The Dreaming Tree

Howdy amigos. Sometime back when I discovered the FEEDJIT statistic feed I liked it because it was fancy. It shows flags and places and watching it in real time is kinda trippy (yes in Gujarat we trip on anything we can find).

Anyway one totally awesome thing about FEEDJIT is that it also shows you to what searches was your blog a result. Its like 42, you know the answer is my blog but what was the question? Here are the top 3 searches my blog has answered to. I swear to God they are all real and unlike most of my blog this list is not made up.

1. Gujju Bhabhi Pics
Search Engine: Yahoo
Location: Mumbai, Maharashtra.

Good lord if someone with any self respect read this they'd jump off Junagadh Fort's highest spire. For crying out loud, WHY? What is wrong with Yahoo! I have had thoughts about taking them to court. And to think I was the FIRST hit on this search. Boy I'm confused, should I feel good or bad?

Bloody frust Mumbaiker! Surely Borivili material.

2.Gujjus vs Bengalis
Search Engine: Google
Location: New Hyde Park, New York.

Mamata vs Modi, Patel vs Chatterjee. Oh boy oh boy oh boy this is greatest battle ever. In fact it got me thinking. Really, Gujjus vs Bengalis?

Gujjus are fat, so are bongs. You see Gujjus everywhere and Bongs are equally populous. So both of them are certainly getting some.

Ok no more comments, Gujjus wont kill me but I know a Bong who could.

3. "increase average iq" senator
Engine: Google
Location: San Jose, California.

The result is this post.

The Americans are so desperate to get smarter they search the internet to find out how. And they ended up on a post that is not very helpful to say the least.

Ok enough Yank bashing. On second thought, no.

I can imagine the convo:

President: Senator, our people are too stupid we must do something.

Senator: Yes sir, I agree.How about we invade Afghanistan?

President: Surely. I also suggest you increase the average iq, Senator.

Senator: Yes sir, I agree. Maybe invading Iraq will help us do that too?

President: Yes thats a good plan.

Deputy to Senator: Sir, how was your meeting with the president?

Senator: He said "increase average iq, Senator"!

Deputy: That'll be easy sir. Let me Google it. And since I am a patriotic American let me insert unnecessary quotes. Oh look some smart Indian guy has written about what we exactly need.

Senator: Oh these Indians, snapping at our asses ready to take our jobs. Just because they're African doesn't mean we'll let them come into our country like the other blacks.

Deputy: Sir that is politically incorrect. And isn't India in Asia?

Senator: Asia's in China you moron. Go get me my 10$ starbucks coffee or I'll feed you to that wetback Jose guy.

Deputy: Alright. And I also think they're brown and not black.

Senator: You racial S.O.B.

etc etc.

Hello there naive mortal, I am the Fifth Horseman.

Of course, you don't believe me, who would. But if you give me just a few minutes, I'll give you the real story, not just the odd bit of general knowledge. So stay with me here.

Long long long ago, before evolution (which I happen to believe in, that creationism thing is bullshit) I was born to a family of horsemen. My dad was a horseman and my mother was a horseman's wife. They came from families of horsemen and horsemen's wives. So naturally I grew up to be a fine young horseman and enrolled into Horseman College. I was an active member of YHCA (Young Horseman's Christian Association) and did very well in college, graduating with a 10.00 CGPA.

One of my best friends was Lucifer, he was a real devil's son. No, really, he was the devil's son. So when his Dad came along with his company, Apocalypse Inc., I tried to flex my evil arm and asked him for a job. He asked me a few rather simple question and lo! I had a job.

I was overjoyed. Along with me were four other horsemen. Lucifer said his Dad had other plans for him and we bid farewell, after which he descended into the Pit of Hate, the snazzy new nightclub his Dad had started.

We were sent a letter each telling us about our profiles. The other four, who were Conquest, War, Famine and Death were recruited for the working committee, which meant they were supposed to go kill people. Not really a job I'd fancy to tell you the truth. I hate getting my hands dirty and blood really scares me.

