I have probably (almost) never used this blog to post random thoughts to voice my personal thoughts, or express my angst at various issues in my personal life, this being an inherently happy blog and all, but this is as good as any a time to show that we can do it, too.
No, I am not going to expose to you my dietary secrets (like how I eat around ten egg whites a day on many days of the week), or to allow a thought to lingerie in your mind that I wear red underwear (I don’t need to). You get the gist.
So, politicians and humans, here is a CT scan of my mind: a rear glimpse of a genius.
* I have suddenly had my bank account frozen because my Chartered Accountant ‘forgot’ to show in my income a large (by my BPL standards) sum of investment (ironically in bona-fide Government bonds) in my income tax returns. On top of that, he offended the IT Officer by not attending the summons in person. I had no idea, and bang! Yesterday on, I am frozen out of access to money! Did I hear some asshole write about how money was no longer a defining aspect of his life? If you see him sometime, tell him he is just that. I am not going to ask you to cough up a bit of your old family
jewels fortune, so relax your sphincters!
In the meanwhile, life is very on-the-edge, almost like a battle for Chief Me-jester of Maharashtra. I am fuming, once more, about the essential brutality of the Government apparatus: it never gave me a warning or notice. It seems it is not required by Indian law. Perhaps not in any law. The motto of Government is ‘Pay your taxes, and then breathe. If you stop breathing, do likewise.’
* I am actually thinking of spanking my CA for being such a bad boy: he has had all my bank statements showing the course of the funds (all from my income, my savings, FDs, etc.), but he ‘simply forgot’ to show it. I have a feeling he did this to screw me, so that I end up paying a hefty bribe to the ITO, with whom he would then share the spoils. A classic bureaucratic trap for the sucker!
* I have had no time to respond to the several interesting comments on my previous post on Another Kind of Evil, including Shefaly’s ‘You Are Better Than That, Doc’ remark. Provocative, that, I tell you. Even Indians have a right to respond, though you wouldn’t know it if you go by our history.
* WordPress has taken a toilet break after coming up with the breathtaking new 2.7 version. If you see this blog resembling a wall of the Taj Mahal hotel in Mumbai, with gaping holes in places where your world-famous blogs were proudly linked, despair not, for I have alerted the Blog-wizards.
* I found a great site for listening to music: Songza.
* In the festive season, I am doing a great job of staying motivated in my eating patterns. I don’t deny myself any treats, but I have cut portions immensely. A nibble of cake, half a sandesh, one cookie, etc., all the while cherishing each particle of food in my mouth with my eyes closed. Satiety comes quick when you savor each morsel of food, with your mind single-mindedly (clever, that!) minding the flavor, texture, aroma, and overall experience of the food.
* Yesterday was the first time I saw a Punjabi wedding. What I found so remarkable was how sexist modern Indian society still is. The groom’s family kept the bride’s on tenterhooks by coming in 90 minutes late, while I was chafing at the hungry delay. Soon after the groom’s arrival, those of us from the ‘girl’s side’ were respectfully asked to let the groom’s (large) party sit at the tables. The latter then wasted no time to complain forcefully to the authorities how unacceptable the service was: apparently, the reason was there was no one to serve the jalebis! I wanted to offer my services, but certain people suspected that I would ensure ample spillage of jalebi juice on the expensive sleeves of the complainants, and my offer was gracefully and drily turned down.
* I was on a TV talk show late at night on, I kid you not, Maradona! My role was to lie to the gullible public how much I admire Maradona and football, and then talk a bit about his weight loss surgery and stuff. You know how it is: flanked on either side by two journos who have spent their lives chasing the God of Football, I was off-side, all at sea while the two guys kept boring holes in my brain with anecdotes on how close they were to him, yada, yada, yada. I literally begged the anchor to pull the red card on me, and I slunk off the studio at 1.30 am. The show continued till 3 am, when the anchor ensured that Maradona was safe in his hotel room and had moved his bowels for the first time ever on Asian soil.
* After a very long time, two posts on one day, one
mourning morning actually!
Want more? Oh, yeah, I don’t miss no groans or howls! I hear ye, I hear ye!