A Piece of Fiction

I am dying. (What is the big deal? So are the six-and-a-half billion people, and infinitely more flora and fauna, who have taken birth on this planet earth. Everyone who has ever lived, is dead or is dying).
Let me be more precise. I am dying in three months. Or this is what a doctor told me today. Actually what he told me was that alcohol and drugs had taken over my body, spoiled my liver and my lungs, and with me ignoring the continious advices of friends and family to change myself, three months was the maximum he could give me.
And so I am dying in three months.
Well, let me introduce myself to you. "Whats in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet", wrote Shakespeare. I will call myself Asshole, for want of anything else. I am 30 years old, single, a small town middle class boy, an IIT-IIMian, presently living alone in New Delhi and an alcoholic and a drugs abuser for the past five years. And now I am on the threshold of death.
"What a waste of brilliant talent. This boy was destined to achieve great things in life. He had it all: charisma, talent, energy, ambition. He could have reached the Everest of whatever field he chose. But he chose to do nothing. He was a flawed genius." Probably this is what people would write at my tombstone. Or maybe, they will just write my name and add a line saying that "lived and died in accordance with his name." I am fine with anything. I mean, after you die, does it even matter what people remember you as? Or, for that matter, how much money did you have, and how many women? Arent we all just dust in the wind? Isnt life just an illusion?
Why did I make the choices I did in my life? Why did I go to IIT and later IIM? Was it just to earn the respect of people around me? Or was it to prove something to myself? And why did I drink so much alcohol? Was it to eliminate my negative thoughts, about my career, my ambitions and my relationships, or was it just to prove to the world that I was not a nerd people believed me to be?
Whatever it was, drinking and drugs did make me live a happy life. In the end, that is all that matters, isnt it? What would you have, a life of helping others filled with guilt, or a useless, happy life? In short, a life of meaning or a life of happiness?

That is the only question you need to ask yourself.

