Comment Please. Please Comment.

TO WHOEVER IS NOT CONCERNED:

Some bloggers are born. Some are created. And then, some are thrust on you.

I have been lying low for quite some time now, blogging only once in a while. And there was an irrefutable reason to it. Whom do I write for? I had a strong itch that I am rapidly trending towards the third category. Hence, the "pause" over the past 5-6 months, even though several Bollywood actors have been wanting scripts from me.

But, I diagnosed it wrong. It is not me who needs to go to sleep. It is for me to "awaken" the billions missing the fortune by not visiting my blogsite!!

I am always heart-broken when my posts fail to gather the footfalls eyeballs. Of course, I feel further alienated when my posts don't garner enough applause from non-commenting visitors, who have nothing better to do than systematically discourage blog-posts that seem pointless or useless to them. I sincerely apologize for the lack of amusement that my posts cause to my handful of readers.

However, you need to remember that it is your fundamental right under this dysfunctional democracy to visit blogsites that you don't like on a regular basis. And, it is also your fundamental duty to record your dissatisfaction or anger with the content that bloggers like me try to pass off as master-pieces.

Hence, it is important that when you visit my posts, do leave your footprint comments.

Comment Please. Please Comment.

Yours Desperately,

My Open Letters to God

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This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 6, the sixth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers, where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

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Dear God,

The year 1978 was sort of a wonder year. It was pretty similar to 1977, and pre-cursor to 1979. This was also the year when Rakhi Sawant's parents were planning to make Rakhi Sawant. This was also the year when you kicked me off to this planet.

But I guess, in every birth, I am invariably sentenced to a life-term in the middle class. My strive for that 'silver spoon' is an unfulfilled bliss. Courtesy Pichle Janam ka Raaz, I now know that I was a poor-grader even in my previous birth. And in the previous-to-previous birth too. In fact, if I rewind all the way back to the 10th century, I now recall that I was another moron studying engineering in the Nalanda University, and that too because my brahmin father Vatsyayana happened to be the Dean. I was pretty bad at Bhaskara's mathematics. In fact, Aryabhatta ended up discovering ZERO while grading my Sanskrit papers. But, dear God, even though my grades were bad, I was an 'A-ranker' in vocational courses like nude sculpting. I did well even in 'Kamasutra Pyrotechnics', where I did my homework and lab experiments with utmost sincerity. Oops, I am digressing...

As I deal with my life's musings, I find myself staring at a very bleak future - a pre-ordained, generic one at that. Crazy me, I still entertain hopes of leaving my unique mark behind, before my next birth into another middle-class household. But, I have had enough of this ordinary existence. Bad Karma. Period.

Anyway, the purpose of this letter is different. I have forgiven your partisanship in my previous births. But not this time around. Let me take thirty seconds of your valuable time and put forth the whereabouts of my few desires.

Wish 1 - Attention and Affection: Yes sir, I am always last in the queue, in the longest of queues. Even my kids know that. I make it to every single Dumb-ass list, even if some lists have only one entry. People engage me in small-talk simply because I amuse them, and am an easy target for one of those chain-marketing ideas like Amway et al. Please reverse all that and more.

Wish 2 - Insane money: In his morning signatures, my father-in-law chants "Bhargo Devasaya Dheemahi, Dhiyo Yo Naha Prachodayat" requesting you, 'the embodiment of knowledge and light' to 'enlighten his intellect'. Can you please (and please and please and..) listen to his prayers and lead him to LIGHT. And while you do that, please get him to sign his Will in my name.

Wish 3 - A White, away from India: Haven't I been tormented enough by my relatives? I have documented every relative of mine and their dysfunctional interference in my personal life. In fact, the Animal Planet' channel runs a special program on some of my relatives. I want to be stationed far away from this country, where I can avoid their logic-defying acts. Even better, if I can be a White!!

Wish 4 - More entertainment: The country is galloping fast at double-digit growth rate. Then, there is violence and sex, and sex by violence and violent sex as well. This is disgusting and I am loving it. Some more please.

Dear God, you must finally relent and let me have my way this time. I, hereby, earnestly request you to transform me into a meaningful conglomeration of molecules, with my above desires fulfilled.

Uselessly yours,

The Talking Skull

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Dear Talking Skull,

Tathaastu!!

Good Luck,
God

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ZZZZZZZAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!

Suddenly, there was a blinding light, and a la Matrix, I got transported to a different world. Oh, yes, this was America. New Jersey, to be precise. Now, even though you know it, New Jersey (NJ) is full of Indians - the Desis - and like entropy, their size keeps increasing. And, there I was. Whiter than white, and bigger than big. Oh, I am a COW now - the New Jersey Cow - one of the udderly massive variants, unlike their skinny, dirty cousins in India.

