Mon(k)ey Manager

Hey-lo.

I been hibernating,like, sleeping, ya know? Its a freakin’ metaphor maen. I was sorta busy doing stuff thats kinda important for survival.

What exactly was I doing? I have no effing clue. I had a vision that writing code all my life wont get me anywhere. Since I didnt wanna go anywhere anyway, it looked like a perfect fit. Then one night, over a lonely red bull mixed with Vodka, I had a supercharged vision of a Monkey Wearing a Suit. A suit with a tie.

I knew what I had to do, without doubt. I have a monkey brain, and I hate making  decisions. I was born to be a Manager.

I come from a family of Managers. Its a metaphor, again. How, you may ask, when my dad never worked as a Manager,how can I claim to be from a family of managers? We shall have to dig in deep into a typical Manager’s psyche to get the answer.

I am a software engineer by choice, and at the expense of sounding vain, a pretty good software engineer.

But Harold said — “If you are hung like a Moose, you dont have to be a porn star.” Just cos I am good at it doesnt mean its my density. No sir, its not an Honourable Monkey’s density. No one in the awesome Monkey dynasty worked as an Engineer [Cos no one in the awesome Monkey Dynasty ever really did anything].

Okay, so I come from a family of managers. My dad is a lazy guy who made, and still makes, a living out of being lazy and making smart comments on other people’s work, or the lack of it, depening on whether  its someone else or The Monkey he is making the smart comment on.

“Its a motivational technique”, he tells me.

I find it a de-motivational technique, but who am I to tell him, I’m just a monkey who wants to wear a suit to work and sit in an air conditioned cabin making posts on Linked In about random books on IIT that were published in the last year.

As a choice of vocation,  once upon a time I decided to write a book on my life in IIT. Chetan Bhagat, the other guy who studied at a different IIT in a different city having different moral values and different bars, plagiarised my idea using his wonderful time travel machine [Patent pending]. He stole a copy from  a roadside pirated book store in the year 2011, went back to 2001 and wrote most of what happened to me, time-shifting it by 15 years (-ve).  Since he stole my idea, I have been out of sorts, really.

I have limited skills, social, mental, and especially physical, and those skills rarely find me a suitable employment that may offer me the wonderful corner cabin where I may be seated sipping diet coke and illegally smoking a cigarette in my awesome suit. Most people who hire me arent smart enough to know that I am genetically destined to have that cabin and the money to afford those suits.

So I contemplated more and more on The Monkey becoming a manager.

Finance, is it for me? The world’s in recession, I think I could live off watching a computer screen displaying $xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx in a firang’s account while I tell him to invest it all in Microsoft cos Google just says dont be evil and does the evil thing by never releasing Chrome for Linux. That would be awesome.

Human Resources, wonderful. The Monkey, as the HR head, would strike off all clauses from the Sexual Harrasment section of his, and only his, offer letter. That should get him laid, once he is the only legally bangable dude in the entire office compound. That would be awesome, too.

Sales and Marketing, even more awesome. S&M has always been my thing, judging from the entries in my educational movie collection. I heard they even get paid when they dont get results. I could get used to that.

The confusion was never ending, so I called up my dad, the Awesomely Demotivating Old Monkey.

Monkey : “Dad, I wanna do an MBA”

Dad: “Get married, you moron”

M: “Huh?”

D: “Get married. You are short, fat and earn less than a day labourer. Once you lose hair, even Cher wouldnt marry you”

M:”Huh?”

D:”What? Have you lost the ability to understand spoken English? Get married before you become even fatter and lose all your hair. I assure you, once you cross 30, even a blind unmarried pregnant lady on a wheel chair wont marry you”

M:”Thanks, Pa. Good night.”

That went well, thought the monkey, and immediately decided to join a Gym, visit a Trichologist, and become a Manager.

Its been a month. The gym he joined keeps calling and he keeps making excuses of being out of town. The trichologist told him its male pattern baldness, a sign of maturity, so he chose maturity over hair he would have to wash every week.

The Management whim faded with time, too. A dude in a Tie and a Suit tried to sell him a Personal Loan, when he refused the dude insisted, and the monkey saw this as the future of an MBA rather than the awesome corner cabin with illegal smoking privileges.

I really cant make any decisions. Being a manager is in my genes, definitely.

O sutere!

“Dude, you said you quit smoking?”

The monkey never lied. He only altered perceptions.

“Yes, I did. I quit. For a couple of hours.”

“I am fucking sick of you. What do u want? Someday, you are gonna die”

“And you, queen, shall live forever. Because you quit smoking 6 months back. Chill.”

The monkey took up smoking in the year 2002, out of his whim to , well, smoke. Ironically, he had a few joints in 2001, but he never took nicotine. 2002, he just decided he wanted to smoke, bought a pack of Wills Navy Cut, the premium brand for poor people in India, and finished a pack in a day.

