Friday, 18 November 2011

An alien ate my homework

"I don't even know what that means!"


"I would. I want to. But I can't, because my cousins also follow it and I don't want them to know that I do too."


"You know you are awesome. A person should not need some external entity to provide solace to the question of whether anybody likes what you have to say or write on an open expression platform. Besides, you are a cynic. Your beliefs and idealogies are hardly motivated by the opinions of other people, I know this for a fact, so why does it matter?"

So that's a No then?

"I was about to, but just when I typed the first letter a trojan that had infected my computer acted up and the whole system was frozen for all eternity so I couldn't, there was smoke and everything, I was so scared. They had to give me an injection to calm me down. Sorry.."

I am now thinking of taking up drinking Charlie Sheen style. And without water.

"Hey I did..I seriously did, I even took a picture of it on my phone as proof, but someone stole my phone."

I wish I had a gun.

These are some of the replies that have succeeded a typical conversation like this:

Person: Hey checked out your blog. It was awesome!
Iceman: Yeah? Thanks. Do leave comments when you read something you like.
Now, go read the post from the beginning.

While considering the amount of effort you guys are putting into coming up with these elaborate excuses, there are two things that come to my mind

1) I need to seriously stop asking people for comments. After all, my obsession is only with numbers and NOT a good hard ego-massaging..

2) Advice some of you to try writing screenplays for sci-fi movies.
    Cause people accept anything that happens in a sci-fi movie.

And the biggest wake up call is to completely disable comments on my posts (Which is how it was when I initially started writing), before someone comes up with something like this:

- I wanted to, but I write my comments on a sheet of paper first and check for spalling mishtakes and grammatical errers, yes, I always doing because me perfect always, and when i doing this, suddenly suddenly a crow coming and taking the sheet of paper from me and swallowing while sitting on the coconut tree.

Sunday, 13 November 2011

When Schumi met Sachin

And later Sachin's fantastic never-before heard reply:

One to ask an awesome question, other to give a LEGEND-wait-for-it- ARY reply.

Sunday, 6 November 2011

One and Four

There are 411 posts in the bin (Published + draft) and there are 114 followers. Now I feel like Michael Schumacher who won his 7th World championship in the same race where Ferrari won their 700th race and he said “Eet eez zust ze reverrrzze.”

And here is a tit-bit: On 7th November, 1996 NASA launched the Mars Global Surveyor. Also Doodle tells me its Madam Curie’s 144th Bday. Her research shall forever radiate through the millions of peoples who were treated for cancer.

All you 114 people are AWESOME. The 4th Comic is out, hope you like it :)

The Million Dollar Moustache

There is a saying in Kannada:
ಊಟ ತನ್ನ ಇಚ್ಛೆ , ನೋಟ  ಪರರ ಇಚ್ಛೆ 
It means, what you eat, is up to you, but what you look like is governed by the people who are around you.
Having heard this (only a few million times from my mum), my sudden fits of wanting to trying to try new things (plus the adrenaline rush of some very good coffee that day) caused me to shave off my moustache and then
* My dad had a mild heart attack.                                                                                   
* My mum disowned me.                                                                                   
* Two girls changed their phone number.                                                       
* I was banned for life from entering Big Bazaar.

and finally

* A puppy committed suicide.

I have learnt my lesson, I'm never doing that again. (Unless the fit repeats or have loads of good coffee. I have no control you see.)

And if my prospective girlfriend is reading this post, I'm sure I have changed the equation a bit. This is why I don't want a lot of girls reading my blog. Reduces my options.

Wednesday, 2 November 2011

Nothing else matters

No I didn't go to the concert. I'm not here to write an ego-centric rant about how awesome a day I had at Palace grounds on 31st. In fact, I'm here to write an ego-centric rant about how I didn't have an awesome day on 31st at the Palace grounds! Which means you don't have beat yourself up about how my life rocks more than yours.                                                                                              

It must have been May when Metallica first announced that they are gonna be touring India. I was online when they posted it on their FB page. I didn't waste a second in logging in to the site that was handling the ticketing. I even almost logged into my bank account in my excitement. That's when I realised I should probably figure out who I'm going with. Which eventually led to the realisation that in all these years, I had barely heard anyone express their appreciation of the music that Metallica had made. So I guess I would be forcing people to go to the concert of a band they were never really interested in.

