hours to submission time. It’s not that I had not finished it. I was just too f-ing lazy to get around doing the shit that was required to hand it in.

Last few days have had a deadline on a daily basis. The dog show catalogue, the slides for the show on the 25th, and of course co-ordinating the Bombay stuff for the Navjote on the 24th

The gym and my social life were the usual two victims of this whole scenario.

I had promised myself that I would go off to the Gym early today morning. No such luck!

Last night on the way back from the rehearsal I got saddled with the task of preparing the programme insert for the show that has to be sent to the printers “latest by tomorrow morning”. Not an easy job considering that it involved fitting in the details of a cast of over 50 plus acknowledgments to all those who have helped with the dance, the script the audio and the video that go into the show.

Did all that over night and this morning I get a call “Viraf I completely forgot we have to add that this show is dedicated to the memory of our dear departed principal”. Great! Reformat the whole damn thing again!

Morning there was a call from the Aunt reminding me that it was a week since her daughter was married and as per custom she would be coming home for dinner and that I should join them. And by the way darling could you make that cheese mayo dip for the 30 odd guests.

Fan-bloddy-tastic

All of this was before 8:30 when the “Bhadwa from Bandra” (more on this guy later including details of how he lives of the income of his sex-slaves) called desperately “Where the fuck are you there is total chaos out here. Come immediately”

And so unshaven and pretty un-presentable I rushed off to the Gymkhana for the Dog Show.

Warning – Ad ware. Any body reading this and likes dogs check out the fantastic site that the Mumbai Canine Club has.

(End of commercial break)

A bit of explanation here. I hate dogs. This is a show where today there were about 75 dogs and tomorrow there will be over 300. To me a dog is something that has 4 legs and goes bow-wow. Beyond that all is Greek, German (shepherd) and Irish (setter). So while everybody was admiring the dogs I was concentrating on the owners. Some very nice breeds there

Start of the show all the dogs need to get certified by the vet that everything is OK with them. Part of the procedure involves checking for a weird condition where some of the pedigreed specimens tend to be a ball short.

Despite my repeated requests M has steadfastly refused to let me conduct a similar test on the dog owners.

As usual went shopping at the stalls out there. After 4 odd years it’s got to the point where the stall owners have stopped asking me what breed of dog I own. Slowly they have come to realise that buying a dog collar does not necessarily mean that you have to own a dog. M flatly refuses to accompany me on this shopping expedition (so typically heterosexual) after realizing that at times I am shameless enough to try the collars round my neck at the stall itself. Picked up an amazing disco coloured one and can’t wait to wear it to the next party.

Also picked up a birthday present – crazy doggy stuff – for the “Queen” bitch who has everything. How I am going to find time to get to Bandra tonight I really have no idea but somewhere along that’s going to have to be done if I don’t want to have another dose of “Bloddy kutti” e-mails.

And oh yes there is the rehearsal as well.

Tomorrow is going to be fun at the show. 300 dogs ranging from little Chihuahuas to Great Danes. Add to that James Bond and his mother (Page Three permeates everywhere!). Plus there is this whole bunch of kids from the colony who are threatening to bring their parents to the show and try and convince them to buy them a dog. All of them are expecting me to support them in this shenanigan.

Met this guy at the show who sold me the car last year. A delicious butt in trousers that are a couple of sizes smaller that he should be wearing. Going to have to work on that one.

Talking of cute boys, Carls uncle is (I think) a secret reader of this blog. Ever since I wrote about him he has stopped coming to the gym in the evenings. So darling if you are out there I would love to dedicate this song to you – It’s an obscure Sinbad track titled “Shut up and sleep with me”.

It’s the theme song of my life

Aazaadi...

An empty house, No rehearsals this evening, the lingering afterglow of a well spent evening, Have I finally died and gone to heaven?

Suddenly I realise what so many countless Indians felt on that fateful August morning in 1947. Oh to be independent!

Tonight methinks I shall go a tad late to the gym – a certain cutie-kids uncle turns up at 7:30 and he is at this point very high on my to-do list.

Sweat, steam and (hopefully) steamed up and sweaty all over again.

Got propositioned the other day! From an absolutely unexpected corner I suddenly got an offer to get involved in some downright bitchy stuff. Felt good to see recognition of my talents and am actually pretty keen to start doing something different again. I just hope that I can do something nice with this idea and don’t go and screw it up with my normal pig headed attitude.

Life is Good!

On the downside – The countdown has begun! 14 days to the Navjote and the list of stuff that needs to be done is growing by the minute (STUFF!! Not stud. That there’s only one a.k.a. Carls uncle).

Still have not decided on what to do on New Years Eve. Very ambivalent about the GB party. I know Vikram will probably insist that the music that they play is the stuff that the majority of the guys like and want, but personally I absolutely hate NRI Punju Rape and Paap. Ditto for Kajrare without AB’s baby doing a pole dance exclusively for me.

Hey Doc. Boy. After last years party you were drifting along with an idea of two GB parties. Pretty please could you think seriously about that? One for the junta and one for the SoBo snobs like me.