What exactly happened? A college senior made him fill a questionnaire. The questionnaire was mostly as follows:

1. Do you value your life?  Monkey’s Answer (MA) : No.

2. Do you think smoking kills? MA: Yes

3. Do you think smokers get laid more often than non smokers? MA : No

4. Would you want to miss out on anything in life? MA:No

5. If you decide on doing something, do you consider if its socially acceptable? MA:No

6. Do you play soccer at the college level? MA: No

7. Do you consume alcohol? MA:Yes

8. Do you have a girlfriend? MA: No

9. In one line, give a reason why you dont smoke? MA: Cos its bad for health.

For someone who didnt “value” his life, not smoking cos of health wasnt the reason.

What started as a symbol of rebellion against a to-be-enacted law against public smoking soon turned into an unforgivable habit. A sheer addiction. The monkey experimented with anything he could lay his hands on, but he never got addicted. With cigarettes, it was different.

Its 2008, and a lot has changed. The monkey values his life now, inspite of how painful it is. The nihilism is a stupid history. The age of experimentation is over.

Its time to begin a fresh life. Wipe the slate clean. 2009 is the year of the Monkey. Not in Chinese astro.

The monkey’s year end resolution is to “straighten out his life”.

The gods have been heard. Change is the vehicle, the only truth.

May the force be with the Monkey!

“Quit smoking you must, or die (early) you will” – Jedi Master Yoda

“Smoke whatever the fuck you can, you will die early anyway”- Prof. Cynic Monkey Jr., University of Ximians.

Random

Just another weekend. The monkey and his ex-roommates meet up at around 12 saturday night, and general consensus was to perform the ritual. The past week had been excessively heavy on The monkey, way too heavy, too too too heavy. Heavy enough to allow a break of moral code and delve deep into … umm alcohol, mostly.

So what happened last week? Shit happens, and so it happened.

As always, The monkey’s brain was wandering. Work this week was a breeze, which gave him time to realize the emptiness of his life, the meaninglessness. Now, the monkey realizes this every time he joins The Mile High Club, but this time around, he wasnt even allowed backdoor entry to the club (He ran out of valium, finally),

But still , he was soul searching. Deep Soul Searching.

Deep Soul Searching, or DSS is a phenomenon unique to advanced primates, for the lower animals have better stuff to think about, like fight for survival. These advanced monkey descendents usually have too much time on their hands to actually bother about the meaning of existence, “Why am I here when I could be elsewhere”, and “If only I had a few lakh more, I would be sleeping with a beautiful girl.”

The monkey was deliberating these questions and more. He was wondering why exactly is his CFL a spiral, when that would mean an equal amount of light(energy) is wasted lighting the inside of the spiral. Back from work quite early in the evening and having no one to see and no where to go, he kept staring at the CFL and nothing came to light. So, in a fit of genius, he pulled his only chair, which has wheels without stoppers, and pulled it right underneath the CFL. He got up on the chair, shakily  and still shaking. His vibrating knees slowly helped him reach close enough to the very live CFL, and without thought, he extended his hand and pulled it out. Only, he managed to touch the slight metal exposed before actually getting the connectors out, and got a vibrant 220 V shock (Alternating). Thinking the only wise thing would be to drop the bloody CFL, he did so, generating the teeniest momentum, but big enough to set the stopperless wheels in motion. Like a snowboarder, he extended both his arms, and in the process directed the chair straight into the nearest wall. The collision wasnt earth shattering, but The monkey, in all his glory, managed to jump right before the collision and straight onto the broken glass pieces.

Was he wearing a pair of slippers? A pair of socks? No, Sir, he most definitely wasnt. He was climbing up a chair and didnt want his ass to get dirty if he ever decided to sit on it instead of using it as a clothes rack.

Did his feet bleed, you ask? Well, he is a monkey only metaphorically, so of course they did.

Did he die? Of course he didnt, else who would be writing this post? . A colleague from work somehow answered his call, and took him to the hospital eventually.

He was fixed in no time, but of course, he walked totally like a literal monkey the rest of last week.

So much for domestication and staying indoors. The monkey has now vowed to spend each evening drinking with strangers and encouraging a fist fight at the local bar which offers unlimited liquor at a very nominal price.

He’s just a regular dude!

Three friends:Jolly,Kajrie and Meherban; 2 other girls, one of them extremely hot, the other one even hotter.

Setting: The ticket queue.

Jolly: Man this movie is gonna be so awesome. Its got a bikini clad girl and her mom’s cleavage, and 2 angry guys who cant act. Its gonne be so much fun!

Meherban: Yeah man. I heard its a sleazefest straight out of a major pervert’s dirty brain. Or crotch. Hehe.

Kajrie: Fuckers, you are out with a girl! Now zip up and get the fucking tickets.

Meherban: Yeah man, zip up now cos u’ll have to unzip when the awesome whores shake their hoohoos in your face. Haha.

Kajrie: God, I am gonna kill you  bastards. They are respectable real women, just playing a role for the movie.

Jolly: And I wanna do them.

Kajrie: I am leaving

Meherban: Hey dude, we were just kidding. I dont even have a zip, its a 501!

Jolly: And I am in my boxers. (To himself): I knew I forgot something.

Kajrie leaves, followed hastily by the boxer boy. Meherban stays in the queue.