The last two week(end)s; back to those days; and finally starts the fight

Sitting here on a Sunday evening of what has been easily the most boring (least tiring) weekend since the first one after arriving in Uncle Sam, I have plenty of time, and more importantly desire, to write about the past two weeks in New York(/New Jersey for the more geographically inclined ones). Having already written and cancelled several drafts of this post for lack of interest, I hope I am able to finish this one, because I have plenty to write about: and this time it is not only about my experiences here.
Last weekend (the 5/11 one) was another happening one. Friday night got along with other IIMCians of my batch in New York and went night clubbing; listening to a band, which played everything from Spanish Pop to Doors rock. Got really drunk (I dont need to reteriate this too much. I always get really drunk). Suhas came on Saturday evening, and the next 24 hours were spent with him, visiting the Metropolitan Museum, American Museum of Natural History, and Central Park, among other things. Also saw SpiderMan - 3, which I thought was OKish. The parts I like about the entire trilogy is what other people hate (because they are quite poorly directed and emotionally weak, I guess): the part where they tell you about you having a choice to be good or bad. That choice is always there I guess.
And got another 1.75 litre of Jack Daniels for drinking in house, our third. All those people going to the best restraunts in India to get a taste of the drink, I pity you!!! JD for me has become like Peter Scot, or Royal Stag, or DSP. Apart from that, well celebrated my second paycheck here (and the first which I might be able to save something from) by a night at Carriage House, a bar near my office. Tried six different whiskies that day, starting from Michael Collins(an Irish Whisky), going to Glenlivet, Johnny Walker Red Label, Maker's Mark, Southern Comfort (this one was on the house for me), and ended up with Glenfiddich. Needless to say, my head was whizzing when I reached home. But it was that I have found the first reason I would like to spend the rest of my life here: I am actually liking the people here, and the culture. And also the fact that most of my friends shall probably drift off to alien lands themselves. So well if I have an option, its here I will like to come.
And here, my friends, in my response to Shreyas' comment that I write I-hate-my-parents post. Maybe you feel that way, but if you go and read my posts again, this is what my posts say: I think I might have wanted to do something else in life, but I have taken the decision to come into IIT and IIM based on the expectations of my parents, and other people. Having noone else to blame for it , I put the blame on my parents because I didnt actually enjoy studying here. But the crux is: It was finally my decision, and if I was strong enough, I could have taken the other decision and made my parents fume over it. You too have, like me, taken the easier way out, and you want to blame it on your parents, just like what I do in my posts. I dont think how we are different. So well, I would like to say two words to you!!!:$*#@ &$$
And about Arnav's post saying that why I needed alcohol to keep me sane when life is good is this: When I dont have alcohol I dont enjoy the present, think too much about past, what could have been past, the what will be future ; alcohol makes me do that. So when I am drunk I enjoy life for what it is : a happy present, with everything else forgotten. And that is how it should be. So $*#@ &$$ for you too!!!
Well office over the past week was bad, I mean, I had plenty of work, but I was not actually able to complete it. But the nights were much better. Thursday and Friday were another Carriage House nights, again trying new drinks and finally settling on Philip Collins (it might not be the best, but its the best among the cheap ones!!!). Friday also saw me and P (after already getting high in Carriage House) go back to Mcdougals Street (Downtown New York where they have the best nightclubs), and trying to get into a non-stag entry nightclub. The first women we asked agreed immediately, and the one with me even gave me her hand to hold. But as we were going in, the bouncer (a kallu, who else) heard the girl, Allison, asking me about P's name. And he found out that we were not with them, and he chucked us out. And the girl was really pretty and cute and hot!!! So we parted, she almost had tears in her eyes, but it was inevitible. And I remained a loser.
But still, we went to some other nightspot, and had a rollicking time. By the time we reached home, it was 530 in the morning, and P had to go to Niagara on Saturday Morning, with other two of my roommates. So I was alone, kind of. And Saturday went by sleeping, drinking JD, watching TV, and playing games on my Laptop (reminding me of a typical IIMC day). Sunday, though, I decided to go to the city, and roamed the city alone, and it was fun. And tomorrow is office again. OOPS.
Which reminds me that the PPO fight probably depends on the work that I do the next three days. Which is an interesting thought, but a pretty scary one as well. The next three days can probably change my life. So wishing myself all the best!!!
P.S: After the trip to California, and meeting Dasa, have become a big NBA fan myself. Am sad that the Nets are out, but waiting to see the Spurs clinch the title now. But Steve Nash is the best NBA player, and my second favourite after Manu Ginobili!!!
Life is good. With alcohol. Without it, it just gets a bit boring.
Whoever said getting PPO from Bloomberg was easy, was probably right. I just dont seem to do the easy things right!!!

