The Discriminant of The Iota

Main Entry: or·thog·o·nal
* Pronunciation: \ȯr-ˈthä-gə-nəl\
* Function: adjective
* Etymology: Middle French, from Latin orthogonius, from Greek orthogōnios, from orth- + gōnia angle — more at -gon
* Date: 1612

1 a : intersecting or lying at right angles b : having perpendicular slopes or tangents at the point of intersection (orthogonal curves)

“Car accident kills three” screamed the morning paper, the mediamen hounded the hapless police commissioner, as he tried to explain that it was a case of reckless driving under the influence of alcohol. The people were served with grotesque images from the crash to prove who has the most ‘exclusive’ news. “Will the police press charges on the lone survivor”, asked one. The son of an industrialist, who categorically denied his son being inebriated at the time of the incident, already boxed after the crash of the pillar at the site of his project, “he had little to do but present a brave face”, commented one social expert citing lack of parental guidance and a plethora of other excuses, while structural experts argued on the other end of spectrum. Cases were filed as expected, sting shows telling how victim’s family was paid to be quiet were aired as expected, the son-father duo came out clean…… as expected…….. justice had been done……as expected…………………

X

“Baba get up, malik bula rahe hain”, the boy stammered wondering would the brat even twitch a muscle, “must have had another of those hangovers”, as he placed the glass of juice on the sidetable before slithering out of the room. “ring …ring”, “ hey karan big party at Elevate just after college what say” “dude, its just 9, just woken up, yeah I’ll see” as he tottered his way to the bathroom knocking down the glass of juice, “chotu” he hollered “clean this mess in my room”, “ damn! The last night rocked” he had tried “stuff” that night, one smooth line inside and out of the world, he was ‘man’ now, he smirked as he got ready for the college. And just what he hadn’t wished, there was Dad again giving out his “perfection” speech to chotu, “damn” he thought now getting money won’t be easy what after all comes in thousand bucks, not even a decent shot! “ Ah! You are up finally, so what do you want end up like these men” “ Dad I am just 19 please don’t gimme your ‘change the world’ talk right in the morning” as he stuffed the toast in his mouth. “Karan, it is my ‘change the world’ shit that gives you your binges, you better straighten up before its late” said the father giving up any hopes he had. “ Dad, I needed some money, college has a freshers’ and all have to chip in”, watching his exasperated father stare at him. “I am not earning for your late night revelry, karan, you better mend your ways, I got this meeting I’ll talk to you later” as the father hurried off the table. “Chotu, just what do you think you are doing staring the roof, did you put the golf kit, you lousy bastard”, as he got into the car wondering what was more worrisome the servants these days or the kids. He had a minister to tackle, the project was already under so many lenses, a few crores and it will be all, why can’t they just ask straightway and ‘get over’ it, as he speeded to the course. Meanwhile karan fretted away to college, wondering how to get away from all this bickering, wondering if he could take some money from ‘friends’, the stuff was too good to resist. So when in the evening he headed to the disc, life was at ease now, as he sunk into the plush sofa, eyes preying for the ‘nigger’.” The night rocked!, you got anything in boot, dude” exclaimed one as they returned back loaded with girls and coke. “holy crap, what’s coke doing in your boot asshole” as he drew neat lines. “Damn chotu, I asked him to get the stuff out of car”, Guys not here not ,here please” as he turned back, “ hey watch out, jesus Christ karannnnnn!!…………………………..”

