February 26, 2012
Image courtesy: wiredforwine.com
The mind is a muddle of Zinfandel.
Unlike Coleridge however, no rhymes pour forth. I become an extension of the furniture I am wedged in.
So, I can’t tell you about my crush who kissed the neighbourhood clown behind the closed doors of an electricity control room just to let me down, even as the sign outside claimed, ‘Danger: 440 Volts’.
I can’t tell you about the man who sat in a high office either, who filthily sidled up to me, promising dream assignments in London and Paris. Having virtually spent my life in the misty greens and downs of English Literature, I almost felt homesick. But, hey, I was man enough! I burst him where it hurt most. The krait, in turn, let loose an army of snakelets on me, planted in strategic places. I kept paying through my nasal orifice for three long years for being straight. And here I am, supposed to be tolerant of gays!
Like a trained chimpanzee, I swipe my thumb on the gorilla-glass topped fascia of my mobile phone. I dig deeper into my nemesis, the Internet. I manage to decipher a few more blogs and punch comments with auto-complete, aka shoot-in-the-dark, on. I leave crazy footprints behind which don’t make any sense whatsoever. My imprints could mean anything to the startled reader: I may be a new age Aristotle, or I may be a differently-abled moron who has picked his language at a Learn-English-in-15-Days outfit.
Long before many things, the letter ‘f’ in English stood for a frog, or a flag, before it got known better for the famous four-lettered word, the anchor force of verbal life. It has, however, come to represent an eight-lettered word now that can be as scandalous as the original act, if not more. That is correct, I do mean the Facebook. I fish out the ‘f’ icon then and depress it which depresses me further with an intensity that irks me. I get vicious and leave wicked comments behind but I retrace my steps and erase the stink in an afterthought. I don’t want to commit a virtuo-social hara-kiri. Not yet.
I check the statistics of my own weblog. The line that denotes traffic is lying prostrate as a Naga on the banks of Ganges. What riles me more, it is naked too!
And barely a minute back I’d wandered at blogs bustling with visitors that milled for space while the authors bespoke of remorseless, treacherous, lecherous leaders who watch pornographic films bang in the middle of assembly sessions; or sighed at the audacity of a Delhi boy who inherited his mother’s voluptuous shaved Punjabi bosom; or regaled the exploits of an Italian empress and her cooing-flattering band of puppets; or mocked at the statues of a Dalit Queen who is her own Shahjahan.
This one is classic. Loved it and your definition of the new F word
Ah, the stamp of Zephyr! My heart is at peace.
A quiver full
of wordy arrows,
shot off
with contraptions
ranging from
slings
to bows
to automatic
stealth whizzing bombers.
And Senor Aristotle
meets Narad Muni
in sunglasses,
to discuss
benefits of democracy
as the Dalit Queen
advances
to the Capital
on shylock elephants
who remember stuff
about who owes
who else
how many pounds of avoirdupois;
and even
cinematic heroes
with disproportionate assets
and secret liabilities……
Wait .
You need
to write
a regular column
in black and white…
As For color,
its time to uncork a Shiraaz ….
Hey, Suranga, wait! Let me collect my breath…. I’m not used to honours like that! A regular column in black and white? Right after you, dear!
That was a Pranayam comment
You can exhale now. But with a wonderful post like this, you seriously need to write a column somewhere. And break out the bubbly ……
The line that denotes traffic is lying prostrate as a Naga on the banks of Ganges. What riles me more, it is naked too!…BRILLIANT!
Ha, ha…mine too. Average is 30 – 40 hits per day.And I am sure only ten read it. But u deserve better.
This is your best…..have I said the same about other posts too? The F word, the fact that net is our nemesis and the nuggets about leaving footprints of bits and bytes….Amusing yet so thought provoking.Did you study Eng Lit or Psychology?
Long before Freud, we had Sophocles and Shakespeare. Indeed, the great Victorian poet Robert Browning is considered a precursor of Psychology. Literature, in essence, is Psychology personified. Thanks for the kind words.
Probably I have said it before and I will say it again, you are one of the best writers in blogsphere. And although I am not qualified enough to comment on your blog but still I ll follow ur blog and comment as well
. carry on mate, u r a rockstar
Seriously, Deb! I think you write better than me! And I can see through your plans of excusing yourself from future comments!
LOL Nagas on the banks of Ganga.. who could think about that? My blog had been like that for a year or more before I started getting over 100 hits a day. It takes a wise jeweler to know the value of gem, anyone can rate a potato, but as potatoes are more popular that doesn’t take away the value of a gem. I think you got the hint
Those are heart-warming words, Farida! It seems then I am trying to sell stones at a Vegetable Fair!
Your lament about poor traffic reminds me of an insomniac friend who never took sleeping pills. His logic was, he could always delude himself that he only needed to pop a pill and drift into blissful oblivion any time. But his world would explode if he actually took a pill one day and still could not sleep. But for someone like you who had the courage to start a blog there is no escape – you will have to learn to live a life filled with anxiety about inadequate number of visitors to your blog. But never mind, you are a brilliant writer – and what is more, you are consistently brilliant, which is rare. Those who follow your blog (including myself) really appreciate your posts and that’s what counts. Still, if you want more visitors, maybe next time you should write about Sunny Leone…….
Dear AB, some are hailed by the rabble, some are hailed by the royalty! It happens to be my fortune today to have fallen in the second bracket.
Such eloquent confessions!!!!!
Its the Z, Lady!
Brilliantly written. But your English is getting a bit heavier for the lesser mortals like me. Keep writing. The humor is unmistakably there but I strongly feel that your style will appeal only those who are good in English. Even the comments given by some of your followers are .. well written in superb ( read difficult) English. And frankly, I could not understand the context also.
Dear Sudhir, If an IITian of your calibre is a lesser mortal, I am probably a gerbil from Kalahari! Yet, that is a serious charge! And I do not know what I am going to do about it beacuse I weild no control over my self that writes. I write what I write!
You’ll admit you are an avid reader. I suggest you reconsider those titles on your list. You know what I mean!
Umashankar at his delightful best! Eloquence flowed freely like the wine from that bottle of Zifandel (which btw is my favourite poison).
Together, till the end, then!
Well, ‘F’ is certainly the new D. And, while leaving imprints we do a lot more. Make relations, I guess, virtual may be… And, who bothers about stats? As long as you are read and admired by few like minded people everything is perfectly alright
BTW, loved the way you wrote this post. Classic literature…:)
Saru, life itself is classic literature. I cherish the fruits I chance upon my blog. Thanks for the encouragement.
This is a really humourous post – the Zinfandel haze leaps out of the screen and makes me crave some just so that I can unleash a bit of vitriol too.
Go ahead, release the fumes! You’ll feel feather light.
true! the F word means a lot others now
A brilliant one. You are apt in your comments and well disguised in your sentences.
It is a pity that all of us are unconscious followers of Sigmund Freud. As Amitabh Bachchan would have said ” Tum maano, tum na maano, tume yakeen karna hai ya nahin, isse kuch farq nahin padta. Desh bar mein Sigmund Freud ki soch faili hai. ” It is a pity that no one is able to look beyond the realm of Freudian thought. Religious contonation to sexual thoughts comes later my friend. Much much later.
Ha! Now that I get a comment that sees through me! Many thanks to you.
Umashankar, that was verbose dexterity at its best:)
I checked the dictionary. NADA!
Hmmm… Zinfandel moments indeed. This post is actually poetry hidden as prose. Loved it
Sudhagee, you redeem my mind! Thanks.