Now this is what I experienced today while coming down to office - am one of those few fortunate people on Bangalore Road, who dont have to drive while commuting to office - so I have the privilege of observing the drivers on drive on the road. And based on my 3 and a 1/2 months thesis, I have formulated this Rule Book of Road Rage. Enjoy, and feel free to add anything I might have missed out (those this has been developed on the basis of Bangalore roads, am sure, every city in India will get benefitted by this - as we believe in Unity in Diversity)
1. Weave through the traffic like an accomplished bra-tailor and shout obscenities at everyone else in the morning. It gets your system all fired up, adrenaline and testosterone flowing out through your nostrils along with all the phlegm thanks to the pollution. Remember , expressing and venting your anger out on strangers on the road is great. It will help you be more calm with the people you know at work and home.
2.Try not to break the rules on the road. But don’t ever EVER spare the ones who do. Remind them of the rules as you drive by, cutting on the other side of the road. Show them the 2 handed birdie, the middle finger as you past them, with both your hands off the wheel. Don’t worry about the safety of others. They should know how to get out of your way. After all, you’re just reprimanding an evil-doer.
3. Pull alongside the offenders and start laughing hysterically at them. Ask them if they must be really proud of themselves for breaking the rule. Remember, laughter is good, especially when you’re laughing at someone else’s face. Start farting at will and follow them up with loud sounds and sighs of relief. Tell them how happy you feel to have shared that rather private moment with someone as incredible as him. However, if the driver has a chick next to him, look horrified and tell him how senseless and utterly disgusting he is. If the chick is hot and remotely sensible, she will not want to be with farty-two-shoes and she might get into your vehicle. Keep your options open.
4. If the driver is a guy and he has his wife/ gf with him, you’ve got him at a perfect time. Tell him how terrible he is at driving and that he learns the rules and how to drive first. Tell him it makes him look really dumb and silly. Guy would get so friggin embarrassed in front of his chick that he’d never do it again. If she’s hot and remotely sensible, there’s even a slight chance that she might walk out of his car and get into yours. Keep your options open.
5. If the driver is a girl/woman and has her bf sitting with her, express surprise at her bf’s ineptitude at not being able to teach her. Sympathize with her situation and tell her its really not her fault , and it’s that cave-dweller’s fault that she’s so fucked up. If she’s hot and remotely sensible, she might kick the guy out of the car and follow you. Keep your options open.
6. Night-time offense- To annoy the driver behind you, start pressing and releasing your brakes to the beat of a timbaland song blaring loud from your system. The brake lights will provide a psychedelic effect like a 70s abba song on the sorry-assed driver’s face behind you. There is a possibility that there might be a hot chick in that car. If she’s hot and remotely sensible, she will actually realize that you are uber-cool and walk out that car and get into yours. Keep your options open.
7. Those Cell-crazy bikers : These guys appear so because of their tendency to drive and magically fit the cellphone between their shoulder and ear as they drive by. They think they have supreme control of their two-wheelers,where as they are actually scaring the shit out with their curvacious projectile on the road. Don’t they just PISS YOU OFF?!?! Pretend that you are Count Dracula himself and stick your head out as you drive along side him and try to take a bite from your his exposed neck. There could be a chick who’s sitting behind him. If she’s hot and remotely sensible, she might feel simultaneously charmed, mystified, scared and shocked by your act- most of which is enough to get drive them crazy. She may get out of the cell-obsessed jerk’s bike and ride with you. Keep your options open.
Hope my husband doesnt get any idea from all this and starts keeping his options open every time he is driving on the road!!!
Friday, November 28, 2008
Friday, November 14, 2008
Blind Love
I can hear what you say
I sense we’re in a bind
I can touch what you say
So what if I’m blind?
I understand you
Better than most others
Engulfed in your hair
Smelling the flowers
The perfume of your hair
Lifts me out of despair
The darkness everywhere
Asks me, do I dare?
Am I fit to be your lover?
Blind, willing to bend lower
This is what tears me apart
Our love, will it have a start?
In pursuit of a dream
Hoping you will understand
About to spill over the brim
My shaky conscience; it can’t stand
I sense we’re in a bind
I can touch what you say
So what if I’m blind?
