Writing

I get a bit angry when people comment negatively on my writing. I know I don't have the best writing style in the world, but that's alright. I don't need to. Don't get me wrong now, I like criticism, and I take it very well. I'm happy to be told what exactly is wrong with my writing. A long time ago, a very senior journo, and a very good writer, when he wanted me to move from a newspaper to telly said, "I've seen your writing. You're good, but you're never going to be a bestseller. So come to TV." I didn't go immediately, but I did, a year later."

It's happened a few times, when people will say, "you're not really the greatest writer around, you know." I didn't really ask for your opinion, and I'm not going to take your advice. I'll take it after you've won a pulitzer or something.

When it comes to a macro estimation of my writing ability, I prefer notes like an ex sent me. I think she pretty much hates me, but this is what she said, only a few days ago, with me asking for it.

"I think u have what it takes to be a good writer: a beard, sexiness, occasional meanness, occasional cynicism, hedonism, love for nature and all things beautiful, a slight melancholic bent and a good use of language and rhetoric."

So, screw you if you don't think i'll be great.

Doobie doobie doo...

Doobie doobie doo.

“There are none so old as those who have lost the enthusiasm for life.” Or so said thoreau.

Enthusiasm for life is difficult these days. I look around me, and what do I see? I see people, living like ants. With ants in their pants. Ants with ants in their pants.

I look around me, and people’s lives have become about going to work, to do a job they don’t really understand, to sell things they don’t really understand to people who they’ll never really understand. People like them.

You get up in the morninging. Brush your teeth. Take a dump. Drop your kidds off at the water park. Wash your bum (or wipe if you’re a whitey). Then you eat a breaky, or not. Who gives a shit. Works more important. Then you rush. To school, to work, to earn your daily bread. Who gives a shit if you trespass against your fellow men for the bread. You drink like, 30 cups of coffee at work, cos its free you know, and free stuff is good. (it keeps you quite quiet like they say. So what if your job sucks and your boss is a bitch... at least you got free coffee) Then you come back, adn you watch telly. Something about a bombing in iraq, or maoists in bengal or rakshi sawant selling her body and sole for a swaymwar.

Then you kiss your significant other goodnigt and you go to sleep. And then you do it again, the next day, over and ficking over. You know that you’re doing it over and over, and you know that its going to tap the sap from your soul, but you do it, cos you know you’ll get promotoed. You’ll get 10k more next year, and you’ll get the corner office one day. And who gives a shit if you become fat and tired and impotent.

So, where’s the enthusiasm for life? A twenty day holiday maybe... that’ll raise your enthusiasm levels for a while. Strengthen you, so you can have the courage to go back to the rat race.

Everyone is like that. Sometimes, it feels like we’ve forgotten to dream. And those of us who do dream... what do we dream of... fame... fortune... money... an lcd telly...

We;re like little ants. Except we’re not so little. Our goal is to feed the big machine.

What happened to sucking the joy out of every moment. And feeling excited about the moments that are to come, even if you don’t know what they bring. To facing life head on, and riding it, like a wave. Or have we become too old for that.

I felt it today, i felt the enthusiasm. I felt it like a rush. It came like a whirlwind, and took me up in it. All of a sudden, my soul was swept along, and waking dreams came to me, rushing at me, pommeling me, filling me with all kinds of happy emotions that I’d lost. I began to plot and plan, and the plots and plans werent real, tey were just designs, on how I would feel the world and take it all in and drink it like a drink churned from the sea. Woo hoo. I got all hubbllybubbly and i felt like I was higher than the ground.

Here’s when it happened. When driving in a bus, seat numer 15, window, from ranchi to tatanagar. Passed through a forest that I forgot the name of, but all of a sudden, i could see large green mountains. Filled with trees. They were everywhere. The moutnains big. Isolated from each other, not like the ones at home, and not like the himalays. They were jst standing there, facing each other, all shoulder to shoulder.