Y

“ get up chotu its six already you will be late for work”, the father kicked him “ that should set you right”. “why don’t you stop jabbering, I am tired of these daily squabbles”, as he fumed while leaving to his place of work. He changed his clothes after reaching the sahib’s bunglow, “what is the point in dressing like an idiot” as he feared his immaculate sahib and prepared toast for him. “chotu… chotu”, the voice boomed as he rushed to take instructions from ‘malik’. “see whether karan has gotten up or not and take juice as well, I am sure he came late drunk”. He bowed his head and tip-toed to ‘baba’s’ room. “There lies the bastard”, he sneered as he walked into the room, looking for the elusive wallet. He had barely placed the glass and slipped in two crisp 500 notes when he froze to death, “chotu” the voice boomed again, he rushed out only to find that he had applied less butter on the toast, even the tea wasn’t served right. So all he had to do was to stare down as the ‘sahib’ cussed at him. “Ah! There he comes…. Bastard he never knows where his money goes” as he sniggered to himself watching the son nibble toast. “ another chore, damn clean the glass “ as he dragged his feet to the room again thinking if luck would smile again. He picked pieces of glasses watching the fancy mobile on the bed. “ I will gift a mobile to chameli”, thinking about the girl who lived near the site which sahib owned. “ow!” he exclaimed in pain, a piece had sliced though his hand. He went out and stood at the levee nursing his hand wondering whether this life was any good, kicks from father, abuses here, staring pointlessly to the roof. And just when he was thinking of slipping by, he had another dose of the day, that heavy bag which he hated had to be ferried now, “ I can meet chameli now” trying to cheer himself up as now ‘malik’ would get busy and he can slip to the site which was so close to the course. So as he lugged the kit along the course, he was asked to leave as ‘sahib’ was talking to an important man. “This is it” as he ran out of the course took an auto to the site. Today he will buy her a fancy dress, he had money. The urchins chased the auto as he entered the lane where chameli lived. “ lets go market and get an anklet for you” he exclaimed to her. So after an hour of trying the trinket chameli found what she was looking for. He was the man!, he had a decent job, money everything she wanted, so when he asked her to come to that lonely place at the site she had little to do but to solicit. And then there they were finally, the place was an irony in itself, so quite and desolate amidst a sea of anarchy. She had heard that work had been stopped there and that’s how she had found a place to meet her, where chotu would come and satiate her. He had just started to undress her when she heard a slow, painful guttural, and before she could reckon…………………………..

So you don't know were you're going and you wanna talk
But you feel like you're going where you've been before
You tell anyone who'll listen but you feel ignored
Nothing's really making any sense at all
Let's talk

-Coldplay Talk

It begins as a simple day, the usual humdrums of your daily life, and then as if someone had conspired surreptitiously for the moment to happen, you see something you hadn’t seen for years together, a song being played somewhere, a high five or knuckles thumping to that sudden unannounced entry that is strikingly similar to something or someone. I know that pit in the stomach at that time, that feeling of colour flushing from the face, and eerie sort of feeling at first as you turn back those pages in memory, bursting into weak smiles and yes then there you go, your steering wheel, the office table, that dumb printer( reckon printers and steering go for insurance cover) wondering if that moment never happened or just cussing yourself for being so lame at times and even irresponsible! So where do you start from. Ah! That innocuous smile!

Stage I

Have seen it start at both ways most originate from that single almost nondescript encounter, and yeah! For some, a bang( I wonder how do they turn it that way) it may have had been for that fresher’s party or the usual bird watching or even that lab session for an impromptu conversation about the impending assignment, and yes for some a bang! From that going all outs to propose( always asking to become a friend of some kind, and yes its lame) to that mis(sed)understanding, the squabbling after that( is usually a dead end) and yes for the record it’s not about those I made it moments it’s those moments when you flustered at the mere sight knew nothing as it was your first and yeah! Blew it!!!!! But that first stuck and hell yes it went like a stake across your heart. That bolstering by your friends ( and how you wished to kick your ass after that) that palpitation of hands, an hour before the mirror and ( you are making your own list now) and for the silent admirers, goodness done it all, for ‘em. Finding out the timetable to the lists of favourites yet keeping it under wraps ( only for that damn beer session) you adore, you blush, you go out of all ways for that glimpse, trying to make your you go unnoticed, mustering every last bit of strength to go to talk only stopping dead in the middle of tracks,( damn the professor, your batchmate to her friend) some other day and a quick exit. And yes you get to talk to her one day, it may have had been just a laconic reply but that was world, to that little victory lap on the way back to hostel, to the samba dance once she is out of sight you remember it all, smiling all the way………………

Stage II

“Sorry not interested’ to peals of laughter( how much do you wish to run away) and even as your heart sears you stand there to hear that, and yes my friend girls talk about it later, and yes they make fun of it the same way you friends do when you tell your plight ,and your gloom sinks between those schadenfreude remarks. And in moments of solidarity those ahh!-s as you fizz out like a steam engine while on the other hand it’s party time for the friend in the next room, the girl just talked ( and if you tell this ever, I bet it’ll be only you who would remember that she had asked for the lab readings, upto 3 decimal places) and now that preparing before hand to even reading topics beforehand( your percentage dips on the contrary that’s the Catch-22 situation), so you contrive to create those encounters on a more frequent basis and yes its beautiful……….

