(DISCLAIMER: Not my regular humor post. If this is your first time here, please start reading from next post)
Guys would know that back in school we always had one place where we all craved to go, but couldn’t. It was like the Forbidden Forest for us. It was like we were Malfoy and his friends, and that place was the Room of Requirement. It was like that cupboard to Narnia. And that place was the girl’s toilet.
We guys always wondered what lies beneath those sacred doors; why girls always went in flocks. (in case the girls still think we never understood, we always did. We would always notice when a girl would make the subtlest eye gesture to her friend and they both would walk out)
I personally always wanted to take a trip inside. I was always curious about whether they had urinal pots similar to us. And I was always curious about that cabinet they had inside. I never understood why girls were given cabinets and we weren’t. I had in fact even told a friend once that we should go and demand a cabinet for ourselves too. Thanks to our country's amazing sex education, we guys never knew or understood periods. In fact I used to believe whisper was some wiping cloth, to clean tables and stuff.
Anyway, so the reason why I’m talking about the girls toilet so much is ‘cause after all these years, I have finally done it. I strode confidently inside a girls toilet, with their kind permission, peed, and came back out, unharmed. And since I did it, some girls have already commented that ‘it’ was really good and well framed and interesting. They said they never thought a guy like me could possibly have something like ‘that’ in him. They were impressed.
Non – perverts would know that I’m talking metaphorically here. What actually happened is I wrote a guest post in Darlings of Venus recently.
Darlings of Venus, for those who don’t know, is the girl’s toilet of the blogosphere. It is an all woman blog, where female writers write posts discussing various issues related to feminism. They bitch, basically. And since it’s an all female blog, where a bunch of women come together to gossip and bitch, I strongly believe they should rename it Darlings of Penis. (In case now you don’t find my post there, it is most certainly because of this comment)
I had written this short story long back, which I found to be suitable for their blog, and hence volunteered to guest post for them. It’s called Work Life Balance.
(Peevee, I owe you a guest post too. I remember. Will write soon buddy)
Blog world is weird. People gleefully invite guests, and then proudly display the work done by them. In real life, guests are irritating. Not the relatives, but the family friends. I used to despise them when I was small. They came all of a sudden, and hijacked my room. I couldn’t haath marofy in the yummy food mom was cooking, because it was for the guests. I couldn’t go and watch TV, because they were sitting there talking to mom dad, and that would have been mannerless.
And the worst of it all, they would ask me to dance. When I was young, I used to dance really well (true story). I was ‘that fat kid who dances good’. I have even been to Boogie Woogie twice (not in the audience, you smart ass), and have won once. So when they saw that Boogie Woogie trophy, they instantly wanted me to show them the dance I’d done in the show.
GUEST: Beta, we heard you dance really well. C’mon, show us some.
ME (in my mind): Yeah? I heard your wife’s really good in bed. C’mon, show us some.
ME (on the face): *awkward smile*
Now back then I was really shy, and hence couldn’t show them the middle finger and walk away. Luckily my parents are sane, and my mom would change the topic to pass the awkward moment for me.
Guests apart, I saw Rockstar. It was a good movie, but not as awesome as I had expected it to be. What I loved in the movie was Ranbir’s character. I can’t recollect when last had I seen an Indian flick where a character was given so much depth and complexity. Before interval I was feeling what the hell is happening, but by the second half you have understood his character really well, and hence all his crazy acts seem justifiable. And I'm still in a hangover from the high that Rockstar music has given me. (One strongly recommended track : The Meeting Place. It's not a song. It's not music either. It's just noise. And a simple but really nice line. That track is proof that Rahman's genius is such that he can make even noise sound melodious. Hear it in your headphones, when it's all quiet around you. It'll give you goosebumps.)
Nargis Fakhri’s acting was abysmal, would be an understatement. Imtiaz Ali romance was typical, but beautiful as usual. He’s one director, I feel, who shows practical romance at its best. He’ll never show dancers in the background, or two people running around in Switzerland fields; with huge cows around who’re wondering what the fuck are these humans up to. Watch the video of Katiya Karun and you’ll know what I mean.
I would like to share with you all a very beautiful picture I came across recently, shared by someone on FB. I loved it so much that I instantly made it my wallpaper. It has a lot of moments captured in one still image. In fact, it has a whole life lived well together, captured in one still image.
Before I end this worthless post, I would like to make an announcement. I’m planning a post on my blog that would be an accumulation of various guest posts. But I won’t be deciding who I want to write here. It is all up to you readers. Blogging has helped add a few wonderful friends to my life, all of whom I would want to write a guest post for me. And them apart, if anyone of you reading this wants to write a small something here, please feel free and send it across.
All you have to do is write a small para. It can be anything, from the autobiography of that cockroach under your bed right now, to an Orkut style testimonial, to something as absurd as ‘Watching Ra.One, and twelve other reasons to kill yourself’
So write whatever comes to your mind and send it across on firstname.lastname@example.org. The deadline to send your guest contributions is 19th November.
Here’s the list of people (in no particular order) for whom this guest para is compulsory. In the occurrence of them not sending this guest post, all chances they have or would have of sleeping with me will stand null and void:
And last, but definitely not the least:
Anonymous (my Secret Admirer)
Please do consider the hard work i did in linking all the above names, and send your posts. Also, just in case i missed out someone, please send me your post along with all the abuses that you have ever learnt in your life. I will publish them
So just write fast and send it people. Don’t procrastinate (me saying this is like SRK advising you to stop smoking.)
My inbox awaits you.
P.S.: Dear Secret Admirer, if you liked 'The Case of Four and Twenty Black Birds', then read 'October in the Chair'. It’s the best short story I’ve ever read, and not just of Neil Gaiman.
P.P.S.: A big thank you for the people at BlogAdda for selecting Definitions in your Tangy Tuesdays.