Confession- Of a Chocoholic

Early morning fuel or late evening refreshment, milk is always the first beverage that comes to my mind and it must be a glass full, at least. And, this morning the temperature was a good couple of degrees below zero and the temptation to have a hot mug of milk was inevitable. Without further delay, I've decided that Hot Chocolate is "THE" way to start my day. But, my disappointment started as soon as I finished pouring the milk from the can. The mug was only half full. I leave it in the microwave feeling so incomplete of how would I start a day with such "incomplete start". Going out to buy a can or simply borrowing some from the neighbors was ruled out for obvious reasons of procrastination. As the microwave buzzed to indicate my milk was hot, so did an idea flash through the neurons.

Within no time, the mug was up to the brim, so was my content. Magic! It was simple, my roomie the previous night brought home a pack of 'Kisses' and I just put a hand full into my mug. Reminds you of your childhood story "The Thirsty Crow", right? This was exactly what flashed in me, as the microwave buzzed. I never had the slightest clue that a short story from the kindergarten would be so effective, so many years later.

Moral of the story-:

So many chocolates in just a half mug of milk is dangerously addictive, ADDICTIVE.

Tik Tok, Tik Tok.

The other day I was speaking to a cousin of mine who's graduated a couple of months ago; now working as a Techie far away from home and she's never been alone, until now. Each day during our conversations,she gives an account of her different experiences throughout the day as of what happened during work and after. During such conversations, she tells me how freaked out she is, when she hears the clock ticking in the calm of the night.

This reminded me how shit scared I used to be in the same situation when I was a kid. Thank's to the dramatization in horror films, the clock ticking in the dead of the night is synonymous with death itself and leaves an impression on the young minds for quite sometime. But as years pass by, this fright fades off for various reasons.

Presently, at 24 years of everything, something and nothing; the sound of a ticking clock is eternal peace to me. The moment a tik tok falls on my ears, I magically slip into a 'Zen' mode. I simply enjoy every bit of it and feel so blissful that I've got every tik and tok to enjoy such a music from nothing but a small battery operated musician who's instruments are a set of gears and needles. To put it in a better way, it's something like silence personified! Each tik reminds me of how busy I had been all this time, and each tok reminds me to refocus on getting back to what I actually am.

Blame it on the Urban rush, a plethora of appliances, devices and gadgets that make our life "Advanced"; have all these made us lose our keen sense of observation of not only such simple occurrences, but also our own-self? If such a simple tik-tok is a such a rare observation in an urban setting, they say that one can hear their own heart-beat in the highest state of focus, so will this ever be possible for an urban soul? Will the ever advancing, ground-breaking inventions/discoveries in the field of science silence the clock by killing our musician in the near future? Or is it our fast paced urban setting itself that has to be blamed for losing our own self to it? We better brace up....because when we actually get hit, the damage might be irreparable, but we would at least know what hit us.

P.S. It's been a long time since I came back to produce something from this Kharkhana. All my well-wishers who look forward to my posts kept asking me why I was not posting anything. All this while I kept saying was that I did not have anything substantial and that I was busy, or for the simple fact that this kharkhana is place of free expressions and not something to force upon. But how far were all my excuses really true? Am I my own example for having lost to the urban pace? Reasons might be many, but I whole heartedly dedicate this post to Lily, my lovely cousin who if did not share her lil' experience, I would have taken even longer to take time for expressing such intense feelings.

As Far As I Can...Take II

Long Hiatus. Apologies.

1997- Class 7, starts the traditional "Pushing" of each parent. "You're in class 7 now, you'll give your board exams, you must study well, hard work....". The same sentence would be repeated for the next 10 years, with only a change in class and exam each year. Intensity varied with age! No bad incidents, super smooth class of my entire schooling career.....with the end of class 7, came and end to such records, only to set others of different sorts.