Stage III ( discretion advised)

Its bad! And that’s the reason for that fist banging. You saw the girl out with that moron sitting on the last bench to where did he come from, nah! It must be just a friend, and then you see more and you see more of them (why are you following them everywhere) as you wave back to her because she has seen you (finally!) and yeah you sneer seeing her smile, bursting into giggles every now and then. And you howl in your room fella! And you let out those curses so loud that the entire block knows about it. Seen myriad cases of guys walking in mess, shoulders drooping, head lying low, that façade you try to carry and now everyone knows that another man is down in the battle of sexes. And the bang guys end it in bang to that vexing ( this is what the girls feel dude! Me totally on your side) presence to those requests to mellow down, to yes ( why do you do it man) that burst of expletives. And you look for catharsis in some form or the other and you get mean dude! Doing the most reproachable things, any piece of figment becomes possible as your friends traduce about the girl. What is the duration of this well a couple of weeks and then a couple of drinks after you see the girl hanging out with that !**@@@***! And here goes out what all happens, you talk to her friends, try to send favorable reviews across the other side, to that threatening to the guy to receiving them……..
Yeah that’s the unabridged story of How I Went through the first two months in my college, still good when you talk about it with peers on that Friday night hangout…. And( I may sound a bit avuncular but I’ll take this chance) talk to her again I know you would do that little victory lap again or feel those hots again…. (turn 18 for a few moments)………. Carpe Diem!

And yes Happy Friendship day (start like that maybe!)

I couldn’t believe what my eyes saw, no this can’t be true, as if a behemoth stood in front of me, and I stood dumb founded, the enormity of this left me gaping, imagine falling from a cliff, imagine the decibel of the yell as the lump of the throat swells to the size of a baseball, think of the screech of the car waiting to sweep underneath chunks of human flesh, juxtapose your eyes in those blank eyes, imagine never ending farms units lined in perfect arrays spread across the length and breadth of the gaze and stretching beyond…. Imagine being stranded, feel the drops of sweat sliding across the palms, imagine the palpation shredding your confidence as you look around, looking to grope the first strand of hope, clinging to your web of assurances, imagine being a part of what they call the ‘it’, the ignominy of being shoveled around, a never ending loop and worse winding towards the center as you break the last bone of your body to move out of it, think of the hollowness of the assurances of “ I know what I am doing” or the futility of “ I will do this, the day I reach X” put yourself in a world of zombies all responding to a single call, all guided by the same beacon, working unabated, synchronized at the same tick of clock, think of the helplessness of the fallen, blinded by the shine of the sword watching death approach, dancing nimbly like a deer in forest and ‘it’ stood there exactly like that right in front of my eyes as I gazed at the sight and yet it was there mocking at me, every inch of me screaming to get out of the place, I wish I were in a mortuary atleast the place told you that there are conclusions, finishes, last laps but this wasn’t it either, it was a utopia to me before I came here and just like a refugee dreaming of his very own Elysium complete with the hymns those nymphs chant as you enter, and as you must have had realized( phew!) i was…… well……. shocked….( all this drama for this pathetic word, hate crack@dawn) I was in gurgaon to do my “obligatory” industry training and the place is the same, its where the free waves of the ocean crash on the hard land yearning to go back to the ocean again, yes there are two worlds here the world of dream companies, flashy suites, lines of escalators to take you “there” and there is a dreamy soul and yes, there is a world of this soul…. And standing on the roof of the PG accommodation where my friend lived I felt the same, a farm of brains, a world of zombies, an echo of the knell being sounded, and the black cross had been served and it had a name…. my name….. as it said yes you too would be here another one in the list of rolls of some “organization” doing what is being done by everyone, responding to the same clicks of mouse taps of keyboards, boarding the same cabs all heading to the same place ending in the same accommodations like all, with absolutely no idea what the future would be, and yes always trying to “figure out” the path to top and everyone seems to know it, everyone is smiling, to what I am still unaware, but certainly not to the corporate discount @Dominos for eating their stupid pizza as one is tired of the undercooked tiffin in front of the eyes everyday, and albeit in the matchbox rooms in PGs spread in all dimensions they curse, they booze, rant about the never ending fits of HR or TL, missing projects, lost years in B.Tech, they are there, because maybe only that was the course of the meal, rest were just crumbs meant for few, yeah there is a mushy world as well, yeah there is a world of giants, big stories, big names but just like this city all of this is on the other side of the road, and just symbolically everyone is waiting, wishing ‘if only the traffic moved my way’………………
Tip: Next time you visit Gurgaon/B’lore/Pune/Noida look at the malls, watch the honey eyed tepid girls and come back, don’t discuss about those bawdy “engineers” you saw, they are doing exactly what they always did “doing what they were “told” was best for them”………..