Meherban (To Stranger No.1):Meherban.

St1. :What?

Meherban: Mmmeherban

St1.:Fuck off, loser.

Meherban(Quizically): What? Thats my name!

St2. And your dad must be loser’s father?

Meherban: Al-Meherban

St1. : Damn! He’s a terrorist!

St2.: He just said he is  from Al-Qeda.

Meherban: No you bimbos, my name is Meherban, my dad is Al-Meherban

St1: See? Now he is threatening us!

Tarzan(Appearing out of thin air):Who is troubling you sweetheart?

St1.: This guy. He is a terrorist. He has a beard and a name tough to spell.

Tarzan(On the phone): Hello!100? I have noticed suspicious individuals in the queue for movie tickets for a sleazefest directed by a miserable pervert. Its quite possible one of them is carrying a hidden bomb in his shirt. He seems to have an unusually large chest. Compared to mine, anyway.

Meherban(Shouting desperately): Jolly, help me! He has called the fucking cops!

Tarzan(On the phone): Did you listen to that? He just called you fucks. Okay, I will inform the multiplex security, and get them to issue a bomb alert. (Pause). Okay, I will personally make sure this terrorist and his accomplices stay here  till you arrive.

Jolly: What the fuck happened man? Why are you shouting like an intelligent investor in October 2008?

Meherban: Dude this guy just called the cops and told them we are terrorists.

Kajrie: Hey, himbo, dude, these guys are perverts, not terrorists!

Tarzan: So you are the human bomb? Dhanu ishtyle?

Kajrie: Fuck you moron!

—–

At the station:

Cop1: Ids.

Cop2: Of course they have ids. They have at least 2 or 3 ids. Their organisation forges ids.

Sleepy Cop: Just make sure you divide the kill with me. Yawn.

Cop1: Its a matter of national security. This guy has a beard and a name tough to spell.

Cop2: Yeah. We shall uphold justice.

Kajrie: My mom will uphold you two by the balls. I want my phone call.

Sleepy Cop: Just let em go. Make sure you divide the kill with me. Yawn.

Cop2: No phone calls. TADA.

Kajrie: TADA was scrapped you ass. I want my phone call.

Meherban: Here, use my cell.

Cop1: Detonator!! He has a detonator!

Cop2 flies through the air,Meherban steps aside , Cop2 bangs his head against a table corner and bleeds to death.

Cop1 (On the phone): These are deadly fuckers, Saheb! They killed Cop2 without even hitting him! (Pause). Encounter? Ji saheb!

Sleepy Cop:Make sure you divide the kill with me. Yawn.

Cop1: Wake up, sleepydick, we got to kill these bastards in a fake encounter to preserve national security and police brutality.

Meherban: Why am I recording all of this on my wonderful smuggled iphone?

Kajrie: Because we are going to use this to fucking jail these bastards.

Kajrie’s mom, the lady in white, arrives.

K.M: Beta! I told you not to do ecstasy!

Kajrie: Shut the fuck up,Mom. These morons think we are terrorists. They want to kill us in an encounter.

K.M: What? Who’s incharge here.

Sleepy Cop: He is lying there sleeping peacefully. In a pool of blood. Meherban the terrorist killed him without even lifting his finger. Yawn.

K.M. : How could you, Mmmmeher!

Kajrie: The moron banged his head and died. We have the video.

K.M.(Watching the video): Nice phone, Mmmmeher.

Meherban: Thanks, Kajrie’s mom. What you doing tonight?

Kajrie: Rescuing us, moron!

Meherban(To Kajrie’s mom): Mmmmeherban.

Kajrie:Meher! She’s your mom’s age!

K.M.: Yeah, but I am divorced and available. And an extremely hot MHLF (Mother HE would ….).

Kajrie: Kill me.

Sleepy Cop: The shift’s over. Ask the other guys who come in the next shift.

Cop1: Adios. Shift’s over.

Jolly(Busy collecting ids and information taken by the cops): Lets run!

All of them(running): And justice is upheld!

Cop2:(Silence)

Meherban and Kajrie’s mom:Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Kajrie: Somebody, please kill me!

Jolly(Operating Meher’s wonderful smuggled iphone’s camera) : A little to the right, Meher, I cant get her cleavage from this angle in this wonderful smuggled iphone.

Where do we go now?

I’ve been thinking, and its really hurting my ass.

The “deadline”. The 7 month deadline is all about to end. What happens next is nobody’s guess. I am surprised that at the ripe young age of 43, give or take 16 years(mostly take), I have no fucking clue.

So about the 7 month deadline. I was in a fix this April. A mighty fix at that. Then Lord Shiva, Mahakaal, The great guiding spirit with an ounce of dhatoora, and some bhang, came to me and told me to Let it be. It wasnt John Lennon this time, it really was the Lord. I saw him standing there(Another poor beatles pun), with that wonderful King Cobra entwined around his blue neck. Or I could just be hallucinating. But thats not the point, the point is what he told me.

