Royal Enfield Tractor.

For the first time in my life i sat on a RE Bullet Electra. And thumbed the starter. It shuddered and shook so much that i thought i would have to call everyone a comrade now.

Naxalites and all the people who love revolutions must love the Bullet.

Starting it is like being on a cusp of a revolt. The point in history where the tide turned. Bike may or may not have moved, but yes history has been created. The bullet has come to life and it sends all the vibes to show its displeasure at being woken up, for something as humiliating as a test ride.

Slot it into first gear and it moves as urgently as a kid sent to meet the principal. Reluctantly. Dragging its feet. With that much torque it should go like stink but it does not. With great torque comes great responsibility. Electra's motto, not mine.

It is comfy though. It feels like a sofa with a handle bar. Or maybe sitting on the pot with newspaper in hand. Which is good because you arrive in style, no matter what time you arrive. Or if you arrive at all. Because the brakes are useless. I doubt there is a brake in there. The retardation is due to hamsters running inside the drum in the opposite direction. Or maybe braking is just a faith, if you have believe in it, it might stop. The infidels should just die.

Osama and his bearded homies might also love the bullet then.

Ohkay i admit you look good on it. Even Nannu looked smart on it. Which is something because otherwise Nannu is the only brother who looks good with his sister. The whole sit straight posture helps you look smart on it. But then think about it, the only way to sit on a bullet is straight. Any other way and the Frisbees in the spinal chord will fly out. No, really someday they will, the shudder form starting it will loosen them over time and then one day "Hello is it the Indian Spinal Injuries Centre. Yes I would like to book an appointment".

And don't tell me it builds character. That's what my Dad said every time i protested at being taken to the Village for the summer vacation. That's also what the slap said when he slapped me for protesting too much. Didn't build anything. I still like boobs.

But still i like it. Not as a bike, but as a thing. Sort of like a controversial opinion. It is an opinion. You can't be sitting on the fence with it. You are either this side or that side with the bullet. I like it for that. I also like it for making you have no respect for law, once you are astride it. It is the frown in "ohh those damn bikers".

It does not have an accent. It has attitude and that makes me think of forgiving Kaddu.

P.S: In case you have seen adverts of Bullet, don't believe a word of them. It is not a bike for grown up men. It is for young boys. You have to a boy to love tractors. Or fire engines.

ट्रक ड्राईवर सोबू सिंह

जब मैं छोटा था, अच्छा ठीक है, काफी छोटा था, और मेरी माँ मुझे बोलती थी की तुम्हे बड़ा आदमी बनना है तो मुझे बस एक ही चीज़ परेशान करती थी, अगर मैं बहुद बड़ा हो जाऊंगा तो घर मैं कैसे घुसूंगा. दरवाज़ा तो ज्यादा बड़ा होता नहीं था ना. फिर जब मैं थोडा और बड़ा हो गया तो मैं ट्रक ड्राईवर बनना चाहता था. IAS नहीं, डॉक्टर नहीं, इंजिनियर नहीं, ट्रक ड्राईवर. पर मेरे माँ और पिताजी के कुछ और ही सपने थे. फिर जब मैं और बड़ा हुआ तो मेरेको बास्केटबाल खेलना काफी पसंद था. बहुत पसंद था. माँ बाप को रसायन विज्ञानं पसंद था. मैं सपने लेता था कोर्ट मैं उड़ने के और मेरे माँ बाप सपने लेते थे नौकरी के. आखिर उनके सपने सच हो गए. पर मुझे हमेशा लगता है की मेरे भी हो सकते थे.