Sure that was really fucked up, dude…. I quipped miming at the salesperson we had just mocked, “sir why don’t you try this, it would look good on you”… yeah sure so who do you think you are Yves Saint Laurent??? Ha! Look at her fellas, what point do you think she gets on the scale…… are you even considering to consider her, be serious man, talk of standards fella, yeah some standards!, don’t you have a better shade, excuse me, yes sir, got my size, ah! Leave it , this one I want it in in a shade of purple, lemme check that out sir, what kind of place is it, no variety, you people you don’t know how to manage “clients” and “she” went and sighing another day at work, (prerna you are required at the billing counter) ah! Look at her again, what does she think of her, some Cleopatra hybrid or what, listen what you did, you mixed the size, where is your head, girl? Look at yourself, girls like you I don’t even bother for, better size up girl, so there we left spoofing as usual, mocking to our heart’s content, on the face how it had moistened and was almost an over ripe tomato, how the bell shaped girl was shaking controlling a sea of emotions inside her bosom, what could she do, what could she do….. even as I shrieked “shopping experience”…………

Few Hours Before…. Somewhere in kanpur…….

It was a usual morning, the usual humdrum, no electricity line for the loo, the “son” getting ready for his some big tryst with the destiny, come out you loser, I have to travel 15 kilometers to my first job, well this is it, this was the D-Day what she had been waiting for, squeezing between sweaty arms for a shot at interview, it took over 10 frantic rounds of pleas, nays, ayes before the file was considered, “oki come for the interview we will see what we can do” the manager said, gosh I cannot stand this face anymore….. so all those prayers, those little talisman all had paid off, but the reality stood between, make some tea for me, the father as blithe as he was on her birth, I am making my tiffin pa, poor girl she was supposed to save her salary for them, so that the “son” can have his top-up cards for the next door bitch, so that those masala eating knobheads can have tea between rounds of intense discussion, so that the mother can show the damned saree that the first salary brought, so that she could find a place she always wanted to have for her, but nothing could stop her today, extra coat of liner, nails polished, rehearsing the oh! So important rules to greet customer, extra dab of the perfume, today the world is hers so today the tempo-wallah will be paid with her money, today the milk is from her beads of sweat, today the world is hers, today she will show what she can do…… today is the day she will………

P.S. : No hate mails for me as it wasn’t me, I do this only to those male salesperson (boy I am doomed!)……….

To,
Mulayam Singh Yadav aka Jackass
Puddle of Shit
"Darkness"