Shiv : “Dude, you lost a fuckload of time lying on that stupid bed. You know, there’s so much booze you didnt drink and so many bitches you didnt help gain self esteem by letting them trample you underfoot. The ugly ladies need you, cos no one seems to appreciate them like you do. What else would a fat bastard like you aim for anyway? Ambition, my son, is the enemy of success. And success, my friend, is your greatest fear. Now, I suggest, with my infinite wisdom and an altered  perception cos of the  heavenly narcotics ( strictly not for trade on earth) I did right before I transcended into your filthy pig sty, you live it up. Go get an apartment, stay alone, wank of thrice a night, hit on anything that moves, but no cows, Nandi minds it, and get a fucking job, for Christ Sakes -apologies for blasphemy.”

Monkey: “Man, How high am I?”

Shiv: “11 stories. I fucking took the stairs to take care of my pot belly. Now man, I am here cos you freaking called for help, not  to watch u slurp and finger your nose. Gross. You are never gonna get a chic like this. You have to be a human, and a not so fat human, you rhinoceres. Who gave you that freaking nose?”

Monkey: ” Guess you did. You or that other punk, Brahma or something. Look man, I have a life changing decision to make tomorrow morning. Just go and lemme get some sleep.”

Shiv:  Darn you, dickhead. I am here to help you make that life threatening decision.”

Monkey:”Man, you are telling me to get a job. I have a choice of 3. Which one do I choose.”

Shiv:”In Soviet Russia, job chooses you.”

Monkey:”A russian reversal? Man, you are good.”

Shiv:”Uncyclopedia.org. Best viewed in any browser.”

Monkey:”So which one do I take?”

Shiv:”You already know. Start afresh. Make up for lost time. Have fun. Remove all dependencies. Walk like you used to walk, bitch!”

Monkey:”For a God, you curse a lot, man”

Shiv:”Nah dude,I talk in the language you understand. I got a babel fish. Arthur Dent gave it to me to bribe his way to heaven.”

Monkey:”You accepted a bribe?”

Shiv:”Yeah, and sent him straight to hell. They call it “offerings”, you know. Its upto me to accept it and ditch the fuck.

Monkey:”What about ethics?”

Shiv:”Fuck ethics, I devised the freaking moral code to keep you guys busy. Anyhow, dude, the decision you have to make is not about a freaking job or the zeroes in your salary. You make sure you dont leap this time. Walk. Slow and steady wins the race.

Monkey:”And the fast ones get laid.”

Shiv:”Forget about getting laid.  Not happening this year. Just chill and get your brain in order. Multiple whores are predicted in 2009. Sue me if they charge you more than a 1000.

Monkey:”Man, you got to grant me a wish or something. Gods do that kinda stuff when they see humans, I have heard”

Shiv:”Fuck off. The only thing I will grant you right now is a bang on the head and a snake up your ass. Want that?”

Monkey:”Nah man. One request, though. I have heard tons about your dance. Make the earth shake.”

Shiv:”Awesome man. Got some trance? You know that Buddha Bar shit. I loved it.”

Monkey: “There you go. Shake it, baby!!”

The next day, I decided to move to a different town, stay alone and read, and “just be” for 7 months.

A mild earthquake was reported that night.

Perfect Strangers [Acc. Disc- Part II]

A: You know, if you didnt crib so much, you could actually be tolerable.

S: Yeah, like I give a fuck. God knows I hate the day I found you nearly as much as I hate you.

A: And you love me as much, too. Seriously, M, you have to be consistent about something in your life.

M: Pretty much stuck on you for the last 3 years. I am so tired of this arrangement. Lets figure something out before its too late.

A: Figure what out? We agreed we had an expiry date. Now that its closer, you want  permanence. What for? Like millions of others before, we will get tired of each other in a few years, life would hardly be bearable and you will really hate me as much as you claim you do. Would you want that?

M: But this isnt working. For either of us.

A: What are you suggesting? Should we break up?

M: I didnt say that.

A: You dont say that, you do! Three times already. What do you think it does to me?

M: I apologized within minutes each of those three times.

A: And for no reason too. What are you so scared of?

M:  The future. We have none.

A: We have the present. Why are you so hell bent on destroying that?

M: The present sucks.

A: So do I, when you insist. That should even it out.

M: Heck man, I dont want to be an almost been all my life.

A: So you want me to be the benchmark which tells you you saw something to the end?

M: No. I just want you to be around when I wake up one Sunday Morning in 2015.

A: Romantics are losers. Think. You and I can only stand each other for so long, unless we are making out. We are incompatible in more ways than can be counted on fingers. And of course, you are unstable, physically, emotionally, financially. Why would I want to spend the rest of my life with you? I’ll be honest, you are a perfect boyfriend, M, but you are nowehere close to being even a reasonable husband material.

M: And last night you told me the girl who marries me will always be happy.

A: Yeah, sometimes you are good, in bed and otherwise. What about the days when you are like “Leave me alone, I’ll be back in a few days.”?

M: Thats only happened a couple of times in the 3 years we have been together.

A: They felt like an eternity. You dont know what it feels to be left behind.

M:  Now I do, with you planning to vanish.