What are the alternatives? Voodoos? Naah! The Club? Bigger and louder Naah! (That would be a hetero scene with the same crappy music)

Would have loved to get out of town but that’s not an option with a ‘must attend’ thing on the 30th.

The Fraud Investigator wants to get out but then is still not sure if he will be able to get an off for the day. That’s the downside of being a bachelor in a corporate structure. It is automatically assumed that no wife = no life. So why do you need to take an off on the holiday. That privilege is only for family people.

Any way I have not given up hope. The last seven odd years I have always managed to start the New Year with a bang – I’m sure that in the end this year will be no different.

What a beautiful bride...

She was born on a Saturday night and I remember going to the hospital on my way back to the Hostel on a Sunday afternoon to see her long before any one else in the family did.

Changed nappies, taken her side in her fights with her brother, been there next to her when she first started driving (and was way too terrified to have her dad sit in the car with her) –

Yeah! I’ve done it all and now she’s getting married and moving away.

I remember when she first started getting involved with Kaivan. With him being based in Delhi, communication was pretty tough. So very conveniently late evening her net connection would “not be working well” and she would have no option but to come up to my place and use the net. She knew she could have the room to herself to log on to the messenger for a couple of hours without any prying eyes or inquisitive questions. That, plus the fact that I had a web-cam before she got one for her machine.

And now she moves out of my life. Leaving me behind as the only single unmarried guy in the building.

Actually that’s not quite right…

A couple of months back I have had these new neighbours, a couple that have moved in to the flat next door. I grew up living next to his mom and have known him since he was a kid coming over to visit the grand-parents.

Plus point. There’s a precious little daughter with them – all of 15 months old and already in love with ‘Eraf unkal’

So what if I can’t have the nephew with me all the time, I have the cutest little girl in my arms every morning.

It’s not the stuff that dreams are made of. But at least I’m not going to have nightmares about dying alone and un-loved.

And the circle of life continues…

Fast Cars

First off let me issue a word of warning. On the internet one very often comes across guys who because they have absolutely no joy and satisfaction in their own lives chose to use the net to spread an evil and vile poison throughout the system. It is as though their inability to soar and fly into the bright blue horizons compels them to drag everyone else down to the same miserable level at which they exist.

Okay Viks and CT, you guys can stop cringing and squirming. This is not about you!

I am writing today about something that I know will bring forth a deluge of comments and insults and probably gasps of shock and amazement from a bunch of miserable low life cretin that I acknowledge as friends.

A stray comment on Guppies blog triggered this whole train of thought and just the faint hope that some of the aforementioned friends may die of shock was enough to convince me that I needed to write about something that Narayan and I share in common

Driving is my passion.

As any true blooded Bombayite would know Bawaas have just two passions in life – Their cars and Dhansak on Sunday afternoons.

As any used car dealer would confirm the “Single owner Parsi” car is the Holy Grail – pretty much the equivalent of the “little old lady who only drove the car to Church on Sundays”.

Add to that the fact that along with all of those unbeatable qualifications I also add the fact that this is a “doctor” owned car, and I often have guys beating the path to my door wanting to buy my used vehicles.

I am all of that… and more, much… much… more.

Ok I also tend to lie a hell of a lot. (why the f does Bill G want me to change lie to lay?)

I love driving. But one look at my cars and you would realise that subconsciously the cars tend to hate me. I have seen cars that are a decade old but have still managed to keep themselves in a better condition than my eighteen month old vehicle.

Every time the sis and brother-in-law come down they have that resigned expression as they ask me “Where did you get that dent”. They have pretty much given up asking the driver because they know he gets too embarrassed to point out that it is not him, but I, who is the guilty party in most cases.

To me the car is an accessory; it is the means to an end, and not the end in itself. The thrill of flooring the accelerator on the Mumbai Pune Expressway is something that surpasses the joys of mediocre sex.

Whizzing down Marine Drive at 3 am as the whole beach zips by as a blur is a mind-blowing experience.

On the other hand driving down the same stretch at 6:00 pm in the evening as one crawls from the Aquarium to H20 over 45 minutes is enough to make you want to blow your mind out (Hence the above-referenced driver).

I started driving after I left college, and I have never looked back since then. (Honestly, rear-view mirrors are only meant to make sure that your hair is in place and serve absolutely no other purpose).

And while the wheels may have increased my mobility and my sex-appeal, they have had the downside of increasing my gut size over the years. From a classic 28” waist when I left college I am now an annoyingly more substantial 38.

Heaven is an open Highway with me behind the wheels of my Beamer, U2 booming through the speakers and a cute little guy in the seat next to me nibbling my neck.

Hell is Mohamed Ali Road during Ramazan driving a dilapidated Premier Padmini stuck behind a senile old baawi in her “Dukkar Fiat” with a truck spewing fumes on to your face through the open window.

Mindless meandering

There is obviously something about having to share space with four 70 year-olds that saps ones creative juices.

Started writing thrice in the last few days but never managed to get past the first paragraph.

So going to do something nasty. I'm using a post to respond to the comments on the last mail.


Viks and CT

The two of you leave me completely speechless.

I am still trying to understand what insane rebellious streak in you makes you think that it is OK to show such blatant disrespect towards your elders.