1998- Dawn of new age.....shorts to pants at school. Riding by self to school...everything was so cool!!! Teen hormones were in an excited state, 24/7. Math, Physics, Chemistry, Languages were supposed to be full time curriculum, but nothing was more interesting than Biology and Biology it was day in, day out. Literally. Who ever knew anything and everything about SEX was the king. Each and every article about the same was religiously collected by everyone. Newspapers were in every boy's bag, making note, of every detail possible. Thank's to Deccan Chronicle, he made it much easy for us. We love you Editor!!!! In this nonstop activity, I was crowned the "King". Reason- for introducing international articles on the same. 'Cosmopolitan', 'Vogue" were not even published in India at that time. I had copies, up to date.
Needless to say, studies took a bungee. But, thankfully all of the 'active' students recovered during the finals. Other than that, every test, every subject had a red mark, but for biology (atleast so much of extra-curricular activity had some productivity). Short and thin was I, but blame it on the recent exposure to the actual world, punks-in-arms Tarun and Varun all the time, ... 'guts' seemed to become strong for no specific reason. "kaan bhairy" was the only most effective offense of choice, without doubt; until the finish of schooling.
Class 8, the most notorious of entire schooling.

1999- Outstanding in the math class. Thank's to Mr. Sambashiva Rao , for an entire academic year, I was an "Outstanding Student". Damn you Sir, you must have had lil' mercy on a student who always forgot his 'Handbook'. Short you were, who could not even slap our Tall Punk ! Well, our tall punk Mr.Tarun tried to write something on another female teacher's saree, expert was he but, failed due to technical reasons. She went and complained to this short guy, who came in full muscle to slap the tall punk...fail did he!!!!!
We happened to learn by experience, how to deliver the perfect 'bhairy'. Mr. George Joseph (taught us Social Studies) gave them to us-in abundance. Hail George Joseph! I attribute my bhairy giving skills only to you! In all these adventures of us, our most shareef pal, Mr.Sukheeth was crowned "General Captain". Bugger was in charge of pretty much everything! Skipping classes was now a breeze....Throw him a word that I was not interested and I was out in assisting extra-curricular activities (at the most walking up and down the school).

2000: How many of you guys rode a motorbike to school in class 10? I did! Did any of you have a mobile? I did! We were way beyond "cool". How was this possible? Guys, this is why you have cool cousins for! The "who cares, damn you" attitude was ever present. Until, the jackass in me woke up. Ass hole was I. Childish reasons, I stopped talking to my closest pals the General and the Tall Punk, in phases. Heights of personal stupidity. Thankfully we got together pretty soon, but till date I feel so embarrassed that I did such things....Sorry guys!
Like everything comes to an end, so did our glory. I do not have to put the rest in words. End of School.

'01-'03. In one sentence, the most sick and disgusting period of my entire academic period till date. Admitted into a corporate college were able bodied boys and girls were made physically handicapped! And the mind under "Constraints" for one and only thing-books! F*** you Gautami! Best of pals were in the distant of colleges. Tall punk drifted to a different world, The General was busy with chicks and me? Nothing worth a mention.
The only good thing was these 2 years passed away lightening fast. The ONLY good thing.

'04-present: Everything is still fresh and let us take some time, get busy with this maddening world outside, when one fine moment we think- "hey life was so much fun during the bachelor's...." Let's dig them out then.... I say, "who wants a freshly buried corpse? Everybody needs an ancient mummy!"

p.s.- Memories are always there. I guess it's only our conscious mind that takes the decision as to which one's to actively retrieve and the rest as hidden files. After these 2 posts, I stumbled upon lot of hidden files. Mind and Memory, you guys really trigger a powerful chain reaction.

As Far As I Can (Part 1)

When we've got nothing to do, our mind flashes different memories irrespective to the current situation. Why such thoughts pass by at that moment? No clue. So, a day ago I was in such a situation, spiking up the idea of creating this post. Coming up are a list of weird memories, as far as I could reach into my life, starting at the earliest.

1989, Lower Kindergarten. I had an ash-colored hoodie, with a graphic design of racing bicycles. Had a habit of chewing the strings that hung from it. Dad found that out after a couple of days, result- tight slaps.
Around the same time, dad buys me a Five-Star Choc. Mom says that I can have it only after completing the home work. Homework done, I fall asleep. Waking up not to find the choc, I cry for long, never finding the choc. Found it the next day at school-in the bag.

