My brother's wedding - 2

It was the perfect pass. And we had won it, quite easily.

What I am referring to is the shoes war between the two sides, the ladkewaale and the ladkiwaale. For the ignorant lot who have somehow missed or forgotten HAHK ( it was not such a good movie, but well it was a hit one), the bride's sisters (nowadays, it actually is the entire family) have to take and hide away the groom's shoes, and get money in return. It is the responsibility of the groom's side to ensure that a) the shoes are not taken, and b) if they are, then they are returned to the groom before the bride side can demand money. Now, the important thing is it is just a game, and whether any side succeeds or not, the transfer of money is mandatory.

Statistically, it has been proved that the best time to take the shoes away from the groom is when he sits on the mandap. He has to open his shoes to sit near the ceremonial fire , and then the ladkiwaale strike. As it happens, the groom has to sit on mandap twice, once without the bride (for some initial ceremony), and the other time for the saat phere. In between, is the part where the varmala takes place. This background is necessary to understand what happened next.

As soon as we went inside the marriage hall, accompanied by the light and sound of the firecrackers, my brother was taken away by the pundit; removed his shoes near a chair and sat in the mandap. I was then entrusted by my family, to go and take the shoes, which I accomplished pretty smoothly, except that the other side saw me doing it. We then discretely divided the pair, and kept them with two of my cousins: one hidden under my cousin's chunni, while the other went into the cardboard container with the firecrackers . And when my brother went for the varmala, one of my other cousins volunteered to offer his own shoes. Coming back, from the dais after photographs and all, the process repeated itself: my brother opened his shoes and sat again in the mandap. This time however, my bhabhi's side did manage to take away the shoes before we could even react. (Remember: these are my cousin's shoes, and not the real shoes).

So well now my brother was without shoes, and one of my cousins was without shoes. We started getting frustrated, and asked the bride's side to return the wrong pair of shoes. They refused point blankly. Their opinion was that shoes were shoes, and they did not care whose shoes did they have, as long they had something. We, however, felt that only groom's shoes count, and this caused a lot of fight between the two families. Finally, however, my cousins' persuasive skills won over, and we got back my cousin's shoes.

This whole episode, however, had created a lot of tension between the two families. To diffuse it, one aunty from my bhabhi's family, came to talk to us about the entire incident. We explained how we had managed to sneak the real shoes from right under their nose, hearing which, she slapped her 12 year old son for being incompetent (Oh, what fun that was, the poor boy almost started crying!). And then, being gracious, we decided to give them other chance, and told them to find the shoes, which were somewhere within the wedding lawns themselves. As soon as she got up, she realized that there was something under the chair she was sitting on. And she came back to explore. However, my cousin who had hidden it there, was fast enough for her, and carrying the shoe in his hand, ran all through the lawn, with 4-5 children following him. What followed next was pure magic. My cousin, somehow managed to throw the shoe in some random direction, and it fell in the place to which I was closest. But I had to still run to stave off those children, and I found myself surrounded by these children, and then delivered the perfect quarterback pass. To my other cousin, whose only job was to go and place the shoe under my brother's foot, who was just getting up from the mandap. And to coordinate with my other cousin, who had the other shoe under her chunni all this while. So well, as you see, we won it, but my brother decided to give the money to my bhabhi's sisters anyways. That too a stately amount of Rs. 5100.

Among other things at the wedding, there was alcohol of course, Black Dog whiskey. All my friends left pretty early, though, and could not catch a live demonstration of my American Football skills. (which is sad, in a way). So, well, by the time the marriage ended it was almost 3:00 a.m. in the morning, and everyone was dead tired. However, the best fun of the night was still left (not just for my brother, you perverts, I am talking about myself here).

Me and a lot of my cousins decided to go upstairs (his room is opposite mine) and make the bed. We decorated it with flowers in the shape of an arrow with the heart, and then left a note saying that, "Please don't disturb this arrangement. Lots of hard work gone into it. Inspection to be made at 8:00 a.m. morning." (Cheesy, huh!). And while we were doing this stuff, we had all sort of jokes flying about. It was great bonding with my cousins after a really really long time. So then well, we came down, and didn't allow him to enter the house until he parted with some of the money. He paid the bride's side for doing nothing, we said, and he ought to pay us for taking all that pain, going barefoot and all. So, at the end of it, we, as a whole, were richer by Rs. 2500 + 1100 HKD. But the night had not ended there. We managed to tease my brother even more, by calling him from downstairs, and when he stood on the porch, asking him about such silly things as if he wanted tea or water. And once, even asking him for time. It was so much fun!

