The Theory of People (Dark)

“You never really know what you are made of until you stare death in the face”. The person who came up with this one had most probably never stepped out of his house, and based his observation on an especially corny Wild West movie. Death is an extreme. Most people would be lucky if they had to wait that long to confront their real shameful selves.

In the real world, you have to face yourself much sooner than that. When you have your back to the wall, and are outnumbered, there are only two options. Fight or Flight. Your choice goes a long way in determining the person you are. It is at that instant you came face to face with reality. When you cant pretend anymore, you will see the shameful truth of who you really are.

Society is an illusion based on everybody trying to fool everybody else. And everybody can see through this charade, but they still pretend otherwise. You see, most people spend their life in mortal fear of the man in the mirror. They are so scared of what they might see, that they create an image of themselves and run with it for most of their lives. They pretend to be somebody else because they are petrified that they might not like what they really are.

You see, deep down people are all the same. Insecure and scared shitless.

The Theory of People (Light)

This is something that came to me in Kota. Everything was falling apart. On top of that I was embroiled in a pointless and extremely stupid clash of egos between between my Room Mate and the vilest, meanest syphillistic cock biscuit I have ever had the dis-pleasure of meeting, Shanky. It soon escalated into a full-scale war (yeah, right) between two hostels, and everybody who was anybody started getting involved. It was a long winding fight, as both of them had nothing else to do. The details are for another post. All you need to know is, what happened next was how all such things end. The shit hit the fan, and everybody got dirty.

Imagine this. You are standing on the roof of your Hostel enjoying a beautiful evening. Suddenly, somebody down below on the road starts abusing the fuck out of you. What people do in such a circumstance, classifies them into the following types :

Type 1 : They will pretend they did not notice, and slowly go inside. Then they will spend the rest of the day trying to prove to others (and themselves) how courageous they really are. Sadly this category comprises of more than 50% of boys I know.

Type 2 : These are the superheroes. They will be so enraged, so indignant and so scared about losing face that in their hurry to get to the man, they’ll jump down from the roof. Self Destructive.

Type 3 : The sensible kind. They’ll go down the stairs and try to talk to the man/ beat the shit out of the man. The world needs more of these people.

There is also a fourth type, but I have only ever met one person of that kind. These are the ‘Late’ people. They’ll jump down the roof AFTER the abuser goes away. Not because they are scared but because they are slow. Sadly, my room-mate was a complete Type 4. So I, being a determined and shameless Type 1, had to intervene and pretend to be a Type 3. It was not pretty and didnot go well.

The attack of the Zombie-Muppets

This happened to me the other day, and really got on my nerves. I was watching Burnley vs United at Turf Moor and we were playing so bad I was feeling like killing myself. Just then, a friend of mine called me up. On being told I was watching United, his exact words were :

“What the fuck? You still support ManU? After they sold Ronaldo? I am now supporting Madrid. Look at them man! Ronaldo, Kaka, Benzema! They are so awe…”

That was all I could take. I switched off the phone, sat in silence for a while and prayed for his soul. My friend had moved to the Dark side.

Money is destroying football. A lot of people say this, but I couldn’t give a flying fuck what happens to football. Manchester City will still win fuck-all and Barcelona will twat Madrid all over again. What scares me is the effect they are having on seemingly “Normal” fans all over the world. Genuine knowledgeable supporters are turning into Zombie muppets, wanking over Real Madrid. (Or worse Manchester City, Oh! The shame!).

“Galacticos! Galacticos! ” they shout without noticing that their Defense has Pepe and Raul Albiol as first choice CBs and Alvaro fucking Arbeloa as first choice Left back. I mean, seriously? Arbeloa?

But I still have hope. The Axis of Evil will fall. Hitler (Perez) will die and the world will be normal again. Till then, I am sad to say, The spastics are taking over the world.

Johnny Depp or Shakti Kapoor?

Have you ever felt that you were in a movie? That your whole life was being played out on a big-screen and there were people watching and reacting to everything you do? I feel like that sometimes. Most times.

Don’t get me wrong. Its not a bad thing. Its just a strange thing. Like, when I know that there is no one around, I feel the need to be cool. Act in a certain way. Be dressed in a certain way. Weird, huh? The strange part is that this feeling is strongest when I am alone. Not like deserted island alone, but without anyone I know alone. Its always on my mind that what my actions would say about me. How my actions would make me come across. For eg., when I am on a bus or waiting for someone to pick me up, these are the times this feeling is strongest. I feel the need to impress this non-existant audience of mine.

You wanna know the irony? I donot give a flying fuck about what most REAL people around me think about me.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to appear some uber-cool intellectual, with a smashingly cool life. When I say “Part of a Movie”, it’s stretching it more than a little. Most times, my life is more like a long-winding soap opera, where I am one of the supporting characters. Kinda like the understanding father of the hero, or the kind hearted friend of the villain. The kind of character that is not central enough to the story to really make a difference when he is killed off to garner TRPs. It might be "20 years on" when I become important enought to really ake a diference.

Sometimes I feel that this is just a veiled attempt by my mind to satisfy my vanity. (Which is all the more disconcerting because I was pretty proud to think that I had an “I don’t give a shit” attitude). You see, my imaginary audience thinks like me. So whatever is cool to me is cool to them. (And unlike you, they donot judge my obsession with being cool). So I automatically become some sort of brown version of Jhon F Kennedy, Al Pacino and Aragorn mixed into one.

It might also be due to watching too much friends, and the fact that I have always related to Chandler. You see, if he weren’t in a sitcom, Chandler would have been a massive loser. He depends on the audience to become the witty bastard who bagged Monica. So, since I already have my Monica, am I cool?

The Beginning....again.

I started this blog a million years ago (March 2007) but never got around to posting much. Which was a good thing because what little I did post was absolute garbage. It was so cringe worthy that i had to delete all of it, and hope that not many people had to go through that load of crap.

If i read this in a couple of years, i have a hunch that i would feel exactly the same. But what the hell. Theres no other way for me to waste time. So here goes nothing.