Alcoholism

This for someone with whom I cannot give my relationship a name. It
involves all, animosity, friendship, admiration, love and respect.
There is only one thing I know....without this guy things will not be
that easy and I just like it to be that way ----

Start---

His sun-sign was not Taurus. But he was no less than a bull. The epitome of masculinity stretched across his chest, which made girls drool over him. Believer, non-believer, sadist, masochist,hero-worshipper, self-made man, loser and a winner...all these traits were equally dispersed across his 5ft 8 inches body frame.

A typical day in his life would start with a beedi (khakis) and as it progresses, other brands would kiss his lips and ease down his lungs as smoothly as the earlier one. So was the case with the girls, to whom he never attached. Just that they tried to hold on to him often in vain.

He worshipped his profession, he loved it as well and at times treated it as his whore. Squeezing the most out of it and giving his best. Words were his compatriots, analogies his friends, assumptions his ideas and the copy was all about the first paragraph.

To understand him you need to go through his work. His first paragraph was just like his first impression. It will bedazzle you. You'll find him the most erudite person on any topic. Comprehensive yet strong views. Move to the second paragraph and you'll feel the rough edges but still not able to pin-point them. The charm would be so overwhelming that it will make you sail till the last.

The ending...well that will come at the end of this story. So as you may guessed, this guy was....what? Well everyone around him comes with a different opinion. Intriguing, Explosive, Fake, Dramatic were some of the most overused words.

He was standing at his balcony. A burning sensation made him realised that the cig in his hands embraced death. Smoking at the balcony was almost a pleasure. The tree in front was a juxtaposition. Juxtaposition....with what? May be life. A nomad who was transfixed, still trying to reach to the skies, branching out wherever it can.

His cell blinked and a familiar name announced his virtual presence. Connecting people..huh! Sometimes breaking connections is more easier than maintaining them.

Hi
Hi

Missing me?

Well, I generally do (not totally a lie)

Liar, then why did not't you call?

I don't have balance

Why you always run out of balance, whom do you call so much?

I don't know, I don't bother to check

You should know, why don't you save some money

---By now his hands were fumbling to light another cig and the idea of banging the cell on the wall ahead was raising its hood-----

Well, you're right. Perhaps I need to learn to manage many things

No. You need to do it now and what other things you talking about?

Nothing

Tell me, na. Don't act like this. I hate it. I know you don't love me.

---- Love, Hate....easy words though they encompasses many emotions---

Accha, I will call you back. (and he disconnected the phone)



He raised himself with much pain. A spinning head is not an easy thing to handle. Last night, like many earlier he was drunk. Alcohol was not a necessity with him, it was just a mean to be what he wants to be.

As he flipped through the daily crap that gets printed in white, pink and now orange he wondered where is everyone heading to? Aspiring for things beyond their reach and losing on what they have. A game where losing is reality and wins are never counted.

He too had responsibilities. Some deserving most unwanted. He don't want to think about them. This way or the other he will fulfill them for what needs to be, needs to be done.

The trip to the office wasn't the best one. Bloody autorickshawas they charge a ransom. As soon as he entered his colleague walked up to him. Last night wasn't a nice experience for this guy as well.

Why he drinks? (he laughed at the thought)

--- Boss, we're going to be fucked

Relax man, I'm there (he replied with an ease)

But still, at least we need to start

Yeah, yeah, let's go for a smoke first then we'll decide. Let's go.

What the fuck?

Chill. I'm there.

He walked up to his computer and keyed in the password. Connected...to the globe through world wide web. Checked his mails, Orkut and then his blog. His diary, his world where he writes what he feels.

The day was longed by futile discussions, incoherent colleagues,stupid passers-by and a nonchalant atmosphere. The four walls were a cage. He wished for a bomb to explode. Finding himself nearing death among the mutilated bodies.

As the night dawned, he walked out of the office. A sense of uneasiness overtook him. True identities of people started revealing,game plans unveiled, love, hate, friendship out of necessity saddened him. And the futility of existence mauled his free soul.