1990, teacher awards punishment by slapping the ruler on the calves and complaints the same to parents during the PTA meeting, for- chewing erasers.

1991, grandpa passes away. That's when I came to know that I had even more relatives as grandparents, aunts & uncles, cousins than I already had.

1992, second standard. Blabber, blabber, blabber in class. Teacher seals my mouth up with- Surgical Tape.

1993, third standard. I cannot re-collect what exactly my crime was, but that was the first and only time I did something way too criminal for that age. Forged my dad's signature for a complaint from the teacher.
It was around this time that on our usual way to school (by rickshaw), a few new people joined in that unfaithful day, overcrowding the rickshaw. Unfaithful because, I fall off the thing and that running over my thigh. No serious injuries but, I chose to cry for 2 days, keeping me off from school!! Actually, this lil' incident of mine reminds me a more serious incident that happened with Rajesh, a cousin of mine. He used to commute to school in an auto-rickshaw. And one day he falls from it, injuring himself from head to toe. That was bad.

1994. This was when I found the specialty, comfort and fondness for the last bench in the class. My best buddy Sukheeth's and my pockets were always stained with oil, as we always had different kinds of snacks and sweetmeats to keep us busy during the class.
Meanwhile, this was the fourth standard wherein we where introduced to use a fountain pen for the first time. "HERO" was the most popular fountain pen and my dad bought me one after nagging him for long. My best buddy Sukheeth wanted to use it for the post-lunch session. It lay in front of us, as we prepared for the noon prayers. As soon as we opened our eyes after the prayer, it was gone. Damn! Never expected that it's first day with me would also be it's last!!

1995, I got together with M. Varun Sai Reddy, my partner in sadism for the next 4 years. "kaan bhairies" were our specialty. I cannot name our victims over here, but they had a tough time with us. Worth mentioning was our "life long injection" our own method for an evergreen life. How? It's simple- take a sharp pencil and drive it into the person who wants to live forever.

1996, Enter K. Tarun Kumar, a giant among dwarfs. The tall and heavy beast among sheep, gets newly admitted into our school.

Shaitans & Biryani

The Shaitan wakes up, having a thought- "Feeling damn bored and hungry. Let's go for biryani" and passes this to his fellow Shaitan via text or phone, seldom does a Shaitan has biryani all alone. Simple though it might sound, but for an average Nawabi Shaitan, it's a big plan to finally get to that plate of Biryani, which can make even the noblest of humans into a scavenging Shaitan.

The first hurdle is in the form of who's gonna pick who. Both the Shaitan's have their own steeds of steel in their stables, but also a greater amount of lazy evil attitude. But the impending hunger for the biryani overpowers the evil and one of the Shaitan agrees to give in. The battle is not won by the other Shaitan, as the previous one is out of something which is undoubtedly the most influential commodity of a young Shaitan- Petrol. Curse might he, for the lack of it in the other Shaitan's steed, but the larger interest gives way for such petty issues.

All is not well. Steeds have been mounted, but the destination is not an easy decision. You've got Paradise, Garden, Hyderabad House, Alpha, Bawarchi, Niagara, Sohail, Kababish, Cafe Bahar, Basra Cafe, Shadaab, the list is endless. There goes a flood of inquiry calls asking for the best joint. The discussion turns out to be a matter of National Debate, each Shaitan pitching his own stand, pushing his favorite joint as in the Best of National Interests. In the meanwhile, this inquiry sparks the hunger in the minds of the noblemen. As said before, they are no longer noble after they hear the word "Biryani", saddling up their own steeds without even the thought of having a second thought.

Just as you are now beginning to think, all is now well, not so soon. Who's gonna ride the steed? Who's gonna shell out the moolah? Who's gonna ride back home? Well, all these for the sake of just one thing- Biryani.

p.s.- The Cheif Shaitans involved in the above narration, at any given time- Mrunal Rao, Anand Raj, Kalyan Chakravarthy, Kartic, Mukesh, Praveen, TASK force etc. And, the list of restaurants are not exhaustive. My apologies, if I have missed out any Shaitan's particularly favorite joints.

