Counting down the pages: 4. ....Doldrums?!

        Not to worry, its definitely not about those regions in the Atlantic ocean with scarce winds. Its about a world torn by conflicts and strife, some where with no love. Everybody loves love. Okay, maybe not everyone. Let’s just say everyone except that 10% of the human race who love, not love, okay actually love, love loving blahs.

  

        This actually comes as the the exact purpose or motive of the human brain remains one of the greatest scientific brain twister since time immemorial. This makes them confused, and then sad ...ending up to depression. As it is they haven't watched Mr. Bean and have no clue of how beautiful life actually is. 


        Nevertheless, you can contribute. To enhance that affect, one can consistently remind them how successful and well-accommodated he is. This will in a way help them to compare themselves to those high levels making them even more despondent. Finally here it is, trials of killing themselves by either flying to The Great Barrier Reef to get inside that shark's mouth or by touching a live 500watt wire in an endeavor to commit a suicide. This helps. Yeah. Okay. What?!

        Say, if by chance the attempt hits the bull's eye, they contribute to all the world's population control agenda. As it is they take up a lot of precious space and waste the valuable oxygen with their cries  of  ''Don't you inhale me! I wanna live!''. On the other way, talking of revenge by ways of assassin, it is a tremendous method of exerting aggression in a manner which is safe, dynamic, creative, and to an extent state-approved.  

        Not long from now will you see stuff like, ''how to kill yourself, the cool way!''. 
        
Or even better, those 99 trendy and innovative ways  to end your own existence on Earth and send your soul to a burning eternity in hell. Nonetheless, self-destruction or suicide can be a medical treatment to depression, despondency, dumps and dejection, which is some what less expensive than permanent insensibility.  After all, you are the emo so its you responsibility to commit a suicide. 
Happy Depression! ^_^ 

Counting down the pages: 3.

             Its the time of the year, when monsoons soon approach and the first showers soothe city dwellers.
             From the time immemorial.... emm actually its just past a few days back, I have been receiving several invites for the rain dance. -For kings who do not comprehend- its something like the taking your bath with the ceiling-shower. The only dissimilarity is that you have hundreds of accomplices with those sexy moves of theirs, smelling of sweat + their after-showers which they very often use to attain the ''irresistible fragrance''.. ahh!
             And who cares if they skip the daily baths and take brace of those ''verrry verrrry sexyyy'' deos [which, according to the tv adds,  have the ability to steam out the swimming pools and get women close to you, which horny looks, of course!] But when such invites pile up, ladies & gentlemen, they're the first ones to hit the ''I'm attending'' option considering the RSVP. Boom! Its manifest, how could they skip the most awaited ''bathe with the babes'' alliance, even though who cares about bathing daily? Come on! You always have the good deo!


            Well, speaking of those times of natural heavy pour, or ''is the world gonna end?'' as they call it, here they are, covered in plastic burkhas along with the polka-dotted or animal printed umbrellas, of course, one of which suits the trend, and the one which doesn't, makes you a trend setter ;) 
            All these instances remind me of last year, when I told my cousin, from a small part of the state, that I had to end our conversation on phone to get ready for the rain-dance when she misunderstood it as, ''cane-dance''. After a while, some text beeped my phone telling me that she was confused about the tradition of using canes & bamboos for a party. When after coming back it took me quite some time to make her understand that it was we dancing in the rain rather than we jumping with a canes impersonating native Americans. God! Moments of Disgrace?

Counting down the pages: 2. When they know what we need.

                     Well, if its Sharukh Khan telling you something, you'd better pay heed! If he mocked you for using a women's fairness cream despite being a man, what would you do? You'd dash straight to the nearest store and grab the ''For men'' fairness cream. Cause SRK thinks that a man's skin is different from a woman's skin and needs a freaking different cream. 
                     Not all that long ago, we seem to do quite well with the same bar of soaps for the whole family, the same economy-sized vats of face creams, shampoos, conditioners, deodorants etc. The only divide that i remember was in shampoos, and that was regarding the hair-types : egg for undernourished, pink for oily and so fourth. And maybe the famous brand which produced cosmetics for babies. No longer, though. ''New Research'' tells us through ads that men and women are different and their needs are gender-specific. So they need different things for their skin, their hair, their teeth - wait, not teeth. They haven't researched that far yet, but the day may not be far off when we find that women have far more delicate teeth and should hence be using a special toothpaste!