A: I just met the guy. It doesnt mean I will marry him.

M: I bet you wont.

A. got married to the same deserving, stable guy she met, who happened to be (potentially) 10 times as rich as The Monkey. The Monkey broke his leg when taking a leap too huge, then he broke his back when he took an even bigger jump, spent 4 months on the bed lying flat with a male nurse feeding him, got into severe depression, got addicted to valium, recovered,  and moved on.

A girl he dumped because he thought she wanted to leave, she cost him 2 years of his life. Thats what he liked to think of it as : All because he dumped her.

He was off valium, he hadnt smoked weed for like ages now, the hard shit never took to him, and his body reacted okay to the pack he smoked each day. He was doing fine.

That was what he told everyone.

The truth was he had confined himself to a lease he bought on this okay apartment. This was his heaven, this was his hell. Every weekend, he tried to get himself away, go down to Bombay, splurge his now-again found steady income, get sloshed out of his skull and forget about the past as much as possible. Every monday, though, his body reminded him of every moment of pain, the tears and the shrill cries in his baby voice, his drug induced speeches about how he could have changed, how he needed another chance, just one more take at life and he would set it right.
And then a red scooty hit him and changed everything.

The Lioness and The Monkey watched Wall E together. Surprisingly, it was still on in Pune. The Monkey had seen it earlier, but this time he was present mentally. He liked the movie.

It was nearly 10 when they walked out of the theater.

“Where to, now, Highness?”

“Looking at you, I get a feeling you need a drink.”

“Sure as fuck I do. Dont you? Its been a hard day’s night, and I have been working like a dog. Bow wow.

Hey how old are you, by the way? I dont want to be caught abetting a teenager to drink and do drugs!”

“I am 26, thanks, and way past the age where I could be influenced by maladjusted individuals. I am quite maladjusted myself.”

“Lets roll, then.”

At 12, they were thrown out of the bar, Pune style, and drunk enough to be declared unfit for societal acceptance.

“You got work tomorrow?”

“I do, but I guess I will take an off . Its not every day I meet a girl like you.”

The truth was she was he hadnt talked to a girl in the real world for the last 5 months.

He didnt know when she bent forward and kissed his cheek. She was quite a bit taller than him, like most girls he had ever been out with.

She didnt know when he pulled her closer and kissed her for a whole minute.

Pune was scandalized beyond redemption. They didnt plan to redeem it of love, anyway.

He drove, his years of experience in inebriated driving coming to the rescue of a sadly uttered question of “Who is gonna drive? I wont leave my scooter here for the night”.

He drove straight to his place. She didnt ask a question.

They took the stairs, waking up the neighbours with their giggles and vacuumed kisses. He finally freed his hands when they reached the fourth floor, reached for the keys, pushed open the door and said “Welcome to the palace, Your Royal Highness”.

He didnt have a place to sit, except for the bean bag and his bed. She took the bean bag.

“Where’s the TV”

“Dunno, Lucknow, Agra, Kanpur, Noida, Gurgaon, I dont know. I never got it here when I moved”

“You actually live without a TV? What about your roomies? They dont miss the TV either?”

“I stay alone”

“Now I get it. You mean little bastard, you brought me to a house with nobody but us at 1 in the night.”

“Close the door as you leave, if you are going”

She stayed.

It was barely 17 hours since they first saw each other.

They had spent less than 6 hours. Just 6 hours, and two perfect strangers in Pune were in a love that would cause a riot in Lucknow and a gun fight in Delhi.

Accidental Discovery – Part I

He was almost dozing off trying to finish another page. There was no electricity, as usual, and he read in the dim light of a candle. He had a stock of candles now, along with a stock of maggi, cigarettes, cheap red wine and books, both technical and english fiction.

His hand brushed against the candle flame as he was about to yield himself to sleep, and he was all awake the next second, bruised and in pain. He licked his burn, unable to admire its intensity for the lack of light. “Let there be light” he shouted, his head raised high, as he lit his cigarette lighter, and burst into a deeply sarcastic laughter which only he could understand. He picked up a cigarette, lighted it and switched off his lighter. “So much for God”, he said, and walked to the sliding window that overlooked a wasteland. He slid the right window slightly, heard the rain pouring wildly and took a deep drag.

He knew clearly he was missing something, or someone. He tried not to think about what is it thats slipped his mind even when he knows it has. He didnt like the feeling too much, and took another deep drag, deeply contemplating the need for a diesel generator or an invertor. He couldnt afford it now. He didnt need to afford anything anymore.

He stayed alone at the apartment. The aparment wasnt that bad, it was just the city. Power crises in a semi-industrial town might sound like a joke, but its a reality in these quarters. He finally decided to get rid of the dark, picked up the candle from the floor and lighted it. “Damn”, he said as his back clunked when he bent too fast to pick it up.

He started looking for his cell phone, he needed to see the time. Here, in his sanctum, he had made a world where he didnt need anyone, didnt care for anyone. His cellphone was in the walkman mode, and he didnt make or receive any calls. This was the third day he hadnt spoken to any other human. This was the third day since he had been online. This was the third day since he quit his job. It was 4 am on the 25th of October.