UP ऐसे ही कुछ सपनों की है. एक इंसान की जिसके पास सपने थे, और ऐसा भी कोई साथ जो उसके जैसे सपने देखती थी. और एक ज़िन्दगी जो उनके जैसे सपने नहीं देखती थी. और जैसा की हमेशा होता है ज़िन्दगी के सपने हमेशा सच होते हैं. उसकी ज़िन्दगी बीत गयी. सपने नहीं सच हुऐ. फिर एक दिन जब दुनिया के सपनों मैं उसकी कोई जगह नहीं थी उसने अपने सपने सच करने की ठानी. और जो उसे तब करना चाहिए था जब उसके जैसे सपने देखने वाले साथ थे उसने तब शुरू करा जब उसके साथ कोई भी नहीं बचा.

लेकिन अब आप सोच रहें होंगे ये मैं क्या बकवास करे जा रहा हूँ एक बच्चों की फिल्म के बारे मैं. जी हाँ ये बकवास है अगर आपको लगता है की Calvin & Hobbes बच्चों के लिए है. सच तो ये है की ये फिल्म उनके लिए है जो कभी बच्चे थे. जिनका बचपना और सपने उनके साथ बडे हो गए. पर जब कभी वोह बचपना याद करते हैं उन्हें याद आता है वोह ट्रक ड्राईवर बनना चाहते थे. पर अगर कहानी इतनी ही होती तो मैं इतनी मेहनत नहीं कर रहा होता ये लिखने की. ये फिल्म ये भी बताती है की चाहे आपके सपने सच ना हों, अगर आप उनके साथ रहते हो जो आप के साथ आपके सपने देखते हैं तो ज़िन्दगी निकल जाती है. और किसी तरह कट गई ज़िन्दगी वाली नहीं छुट्टियाँ कहाँ गयीं पता ही नहीं चला वाली. और कई बार कुछ लोग आते हैं जो फिर से आपको अपने बचपन के सपने याद दिला देते हैं और कभी कभी उन्हें सच भी करवा देते हैं. और ये आपको तब समझ मैं आता है जब आप वोह कर चुके होतें हैं जो आप ज़िन्दगी भर करना चाहते थे. और जब आपके सपने सच हो जाते हैं तब आपकी समझ मैं आता है की कीमत सपनो की नहीं कीमत उनकी है जिनके साथ आप सपने देखते हो और जिनके साथ सपने सच होते हैं. वोह लोग अमूल्य हैं. सम्भाल के रखियेगा उन्हें.

तो आप ये जानने के लिए ये फिल्म देखें या फिर सिर्फ 3D के चश्मों का लुत्फ़ उठाने के लिए, आपके पैसे व्यर्थ नहीं जायेंगे.

आँखे खोले ना खोले कुछ जंग खाए सपनो पर से धुल ज़रूर छटा देगी ये फिल्म.


और अगर आप सोच रहें हैं ये सब हिंदी मैं क्यूँ लिखा गया है, वोह इसलिए क्यूंकि ट्रक ड्राईवर हिंदी मैं सपने लेते हैं.

Have you been reading the funnies?

If you read newspapers like i do, you would have noticed a few reports. One of the articles i read talked about how researchers at some firangi university have concluded that men really forget what they are talking about when they see a pretty woman.

Men were made to meet some pretty babes and just as they were "lost" in their thoughts, they were asked their own address, most of the men forgot their own address. The researchers did not get ugly women to prove the theory other way round. For obvious reasons. No woman is ugly. The ugly ones are called "real women" by Dove.

The researchers then concluded that men are programmed like that due to their tendency to fuck and make babies. But they wrote procreate instead of "fuck and make babies".


I find this research reason enough to fire the researchers. No, not because it proves men stop thinking when they see a pretty girl. But because they were stupid researchers.

Firstly who goes to these researches, am guessing bored university students, their friends and other people who are without jobs. Now tell me if you were one of those will you tell your down-market address to a pretty girl. No, seriously will you give it all away that you are a burger-eating room-sharing unemployed dork living in a ghetto and screw you chances to screw? The research proved that beautiful women make men lie. That's what it proves.


Also the next day there was a news about another research. This time telling us what all men know and all women believe "Men notice the breast of a women first." Men were shown women with breast of different sizes and were asked a few questions. First of all i want to know who were the buffoons in the first research who got up to the faces and secondly where do they advertise about volunteers for these researches?