California, here we come

Any of you who has watched OC, or has atleast listened to this song by a group called the Phantom Planet "California" would remember the line "Driving down the 101". Well thats what I did all this weekend. But sadly, for lack of time, I missed going to Orange County, or even Napa Valley for that matter. Missing Napa Valley, home to American wine, hurts less than it would normally have, because I am going to Bordeaux, the wine capital of the world, in September this year, for three whole months!!
But that is besides the point. The point is, that I had another incredible weekend, one that was spent with friends I wanted to be with all through. And after Boston, it was only the second time that New York seemed kind of cold. But a new bottle of Jack Daniels' is there to take care of that.
The flight to San Fransisco, as so happens with me, was delayed, and so I reached the SFO airport only at 1200 a.m. compared to the expected arrival time of 11:30. Maddu was there to recieve me, though, and the ride southwards (in his Honda Civic) that followed was complemented with an indepth understanding of the Bay area geography, and of his daily routine. We finally got into Stanford, and the night went by talking about various things, talking about various things, people, work and life. It was pretty late by the time we slept, and it came as no surprise when my watch showed one o'clock when I awoke next day ( I still had not adjusted the three hours you gain by travelling west, you see), and we were ready to rock the Bay area.
A hasty Saturday plan followed to walk along the trail in the Big Basin red forest area, 34 miles, but more importantly, 1 1/2 hours further south, and Aarti was also invited to be a part of it. She was a bit late, and by the time we did manage (in Aarti's car, a Honda Accord, down the 101 as well) to reach the Big Basin forest, it was already 2 p.m. Two trails and three hours later, in which we saw the Mother of the Forest (the redwood tree that was the tallest) , the Father of the forest (the redwood tree that had the greatest centimeter) and a waterfall, we had already got a call from Dasa ( for those of you, who dont know Dasa, what are you doing here? In this earth, I mean? What have you achieved in life if you havent been able to psyche Dasa even once?) about arriving at the SFO airport. We then proceded to pick him up, and after losing our way and roaming southern SF city for the better part of two hours, we finally checked out on a Mexican restraunt. And that too on a Cinco de Mayo day, what a coincidence (the bill was paid entirely by Dasa, who wanted to treat us for his Mercer and Chevron jobs) ! The food was good, and from there, me, Dasa, and Aarti, separated from Maddu, who took the 280 and then 101 back to Stanford, to start another Sunday of research. I sincerely believe he will be a Nobel Prize winner one day, and that would be one of the proudest days of the lives of all those who know him.
The three of us had planned to visit San Fransisco that night, but a wrong turn took us into the Bay bridge, and we found ourselves in Oakland, from where the only oppurtunate way was the way back to Aarti's home. And after calling a couple of people ( and a couple of hours), we finally got the right way through Google Maps courtesy Karthik (whom we called obviously, and yeah, for all of you ignorant folks, Karthik is the Maddu).
More talking followed saturday night, and then on Sunday, Dasa and me awoke to watch the San Antonio Spurs take on the Phoenix Suns (Dasa supported Suns, so I supported the Spurs, and the other reason in that Manu Ginboli plays for Spurs, and he belongs to Argentina, which is the country producing Maradona and Messi, among others). We missed the first half though, on account of a game of tennis, where I saw Dasa play the best he ever has. And he had me shouting for cover. I am a pretty decent tennis player, by the way (in case you were ignorant enough to know this basic fact, you ought to sink in a small pool of water, out of shame), but when we came back to see the Spurs beat Suns, Dasa's tennis enthusiasm had given in. Then we went to an Italian restraunt in SF (Aarti's job treat!!) , and from there went to the place called the Fisherman's Wharf, saw chocolate be made atChirarDelli's Square (if this sounds like Chirag Delhi, I dont blame you) looked at Alcatzar jail from a distance, Dasa bought a Golden State Warriors Tee, and the weekend was over, just like that. Came back to NYC after a pretty comfortable and late Delta flight, and headed straight to 731,Lexington Avenue for another day in office. One of the only two days (the other was in Boston) when I didnt need alcohol in the US to keep me sane. Life is pretty good, I guess!!!
Thanks, Aarti, Maddu and Dasa, for a great weekend!!!!

