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Last week. Saturday. Singa Patel asked me if I would go for the Gandhinagar 10k the next day morning. I informed him that LoLy was coming to town the same day in the morning – so I had to be there in Ahmedabad to receive her. He assured me that he would drive down LoLy to Gandhinagar. Even if she was coming at 5 in the morning. That was sweet of him. I assured him I would run.

Sunday. Singa brought LoLy to me. And then the three of us drove to the starting point of the Gandhinagar 10k. And I ran. I ran after a long time (oh yes, all my running and gymming had been screwed up since quite some time – two months in fact). It hurt a little and I felt like puking at times. But as always, I completed the race. We woke up Ali when we returned from the dusty noisy ground to the somber guest-house. And then Singa took us all to Ahmedabad where he waved us good-bye.

LoLy. Ali. I. Himalaya Mall. War – an insti / hostel junior was in town for half a day. He joined us. We watched My Name is Khan. We liked the movie. And we were not terrorists. But we do think that there was a suspect – a big fat guy dressed in black (picture Buppy da minus his jewelery), with a black mark beneath his left eye. He kept chasing us for as long as we were in the vicinity of the mall.

Picked up Snow by Orhan Pamuk at the Ahmedabad airport later that week. Flew to Delhi. Remained there for two days. With Neelabh. And since I had work on both days, and Neelabh worked on both nights, we hardly got to spend much time with each other. Except for those fifteen minutes or so – at four in the mornings. That was when Neelabh used to return. I would be asleep on his bed. He would enter the room. I would sense his arrival and open my eyes but would not make any attempt to move out of bed to greet him. We would talk about sweet nothings and yet feel very close to each other – a tired him changing his clothes and a groggy me cozeying inside his blanket. He would offer me something Gujarati to eat that I would swallow with delight. And then he would leave his room to sleep somewhere else – wherever he could find an empty cushion – so that I could go back to sleep on his bed, inside his blanket. He would be sleeping when I would get up later in the morning, and he would still be sleeping when I would move out. That’s how the two days in Delhi were. Dusty Delhi. Didn’t quite like it. Definitely not with so little of Neelabh to have. Lonely cold evening walks around CP didn’t help much.

And when I came back to Ahmedabad, I had the following books waiting for me:

• The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams
• The World of Psmith Omnibus – P. G. Wodehouse
• Guns, Germs and Steel – Jared Diamond
• Love in the Time of Cholera – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
• The God Delusion – Richard Dawkins
• 2 States – Chetan Bhagat
• Zero Percentile – Missed IIT Kissed Russia – Neeraj Chhibba

Lux, for whom I had designed a cover page for a journal last month, had sent these for me as a reward for my services. It would take some time for me to be able to finish them all. Thank you Lux.

PS: I am liking Uff Teri Ada these days. What are you?

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I realized yesterday at Bali’s place that I have been living quite a hollow life since the past few months. Bali and I – we are from the same IIT. The same department even. And now we work in the same company. He is an year senior though. Bali and I – we played NFS for hours in his flat over the weekend. FYI, the dude has a SONY play-station that he has connected to some super big wide angle TV. Super big. But definitely not bigger than Hanuman’s.  Hanuman has this huge huge huge mountain of an LCD TV – so gigantic that I refuse to call it a TV at the first place.  So yeah, Bali and I – we played video-games for two days and went to a multiplex to watch a movie and also attended Chhota Hanuman’s budday in between. Chhota Hanuman – Hanuman’s son – a third grader. Or may be fourth. I don’t remember things. I have a very sharp memory. Bali and I – we hunted for a gift for the third grader and guess what – I ended up picking a toy for myself as well – an infra-red remote controlled mini helicopter. For the kid we picked up a gun. A huge gun if you ask me. A mountain of a gun. LOL.

My childhood. I was crazy for guns. Those Leo ones. The  blue coloured mousers that ejected yellow discs. The bigger black coloured barreled ones that ejected those cute and small reddish cylindrical plastic bullets.

You never really had to aim at anything. All you had to do was to sway the machine in the air and let lose your fingers on the trigger. Bang bang. The discs, the bullets – they would fly faster than the speed of light and hit something. Anything. And then you ran and collected the discs. The bullets. And slowly you started losing them. One by one. Sometimes two at a time. And when, one fine day, the ammunition was all over, you still fired sometimes. In the memory of the lost discs. The lost bullets. Life was fun. You had a gun. Lol. Mai aur mera bachpan.

I have been flying my chopper since yesterday and it’s great fun. Maneuvering it is a tough task but then I am improving. I had seen a similar flying helicopter at Bullu uncle’s place in Mumbai last year. Back then, the thing hadn’t flown. I guess, we had run out of batteries or something. Whatever.

I had always wanted some cool toy that actually flew in the air you know – like a butterfly, a bird,  even a mosquito . I had never really liked those plastic aeroplanes that just rolled on the floor. I mean what the fuck yaar – even as a kid, I wasn’t retarded enough to be satisfied by an aeroplane that never took off! Thankfully no one gifted that to me. But even then, whenever I met any kid who felt proud to possess a non-flying aeroplane, I took the kid to be retarded. I still do. You can keep a non-flying chopper though. That’s okay. That’s cool with me. I wouldn’t mind that. Why? Well, coz I had one. LOL – don’t kill me now. You know I am a bad-ass.  All work and no play makes Jack a bad-ass. LOL – again.

Hey hello, one second. Hollow life I was talking about. Hmm. So you see, eating in costly restaurants. Shopping. Multiplexes. TV. Big TVs. Play-stations. I mean, what the hell is happening around me? I am so glad I bought a real toy for a change. And I would really like to keep things real for some time. So I, Vatsap?, with one hand busy clutching my testicles, take an oath this very moment that I am not going to go to a theater or a luxury restaurant till 30th April except when I need to entertain someone and it becomes a pain in the ass to figure out anything else to do. Alright, and now the testicles are hurting, so cyao later. And please do feel jealous of my flying helicopter. RRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…

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Welcome me back to single-hood once again. And now that I have cleared this off my throat (no – I am not going to get into the details of the break-up), let’s talk about life. My life obviously.

I saw ISHQIA with Ali in an empty theatre in the dead of a night in a lonely locality of Gandhinagar. We loved the movie. Arshad warsi rocked. Even more than Naseeruddin Shah if you ask me. Sahi hai khaalu, aapka ishq – ishq, aur mera ishq – saxe? By the way, I also discovered recently that Ali could write lyrics for me. So that means, I have the chance of completing some of my songs that I have been composing for years now. Nice I say.

Day before yesterday, my laptop shut off. Just like that. I was working on it – files were open and things had been going smooth. And then it just shut off. No error messages. No warnings. No beep. And then, it never started again. It didn’t matter if you tried starting it with changed adaptors or changed batteries. I hope that – In Sha Allah – one day it will. Untill then, I am pretty much laptop-less. LOL – sounded funny that one.

Ok. Before I end – currently reading the ‘Difficulty of Being Good’ lent by Hanuman’s boss (who if you think about it, is obviouly my boss as well). What is everyone else reading these days, haan?

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