Mountains do it for me. They brought out this enthusiams from within me, and I suddenly wished I were walking amongs the trees. I wished I were tripping on the roots, and my boots sinking into the mud. I dreamt of putting up a hammock and spending the night there, with the animals for company. I couldn;t of course, so i dreamt it all.

And I thought of the himalayas. And how i would be there and soak them into every pore in my body, and fill my breath with himalayan air.

And then they ended, the moutnains. And then I saw people again. Cycling from work, riding home from scool, doing what they must, in place of doing what they should.

And the enthusiasm began to ebb... i could feel it. But i reaced in put a little dam, and stopped it from going further... the elation gave way... but the seeds remain. Life must be lived. And life must be loved.

Taking breaks.

When i'm traveling, I like going to unexplored, difficult places. I'm not interested in going to tourist spots like Khajuraho or hampi. I want to go where I don't know anybody, and everyone is strange to me. I want to go to difficult places and learn about people.

But, I also want to go where my friends are, where I can meet people like me. One of the places I did that is Hyderabad.

So my traveling seems to have worked itself into this rythm. I first go to a place where I can learn, research and challenge myself. Then, I go to a place where I can kick back, enjoy and have be with friends.

I lived and worked there for a year, and it was easily the best time I had. I had a bunch of friends from all over the world, working all kinds of jobs. I knew that every time I went out with them, I was guaranteed to have a good time. I never remember not having fun. I also remember good conversation, and my friends were there for me when I needed them.

Which is why I spent two weeks in hyderabad.

Unfortunately, whenever you go back to a p lace, you find that things have changed. Nothing remains the same, of course, but you exect it to be the same at least. The group I know doesn't hang out at B'n'C anymore. It goes to Firefly and some fancy nightclub in a fancy hotel (the names of both i've forgotten). I realise I don't like clubs so much. THey're too big, and filled with people trying to be nice-looking and the atmosphere's negative and the drinks are too expensive.

What I did enjoy was BNO, or Boy's Night Out. This is just a collection of dudes getting together on someone terrace and drinking. Then we proceed to make fun of each other deep into the night (usually Chocolate ... yep, that's his name) Its fun, and without pressure, and I liked the guys a lot.

Heres what was interesting in hyderabad, I had a date. With a very pretty girl i've known for a while. The last time I met her was at a party, and I made a complete fool of myself. We had coffee, and chatted. I don't think I felt 'the zing', but it was fun. It's been a while since I dated, and that was a good way for me to move on. We do keep in touch, but very very little. Although I did promise to send her a letter, the paper kind.

So yea, when I'm traveling, i like taking breaks. Thats why i took the weekend in calcutta, and thats why I'll go home for a few weeks. Also, i need to earn some money.

I have a heart of iron.

I am like a lion.

I eat beef.

I am chief.

I be strong.

I be wrong.

Iron like the lion in sion.

Cheap travel in India

Here's what i've figured out about traveling. The biggest expenses when traveling are usually i) getting there and ii)Staying there.

That might seem like a no brainer, but it really isn't. If the actual act of traveling is about getting somewhere (rather than comfort and luxury), then you can save a lot of money on traveling. The prices a ticket on the same train can vary from 95 rupees to 2500 rupees. The only tickets that area always available are the cheapest, in the unreserved compartment. The ticket only gives you the right to enter the train, not the right to a seat. If you board the train anywhere after the station where it originates, you're unlikely to get a seat. That means that you will be sharing the floor and passageways with drunks, tribals on the way to a funeral, the occasional bunch of soldiers in the wrong compartment, obese men from central delhi, with their wives feeding them, labourers on the way home and hungry uncoordinated men dropping sambar on your backpack.