The next day started around 10, and it was raining pretty heavily, putting all plans of Dham (It is an Himachali system of community food, in which people sit in rows and are served various Himachali curries and rice), on hold. However, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped, and the Dham went pretty well. But before that, there was more fun (money) for me. According to some Punjabi system, the devar is supposed to sit on the newly married couple's lap and ask for something. (I finally had some advantage of getting fat, and I was going to use it to the maximum). And I did. They already had a suit ready for me, but I was not going to give in so easily. I asked them to sponsor my trip to France, which they had to agree, to get me off them.
Yoyo!!!

My five friends from Delhi were leaving, and had quite a fight among themselves, regarding the time of their departure. For once, I think Sammy was right. Jha and Shreyas had kind of spoiled the trip. They wanted to leave asap, but my mother persuaded them to taste Himachali food, which they liked a lot. And so the entire day was spent meeting people who had come for the dham, mainly family friends from Dharamsala. And the night, well it was easily the most awesome night of all.

The DJ was back, and as he belted popular numbers, my entire mother's family, (most of my father's side family had left during the day) right from five year olds to my bauji (my nana) , who is 92, danced. How they fit in one small floor is a wonder, but I guess when you have spaces in your heart, it does not really matter. It was a perfect mixture of alcohol and dance, and I loved it a lot. And no, no more Lindsay Lohan stories told. I even managed to dance with my bhabhi, and in fact with every female in the big household.

My two male cousins, the ones involved with me in the American Football triumph, were then sent with a bottle of Teachers to my brother's bedroom and were locked inside, and when my brother entered with my bhabhi late in the night, they managed to sponsor their own trip to Hong Kong on my brother's expense, as a price for getting out. What else do you want!

It was dance, it was alcohol, it was money, but no, the greatest fun of the wedding was the bonding with my family members. Sometimes, despite all your differences, you can really be one, and I really loved that spirit. It was, to use IIMC lingo, too much!!!

My brother's wedding-1

My brother finally got married. It was a great wedding, and I had a rollicking time.

Reaching home and moving into my new room was an awesome experience in itself. Imagine a first floor room with a full frontal view of the Himalayas, complete with wooden flooring, and an Americanized bathroom. And I had my own dressing room. Just shifting upstairs was so much fun in the first place, as was the realization that I would actually look forward to going home from now on. The days before the marriage saw me trying to arrange stuff like DJ, rooms for the guests, alcohol and a lot of less important stuff. Also, the responsibility of taking care of guests who trickled in and out fell upon me. It was great to meet a lot of my cousins and nephews and nieces and aunts and uncles after a long long time.

Day 1: 23rd June, Saturday : Program: Shagun and Ring Ceremony at a hotel in Dharamsala. The ceremony went off okay. The entire day saw some more of the guests pouring in, and the best part of the night was the DJ-cum-"cocktail" night, at home, which saw infinite amounts of whiskey and beer, with some amount of vodka, gin and rum added. I made the bartender make some pretty big (90 ml whiskey with 60 ml of Old Monk and Vodka, and 30 ml of gin, with the rest of the glass filled with coke) Long Island Iced Tea (without Tequila, of course (how do u find Tequila in Kangra District)), and got really high within no time, and then started telling people about my adventures in the United States of America, and also describing, whats now famous in my family as the Lindsay Lohan story. I have not mentioned this story in my earlier blogs about the Big Apple, so now is a pretty good time to do so.
"Well, it so happened, that P and me found ourselves outside this really good nightclub one Friday night. The only thing stopping us from going in was this huge black Negro, who told us that no stag entry was allowed. So well, as a desperate measure, we decided to ask a girl to get us in, and sure enough, a group of a guy and three girls came along. I tapped one of the females on the back and asked her if she could let us in. And man, was she hot!! What really took me aback was that she agreed at once, took my hand in hers and asked her other friend to take P in. She looked like Lindsay Lohan, and she asked me for my name and P's name. Her name was Allison, and as P was telling her his name, the negro saw us and didn't grant us access in the sake of us not knowing one another. Now well, Allison was really sorry thinking it to be her fault, and I consoled her. I now think it would have been the perfect time to ask her for her phone number, but loser that I am, I just waved her away."
So, this was the story I kept repeating that entire night, in front of everyone present. And I used the word chakka a lot too. And there were my cousins, who tried to take my case, my brother, who inspite of all the spotlight on him, was probably loving me stealing his thunder.
By the time people went away, or had slept, (it was already 3 in the morning) I had moderated down a bit, and my brother was having some questions about leaving his bachelor lifestyle behind. I tried to calm him a bit, and I guessed it worked. Then I left upstairs to my room, the best room in the world, and slept for tomorrow was going to be another gruelling day.

