Picture Perfect

All hail the Gods of Olympus(TM)..!! (Photography..the latest craze..or rather heights of joblessness)

Closet case

Sitting in a room filled with designer shit pots is a scary ordeal..and that’s exactly the situation in which I found myself today as I went shopping for a bathroom makeover. To be outnumbered by shitpots that cost more than your gross self worth is rather stressful for the ego. It gives one the feeling of being stuck in the Freudian anal phase and retaining more than one can hold.
To turn the spot-light on to the protagonists themselves, there were all sorts of them, Desis, Phirangis, Upper class, Middle class, Lower class.. literally a gold mine for the postcolonial Marxist thinker. The colonial hangover is what struck me the most. The European avatar of the critical object seem to have the clear upper hand in the market, with its Indian counterpart relegated to the dark recesses of the shop. It is brought out shamefully when the cringing NRI son, building in bricks that desert induced nightmare of his, whispers the order as a result of his ageing mothers last stand against progress; the sovereignty of her bum.

The Rainman

(Forgive me for waxing romantic a bit here... it’s inevitable.. even the KTDC is waxing romantic, they have pics of semi nudes bathing in the falling rain all over the place.. that’s beaurocratic romance in Kerala).

Cold..Dark...The incessant sound of the unseen rain pattering patterns on the roof. Nostalgia sprouts on a mind left wet by memories of a distant childhood shower..and the heart finds peace knowing its home..

Fate & Me

Fate it seems is not without a sense of irony.. I mean why is it that the inherent sense of irony and that ‘ I have seen it all and I don’t care’ attitude comes to the one guy in the family who cant afford it?.. it was not as if our father in heaven didn’t have a choice.. Our father here (god rest his soul) in all his wisdom (sense of humour rather) gave the almighty plenty of choice, Why not the big brother? He is the real McCoy, The man with the brains and the bank account.. Nope, He had to be the hallelujah guy…why? ‘Cos his tithe itself could buy heaven in all its glory? Cant blame the almighty though.. Its boom town and everyone’s looking for a profit.. But the bro would rather be the prophet.. Why not the sisters? With the Dr’s attached to their respective names they could pretty much afford it.. Nope, the medical Dr cant afford to have it... how apt is it going to be if she were to feel that bloated liver and give that ironic smirk that affects me in similar situations or look at that scalpel and say I have seen it all (a tendency to which I am so given) we have to give it to our man in heaven for keeping it from her.. Nor can the agri Dr be it.. There has to be the other extreme in somebody right, helps keep the gene thingys from biting their own tails.. So she had to be the one with the ‘I care a lot and I do give a damn’ attitude.. So it had to be me.. The one to be the lonely bearer of the family cross.. Cant say god didn’t equip me though.. With an MA in English I am the master of rhetoric.. Not that it lessens the load but it lets me in inflict it a bit on others.. A sort of sadistic relief .

The Simple Sadistic Pleasures of Life

I don’t have anything in particular against spiders..or against ants or against any of those creepy crawlies that inevitably find their way into my domain as the rain spreads its watery wings outside..but still I kill’em..every one of ‘em. Maybe its the mere orgasmic pleasure of getting ones gun off (in this case a sleek black bottle of ‘Hit’).. But I would like to believe that it’s just one of them simple sadistic pleasures in life.. The mere cold enjoyment of spraying a lethal dose of toxic vapours on an unsuspecting spider and watching it slowly squirm and die..No..i did not have a disturbed childhood..Nor do I have suppressed desires and fetishes..Am a very very normal guy… Maybe I do have a slight suicidal tendency knowing how much that stuff is getting me too and this killing spree is just an excuse to take as many with me as I go down with guns(eh..aereosol..) blazing..or maybe its just a simple sadistic pleasure in life..