I was standing there in the garden outside a huge mansion that had 'Hare Ram' embossed on the arch. There was an American flag, an Indian flag and three striped underwears fluttering on the balcony. This is definitely my sasuraal, I guessed. And, I could also see about 82-odd Indians, all nattily dressed. Hmm... the Desis are celebrating the 'Gau Diwas' in NJ. And, so was I, all decked up as the center of attention. I was the indeed garnering lots of adulation, with people around 'petting' me. I would occasionally get tickled when some brat would get between my legs, push my tail up and pet me on my erogenous zones. The air was shrill with bawdy Sanskrit shlokas on how cow gives and gives and gives....

And, there was my father-in-law (F-I-L) near the stage, attending to the guests. Why would a perfectly normal and happy F-I-L suddenly move to the US and have a cow. Why? There must be a reason reasons. For my F-I-L, is it one more feather in his cap during his long life of seeking feathers for his cap?.... ...like having himself photographed with AR Rahman in Dubai Airport or filling his farm-house with 45" plasmas.

Meanwhile, my portly F-I-L walked on to the stage and made a life-altering announcement. Life-altering for me, that is. "My desi friends, I have decided to migrate my cow-farming business to this land of the morally corrupt. This fabulous cow that you see is my first acquisition here. I have invested ALL my savings in this ONE holy cow. I am now going to breed it day in day out... heh.. .heh... We have also tied up with the local Hare Krishna Association to package its urine as Cow-Cola. With the launch of Cow-Cola in four different variants, we are confident of capturing the local beverages market. Henceforth, being pissed off will be a pleasant experience.. heh... heh... ", he remarked with a disgraceful grimace amidst venerated applause.

Cowreena Kapoor, a leading Bollywood actress, had been roped in as the brand ambassador. “This Cow-Cola stuff is pretty coool! I wonder why nobody ever made this before!”, cooed an excited Cowreena Kappor. When asked why she liked it, she replied with an emphasized 'r' for the local Americans, “Because . . u'know, it's like, so orr-ganic! Yu'know – itz. . .uh . . verry . . well, it's orrganic!”, and giggled incoherently.

So, the God has been smart. He made me 'white', 'phoren-ed', 'rich', 'adorable', 'productive' and 'sexophalic' - all that I had wished for and yet everything I did not want to be. God does look for creative ideas to combat serious problems. But in my case, it has just substituted one empty life in India for another one here.

How surreal!! Why can't I accept myself for what I am and live in peace? Well, I can go on and on, along this convoluted train of thought. But, I won't. It is time to be back to my ordained form.

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Dear God,

Oh God, please pardon this remorseless, brainless vermin in me, who sees a conspiracy in every move of yours. Please turn me back to whatever I was.

Udderly Sorry,

The Talking Skull
Wow-the-Cow@cowcola.com

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Dear Talking Scum,

You asked me to treat you like a prince, so I pulled the chair from underneath you, deposed you, took all your great belongings, as Maharaja-days are long over.

Anyway... Tathaastu!!

Love,

God

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ZZZZZZZAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!

I am back to my normal self now, and vow that I will never ever write a letter to the Almighty.....

PS: Dear Father-in-law, and my other in-laws, This post was written only in jest, and in state of inebriation. Hence, please ignore the contents above. Categorically speaking, I have no interest in your riches. However, I cannot say the same for my wife.

PS: The God rang me over the weekend, and told me that he may consider a better re-incarnation for me if I could get 51 bloggers to promote this post on Indivine. Hence, if you are an IndiBlogger, please contribute generously.

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Kolkata declares Independence!!

In a startling move that can potentially alter the geo-political landscape of the Indian democracy - wherever it exists - the city of Kolkata declared independence, and demanded being recognized as a sovereign nation. When the residents woke up on the new year of 2010, the local headlines read - "Dawn of a new era - Kolkata joins the league of nations" They even declared a 24-hour bandh to commemorate the event. "We don't need much, and whatever we need, we get it within the city. So, why do we need the rest of the country?", remarked a man known only as Pinaki da, a long-time Kolkata-ite (and thus, also a self-proclaimed intellectual). He further added, "Also, Kolkata is the only city left with the Left and the only place that intellectuals have not left.", showcasing the region's amazing ability to include three 'Lefts in a single sentence. He also pointed to the unique taxonomy of Bengal in general and Kolkata in particular, distinct from the rest of the country, and hence requiring a special status. Explaining further, he blabbered off a series of gripes that the Kolkatans had against India.