I was a part of their PR and Marketing team, I was supposed to convince people that what the other four were doing was for their good and too make sure that the other guys didn't look to bad. Conquest was a great guy, the smartest of the bunch, real bright chap. War was rather quiet and aloof. Famine and Death went hand in hand, they were inseperable, and always played practical jokes on me. If Famine didn't get you, Death sure would.

The great thing about working for the Devil was the day you got recruited you were granted immortality. Also the Employee Stock Options were really good, they made up for the bad food we heard.

Soon enough the other four got to work. They became rather infamous and sell-out bands wrote songs about them. I on the other hand waited long for what the people over at Horseman Resource (HR) called the Offer Letter along with the joining date..

I waited and waited and waited.

It never came, well at least not till today. In fact, when Conquest quit, the recruited Pestilence inspite of my protests, I said I want to be one of them now. But HR wouldn't listen. They said "have patience!". Those bastards are so popular now, I play WoW I see them, they're at the movies, on TV, everywhere!! Its sickening to know I could've been them.

Sometimes I just wish I could go to another firm, but once your in this deep into doom and stuff its difficult to get recruited. Plus no one believes my age, and when I tell them I'm waiting for Apocalypse Inc. and that I'm the fifth horseman they call security.

I guess I'll write HR people another mail.

It was 9 years ago, when I was 13 year old in the quaint but lovely town of Visakhapatnam. It was boyhood, MTV and lots of tennis. I landed up at home after my daily dose of rather mundane education every day at 2, whence I promptly turned on the TV, tuned into MTV Select, then hosted by a young Nikhil Chinappa. I sat there and ate alone, since the house was always empty till 5 P.M.

One fine afternoon just before leaving for tennis practice I heard a song in an advertisement. It was beautiful. I don't know what, how or who. It just struck me to be brilliant. Maybe it wasn't so much the song. I had never heard anything like it before, I was 13 for god's sake.

But it stuck. It stuck through tennis, through the 10 rounds of the 3 courts, through the 50 squats. It stuck for another 7 months.

That is when Satyam's first dial up crept up. Over a period of time I discovered Audiogalaxy. I hummed and hummed. Recalling what I though were the lyrics I ran it through the search engines. Day after day, song after song. I discovered a lot of new music with the same words. And then inevitably, I found it. And it all came back as a rush.

It still does.

And 9 years down the line, through boyhood, adolescence, high school, intimacy, entrance exams, ragging, department bullshit I have found comfort and love in its music. When everything goes wrong, I have this one infallible 5-odd minute composition that links my past, my present, my has, my will-haves and most of all my aspirations.

I hope there's never another day when I mean it as much as I do at this moment.

Wish you were here.

Firstly, that is the only picture of the bike that I could find. Secondly, I know my blog does not normally opine on topics as lowly as this, but then sometimes it likes to bend over.

The changes, which may or may not be visible in the image, include a "sleeker" petrol tank, a more "curvy" headlamp, and tail lights that remind one of Captain Spock's ears, which in one word would be "pointy". And some other graphic nuisances.

Plainly put the Pulsar has gone from being "Definitely Male" to "Oh look at me I'm so fucking metrosexual". The brand for me has been destroyed. Its over.

And to add chilli powder to injury, the advertising campaign shows a bunch of kids sneaking into the showroom to take a peek. I'd like to ask brand positioning people over at Bajaj, Why? Where is the male? Show me the male!!

You may think I'm overreacting and I believe I strongly agree, but why I so despise of this new hideous creation is that at some time I really wanted this bike. Not because it was definitely male. Because it looked away from the then sleek-curvy look (Its competitors then were Suzuki's Fiero and Hero Honda's CBZ). It has a stud round headlight that had no plastic thingy on top of it. Even the first variant was ok, it had an evilish look to it. But now? Now it looks like a byproduct of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.

The reason behing my great disappointment is also that I love the engine. It is, basically, awesome. It sounds like a dream. It rides like a hot knife through butter. Everything's great from the gear shift and ratio to the brakes, everything. Then they had to dress it up in the emperor's bloody new clothes.