Sub : Many-Frusto

Lo-"Sir",
I know you probably wouldnt read this blog,(what if the computer virus ate your precious memory) thanks to your new manifesto (you can try a fiction novel, a new genre has been invented by you un-sci-fi)i can finally breathe easy, after straining my eyes on this reckless machine, i just got the job of newspaper boy reduced( me a glutton???)the information of your manifesto came to me via the RSS feed i had subscribed( and before you flinch your balls RSS=Really Simple Syndication)and i was impressed by your thoughts ( i am damn serious!!), how eloquently have you crafted a plan to finish unemployment forever, a masterplan i must say, now let's see how it works. Say you have to open this webpage, you go to your computer( hey wait are you crazy no computers!!!) so you go to the information assistant( fancy name needed) also lets keep a employment ticker with us, so lets tick it to 1( voila! you just gave a man his daily bread) so you request him to tell you whether crackatdawn has new entries, the IA smiles, and as that grin widens you wonder how this crack-nut works, so he takes out a type writer and sends a request via a telegram( instant work )and now the telegram has to deciphered, so the PROCESSOR( dont u get it, generate employment!!) so we "hire" 20 men to decipher the code( ticker=21), now the search is send to search department a thriving new department by our respected Mulayam Singh ji, it files every webpage on the earth( and cuts out porn! what an idea sirjee)so that it can be referred to, now this mega archive is being managed by over 20 million people( ticker=20million and 21) so as your search lands into their efficent hands( you can think of a new search till then, pssst bribe your IA and he will get it done in only 45 minutes!) so the new post is duly found and is sent to your local post office which delievers a fresh copy to you....congrats you are now my blog visitor!, and didnt you realize how many people were loosing job because all you had to do was to type at the browser window. And yes mulyamji this shall be my last post in english( i'll switch to angrezi!!!) becuase i have no right to move ahead, how can i move ahead of those who pass exams because of self-center policy, it is my duty to be a concerned citizen that i promptly give up english till third as you have done for thousands of kids like me, how can i move ahead when people around me spend 5000 for an english speaking course in your safai village and be swindled!, alas i am too much of a capitalist minded, "self-centered" glut with no apathy whatsoever, i must stop the $50 billion IT industry, for hiring students from colleges your goons have setup in the UP-hinterland( CS, IT 200 seats, electronics 100 seats, mechanical 50, end of college). So come lets join hands and move towards Samajwad.... or whatever eutopia that be.....( AK-56 trotting MP's shall be our idols, big-b our godfather, convent educated dolls shall be the cover girls of this great society)......

Hands Held High
Crack@Dawn

He laughs best who laughs last.

The world is indeed an interesting place to be in, a confetti of characters strewn across the landscape, each with a mind of its own, and everyone seems to be proving a point( not proving a point may be "proving" as well!!)while some may surge ahead, the dormant majority that chugs in the mill is a worth a peek, it is strange how a majority sits blank faced( indian junta and election day) yet produce the most dramatic results (gandhis, laloos, bhaiyas and behens of various size and capacities). In such dormant lanes, insidiously encroaching the "urban" sphere, amidst the stench (your phoren return cousin would talk about it while bhabhijis, auntjees are busy debating on the prefect match for him), reeking drains pipes aligned at odd angles with your morning offerings vying to break free and attain salvation, in that perfect moment of serendipity when an individual strayed from the path of life is walking right under the mesh.In those lanes where litter is "aesthetically" placed like toppings on your papa johns pizza( tis the same trash you wish to "disappear" from your lives...)and why the remnants of "road" resembles a leper, all you would wish is to say is...."what have i gotten myself into"(and yes you are thinking that too) but the world there is far more grotesque than this verbal rhetoric, but kingdoms, territories, exist. And its not just the boundaries that the municipality would draw to pass the buck to( railways, panchayat, PWD, for-rest etc) while these lines may not be seen, some are visible and to be precise of the canines(sorry they are "slumdogs" now), you are aware of it the moment you enter, some pairs of eyes would inadvertently turn towards you, a reconnaissance mission shall be directed towards you,( i would run away at that only!) but even as some display there claws and teeth(phew!!!) and upon rummaging deeper, gnawing in the corner you would find the sullen faced, beaten, bruised variety. lets name him, athos that's your name now... so athos is an outsider, kicked out when master saw no good in him( that explains his "fancy" name) athos waiting for a canine equivalent of St. Gertrude, feeding on what would be discarded even by the lords of the lanes, eyes the younger ones and ends getting a bite or two from anyone looking for a silent punching bag, and even those rag pickers have figured out how he is an easy target, 20 points for the tail, 40 for hitting the belly, he lingers like his shadow only waiting for the day to end........ but one day as it lay there, watching the world with half opened eyes the municipality truck came unannounced, it was his day, the lords were away for a skirmish and it were to be athos to "decide" for himself, so lay in front of him a mountain as fabled and only him to appreciate.But as his old bones made way for the infant desire, the dogs had surfaced, to hell with these noses!!, thought athos, but as it turned out only the "lord" had arrived, this good for nothing son of a bitch!!( pun!!)was about to spoil the party...... he had to act fast, offense was already done, big or small was out of question, but it was his day, the truck had come for him, the dog inside him was now bursting out, the lord "growled"-its over granpa, not today said athos( as you complained why do dogs have to bark right in the middle of day-break), athos knew he was no match, what can an underdog do?? or can he??? was the box leaning on one side telling him something, did the truck intentionally dumped more than it used to, can he tip it over, time was too little to decide this, may be he could see something now, maybe a checkmate, a checkmate that would be costly, he feared the debacle that were to follow..... but athos never knew how he did, the thud was probably the last thing he heard, but he did... he had the lions share, and he had upset the tables for lords...... so as there were no obituaries, athos lay there, a little smile on his face, disfigured by the blood...........