And meet me tonight in Atlantic CIty

(Disclaimer: For all of you losers desperate males out there, (and that shall pretty much cover up all those who read this blog), and who have been stranded in India all their lives, and have never seen hot women in little more than bare minimum in REAL, please don't read any further. The only thing it will do, apart from providing you with laugh about my own loserness, would be to depress you about your own. This has already happened to two frustu friends, one of whom had even had lots of girls. Indian Despo, you know!!!. Females, I had prefer you not to read this as well, as it contains some pretty graphic pornographic fantasies. And all persons under 18 are totally banned.)
The song is by Bruce Springsteen, which was the only time I had heard of the place, before How I met your mother.
Last weekend we planned a trip to Washington D.C. and Philadelphia. That did not materialise, but what did, was a fun nightout in what is the Vegas of the East Coast, The Atlantic City. And like most things in this foreign land, it was AWESOME, but it could certainly have been better (well I could say if I didn't have F and P with me to spoil the fun, or if I had just that little more money, but having embarrassed myself a lot already on this blog, I have no chasms in accepting that the night would have been so much better if) had I managed to score.
And this time it wasn't for the lack of trying. I dint exactly know what scoring means, but getting close to a female and snogging her and touching her boobs shall probably make me one up on a lot of my friends. It was the best chance I had gotten yet, and this time even my age old, conservative principles were not going to stop me. Except that I ran out of guts, and yeah, lemme face it, I am ugly and way too non-smart to bed these extra hot women that I tried getting through.
The plan was simple: Leave Saturday afternoon for Atlantic City, where we hoped to look at good looking female, earn some money by using the probability fundaas learnt during the Statistics class, and roam on the beach (Its not called Atlantic City for nothing, dumb ass, like I told P when he asked, "Wahaan par sea bhee hai kyaa?" ) And so we went to Atlantic City.
One thing I had no great idea about the place, but had just heard of it as a Vegas compatriot, and so was expecting to see scantily clad babes all around. Having reached rather early to the city after a two hour bus ride, we decided to check out chicks at the beach first, which, except for a family making castles in the sand, was totally empty. Not once to let that deter us, we decided to enjoy the lovely weather on the beach, and hung around for an hour, and then took a walk around the famous Boardwalk, which has all the casinos lined up against it. Then, with night approaching fast, we were ready for enjoying the casino, where when we went in, all we could see were old men and women sitting on the slot machines. No babes, no other machines, we had been totally tricked it seems. The only hope was that I spotted HOOTERS!!!!
Now if you havent heard of Hooters, it is totally your fault. It is the best place ever. Women, or rather very very very hot girls, are dressed in little more than a white vest which says Hooters and orange tights, which culminate almost where they start, leaving you an uniterrupted view of the hottest pairs of legs you will ever see. And these women are there to serve you!!! We decided to come back there, after trying our luck upstairs, where we found out there were Roulettes.
The Roulette is an interesting game, and the one most likely to be appliciable to the principles of Probability, and so we went there. Started off by winning around 5 dollars, then lost 15, before coming back to play from the basics and winning 35 dollars. In between we had Jack Daniel's and pizzas, among other things. And then we went to Hooters.
Our waiteress wasnt really that hot ( I mean she would beat all Indian heroines any day, but am talking about our high standards that day), but the one serving the table next to us was the real deal. She showed a bit more than any of the girls, and she bent a bit more too. And she was a total blonde. And her measurements must have been 36-24-36; it couldnt be anything else. Man it was a treat for the eyes, but it was nothing compared to what was going to happen.
We reluctantly finished our drinks and the accompanying snacks and came out of the sexiest restraunt is the world, and then went out of the casino to take another stroll down the Boardwalk. And then this happened.
Two hot blondes, wearing a very tight top and macrominis, came out of the casino and started smoking. They were evidently very drunk too. And they were absolutely horny, trying to get into one other. I was already turned on, and noting the way that a certain Mr. Jhaw tried to patao the sexiest girl in IIT (she was not an IITian, all you know-alls);I put up a cigarette to my mouth, went up to them and asked, as coolly as I could, "Do you have a light?" She was piss drunk, and fumbled her purse to take out her cigarette. I was trying to make eye contact, but the moment never came and her next comment broke my heart. I just took the lighter and backed off, trying to light the cigarette, when she said, "He is running away with the lighter." It was a big big turnoff and I just gave back the lighter, after lighting ofcourse, and came back to where the F and P were sitting, admiring me for my guts.
And then came the best part of the trip, we followed those females to what can only be described as heaven. It was like all apsaras (there were around 200 of them) had decided to appear together and had gotten rid of their clothes and had come down to the bare minimum, and had too much to drink. And they all were obviously horny, but by the time we had reached there, all of them had guys snogging them. We had missed the ticket yet again.
But for the first time in my life I had seen so many beautiful hot sexy women. It was a treat for the eyes and other parts of the body. We remained there, feeling ultimately frustrated, till the place was empty, and then decided to go back to the beach and get drunk. And this is what we did. In the meantime we also lost all the money we had won and more. And then we got more drunk. And in the morning we came back from Atlantic City.
I have not been ablte to do justice to all my emotions in the post, but if any of those females had told me to do anything, I would have done it. And for all of them. It was that good/
In the past 4 days, since coming from Atlantic City, have finished 1.75 litres of Jack Daniels. Not bad for someone who attends office also, yeh!!!!
Life is good. Am going to California today evening.