His legs took him to the nearest bar. Perhaps the daughter of grapes will make him believe, what does not exist. But this is not the ending. because his endings were never abrupt, they mean something,trying to prove a pint though unjustified. And all this leaves some mortals confused and make others fall in love with him.

But one question that haunts him and many alike. Is this what is called as alcoholism or just being successfully unsuccessful?

Addiction

I have made another attempt to quit smoking. Though being unsuccessful is my destiny but this time I have raised the stakes. I don't know what to ask for. Quitting one gives me life and leaving another brings me a painful death. But one thing is sure…both bring me freedom. I always try to be a complete non-believer and I know for sure that I'm not a loser. I'm just Unsuccessful………

Battlefield

She was frustrated, bored, angry, confused and waiting for the best to happen. She always knew that she deserves the best and this made her more convinced to pen down her thoughts. Today centuries after she wrote this, things haven't changed. The dilemma still remains…….

P.S - We here means I.

We are a little apprehensive. This battle is heading nowhere. Though every night we make him understand how important this is but he's more interested in finding the secret between our legs. Sometimes we don't understand his love. Is it for what will go eventually or something, which goes beyond human comprehension?

There is no start or end of our story. We were not born rich but had a legacy to support our whims and fancies. After all we were the descendants of the court poet. As we grew up, we didn't require that legacy anymore. There was more to us than to our past.

We will not count our admirers here. The list is long. But we've been faithful to each one of them. We never promised them what we can't deliver. They got their share and they should've been contented. But as the great learned people say - " Desires are never fulfilled." We'll not say that we are beyond it but we know how much to give and when to stop. After all like any other girl, we liked the thought that there is someone who'll do anything for us. And that too when we made clear we cannot go beyond a certain limit. We had nothing to lose and we were justified doing that.

We swear on the merciful Allah that we never used our charms unjustly. We never asked someone to do something for us. (Some months ago, we were accused of that the King made a boat full of people sink coz we wanted to see. We did not asked for that. We just said how would it look!). There have been stories that make us feel like a goddess. We say, how unjust they can be? We're a peck of dust in front of the lord above. How a goddess can be small?

We never aspired to be a queen. We always knew we would be one. The bountiful above knows that we never played games. Our heart is as clear as the streams in jannat. People came to us. They said they wanted us. We told them, we're not here to fulfil their desires. We shall also be contented. Mind you we used the word 'contented.' And they made us the queen.

His Highness is another name on the list. But let me tell you this. We always cared for our admirers. We send them messages asking for their well being. We even call them to our house if they are not doing well. We've even nursed one. Now will you call us a cheat? We don't think so. We don't love his highness but he is always in our thoughts. Say if tomorrow he leaves us, will we feel bad? Yes certainly will. But we will not show it to him. Nor we will look for someone else. For we know that there is a list of people who are dying to have our company.

We will choose the one who has biceps of steel and a heart that beats for us. He will show a careless attitude, which will irritate us and when we nag him, he will crush us in his mighty arms. He will not meet us for months and then drench us all of a sudden like a dark cloud. He will speak to all, which will make us jealous but then comeback and make us feel wanted. When we want to speak to him, he will not be around but when we're lonely he will make us his queen. He will be there and yet not present. Aloof, distant yet mine.

This is what we want. We don't want the titles. We hope once this war ends we'll get one like this. At this end of the line or that it doesn't matter. His Highness is always there but our eyes search for the one who isn't. How Unsuccessful!!!