Anger Management

Anger, seems to be the most important of all the emotions that has to be expressed out in a balanced way. Express it too early, you are tagged "Short Tempered". Express it too late, you cause more damage than a terrorist. The former makes people move around you with constant caution, who rely on your face for the signs of outburst and act accordingly. With the latter, you trip him off the first time, the face fools you with a decent smile. The innocent victims unknowingly gets comfortable with this smile and trips the same person off a couple of times more, until one fine day when they get shot point-blank; from the same face that smiled all these days. The recovery of the victims from the first kind is almost instantaneous, while it's with the second kind that leaves a deep crater on both sides.
On the positive side, this emotion in it's most balance form has pushed an individual in various forms- warriors, athletes, artists, etc., from the abyssal depths of defeat to dizzy heights of victory, etching their names in the pages of history, forever. Yet, the same anger has forced these very individuals to the other side of the fulcrum to take the most hasty decisions in a split second which would throw them again in the same pages of history, this time on those which nobody wish to turn back.
The Shaitan always rides on the waves of this emotion, New moon or Full moon, here the tides are always rising high. This new found sport has been pumping adrenaline in full doses but rarely being productive. There has not been a single "No surfing day" in the past few months as the Shaitan has almost been addicted to this sport. The catalysts for him can be anybody and anything. Shaitan has realized that he's been wasting valuable energy for the wrong reasons, but the "Shaitani" attitude refuses to leave him,no matter what.

Mercury Dip

After the past couple of cold months, the weather seems to give respite to all of us over here. Each day it's getting warmer, more comfortable. But the weather within is getting colder with each passing week. No longer interested in special occasions, parties seem to be more of nuisance rather than a time to unwind, mood swings faster and wider than a pendulum, personal fence has not increased in height or diameter, but normal wood was replaced by an electric one, electrocuting even the most casual trespasser.
The shaitan is seen less often at the kharkhana, which does not mean that he's busy with his own life out of the kharkhana, but feels that the less often he spends time away from the kharkhana, the more colder he is, within.

Scars

Memory seems to be the hardest forged piece of steel. Some of them might gather rust over time and instead of making them weak, they become more lethal with each passing day.

At a usual day of work at our store where we sell furniture, all we do each day is to woo customers with our offers, catchy phrases, "Never before, Never again" deals; so that the more we sell, the more we get paid by our boss. Mr. Joseph, a tall man wearing a black cowboy hat walks in with his three daughters ten minutes before closing time. He asks me for a "best mattress available" and I show him a couple of them. He sits on each one, and asks his kids to jump over to check how well they're bouncing on it (meanwhile, I was saying to myself- what freak of a dad and kids are they!).
While all this was going on, I was convincing him with my before mentioned techniques/tricks/whatever in convincing him to buy the mattress. Then he tells me that he's not been sleeping well and before he could continue, I re-assure him that this particular mattress will solve his sleep deprivation, blab blah. He comes closer to me and says, "Young man, I've not been sleeping each night since August. My wife died in my arms, on our bed".

Shaitan K.

Meow Fights

A week without any new posts. Not that I was so busy to not leave any chance to 'idle'lize my mind, but did not want to fill the kharkhana with junk. Anyway, last evening I suddenly slipped into the memoirs of my Bachelor's days....As I was enjoying the good ones, I got held up at this particular point- Why can't a set of girls (married/unmarried/in-r'ship/out of r'ship) be the best of friends??

At one point, they're like a "Paradigm" of friendship and within no time it seems like even the long gone cold war seems like a no-match when compared to the cold war between these belligerents. The worst affected are the common friends of these women who simply hear the phrase "What do I know?", when asked about the other! These friends are poorer than the actual refugees, who cannot take refuge in either of the parties for obvious reasons. And when you take the bold initiative to mediate a Peace process,- Damn!!! you just cannot hear what they talk about each other!!!!!