                 


                 After educating us on gender, the producers of these goods looked around and discovered that families consisted of not just men and women; they had people in different age groups too. Bingo! So, they asked us how we could think of giving our cute little toddlers baths, with the big big, bad bars of soap. The injustice of it!  And out came their own teddy-shaped, strawberry flavoured soaps. Yes, pink for girls and blue for boys, spilling off shelves in all their vibrant, irresistible colours and fragrances. And they told us that kids needed their special Barbie deodorants, soft, more malleable toothbrushes, and, yes, the detergent which takes off all stains like magic. 
  
                    Did they stop here? No,. considerate souls that they are, how could they neglect the parents? Their health is paramount, they shook a finger at us. Sharing the kids' Horlicks or Bournvita is just not good enough for them.; hadn't we heard of the one which is meant for their age group? Their magic mix which keeps them young but so young that they could share their kids' health drink? Get it, pronto! 
                  
                    Kids, ticks. Kids versus parents, tick. Now, how to divide further? Parents means mothers and fathers, i.e. once again men versus women. Bingo again!  So how could they let men and women have the same cereal? Jut like TV serials- as Ekta Kapoor knows so friggin' well- have to be made keeping in mind women viewers with the right doses of emotion and intrigue, cereals, apparently, also have to be tailor made. Taking a page out of  the lady's book, cereal makers have now launched a breakfast serial- oops, cereal- for women. God help the men who take it by mistake; they'd be as unable to digest it. And if they do digest it, they may loose oodles of weight and come out curvy and smiling, fitting into their before-marriage trousers with ease. While a lesser mortal mortal may think that it is not such a bad idea to lose that paunch ,our guides up their smile benignly at our naivete and tell us that wanting to lose weight is a woman's prerogative.
Separating men from women, kids from elders, they look for further divisions and find in- betweeners. How to distinguish men from boys? While you maybe thinking of a hundred things, what do our friends, philosophers, and guides come up with? A cell phone. And yes, the phonewala beams confidingly, sales have shot up as the little ones are in a great hurry to become dashing men. Mission accomplished!  
      

Counting down the pages.

I hate Wednesdays. Its the middle of the week.

                    Its the time, when killing time is the hardest thing ever on Earth, and the clock is the laziest on this day, almost motionless. Secondly, toasts were my five starred meal for today. I hate toasts, because it takes a great amount of physical effort to break it. Or maybe my toaster is gay? I really don't have strength to break it into pieces, or skills to fuse it. So, I just thought it to be some apple tart and gulped it down without giving a second thought to it. 

Its been a while that I'm blog-shy.

The last hours of the odd season, Summer. This high.

Its the middle of the year, and my senses are so awakened right now that I can't put my head to rest before I have expressed them, the emotions and the experiences. The sixth month appears to be amazingly hot. I feel that fan orbiting on top of my head, with its lowest speed, it, being my will. I tell myself its not that hot as it seems, or as I think it is. My night has already ended, and the street lamps are fading. The night, hot for June, had lingered on and on, as if reluctant to end and set me free.  

15ht of June got the most recent total lunar eclipse.  This is what it looked like through my camera lens after zooming the hell out of  it, at 01:23am, 16th of June, 2011.

Ready, Set, Go back!

         As it seems! Its my eminent way of penning down the flowery and  thorny edges of my being. Like a mere obvious, there's no vexation of any other soul, in the words I scribble. I drag my hand, on my keyboard, to apprehend the roller coaster nature of my life, my non-existent life. -,-
                                Makes me realize, how sinister I am, and can be. And the skeptical possibility of the hulk like fleshy monster with red gloating eyes, to eat me up while I'm asleep. Sheds light on my sarcastic end aye? My natural defense against stupid ;) And this, is obviously the way it seems. I can be a dramatist, a hell lot of it! Maybe? Come on! I can write about the X-men, Super men & women, the Batman, the Catwoman, the Spider man, the goat man, the cow man, and all those stupid men & women inspired and influenced by animals. -.-  ANYWAYS!