"They never show Kolkata on the national weather reports. They ridicule Kolkata, calling it 'Shitty of Joy'. They highlight Bengaluru, Gurgaon and Hyderabad as Metros, deliberately ignoring Kolkata.... They even dropped Ganguly from the Indian team....", retorted Pinaki da, again showcasing the remarkably moronic intellect and extra-planetary logic, so commonly found in the region.

A Bangla Alpha survey reveals that Pinaki's allegations are justified. About 83% of Indians have either never heard of Kolkata or don't give a damn; and the remaining 17% are the Kolkata-ites themselves. Within Kolakta, an amazing 69% said that they don't give a damn to the world outside of the city nation. So, the feeling is mutual. Another important reason for seeking independence has been the gradual decimation of communism in the country. "It is important that we protect our citizens from the miseries of demo-crassy, and thus, establish a soveriegn nation that keeps the light glowing for communist principles....", remarked Mr. Bakulnath Ghosh, convenor of 'Separate Nationhood for Kolkata' to the consternation of all around. In a rare display of solidarity, all local political parties have united for the cause. A 40-member Task Force has been constituted to plan the march to nationhood. Their first task is to identify a leader who can help them cross the ribbon-mark.

As per a public poll, 47% want the incumbent Chief Minister as their leader and another 31% named Ms. Bamata Manerjee. The remaining 22% chanted "Cholbe naa! Cholbe naa!!", as if they are mechanically reflexed to do so at the mere mention of the word 'leader'.

Despite the general applause to the move, there have been pockets of opposition, especially within the Congress. It has criticized the move vehemently, calling it 'anti-poor' and 'elitist'. "This is not in the interest of the common man..", bluffed an angry Kapil Sibal, with the practiced assurance of a party that has used the exact phrase to handle every crisis.

"A separate nationhood has been a long-standing demand of Kolkata, and we are happy that we are here now.", remarked Ghosh babu to anyone who listened, conveniently omitting to add that the rest of the nation is equally elated about this. In a fascinating fallout in New Delhi, demands are being raised to create Patna and Azamgarh as separate nations too. Experts concede that this may just be a win-win situation. While the nation can get rid of Bamata Manner-jee, it may also benefit Kolkata, as potential sneak-ins from Bangladesh will need visas now. Down south in Ooty, a certain Mithun Chakraborty, perpetrator of such atrocities like Dalaal, Chandaal, Yamraaj, Naaraz et al is mighty pleased, "Gee!! I can also have an international release now!!".

In the true spirit of being the first blog to bring latest news to your screen, Talking Skull will be following this to conclusion. We tried speaking to Mrs. Sonia Gandhi to get her views, but she simply said "Uh.. Oh... Umm... ..I am not interested in being the Prime Minister", which, though absolutely irrelevant, is probably true.

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Incidentally, if you are a Kolkata-ite and looking for an innovative way to waste your time, your can practise your clicking skills by clicking on the link below.

CLICK HERE to improve your lethargy skills

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If you are active on IndiBlogger, you can warn others to avoid visiting this page by promoting this LINK!!

My life.......

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First of all, a "Sorry" to my 8-odd followers as I have been delayed in getting back on this blogsite. The reason for my silence is that I have been busy getting back to good health. Even though none of you care, but I had major tummy problems during the recent travel to the US of A. But the road-side pani-puris and samosas have helped me fix my defective liver valve. Now, I have recovered completely and my liver has healed so well that even tapeworms are confused over the transformation. Now, it's time for me to post again and bore you all to another near-death experience.

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This post has been temporarily removed.... This will be published again later....

A frustrated blogger's poem (Part 1)

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This is my first attempt at poetry that I could not publish on Facebook due to character-limit on messages. You see, after losing Blog-a-ton by "mere 6 votes", I am thoroughly frustrated; and, like a modern-day Devdas, I have taken to poetry. I would have preferred alcohol, but I am born in a religion that abhors alcoholism. To make that worse, I ended up in a job that doesn't leave much in my bank. I am in an exotic place called Cyprus as I blog this - and headed for Dubai for another deal. With nothing much to do, I am also reflecting back at the absolute partisanship behavior of the fellow-bloggers who refused to vote for my post, outrageous though it was!! But, that is for later...

Below is the poem, initially "designed" for my Facebook friends....

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THIS IS A TEST MESSAGE
Oh my dear friends!!
Your anger will hit a new high
My poetry may make you cry

Between Turkey and Cyprus
There's a great wall
That may never fall!!