I understand you
Better than most others
Engulfed in your hair
Smelling the flowers
The perfume of your hair
Lifts me out of despair
The darkness everywhere
Asks me, do I dare?
Am I fit to be your lover?
Blind, willing to bend lower
This is what tears me apart
Our love, will it have a start?
In pursuit of a dream
Hoping you will understand
About to spill over the brim
My shaky conscience; it can’t stand
Alvi - DADA
When Dada announced his retirement under obvious pressure from the selectors, my first reaction, as a long-time fan, was a sense of disappointment. Once again in his life, Sourav Ganguly was being given a raw deal more so as he has been playing some of his best cricket over the last few years and so should not have been the first in the firing line. Once the inevitability of the retirement sunk in, there were a wistful reminiscence about the defining moments of his career and a grudging acceptance of what was to happen. His retirement was only a matter of time, if not this series then the one down the road. Given that reality, he deserved the chance to leave with his head held high and if indeed his neck was forever going to be on the chopping block, no matter what he scored, then at his age there was no need to let himself be subject to humiliation.
“There is no reason to get overtly sentimental”, I told myself. This attachment to our old heroes is like our attachment to the first love letter or an old greetings card and once we realize that their time is up, it should be logical to let them go. (Though I cannot do that myself in my life, and hence suffer more than is required to, at times)
And so why should we feel bad at Ganguly’s retirement? Sourav as a person had made millions from the game and is sure to have a very fulfilling post-cricket life whether it be as a businessman, or as a cricket administrator or a media personality or as is speculated the CPM candidate against Didi. Dada vs Didi—now that is one contest I would love to see and readers on this blog would know which side I will be rooting for. And it’s not as if I would never see him again, he would be in the black-and-gold uniform in the three-ring-circus of IPL very soon even though I knew that for Dada IPL would be like “exchanging a walk-on part in the war for a lead role in a cage”.
Most importantly, at the age of 32....(ok, ok, 33), mature people should live by the wisdom of Govinda’s immortal words “Control yaar” when dealing with non-critical life issues like a favorite sportsman retiring. Only 22 year olds, who empathize with filmstars and cricketers as if they were their own flesh and blood, ought to lose sleep over such trivialities. Right?
For all these reasons , my sadness at Sourav’s retirement was muted to a large extent. Instead there was a prayer than his last series does not overwhelm him, that his performances do not dip alarmingly and that another opportunity is not presented to his haters (and there are many of them) to give him a kick in his teeth with a “We told you. He has been finished a long time ago”.
But that did not happen. Sourav had his best series ever against Australia, showing solidity in the middle order never letting his impending retirement cast a shadow over his performances, which was crowned with a century at Mohali and a throwing-back-the-years partnership with partner-in-crime Sachin Tendulkar.
Till we came to Nagpur. The end of the road. The place where his legacy was sought to be finished by lesser mortals many years ago.Would he emulate Guru Greg by scoring a century in his last and first match? Alas that was not to be as h fell for 85 in the first innings. No matter I thought; the six off Jason Krejza in his style of old was compensation enough for staying awake late at night. I smiled to myself when I heard people from Ganguly’s locality, Behala tell a Bengali channel that they would appeal to ICC to credit Ganguly with a century if he scored fifteen runs in the second innings. Really !
Not that Sourav gave his fans that chance. As the Australian fielders ran toward Jason Krejza as he came up with a caught and bowled, there was a fleeting moment of disbelief—surely this is not the way we thought it would end. That feeling was gone however as reality sunk in and as Sourav looked longingly at the sky for a brief second as a sign of thanksgiving or heavenly reproach and then walked off, rapidly, without any show of emotion and with not even a bat raised to the sky, still visibly cross with himself, all I thought was “Oh no India is going to lose this one”.
The next day of course my fears were proven to be unfounded. The series was wrapped up. Ganguly was raised onto the shoulders. He was mercifully not asked to speak (at least I did not catch it) and was “left alone with his glory”. The best moment of the night for me was to see the Fab Four together, side by side, wreathed in smiles, all together in the team for one last time, —-like all great bands, they had their moments of discord but what music had they given us, what memories !