Day 2: The day started around 10, when I got down to assist dad in the functions, and boy, was this day fun! The entire day was about my brother taking part in various activities, which was to see him sitting in front of the fire most of the time, and when not, getting massaged with haldi by all the ladies of the house. It is kind of embarrassing really if you ask me. But for me the entire day was a good exercise in practical management. Sammy, Shreyas, Praddy, Jha and Rupa came around 11 in the morning, and after some chit chat went to the hotel to get some rest. I, on the other hand, worked hard getting things arranged, and was actually missing for most of my brother's ceremonies (Sehra bandi and all that crap). By 6 in the evening, we were all ready to go (considering that the expected time was 5:30, we didnt do too bad). Vaibhav came all the way from Hamirpur, and after picking up Vivek, came straight to the wedding place, which was an hotel in Palampur. And so started the best wedding function I ever attended. (To be continued).

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.

A great weekend

I am off to do what I do best before describing a terrific weekend. Describing people and what I think of them. The subject this time around are the three roommates I have here, in the town of Secaucus in New York City.
Mr. F, my wingie from IIM Calcutta, a great guy to be with, but can be really juvenile at times. And can really frustrate you sometimes, with his mood swings and a totally freaky I dont care attitude. And he has some characteristic Bengali traits. Stubborn, for example, and once started, doesnt really know when to
Mr. P is the ideal small town middle class guy, who wants to show the world he is cool. This includes eating food which he doesnt really like, drinking almost daily here, while before it was once a year, smoking madly, and generally trying to live up to the great American Dream. Wanting to visit all places, and do all of NYC masti. And yeah, complaining about everything American (in private, ofcourse) and how Infosys has a better working environment than Bloomberg. Going late to office, getting back pretty early. And he is the one who wants the PPO, even perhaps more badly than I do.
Mr. H, on the other hand, is another small town middle class, who has made office his second home. His only other occupation is talking on the phone. One thing he is game for is exploring famous places in New York and adjoining cities, but at minimum cost of capital. Easily the most hardworking and the biggest fattu among us. Has a sense of responsibility though, which I kind of like. Now on to much better things.
(Now I guess you can see why I wish I live alone. Not helping matters is the fact that we live one hour from our office, and are sharing the house with one more person, the man who has subletted it to us, and is, using the cliched term, a complete asshole. (Well, not complete, but the greater I stay with him, the more convinced I become he is).