A week back back, he was walking to work as usual. The roads to his office were all dug up, it took him thrice as much as normal days  if he took the other road, so he walked instead.  As he walked, with maiden playing loud in his ears, he failed to notice a red scooty coming straight at him. He was shocked and fell to the floor when she hit him. He raised his head to offer the customary curse, but when he saw the girl who drove the culprit vehicle, all he could say was “Thanks. I am Monkey”.

She was exceptionally shaky, and tried to lift all of the bulk of his 80 kg from the slush, but he refused to budge and kept staring at her longingly. When he finally came back to his senses, he told her she could have killed him. She said , “Yeah, with a scooty running at 10 km an hour”. They both smiled, he asked for a lift. She dropped him near his office, and he somehow had the guts to ask for her name and number. “I’ll need your name and number, miss, in case I broke any bones.” She smiled and told her he could call her a Lioness, if he is a monkey, and her number was 9867******.

The rest of the day was like the rest of the days. In the evening, he went to a doctor, who told him he had not broken any bones, gave him a few injections and charged him a 1000 bucks. He called her and told her he was at the same place.”Come and hit me, I have medical insurance”.

He stood there for half an hour, smoking flavoured cigarettes and drinking diet coke. She didnt hit him, neither did she come. He decided to pay a visit to the nearest liquor store and get some rum. She was way out of his league.

As he was about to turn towards the store, he saw a red scooty bang head on with an icecream man.

“You sure can drive, L. Whoever gave you a driving license hates humanity !”

“Okay, now if you can please cut off the sarcasm and help the poor guy I just banged, I would be really grateful”

“So you banged an icecream wallah? Nice for a desperate hot chic”

“Shut up”

He expected this to be the last conversation with her somehow, his tongue had once again got the better of him.  It was just the beginning, though.

When she said shut up, he failed to notice her smile. Hegot too embarrassed when he said something he felt he shouldnt have. He stood there, like a moron, an icecream man on the floor, and a girl picking up her scooterette.

“Hey!Hello! Are you gonna sleep standing only? Dumbo!C’mon, I’ll give you a lift”

“Do whatever you want to me, just dont ask me to ride with you. I am quite young, and I am a virgin for the last 18 months”

“Cool, you drive. You can drive, right? Anyone can drive better than me….”

“Okay, that sounds like an agreeable idea. Lets go somewhere. Lets get drunk out of our skulls, pick some hot girls and bang their brains out”

“Hellow! I am a girl, and I am not into girls. How about we just go out and watch a movie for now?”

“A movie ? Lemme see my appointment list. Hmm…18th, 6pm-12 pm – Nothing.”

“You keep an appointment list? You must be one busy guy”

“Yeah. All the entries say “Add New Appointemt?” ”

They rode together, without helmets, her faced covered with a stupid bandana Pune girls seem to love. A fine drizzle struck his face, he could see a rainbow towards the horizon. “Look, a rainbow” , she screamed. He felt alive after a very, very long time.

Degeneracy

“Degeneracy can be fun but it’s hard to keep up as a serious lifetime occupation.” -Robert M. Pirsig

My life peaked at the age of 13 and has been going downhill since. As a keen and rather intelligent primate, I discovered the magic of sex way too young, and its ironic that 14 years later, I am permanently deprived of that one wonder my body can legitimately provide with the assistance of just one person and not a million, which is the normal state of our lives. What do I know that some one else before me didnt? Do I even want to know?

Discovery, accidental or otherwise, is healthy. I remember finding out its quite possible to jump from a 12 foot ledge and not break my legs. I discovered I could hit any cricket ball that came to me as long as I didnt get scared. I discovered women, I discovered cigarettes, alcohol, rock, metal and blues, I discovered I didnt have to write what people like, I discovered I didnt have to be what people like. Well, maybe , just maybe, there are a few people who wont push me to a barber’s, there may even be a girl who likes hair, facial and otherwise.

In spite of all my pesudo-grunge existence, I sometimes tend to be quite normal. I still blush when a girl catches me staring at her celestial wonders. I am still confused if they could be called phobos and demos, two fiery moons, or a pair of mangoes, or just plain mammary glands, simple functional organs that probably werent erotic till women decided to hide them. So much of our existence, even our sensuality ,is a product of mass conditioning.

Every week, between monday and friday, I am a robot. I solve problems mechanically, I handle clients mechanically, I code mechanically, and I come home, watch japanese models nude, wank off to them with Tool telling me that 46 and 2 are still ahead of me, and go to sleep,mechanically. It has nothing to do with my degree.

Every weekend, I eat, drink and think alcohol.

An odd wine through the week is also not rare. I still remember the days when me and most of my friends were so pathetically drunk we had to really ask ourselves how people turned alcoholics. We never noticed we were alcoholics.

Which brings us back to the subject of ,yes, —degeneracy!