Replace athos with victims of subprime, and read it again....... the underdogs created the loudest thud...... they had the last laugh as the giants tumbled..........think on it.........have a great day..

Well no excuses for being absent for quite sometime, seems like everyone around is in story writing mode( adding their bits of twist to a fairly "straight" world) and between this interplay( my poor soul) tries to foray into a domain not mine( hail Rahuldash!!) and even as the title suggests nothing.... i am (damn!!!) nervous as i pen this down.....

The streets are dusty, and in this part of india at this time two things happen rather assidously.... the sun beating down relentlessly as the dust storm kicks those last flops of life lying hapelessly, and a fracas of kids who sneaked out of homes and hitting hard to become some dhonis and pathans...... and just a couple yards, next to the edifice of some exploits, long forgotten, sits the mother looking at the kids watching the kids fight over the missed run-out, dropped catch, breaking into a smile watching them squabble, flinching muscles as the little boy with school shirt hanging loose, trying to hit hard. so even as life drifts in this little hamlet away from the mad mad world few hikes away, not everything is dead, why the sarpanch just got 2 hours of electricity in the village and with TV sets to boast of and mobile antennas to hang on, the kitsch of city life seemed to be knocking a few doors, atleast the home of sarpanch, so the mother sits waiting for the son to turn up, in absence of a husband who is some local lord, extending his fief to till her boudoir, is hardly a life to be happy of... and she has her own share of being the "it" girl few years back.. the mother sits back recalling all this..... alternating between those sepia moments and uninspiring present. The cover girl of the village now tied to this "bull" with no regards whatsoever, just because he was the highest bidder, so much for a "body", but what's the point of thinking all this. duelling with herself. or rather consoling over the present.. she breaks to finish the daily choirs... cleaning the levee in front of house( sarpanch's pride) and clearing the mess after the never ending tea-sessions( bhabhi... just one more cup of tea... there is something different in the tea you make) the bellicose brother in law, for whom world was a idyllic spot, quipped.... though she had her fall in the form of him when she came was new, but quick to realize that his failures were beyond bed as well, so even as she brushed past him, she couldn't stop herself to look what he was ogling at, ah! another hollywood strip, those pencil thin bitches she sighed, recalling her over-zealous efforts to do the same, how close she was.... but quick to revert to the reality... "what thrill do you derive watching these good for nothing plastic bodies" quipped the "mother", so with his eyes dancing the brother in law suddenly saw all reasons to enlighten her, and broke into his rhetoric of how beauty when wrapped in clothing with inches fighting to hold the kilograms inside, was when art really came out, as if the jury of the "rampur idol" boasting bolly ties.... and finished to goad her " and what do you know about glamour, this is just not your cup of tea".... how could she have had known... how it was too surreal to be true.... and all she could do was..but smile... our Pinki gave the same smile... which was watched form delhi to dallas, how she flew to a world she would yearn to back for just one more time, how those flashes of camera couldn't capture all that went to make that smile, how those funny nifty-grifty manual of how to say "thank you", hold a knife and fork well doled out to her... only if she could have had made sense of all this and not been like a child watching the juggler.. too awed to make out anything... she could have had been something.... may be a bhojpuri movie or two... but there sat Pinki smiling... smiling and wondering if the idiot was worth knowing all this.....

To finish do watch "smile pinki"...........