The past weekend was easily among the best I had in the recent past. It started off pathetically, though, with my "boss" telling me to go out of the office and "get a life." Even after that, I was out only by 7:00 p.m. and the evening seemed to be going nowhere when my room partners decided they werent ready to take the taxi back to Secaucus which meant going house early (before 11 p.m. anyways, when the last bus leaves NYC for our house) for them, and wasting time at the Port Authority for four hours (waiting for the 3:30 A.M. bus to take me to Boston) for me. However, F and P decided to stay back,(because they found out about a late night service!) (H went home, guess he had to talk on the phone) and the rest, to overuse a much used cliche, is history. Or in this case, the start of history.
The night got young with an expensive and good dinner, coupled with some good Irish Whisky, at Hard Rock coffee, seeing the Doors, U2, Third Eye Blind, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Metallica videos, among others. After that lavish dinner, which ended at around 12:30 a.m. while I had plans for a night club, the alcohol had taken hold of one (F), and the other had not entirely liked the New York night culture, and gave the excuse, I am feeling cold. But there was nothing much to do, we had to somehow pass time till 3;30 A.M, in the morning, (because their late night bus, was scheduled to leave 3:30 a.m, as did my Boston bus), and so we went to the Empire State Building, and just reached in time to see the shining lights of NYC. For the second time in my life, I fell in love with this amazing nightview of the best city in the world. The experience left them spellbound, just the same effect it had on me three years ago. They got high like no alcohol ever could. And the high changed into an ecstacy when we got a STRETCH LIMO ride for 20$. It was absolutely surreal! This is the kind of stuff that dreams are made of, and finally, one of mine was achieved.
The Boston bus ride was spent sleeping, and when I reached the station at 730 a.m. on Saturday morning, nothing could match the elation I felt when I met Suhas. It had been a pretty long time since we had last caught up on each other, so spending around 36 hours with him was great. It was one of my cheapest trips ever (thanks to Suhas, who played the perfect host, and my entire cost for the trip was the round trip ticket of 55$ plus four or five dollars more for tickets.), and one of the few weekends where I was so happy I stopped thinking, and didnt need alcohol (Thanks again to Suhas).
As it turned out, Suhas' roommate turned out to be a classmate from DAV college. As they say, its a small world.
The day started off with a trip to Harvard Square after breakfast, followed by a visit to the Boston Harbour. All this was done in his Honda City () (You know what to put between brackets now, dont you). After that, the lunch was pizzas at Papa Gino's. Later in the evening, went to watch Hot Fuzz - a brilliant, comic, gory movie. It was one of the most comedy, and at the same time, one of the goriest movies I have ever seen. A must watch!!! The evening was capped off with a cheap (by NYC standards, atleast) at Harvard Square, where I also had three Glenfiddich pegs for $ 6 each. You get my point now, dont you?
The next day was spent touring Coolidge Corner, and eating an Indian Buffet for 8$ only. Later, went to country side Massachusetts (One other advantage of the trip was, I learnt this difficult spelling), and it was awesome, sitting down the beach across a lake in the middle of what looked like a jungle. But there were plenty of people. The woods and the area were so quiet and silent. It reminded me of home a bit, but much more beautiful. This was again thanks to Suhas. A place to have a farmhouse, or a ranch, which is another of my dreams.
And on my way back Sunday evening to New York, I thought about this post and how its going to be. It came out well I guess.
Next: Watch out for a review/synopsis of Nick Hornby's Hi Fidelity.
For all the Geo-Enthusiasts: New York is the Empire State, New Jersey is the Garden State, and Massachusetts is the Spirit of America.

It happens only in America

A Chinese, a Russian and an Indian (all of different ages, and practically strangers) shared a lunch in a Mexican restraunt. Talking about New York and the world of finance. It was pretty cool.
After the first week of internship, the training is done. Have started with a really cool project involving portfolio analytics, which test only my quantitative and logical skils. This internship should be fun.
Have planned a trip to Boston next weekend. And California is also not too way off the radar. So should be okay.
The Bus trip and the Metro trips are complemented listening to some of the coolest songs ever written, and by the book High Fidelity. Nick Hornby, I realise, is a fantastic author.
Also, running on a parallel track maybe, Dazed and Confused is a much watch.
Another book, which like A Million Little Pieces, reminds me of myself.
In short, another book in first person about a complete loser, who shall probably get happy at the end of the book.
I hate the endings the most, because the ending of my story will be anything but happy, and I seem to find happiness in other people sorrows.
Much of cribbing, more about this fantastic book later, when I end it in another week or so, for now, good night and good luck!!!
Life is so good, it seems to be a dream. I am high!!!!!

And so it begins...

Day one:

The major highlight: Given a tour of the office by by far, the prettiest girl who ever lived. Remember Madhubala of the old Hindi films? This Spanish girl looked exactly like her, and was tall and grand. Awesome. Great.
The Office is awesome as well, and the Bloomberg Towers are considered to be one of the best buildings in New York.
The team I am joining in Bloomberg is doing the kind of work I want to do, so thats awesome too.
Also, a bar is pretty nearby, so after a hard days work (okay, or maybe, after the day's work), you know where to go.
Our house is in Secaucus, a town in NJ outside Manhattan, which means a commute time of 35 minutes.
On the cards, is a trip to California.
Life is good. Could it be any better. Yeah, maybe. If only I was staying in Manhattan (alone:P, you never know of all the possibilities that could occur.) And if beer and whisky were a little cheaper.

Of times spent

Delhi rocked. One of the best times I have had in some while.

Saw 300, sat at TGIF and MJ's. Met a lot of people, some of them on the road, and it felt good.

Now in New Jersey, held up with a bunch of guys who want to live up to the Great Indian Tradition of putting saving money at any cost above everything else, so its definately not cool.

On second thoughts, I have just found out my biggest problem: I just dont believe anyone can like me for what I am. I have a very low opinion of myself, and I think it has stayed this way for the past some time.

And that is a pretty scary thought, when you come to think about it. But the good thing is, I am now atleast honest about it.

Hope now all of you understand, why I am the way I am. Sorry for everything.

I wish I could say sorry on the face, but now, I just cant.