Go jump off a cliff Bajaj, and make sure the rocks below are like your tail lamps, really really pointy.

Now that our stay in Trichy, (we say our because well I sounds a little too selfish), is temporarily (never bait fate) done with we will now proceed to detail in great length the disadvantages of learning another language.

As Arthur Dent observes in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, the day he began to understand what the birds speak, he stopped flying with them. That holds a wonderful but oft forgotten truth. Of course I..errm.. we wont tell you what that truth is because that would not be any fun.

Being blessed with the knowledge of the colloquial and mysterious tongue of the soon to be rulers of the worlds the mind numbing, super intelligent, double brained, IPL champs, the Gults, is quite a pain in the chilly pickle. Which incidentally is a pain in the ass the next day.

Add to that the growing vocabulary and Dravidian pride of Tamizh and you have a Molotov cocktail. Oh wait you don't, we believe TASMAC does not allow such heresy.

Anyway the short and poignant story, which relates to an incident that occurred at a large supermarket known as Spencer's Hypermart (or Giga or something) tells the tale of woe, fear, gluttony and most of all, too much radio chatter.

After a day of hard core (kaur if you're feeling Punjabi) shopping, I (yes, there was no we at the hypermarket) waited in a short queue to get the mangoes I was holding in a flimsy, translucent plastic wrapper, weighed and billed. In front of me was this young couple who spoke Tamizh. My eyes lit up for a second, I don't quite remember why though.

Incidentally behind me was this rather fat moustached man with an equally large moustached female partner who kept screaming into the phone ( I believe he was later picked up by the TATA Indicom people for their next "hello!hello!" commercial). He had a lot of shiny yellow metal all over him, gold perhaps and he was the only one in the queue buying Begumpalli mangoes. Obviously Gult.

Translated conversation transcripts below:

Tamizhian Lady :TL
Tamizhian Man:TM
Gult Lady: GL
Gult Dude: GD (Notice the sombre word play)

TL: Wyy are you gewing me soo many blastic baggets? Just put all the vegetables in one bag noo, what will I do with so many bags (to TM) What are you doing? Where is the daughter? Why don't you go look for her instead of staring here and there?

TM looks down and obliges

GL: Who are you calling?

GD: Hello! Hello! Hello!

GL: Give it to me, I will talk. Hello? Yes Srini garu, are you good? Oh yes we are in Gujarat. It is... yes yes he is fine. He is in USA. No not Ankapalli, USA. Hello! Hello!!

TL:(to TM) See how ill mannered they are. These people no respect for environment. Look how that woman is shouting. (turns to see TM is gone and I have usurped his position for tactical advantage. )

(I grin loudly (yes I can do that))

TL: Aiyyo!

(looks around for TM)
What are you doing! Come here and help me. What will I do with these plastic bags!

GL: (to GD) I can't hear anything! (notices GD is staring at the condom closet) Oh hello?? Yes yes I can hear yes tell me, tell me. Oh no no that woman is worsht she has ruined my life. What will we do? No no we cant leave her.

TM come running and nudges GL who drops all the mangoes. I laugh and TL is looking sickles at me. TM starts gathering the mangoes while apologizing profusely. GL suddenly feels free since all the mangoes are gone and walks off into the distance while chatting on the phone. GD continues staring at the condom closet.

TL: (to TM) What are you doing? Those are not our mangoes! (to the employee) I will gomblaint to you manager, where is she? all this stupid blastic (to TM) What are you doing!?!?!

TL looks at me, I grin again. Loudly. Suddenly GL returns and GD snaps out of the trance. They look at each other.

GL: Where are the mangoes?

GD: What mangoes?
(looks down at helpless TM, then addresses GL)
Your father!! Can't you even handle the fruit? Full day on the phone. You have to get me angry all the time.

TM: No no it was my fault you see I walked into..

TL: (now hysterical, possibly because of my grinning) What are you doing? Can't help me carry all this? Go you take the daughter and sit in the car let me take care of all this billing.

---------EOC--------------

Oh the things we have to go through. Sigh.