Oh Gandhi!! I recall your adviszus
As I get ported to Dubai from Cyprus
For a deal as old as Tyrannosaur-Rex
I am back to ONE Gandhian principle
Of ABSTINENCE, and that's from marital sex

My poetry is not great
Nor is it the best
My FB friends will advise on net-iquette
Others will say "Don't irritate"
THIS CHAIN-REACTION I WANTED TO TEST

CONTRIBUTE FOR A HUMANITARIAN CAUSE: If you feel that the absurdity of this poem will make other poets feel proud of themselves, you can promote this post here or here or here...

If I were a baby again....

Me Baby again!! The attack of the Adopto-maniacs!!

CIRCA 2020
We were living in curious times. A Hindu Right-wing organization deduced that the Rig Veda was rigged!! This innocuous piece of diatribe sent shivers through the heavens. No God had ever been accused of corruption. They had been accused by the human race of inefficiency, procrastination and favoritism, but never of corruption!!

For someone who had been ruining running the universe for a dog light-years, Brahma decided to restart from scratch, and re-build an earth that would not have wars, crimes, politics, pollution... etc.... and not even 'corrupt Gods' etc. One of his trainee interns suggested that babies are the most pristine form of human beings, and may be, the new world should have only babies as the citizens. Brahma liked the concept and forwarded the note to the United Gods' Commission. To jump the story short, the resolution was finally accepted in the United Gods' Convention.

Some Gods - especially the Chinese ones - were horrified at the thought and so they decided to do it step by step - 'baby-fy' the least productive and most boring country first and see how this 'Pilot' worked. That's how India's citizens were destined to a transformation into BABIES. A ray of bright light dawned on 1st Jan 2020 and BIFF!! India was a "Baby Country" now - a populace of 1.5 billion babies, yours truly included. That is approximately the number of Christians and Muslims and Hindus and Muslim apologists and Hindu apologists (and other apologists and miscellanea ad nausea) India will have in 2020. In fact, we were faced with a Baby Crisis... .. and other assorted crisis. For example, I was a baby, and my father and my grandfather were babies too - and there was no generation gap!!

Switch to a tense present tense in Circa 2020
Apparently, the universe is flooded with rumours that this has excited Angelina Jolie Pitt. Given the plentiful choice available now, the serial-baby-adoption-maniac is interested in adopting her next kid from India. We are still dealing with a 'sources said' gossip, but it sounds pretty believable. Angelina has been known to adopt kids from craziest of places and already owns an island full of babies. Casting some Indian extras in her household will provide a cutting-edge balance to the ethnic-mix.

Full-page advertisements were published in leading as well as mis-leading dailies. My dad got interested in the deal, "This sounds good!! We have the opportunity of a lifetime to get rid of this white elephant, ....with due apologies to the elephants!!", he remarked pointing at me. "Well... even I would not mind letting Angelina adopt you, father. Mind it, you are a baby too now. But then, the last thing I want is to have Angelina as my grandmom. So, pardon you!!", I retorted. "It was hell bringing him up for 30 years. And, we can't start all over again!!", my father sounded my mom, wrapping me in onion-like layers of the new diaper, "And... ...let me tell you that the society is fed of this leech; and he may as well try enriching the American culture with his blasphemous habits. "

On the auspicious day, some of the most disposable babies were crib-lined for Angelina to choose from. I was positioned in the 7th crib from left. Apparently, Angelina Jolie got immediately attracted to my crib, because to my pot-belly protruding four-fifth outwards. "This baby is huge! Was he ever small at any point of his lifetime?", she asked looking at me. Before she could proceed, Hollywood's latest adopto-phile, Madonna appeared in a yogic posture demanding the first right to rejection. "You zee, I have a more durable relationzhip with Indhiaa, and this particular boy - whatzhhis name... ...emm... Sudarzhan... should be under my care." This let loose another public brawl between Angelina and Madonna, with both of them pulling my arms in opposite directions, unconcerned of my writhing pain. As an adult, driven by my hormonal instincts, I would have lusted for this 'affection'. But in a 'babified form', these were menacing and painful advances. I looked around, and saw rest of the babies in the far corner. The pain of the two Holly-ladies slugging over me was unbearable, and for the first time in my life, I wanted to be a 'common man'.... oops... 'common baby'.

It is the third day now, and the marathon slugfest on my adoption continues into a still-unfolding story. I am just now sorting through a whole mine-field of convolutions and grappling with a stir-fry of emoticons. For example, I have forgotten whose baby I am except that I know I am a baby now. I can still see my father - a fellow baby now - thoroughly enjoying the Almighty's successful biological experiment that has pushed me into this weird, traumatic, psychological complication. Arrghhhh....

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This post was published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 4, the fourth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; and - needless to mention - was a loser hands-down. The fellow Blog-a-Tonics, most of whom did better than me in this event and links to their respective posts can be checked here. My personal suggestion will be to never ever visit or follow Blog-a-Ton.

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