When you thought all was over, one fine day when you wake up, all seems to be fine between them, God knows how......and you have the biggest realization of your life, that you are a -FOOL.

This is not a complaint about girls or "Men are superior" argument, but simply a question. Is anybody there to answer this, or the Creator Himself should descend the heavens to answer?

( Or actually, is this why the Creator never descends to earth cos He's bound to answer this one?)

Basti

Slum= a squalid and overcrowded urban street or district inhabited by very poor people/ a house or building unfit for human habitation.

This is the meaning of the term "slum", as defined by the dictionary. Many a times, I did pass through a few slums back home, thinking how poverty forces people to live in such places. Never did I imagine in my worst nightmares that I would end up in one, thousands of miles away from home.
Boldly marked as 'Varsity Manor', it houses 36 apartments. Looks decent from a distance, but you've got to step in to see why I hate this place so much. 'Dustbins' are dumped with thrash; cigarette butts- a zillion of them all over, fast food packages thrown just beside the dustbin and glued rat traps with dead rats thrown on the staircase! Recently I had the opportunity to witness a girl dropping such a rat trap from the third floor, simply onto the walkway!!! I am not sure how each of them maintain the interiors of each apartments, but you'll always find roaches and rodents for company!
This place is often called as "Where the Indians/Andhrites stay". So, as defined in the beginning, if illiterate, uncivilized people live in a slum, what do you call a place with Highly educated, civilized people? Should the university introduce neatness, cleanliness and hygiene as courses for we Indians?

Or simply change the name to "Varsity Basti"?

Note- Dear residents, no hard feelings; this is my say.

Thought Roller Coster

Where exactly does the Shaitan in you start, when idle, and has the WWW right in front? For me, in the beginning the Shaitan is more Angelic in appearance, starting from the main page of Wikipedia, trying to gain some "Worldly Knowledge" and goes on clicking the subsequent links from each sentence in an article. Then deviates to the world of sports, trying to make an effort to update to the latest records, et al. So far, so good. Then begins the metamorphosis from the angelic form! The web pages change to the world of entertainment and show biz! The agenda is not who's doing what but how Beautiful, Hot, Sexy a female looks! That's the good part. I always believe in the quote "Excellence is in the details, give attention to the details and excellence will come". But the Shaitan takes it too seriously and applies this quote in every bit and then does a research into the details why so and so personality looks so good. That might be googling the vital stats (no hiding of this fact), her personality/attitude.......... and keeps wondering "when will I get to meet a similar person for real?" C'mon guys I am not even so crazy to meet the personality herself!!!!! After this, the buck stops here as this Shaitan does not prefer sleaze!

What kind of a ride does the Shaitan in you take?

p.s. Got to mention Shaitan's favorites- Deepika P., L. Dutta, Sushma R., N. Dhupia, on the national front; Maria S., Y. Isinbayeva on the international.

Shaitan K.

I Wonder What I Miss ?

Do I miss mom's food? Being a food fanatic, I've managed so far preparing each meal of mine not for the sake of it, but totally satisfied with what I've made. So I do not exactly miss her food.
Do I miss home? I don't remember staying at home for more than a few hours so........
Miss Indian Food? I've got an appetite for good food, not necessarily only good "Indian Food", so even this one must be ruled out.

Friends? Hmmm..... The best ones are in touch, therefore it cannot be.

There's got to be something that I really miss.....I wonder what it is !

Shaitan K.

Introduction

"An idle man's brain is a devil's workshop". We've heard this from our parents, teachers and elders for ages, yet we spend a considerable amount of time thinking about different things when our mind goes into the "idle" status, ranging from a minute to sometimes a few hours. What we exactly think depends on what we went through a few hours/days before slipping into the "idle" status.

I've been here in the USA for the past 6 months and I tend to fall into this status more often than I ever used to. This "idle" thought process must find a way to channelize out of mind, for which I have chosen this media.

What can you expect? Well, let's see how good or rather how bad does my mind think when it goes into "idle" status, does waking up the Shaitan who, starts his shift in his Kharkhana.

-Shaitan K.