FML I thought as I closed the site and decided to get on with my usual boring life.

Fast forward 6 months..half the people I know have been to the concert and back while Im sitting on my laptop and sketching comics. Now thats an FML moment for you!

CrazyKav: Im going to Metallica concert now
Iceman: Why are you talking to me?
CrazyKav: Shut up bitch

All jokes apart, I don't see it as a big deal except for the curious case of shifting ironies, where there is nothing that stands still for a single moment.

"Some days you are the priest, and some days you are the altar boy."

Tuesday, 1 November 2011

Then, now and forever

On this occasion, let me first wish you a happy Kannada Rajyothsava.

Secondly, let me share a little story that happened a little over a year ago in my work town.

It so happens that Bangalore (where I work) is one of the most wonderful cities on earth. Everyone is welcome here. It doesn't matter who you are, where you are from, who you been banging, Bangalore welcomes you with open arms and takes you in like one of its own.

This I was happy about. Mixing with people and all that shit. Anyway, so here I am, at work, I have just finished my 3 month training and was the first person in my group to be brought to a high security floor in the building, because the manager supposedly saw a "spark" in my eyes.

However, they made sure that the "spark" died down as quickly as it had sparked in me, by seating me in the farthest part of the huge floor, away from anyone in my project.

Again, at the time, it didn't look like an issue to me at all since I make friends with anyone who breaths (and sometimes not even that). All said and done, all the people around me were strangers and not a single person among them spoke Kannada. Some were speaking in Telugu, some in Bengali. I never even heard any hindi or Urdu. I could have managed that. They all did make a poor attempt at 'speak-a-in-a-English'.

Meanwhile. my kannada speaking group, it still beats me why I use the word 'my' to this day, had banished me from their kingdom and had made a pact among themselves that I would not be called to lunch. Or at least it looked like that, cause everyday it was the same old story.

"Where were you? We were waiting for you at lunch!"

"Oh 'Haha' I thought you had my number, but never mind, I made friends with that gentleman over there and lunched with him. Nice chap he is."

This went on for a week and that weekend I didn't return home.

Second week started. Same old shit. Heady cocktail of Bongoli, Telugu, Damil, Malayalam, Oriya and what not. The problem also was that these people did not want to speak to a person who was not from his state, or did not speak his language. Socializing was getting harder and harder.

I was coming to the end of the second week. It was probably a Thursday, when I was moving up the stairs to the cafe for some coffee, when I suddenly heard music to my ears, two people, speak to each other in....*drum rolls* .... Kannadaaaaaa.

Come on every body in Robin Scherbatsky style:

Thank you everybody, now lets go to the mall.

I was completely tranquillized and mesmerised by the beautiful sounds they were uttering. It was like, I was listening to music, or like I was remembering something enchanting, like a hypnotic mantra I had heard in my previous life.

I was heading up, they were heading down. Completely unaware of myself, I slowly turned around and started following them with zombie-like drooping shoulders. I'm not sure if I had started drooling. Eyes half open like as if I was high on coke, I just followed them, listening to every little detail of the sound that had to be made to utter each and every Kannada word. Pure heaven. I followed them until we reached ground floor. Thats when I suddenly came to my senses. Took me a moment to realise that I had come to the ground floor and had no idea why I was there and where I really should have been.

Yes, I am not kidding. You will realise that I have not over sold it here if you go through my situation. That is how beautiful Kannada is. And though I always appreciated the beauty of the language, I only realised my own attachment to it on that fateful day. Funny I should write this whole saga in English? How will the others read this and agree/disagree with me then?

For a blog completely written in Kannada, head over to Mithun's blog "You will never walk alone :  Global Meltdown". I can't promise you its awesome, cause I was not able to read it yet, but I can tell you he is awesome.

Coming back, I don't like to use the words "Proud to be a Kannadiga". Because its total bullshit. There is no point in being proud because its not an achievement, you didn't work hard and become one.

However I like to use the words "Lucky to be a Kannadiga".

ಅಂದು, ಇಂದು, ಎಂದೆಂದಿಗೂ - ನಾನು ಕನ್ನಡಿಗ!