I refuse to be part of that horde that automatically blames the parents for not instilling traditional values in their kids.

No! I believe that you guys are old enough and responsible enough to be held to account for your behaviour.

The two of you are behaving like those irresponsible kids from Interior India who come to Bombay and then take out their little penknives and carve "CT loves Viks" on the walls of the Museum.

Defacing the heritage structures of this City. Vandalising beauty becuase you pale in comparison.

I expected more from you... much, much, more.

RP.

I Quite agree.

My very existence proves the case that Gods do not die. In my case ofcourse the God we are talking about would be Adonis.

The rehersals are for a kiddy community play that the Colony is doing.

Naturally I am doing the voice-over for God in the play.

On stage though I walk on role as part of the evil horde that sets out to kill the Prophet (and his mother).

I could have had a more significant role but let me just say that I refuse to sleep my way to stardom. I take pride in my histrionic talents (I'm not called a drama queen for nothing) and I will not cheapen myself by making the kind of comprmises that the Preitys and Madhuris have made to get to the top.

If I am to be a victim of the casting couch - so be it!

To be honest I gave this project my best shot. I even got dressed up and even went over to the house of the directors daughter (who happens to be the dance choreographer - Talk about nepotism) but to no avail.

Here is a snap of me dressed up in the costume of a Arab chieftan. I should have walked away with the role but, as I said, I will not shed my clothes for a few minutes of glory.

As they say in my ancient land "Inshah Allah, my time shall come".

Change...

First off I need to burst a few bubbles of false hope and misdirected joy that had started creeping up within the community of readers of this blog. One online, and a couple of guys off-line, seemed to take great joy and comfort in the news of my death.

Little do these misguided fools realise that Truth, like Beauty, (both of which I posess in abundance) can never be killed. It may, for a stray moment, loose its sheen and brilliance.

As the great Mr. B (not Sasurji dahlings, but the Thakare guy) pointed out only so recently, let not these fools presume that because they stand in the shadow of the Himalayas they are as great as the Mighty One.

Anyway boys, I’m back, the party is over! Crawl back into your little shells and make way for the Master.

Lot of changes over the past few days and am still adjusting to those. Lost my freedom yesterday. As it is I had been thrown out of my room and shunted off into one corner of the office. Handled that OK. What is tough to come to terms with is sharing the house with four guests. Still getting used to the fact that when I come back home I don’t need to pull out my key and enter an empty house.

“An empty house”. The term sounds so bleak and depressing. It’s just that once you get used to that, you realise just how wonderful the whole concept is. I just can’t wait to get my freedom back.

Antisocial? Perhaps. Deterrent to the forming of a relationship? Yes, I guess. Would I want the situation to change on a permanent basis? Definitely NOT!

With house guests and rehearsals taking up a huge chunk of my time, I realised that the only way I would be able to get any gymming done would be to go to the gym at the club for this month. So suddenly I’m in a new Gym. More change! That’s what I needed? Right!!

Fortunately for me one of the trainers here used to be with Spirit earlier so the transition was not so bad. Plus I can pretty much bully the guys here to play my CD’s. Who knows I might even get to workout to Pavarotti and Friends one of these days (Those of you who have not tried it – believe me you are missing on something).

I had seen this one in the Steam room the other day and what I saw, (which was pretty much everything) I Liked – I liked A LOT.

Yesterday he walked into the gym with a little kid in his arms. My world crashed into a million microscopic particles as all and sundry went about admiring the little tyke. How could someone so desirable have a kid?

Even as I suppressed the tears that welled up in my eyes I heard the three most beautiful words that have ever been said – “It’s my nephew”.

A hundred violins burst into a symphony. My faith in God and mankind was restored and I went back to doing the hammer curls.

Checked with the trainer and found out that Cutie-Pie is extremely single and a regular gym-boy. Me thinks I might even change my timings once I get out of the rehearsal schedules.

Cutie was back again today – without Carl. I debated for a moment. Should I go up and ask him that since he had not brought along the accessory was I entitled to cootchie-coo the uncle?

Didn’t need to! Even as I did my 20 minutes on the cycle he walked past me (needlessly, I might add (but a totally needed ego massage for me)) at least four times. And before I could get off, (the bike! God what filth infested minds you guys have) he came up to me and started asking me the secret of my fantastic thighs and calves.

The upper body may look like crap. The butt may resemble the rear of a truck. The legs – they are a work of art and totally captivating. Plus I always make it a point to show them off in shorts that tend to be split all the way to the top. Always works - It’s an ice-breaker that could cause havoc in the Arctic.

The trainer came up later because even he had seen that little teaser tango earlier and asked me how I had could have so effortlessly made out that I may have a shot at “making out” at some point with cutie. I realise that this is probably something about the whole hetero community in India. Guys that Helene Keller would not have a problem identifying as Gay, these dummies would not be able to suss out.

Need to work on this one – that’s for sure. May even decide to stick with this gym a bit longer.

Who knows, maybe change is good?
Maybe I need to do it more often?

NAAAAHHH!

I think an unusually heavy lunch and the enforced celibacy is causing a chemical imbalance that is fomenting these weird thoughts.