While this is cheap, I can't do this sort of travel too often (but, i do plan to do it tomorrow, from Kolkata to Jamshedpur). It's very tiring. Now, the next category of ticket, (sleeper class) I think, isn't too expensive either. A couple of hundred bucks at the most. But the problem is, unless you book it in advance, you're not going to get a ticket. If the train is popular, you need at least a few weeks. A few days is alright for a faraway destination that doesn't get too many travelers (for instance, Ballarshah). 3 tier a/c tickets are hard to come by, while 2 tier a/c tickets are slightly easier. But the problem is that they're much more expensive (if available).

If you want to fly, you're not getting a ticket at short notice for anywhere less than a few thousand (unless you're really lucky). And I don't enjoy flights anyway, they go against the spirit of traveling in India.

So, the secret to traveling really cheap is planning ahead. Now I know this goes against the essence of backpacking, but, it helps. If you know you're going to be going to hyderabad, just walk to railway station anywhere, and you can book a ticket. Of course, as with anything in india, booking ticket from different stations can be a bit complicated (quotas and nonsense), which is why, there is the very beautiful irctc.com or indianrail.gov.in

Its the same with bus tickets. If you can, find out where the bus leaves from, and if you can book a ticket in advance (you usually can't for state transport buses). It's also the same with getting to the airport, in case you do take the flight. In hyderabad, i paid 600 bucks to take a call-cab to the airport, since i overslept and missed the bus that costs 100 bucks.

So, be early, be on time, and you can travel cheap.

(Ironically, i type this post at 1 am, when i shuold be up at 4.30 for a 6.55 train to Jamshedpur, from where I need to get to Hazaribagh, and I have NO idea how to do that.)

Good things

"All good things are simple."

That much, I know is true. And there are NO exceptions to that. If its not simple, its not good. Can apply to anything, friends, relationships, jobs, martial arts, food, people. Anything. And there is nobody in the world who can counter this (if they can, they're a little screwed in the head, and need to figure themselves out)

And yet, despite knowing it, I keep looking for complicated. Of course, now that I know the mistakes I make, I try to make them less, but I still make them.

The craziest night ever - part 1

After 2 weeks of being nowhere near the coffee, I finally found a small restaurant (the Rasraj Pure Veg), which actually whipped up a really nice glass of cold coffee. I had two, and the caffeine kept me up for the crazy night ahead.

I bought a ticket train ticket for 98 rupees from Chandrapur to Hyderabad. That's about 400 km, and 98 bucks is a good deal. Except of course, there isn't a seat reserved in your name, so if you don't get a seat, you have to share the floor with a third of humanity.

I had two hours to kill before the train got there, so I plonked my bag on the platform, and settled down to reading Romeo and Juliet. Romeo was deep in conversation with the Friar, when an old, tottering man walked past, staring at me. He paused a

moment, and then said to me in garbled English, "Eshcuse me, where are you to going?" Now, for some reason, my backpack attracts a fair amount of attention in these parts, and I didn't think much of it. "Hyderabad," i said, expecting him to go away.

But he didn't. He decided to come talk to me for the most insane conversation I have been in.

Switching between his crazy english and slurry Hindi, he says, "I know you. I know you very well. The moment I saw you, I knew, you are a great person. Wonderful. You will be very great." Ok, i thought, another drunk looking for someone to buy him

a peg. I've been there, i have pity.

Me : Thank you.

Drunk : No no.... see I know everything about you. (in english) Whatsh ya edducasion?

me: er... BA.

Drunk : BA? What's this BA.

Me : Arts (as, i look away and pretned to read my book again)

Drunk : I don't know this arts... what it is... i don't.

Me : (smile)

Drunk : I know your marks... you got First class, yea? You got 63 percent.

At this point, I was a little, how shall we say, surprised. Oddly, I did get around that much in my BA exam. OK, So, i was a little surprised, but that's a guess that anybody could have made. I don't really look like the kind of person who's ever aced an exam (also I won the spelling prize in 2nd standard), and I don't look like the kind who flunked too many exams (I am, actually, but i don't look it), so its an average score like 63 is a good guess to make.

Drunk : So, you have a job?

Me : er, no, not really.

Drunk : What do you do then?