Before I had picked up Zen, all I knew about degeneracy was in terms of atoms. Then, with the precision of a heart surgeon, I hand picked the parts of other people’s lives, their books, their dreams, their sorrows, their women, and within a few years, I didnt recognize myself. In my mind, I was Superman, I was Super Command Dhruv, I was James Bond, I was Elseworth M. Toohey, I was even Jon Bon Jovi in Destination Anywhere, and I stood there staring at Demi Moore’s window. I never fancied myself to be a Roark back then, I was tiny and I couldnt draw. I jerked off to Dominique Francon and Dagny Taggart, who in my mind always looked like the girl I fancied back then, white as snow with long hair and a condescending smile. Being a remarkably ugly child, I saw most women as Goddesses, someone I could aspire for and never be with. As I grew up, I was with a lot many of these women, and perhaps out of my deep insecurities, the count of which I have totally lost, I scoffed them off, if they didnt throw me away before that. The closest I came to being truly in a relationship was a very heartbreaking experience, and somewhat knee and back breaking as well.

At 13, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. I proclaimed it with much aplomb with a Denins the Menace poster- “My target-Doing nothing” which was taken in great spirit by my providers. I was lectured on how this is the time I should start working hard, etc etc. In the end, the poster stayed on the wall , my one true ambition, just to exist, just to be, just to be happy, it had to fade away and be replaced by an obscene competitive streak, which to this day haunts me. I am a composition of so many different people, I myself dont know how I would react to a given situation.

I believe all of us have severe multiple personality disorder. If you dont believe me, try this:Call your best friend at work, then call her at a party.

My one true ambition, the target of doing nothing, never really left, though. I tried my best to be the worst at everything I ever did, yet there were people far more task oriented than me and they set me up for failure even in my attempts to be a miserable failure. I just went on, always in a haze, always muddled in confusion. In third year of college, I decided to drop out, and promptly informed my providers. They agreed, since I wasnt doing well, maybe I should drop out and revive the family farms. A strong kid like me could definitely make something grow on those barren lands.

The decision was therefore soon reverted, and I applied myself  to alcohol, cigarettes and greenery. Years have been passing by, and I have been medicated, mostly on prescription drugs, and its been about two months that finally, I can tell my doctor I had  a drink and he wont kill me for that. Could it be its all those anti-dep that really fucked my head? Rationalization, thy name is Monkey.

There’s a school of thought in the department of primate psychology in the Univerity of Ximians which suggests that all of us are addicts of some kind and we all have very low self esteem. Some talk too much, some lie too much, some are just addicted to proving they arent addicts and we really take what other people think of us way too seriously. The highly acclaimed research wasnt published in any major journal, however, for it would destroy the world as we know it. Take away addictions and give every one some self esteem, and Apple would be selling a Jack a nano version of The Giant Peach in a fruit mart.

Presently, I realise I havent left the path of degeneracy I once adopted out of a necessity to escape reality and the people whose life I live. Time is running out, and everything seems to stagnate, each day is the same and I still feel like SCD and Superman, and Maynard James Keenan and Roger Waters and George Orwell and Madonna.

Its been a while since I felt like myself, though.

All for love – I

Gurgaon is practically a suburb of Delhi. Or so I thought.

For love, and money, I took up a job in Gurgaon. The city is excellent, but its only halfway done. Except for the malls. Yeah, the awesome, lovely malls with their multiplexes and midriff-baring girl-jeans hoardings. I havent been to the city since December 2006.

I worked quite hard to ensure it was in/around Delhi, my campus placement. And I managed it too. I was rather proud of myself. I had worked for it, I managed to get it. It was awesome.

It sucked bigtime. It took an hour and a half to reach anywhere close to my sweetheart, which after work was impossible. I couldnt take a place close to her house cos I wasnt paid well enough. Worse, I had suddenly realised my love for alcohol slightly exceeded my love for my sweetheart. I tried to divide my attention between the two, with alcohol winning owing to the simple fact: We had a few drinks together, me and my sweets.

Anyhow, lets get to the point. It was a cold December evening. We met at TGIF @CP , and were sloshed out of our skulls, PDAs and loud laughs. You know how it gets when two people meet and behave like there’s no tomorrow. Both of us knew it could be our last time together, every meeting came with the caveat that it could be the last. She was an hieress of sorts, I was a loser of all sorts. The only thing I had ever been serious about was her, and she was half serious about me herself. And, we almost made it.

I digress again. This isnt the story of how to make a bad situation worse, its the story of the victory of love over lack of public transport. That fateful day in December 2004, when I was in Gurgaon when I should have been in college writing a paper on fuel cells, was of course a Sunday. You get a bus that takes you somewhere close to the friend’s place I was bunking in at. You get the bus, but only till about 11 in the night. From CP to the place where you get that bus, a place called Dhaula Kuan, named so as to avert the coward for fear of falling in a well. I eventually managed to get off an auto, and took out my exceptionally flashy “Rack and Pinion” Samsung N-400 to look at the time.

