relationship

You were saying?

This blog seems to have slumbered enough.

As I write this, one of life’s infinite wisdom has stirred me deeply…

“Whoever gossips about you, eventually gossips about the other person and how they reacted to news about you”

Do you feel that people are constantly talking behind your back and you haven’t had the slightest chance of defending yourself? Do you feel that people don’t give you a fair chance to talk about your side of the story? Do you think they feel that they are afraid about what ugly truths they will unearth if they hear from you?

A gossiper’s brain has always been pictured as a labyrinth of dark avenues, with faded tributes to people’s embarrassing moments in washed out colors… But lately I realized that a gossiper is really not that high on the IQ monitor. The routines are pretty straight forward. I have so far researched and observed

Routine A

  • Gossips about Person A to Person L
  • Loses favor with Person A because Person A is not a chip idiot and gets wind of itImage
  • Apologizes to Person A and Gossips about Person L to Person A
  • Damage control backfires. Gossiper is officially a douchebag

Routine B

  • Gossips about Person A to Person S
  • Loses favor with Person A because Person A is not a chip idiot and gets wind of it
  • Vigorously constructs lies about Person A and hopes the whole world will turn against Person A
  • Damage control backfires. Gossiper is officially a douchebag

Routine C

  • Gossips about Person A to Person T
  • Loses favor with Person A because Person A is not a chip idiot and gets wind of it
  • Tries to earn sympathy with world and Person T in private and in social media
  • Damage control backfires. Gossiper is officially a douche bag

Routine D

  • Gossips about Person A to Person Z
  • Loses favor with Person A because Person A is not a chip idiot and gets wind of it
  • Teams with Person Z and tries to insult and gain joy in tormenting Person A
  • Damage control backfires. Gossiper and Person Z are officially douche bags

Routine E

  • Gossips about Person A to Person V
  • Person A ***** up gossiper
  • Damage control backfires Person A is a douchebag but everyone secretly thinks gossiper deserved it

It’s time to move on my dear reader. Let me quote Albus Dumbledore “That which Voldemort does not value, he takes no trouble to comprehend. Of house-elves and children’s tales, of love, loyalty, and innocence… That they all have a power beyond his own, a power beyond the reach of any magic, is a truth he has never grasped”

 Note: This post is dedicated to Apar. I’m still around and I understand every painful tug at the heart. Let’s move on and write some blog posts like the good old days!

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Archie… Bounty Hunter Extrodinaire! (part 2)

Img Courtesy: Fire-Designs.com

Img Courtesy: Fire-Designs.com

So this is where I die, bludgeoned to death by a Neanderthal off his meds.

“Ulle irukaanga” He grunted (they are inside)

In all this commotion I failed to notice a man by the door, watching us… Anger rose up inside me, like I was about to throw up lava.

Deepak Debnath, scum of the earth. In high school he had asked me out twice and had been turned down. This resulted in him exploiting his artistic license on bathroom walls, with anonymous paper copies of the same being left on lunch bags and homework books.

Ex-Nothing held out a hand I took it.

“ AJ? I don’t believe it! How’ve you been cupcake?”

“Don’t-call-me-that” I said gritting my teeth.

I’d made fists. He turned to Ex-Nothing “Leash your cat bro”

In a flash ex-nothing lunged for him only to be bodily lifted off the ground by mammoth himself.

“Inga no fighting” (No fighting here) he growled.

“Fucking mammoth” ex-nothing obviously didn’t enjoy being man-handled.

Suppressing a sudden giggle, I waddled in after them and found Silva* on the couch, wasted.

“She wants to stay with me.” Deepak Debnath, putrid dog turd.

“I want to hear her say it” “Then come back tomorrow cupcake”

I looked to ex-nothing for help. He was busy with mammoth’s X-Box. What is it with men and X-Boxes?

After a lot of argument and name calling,(Mammoth keeping Ex-Nothing from maiming Deepak or worse) he stirred Silva*. She sat up on the couch and promptly spewed her last meal. A few minutes and a glass of water later, she came to and sat cross- legged, groggy, swaying…

“Tell them you won’t go home” Deepak Debnath, gutter slime

“unh”

“Silva*, It’s Joycey, look, I’m gonna take you home to your mother now ok?” “No” She sulked like a five year old

“What? Listen your mother is worried about you. Call her. I’ll let her know you are safe ok?”

“I’m staying with Deepichoo… We will have parties and two dogs and three little girls…” Hacking cough. “We are a couple now.”

She rocked back and forth outlining her dreams… She seemed so vulnerable.

“Err… Boo… your mother is more important, go home tonight. We’ll talk tomorrow” I turned to Deepak, was he sweating? Ex-Nothing and I exchanged an amused look.

“What’s the rush?” Guess Ex-Nothing will get to land a sucker punch after all.

“We’re leaving. Dogs and kids sound lovely” I pulled ex-nothing away and realized he was half-smiling. Obviously enjoying the way things were turning out.

“You can’t leave. Her mom’s worried about her, get ready boo, you have to go home” He shot us a murderous look “can you wait outside?”

“You can’t force her to do anything against her will dude” Ex-Nothing faced him squarely.

“Wait-the-fuck-outside” he was sweating and profusely at that… Debated with himself and added “Please” through pursed lips.

I pulled Ex-Nothing outside and we flopped down on one of the stairs leading up to the terrace. My eyes felt like they were filled with sand and a thousand trolls swing danced in my head.

“My neighbor’s cat is an FTA. Wanna take up the case Ms.Bounty Hunter?”

“Shut up”

Raised voices inside the house. Silva* high pitched and obviously crying… Deepak Debnath, pimple on the… well, I hated him and everything he stood for. MEN!

“Wanna get some dinner once this is over?” “I’m not hungry” He took out his mobile phone and got busy. Watching his ever familiar features I had a moment of what the Japanese call… Satori

There are men in my life that I love and despise with equal fervor.

Arun, who is talented, predictable, irritating, loving. Thomas, mature, silly, respectful, trustworthy, reliable, annoying, the look in his eyes when he picked me up bloody and disoriented in the accident said it all. TK, silly, lazy, affectionate, funny, and sweet, putting up with my phobias, he sets my heart racing conveying more in his “take care” and “you too” than in our entire conversation. Sathish, struggling between two extremities, of having to be human and his call to be super-human. John who is nothing short of a miracle…

Men, whom I respect, men I love, men I’m friends with, men I simply hold in awe…and then there are the Deepaks , freaks of nature, rude, ill-mannered, despicable, perverted, virulent, no respect for self / others…

“How about if we skipped dinner and went to that Donut place by the beach. Two friends talking over a…a…Strawberry Glaze and a Mochachino if I remember right… How about that?”

Damn, “Yeah… How about that?” I met his eyes and smiled.