- A diary entry by Lal Kunwar, whose romance with Jahandar Shah (1712-13), the grandson of Aurangzeb was indeed the most colourful. She was descendent of Tansen, the great musical genius and one of the gems of the court of Akbar. She was made empress and dignified with the title of Imtiyaz Mahal (chosen of the palace). A poet wrote in her praise -

Ba Khubi Lal Kunwar nam-i-u-bud
Shakkarguftar, sin-andam-i-u-bud
(Lal Kunwar, her very name is most befitting. Sweet in speech, her body was white as silver)

Page- 1

Last night it was TATA’s everywhere. They won the Corus deal but analysis and then over analysis continued till morning. Not only the pinkies but the dailies as well wrote about the Tata legacy, Indian Global foray and so on. (Here I’m in no mood to put links, but the masthead of Economic Times was the most interesting one).
Anyhow, the reason I’m writing about this is that once again I was awake the whole night. Why? Well, one of the reason was that I had to catch the newspaper vendor. To cut a long story short. Since the time I have shifted here, I wasn’t getting a single paper.
Now it has been centuries since I’ve ventured out early mornings. But, to my surprise nothing has changed. The school children can be still seen waiting for their school bus, while their mothers stuffing paranthas(a kind of chappati) in their mouths. A few oldies strolling the nearby park. Men coming home with milk packets and asking their neighbours to hurry up, otherwise the stock will get over. And the unlucky ones, who don’t have their private toilets, lining up impatiently at the public lavatory. Funny! Something’s never change.

So after a undergoing a few rounds of my locality, I found the paperwallah (newspaper vendor). My conversation with him was short, perhaps a few words. If you are a sensible person, you’ll never argue, explain or ask for a favour from a newspaperwallah in the morning. I bet he is more busy then the PM of India. So, I just gave him my address and asked him to come after he his done with the distribution. He showed up at my door after an hour. At that time I was watching CNBC Business and ruing the fact that why wasn’t I born in the family of Tata’s, Amabnis’, Mittal’s (any 1) or even Ruia’s or Biyani’s. God (if there is any) has been unjust to me. After all if I don’t deserve success on my own he could have made me a glorified unsuccessful example.

Well, the newspaperwallah was in no mood to hear my woes. He meant business. So, I immediately told him that I need three newspapers. 2 Pinks and 1 daily. The condition of my room is inversely proportional to the job which I’m in. Though my salary isn’t anything to boast about. But still, when you’re living for free at your relative's place ( my uncle’s house who is in MEA and have been posted in Sudan) you’re expected to maintain some decent living. Anyhow, before he can ask me, whether I was sure, what I need is what I asked for, I showed my subscription card for one of the pinkies.

The one that I asked for is launched today — HT Mint. It’s a business newspaper from one of the oldest publication houses of India. And unlike other business papers it’s not a broadsheet nor pink in colour. The paperwallah suddenly got nostalgic, when he came to know that I’ve subscribed for Mint. By no signs he was any old of age. But he insisted on explaining me how the size and state of newspapers have changed. All this do makes him a fierce competitor for the editor’s post. He knew that papers world over have been adapting the new format. But he was wondering at the ever-growing pages. His trouble was that people have started living in the sky. And mind me, to be a good newspaperwallah, you need to have a good arm. Much better than that of Sachin. Not only that, a good aim saves the precious time. I must say our cricket guru Mr. Chappel can ask these guys to help our men-in-blue. After all when our dabbawallahs can teach someting to Prince Charles, our newspaperswallah can be of help on throwing, aiming and so on.

Now since he had only copy left and that too MINT, I was kind of lucky. Reason, I wouldn’t have liked that I lose even one day of my subscription after all you can’t cut it from the money you’ll give to him at the end of month. I devoured the whole paper in half an hour and developed my views. In the afternoon, when I reached office everybody was writing off MINT. I wondered if I had made the right choice by subscribing to it. Don’t know, may be in a few days I’ll have a better understanding. And besides that newspapers serves various purpose for me — Like when I eat on my bed, I can put my food on them. If water spills on the floor instead of mopping, a day’s old newspaper comes handy. And, of course at the end of each month they become a reason to fight with kabadiwallah.

Finally I slept at 9 in the morning only to be woken up by a call after a few hours. A call. Sometimes it becomes a reason not to sleep and sometimes that wakes you up. The night was unsuccessful, the morning nostalgic, the afternoon confused, the evening a bit hazy and now I am wondering, will the cycle repeat? I guess it will, being unsuccessful is a part of me. But this time....I will embrace it. And if it takes away my sleep, let it be so. After all, there would be something to read tomorrow.