I opened the flap, but the antenna didnt pop out. It was a dead brick presently, out of power. I had courageously ignored the tu-toos it made to alert me of the catastropy that was about to befall the ximian kind, and my courage paid me stupidly well. I was stranded around 35 km from my shelter, I was wearing a thing grey hooded benneton sale ka maal which kept me about as warm as a vest would do, and there were no bus to Gurgaon.

I sweet talked a bus-wallah into telling me a place where I could get off and reach somewhere close to my shelter. I knew exactly four guys in Delhi, and I just knew them. I didnt know their number, because my stupid cell phone was dead, alcohol could be smelt in a radius of 3 m around me, I could barely speak without a stutter and I was cold as hell. He told me of a bus that would drop me somplace from where I could get a 6-seater (which actually meant 6 in each of the 3 rows).

I, the brave knight in a smelly grey sweatshirt, jumped on the bus, bought the ticket, and made everyone around me uncomfortable with the booze smell. I was suffocated, I felt like puking.

I dozed off for a few microseconds, when I woke up with a start to realise that my bus was empty. I walked out the door, confident that the 50 bucks I had would carry me to my shelter from here somehow.

I got down in the pitch dark, expecting to locate the semblance of a six-seater. There was one, there. I walked towards it with brave excitement, only to realise it was stalled and dysfunctional. As I walked further, I recognised some of my bus mates. I asked them what the hell happened , and they told me that the bus broke down. Where are we? We dont know. How do we get to Gurgaon? We hitch a ride on something.

Departure.

Its already 8. I will be fined again. Corporate culture, discipline. Shit man, I have already resigned. Cant they all just leave me alone?

10 bucks for another hour’s sleep is not a bad deal at all. But now that I have left the company, eyes will be raised, the HR machinery set into motion. Can I make it by 8:10? I dont really care anyway. My knee is acting up again, I guess today will be a valium day. How long can I survive without  drugs? 10? 15 minutes?

Whats left to be done? My life as I knew it is over. The future is, well, yet to arrive. I feel like shit. Ever since she told me she wasnt blue anymore, I have been drinking continuously. I’d resigned before I interviewed for other companies. It wasnt arrogance. It was a desperate attempt to show her I could give it all up for a few more months with her. All useless now, all a waste. Everything that I have ever done makes no sense. Without her, nothing makes sense.

I have fallen into a loop. My health is deteriorating every hour. I have been on drugs, some prescription, some arranged for, some rolled into a joint, some popped as pills. I have gained 10 kgs in the last 20 days. I can hardly walk 5 steps without running out of breath. This is impossible. I used to be an optimist. I hardly know what I am now.

The coffee sucks. This bai of mine is another incompetent asshole, like me, like everyone else. I never was a perfectionist anyway. It has caffeine, thats all that counts.9 minutes left. I wonder if I should be driving with my bad knee. The MRI isnt good, but nothing’s really damaged. 6 years is a long time. It should have either healed or gone worse, but it stays the same. I can hardly imagine a pain free life. It was so much more bearable when she was around.

The sun seems closer by a few light minutes. I am drenched the moment I walk out of the door. I always sweat too much. The virtues of being fat.

I forgot the car keys again. I never forget to forget, at least. The car doesnt look good with the ugly dent. Could I have swerved? I didnt care. I just watched that bike bang the driver’s side, and I didnt move at all. It didnt do my already bad knee any good, and I was stupid to expect a bike to actually kill me.

The biker intended to slap me, but didnt. No one beats you up when you deserve it.

I dont remember where I kept the keys. I slept in formals again, it should be somewhere near the bed. There they are, right beside the iron. I pick up the keys and turn off the iron. Its probably been switched on since Monday.

Nothing seems right. One more day to the weekend. Its scary as hell. What will I do on the weekend?

The traffic sucks. Delhi and NCR. Fuck it. No way I can reach in 5 minutes.

Why do I bother? There’s nothing I can do about it.

Why do I bother? There was nothing I could have done.

There’s a life to waste. Her departure is probably no more than an excuse to indulge in full time degeneracy. Self destruction, your name is The Monkey. There. Closer.

I open up the dashboard. 3 left. I pop in 2 of them, and I gulp them down without water. A few minutes. Sleep. Slumber. No more pain. Nothing. Nothing at all.

I can hear the honks. There’s a guy knocking at my car’s window. I try and look for the window lever. Then I try and look for the window button. I find it. I apply the minimal amount of pressure. I can hardly move my hands.

The guy unlocks the car and pulls me out. I am quite delighted to see so many people around my car. Its like I am a celebrity.

There’s blood all over me. My car’s stacked against a Tata pickup truck. My windshield is scattered all over the hood of my car and the road.

I am lying down on the road. I think that guy pulled me out. There’s a cop car now. I have all my papers. No one can arrest me. I didnt do anything wrong.

They put me up on a stretcher. I like the sun. I feel so calm. So very calm.

They tell me to keep talking, so I start singing nursery rhymes. Row row row the boat, gently down the stream. Merrily merrily merrily merrily, life’s just a dream. I feel great.

I try to keep my eyes open, but I feel so sleepy. I close my eyes.

There’s a flash of light and I feel closer to her than I ever did before.

And then there’s nothing. Nothing at all.