Of course the last most poignant moment was Ganguly, trying desperately to remain stoic, coming out to acknowledge his cheering fans and then on public request, in the manner of an old conjurer performing his favorite act at the curtain call, repeating his iconic gesture at Lords of taking his shirt off. There was no anger now. No rage. Or even if there was, he did not show it.
There was a wave to the crowd. And then he was gone. For ever.
And at that moment, I felt happy. Really happy for Ganguly, for all that he had achieved and how he was leaving, not with a whimper but with all his guns blazing, a privilege he sorely deserved.
“There is no reason to get overtly sentimental”, I told myself. This attachment to our old heroes is like our attachment to the first love letter or an old greetings card and once we realize that their time is up, it should be logical to let them go. (Though I cannot do that myself in my life, and hence suffer more than is required to, at times)
And so why should we feel bad at Ganguly’s retirement? Sourav as a person had made millions from the game and is sure to have a very fulfilling post-cricket life whether it be as a businessman, or as a cricket administrator or a media personality or as is speculated the CPM candidate against Didi. Dada vs Didi—now that is one contest I would love to see and readers on this blog would know which side I will be rooting for. And it’s not as if I would never see him again, he would be in the black-and-gold uniform in the three-ring-circus of IPL very soon even though I knew that for Dada IPL would be like “exchanging a walk-on part in the war for a lead role in a cage”.
Most importantly, at the age of 32....(ok, ok, 33), mature people should live by the wisdom of Govinda’s immortal words “Control yaar” when dealing with non-critical life issues like a favorite sportsman retiring. Only 22 year olds, who empathize with filmstars and cricketers as if they were their own flesh and blood, ought to lose sleep over such trivialities. Right?
For all these reasons , my sadness at Sourav’s retirement was muted to a large extent. Instead there was a prayer than his last series does not overwhelm him, that his performances do not dip alarmingly and that another opportunity is not presented to his haters (and there are many of them) to give him a kick in his teeth with a “We told you. He has been finished a long time ago”.
But that did not happen. Sourav had his best series ever against Australia, showing solidity in the middle order never letting his impending retirement cast a shadow over his performances, which was crowned with a century at Mohali and a throwing-back-the-years partnership with partner-in-crime Sachin Tendulkar.
Till we came to Nagpur. The end of the road. The place where his legacy was sought to be finished by lesser mortals many years ago.Would he emulate Guru Greg by scoring a century in his last and first match? Alas that was not to be as h fell for 85 in the first innings. No matter I thought; the six off Jason Krejza in his style of old was compensation enough for staying awake late at night. I smiled to myself when I heard people from Ganguly’s locality, Behala tell a Bengali channel that they would appeal to ICC to credit Ganguly with a century if he scored fifteen runs in the second innings. Really !
Not that Sourav gave his fans that chance. As the Australian fielders ran toward Jason Krejza as he came up with a caught and bowled, there was a fleeting moment of disbelief—surely this is not the way we thought it would end. That feeling was gone however as reality sunk in and as Sourav looked longingly at the sky for a brief second as a sign of thanksgiving or heavenly reproach and then walked off, rapidly, without any show of emotion and with not even a bat raised to the sky, still visibly cross with himself, all I thought was “Oh no India is going to lose this one”.
The next day of course my fears were proven to be unfounded. The series was wrapped up. Ganguly was raised onto the shoulders. He was mercifully not asked to speak (at least I did not catch it) and was “left alone with his glory”. The best moment of the night for me was to see the Fab Four together, side by side, wreathed in smiles, all together in the team for one last time, —-like all great bands, they had their moments of discord but what music had they given us, what memories !
Of course the last most poignant moment was Ganguly, trying desperately to remain stoic, coming out to acknowledge his cheering fans and then on public request, in the manner of an old conjurer performing his favorite act at the curtain call, repeating his iconic gesture at Lords of taking his shirt off. There was no anger now. No rage. Or even if there was, he did not show it.
There was a wave to the crowd. And then he was gone. For ever.
And at that moment, I felt happy. Really happy for Ganguly, for all that he had achieved and how he was leaving, not with a whimper but with all his guns blazing, a privilege he sorely deserved.
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