Me : I, er, i'm just traveling.

Drunk : now, see, how's that gonna help? See the thing with you is, you don't have the guts. You got all the opportunity, you could do whatever you want, but you

just don't do it. So you run around, wandering here and there. Guts. You see, lemme give you a piece of advice. Only because I know you, ok? So, you know, you have a problem with your parents. That's true. BUt you gotta choose. See, you gotta love them, and then you'll go really far. Trust me. Otherwise you'll just be like this, you'll just wander around like this, and you'll never really be able to send home any money.

Now, this is interesting (and unsolicited) advice from a random drunk. Not that i needed it, but I couldn't argue with any of it. The best I could do was sit there and laugh.

Then, the drunkasauraus tells me about his life. His name i

s MS Kulkarni and he was an engineer in the Electricity Department. He did a course in engineeringing (but not a degree) and then got a job in the department. He kept getting promoted untill he became an assistant engineer (which isn't actually very high up). All his 4 daughters got married into good homes, though, and one of his son in-laws earn's a lakh a month, and so she doesn't need to work. His son works in a company call BEL, and he's doing pretty well too.

He says, "See, I could have been really succesful. I could have been a nice person. But, I drink."

I'm still laughing when I say, "so why don't you stop?"

Drunk : You, see the problem is, that my wife... my w

ife, see, my wife won't give me any.

Me : Give you any ... what?

Drunk : Sex.

Me: (still laughing, and noticing that the other passangers are laughing too) So, maybe if you stopped drinking, she would.

Drunk : no no no ... i tried once, i tried to stop drinking, but no. No sex. So I get bored. So i drink.

Me : ha ha ha ... so, tell me something else that's interesting about me.

Drunk : You want interesting. Ok. I'll tell you what. How many friends do you have.

Me : Well, you know, a lot.

Drunk : Close friends?

Me : Maybe ... two or three?

Drunk : Well, one of your close friends will betray you.

Me : ok .... ?

Drunk : and your friend's name... begins with S.

At this point, i was a little ... shocked. You see, the girl that just broke up with me a few weeks ago, her name starts with S. To be honest, she didn't betray me, but he was drunk, so a little inaccuracy is allowed.

At this point, i was about to believe that this man had some sort of wierdly functioning, alcohol-fueled psychic sense. And then, he says this.

Drunk : I predict you'll get married within the next year. An

d don't worry, she'll be really beautiful, and you'll love her, and your parents will love her. But, yea, you have to make sure that she has long hair. And if she has long hair, don't even allow her to cut it.

Me : Long hair? Why?

Drunk : Because.... long hair is really sexy.

again, i launch into a fit of laughter.

Drunk : and i'll tell you how to know. First you kiss her. When you kiss do, suck her lips like you're sucking a mango. You know how to suck a mango (and here he makes a sucking face, grossing me out). If she sucks back like she's sucking a mango, then she loves you. If not, move on to the next girl.

Advice noted.

Drunk : and then, on the wedding night, you gotta be gentle. First she'll say 'no', so you don't force her, yea. Be gentle. Kiss her. Then you take her clothes off. And then you gotta be slow. Then when she lets you, you wrap her legs around your neck and then you do her.

Not only am i clutching my stomach in laughter, but half the station can hear this man... because he's not quiet. The funny thing is, i'm getting sex advice from a man who's wife won't sleep with him.

He then goes on into explaining to me, very graphica

lly, how to tell if she's a virgin. "But you see," i say, "Now a days it doesn't really matter." "Look," he says, "you asked me to tell you something interesting, now if you don't wanna take this advice, don't but i'm going to give it to you."

Then, as soon as it started, its over. He gets up and says, "I'm going to my bags, take care." No mention of money, he's gone.

Here's a pic of him.

Now all that's left of the night is me sprinting with a full backpack, making some random friends, watch the train get stormed by cops with armour and AKs, and almost get on their wrong side. Thats for the next post, i'm going to work out for a while now.