One night at the call centre.

Here i am at elevate. The music is so loud that my thoughts are bouncing.
This is the sort of place that every barat ghar in west delhi either aspires to be or already is. this is where losers come to celebrate their loss. This is PGDAV minus the dust and a few sex change operation gone right. And a fewer fights. PGDAV is the place where the alpha males are still found bashed by gaama pehalwaans.
This place is so fill of fat girls in short dresses that you wonder is size zero still some bakwas created by media.
Don't get me right.
This place rocks. This place is full of young people who are young unlike agni which is full of old people who feel young or worse still that place in nehru place, where old people come to check whether they still can produce young. This is India dancing. This is India that has worked idiotically for the past 5 days and would not mind spending a grand and a half on justifying the trps of dance show on the telly.
This place is so desi that even firangis look cheap here.
This place absolutely fabulously rocks.
And if you are right here now, and want to bash me up for writing this crap, am d loser furiously typing at d cellphone on d right corner, behind the pillar. If you're facing the bar. Occasionally tapping his left leg.

Lorenzo

Yesterday Lorenzo won.
Rossi fell. So did Pedrosa.
It would have been a race had they not fallen.
Anyways it is not about them. Yes even i was surprised when i came to know i wanted to write about Lorenzo rather than Vale.

I know i was not the only one but in one lap they were showing Throttle and braking data.
Lorenzo was measurable-only-by-a-high-end-swiss-watch of a second faster in opening the throttle and was again later in braking. Also unlike Rossi he was opening the throttle to the fullest for more time. No wonder then, before Rossi fell he was on to him and overtook him. I won't say "easily" because while it may look that ways it never is easy. To overtake Rossi that is. Though i feel yesterday Lorenzo was on a song and would have won even if Rossi had not lost his front end.

But that is not the only reason for this note. You see the thing am beginning to liek about Lorenzo is that in a way he is Rossi too. His antics after winning are cool. He really relishes winning. He is not Pedrosa who you won't know has won or is waiting for his mother to come and clean his bums after he is done shitting. Pedrosa winning is like a German Sedan. It will work and still you won't have a smile. Lorenzo winning is like an Italian car, it will make you smile even when it does not work.

No, but seriously there is a genuine thrill that you feel when Lorenzo jumps on the podium, you can't help but laugh at the Captain America shield and the climbing the fence stuff.

He is no Rossi alright but he is learning from the master and he has the flair to execute the tricks.

MotoGP then, for sure has a future.

R15 vs. Pulsar 200

First things first. We rocked the roads. I kid you not, kids are going to remember us. Some will want to be us. Some, will be us. And that's worth at least 300 crores. Considering that's what Mayawati is spending to put statues of herself and what not.
Second this note will get a little PG, so those not comfortable with acts that lead to human procreation, can come and read it after a few years.
Ohkay here goes then.
Pulsar 200 is a bitch to ride fast in twisties. It sort of makes sure you die at every corner. To be fair enough you will die spectacularly. The rear wants to go faster than the front. The front, due to added luggage at the back, is Pamela Anderson after the breast reduction. she for sure can run fast, but what is left of baywatch then? You have to struggle with it. You have to move your bum more than the girls in hip hop video. Every time you have to shed speed it is like a no confidence motion in the parliament. You don't know what the fuck will happen. The suspension has got boobs of its own and they for sure are not wearing anything. Result? Bounce. Ball smacking bounce everytime there is a hump in the road. And the steering is as difficult as Mrs. Rastogi, my nightmare in class 8th and 9th. You don't get it right, she has the right to give it to you, then and there.
R15 as it seemed, coz i din't ride it, is Bhanu chawla. First bencher, class topper, class monitor, the girl who writes the date on notice board and gets her name written after the boards. I kid you not it is fucking difficult to catch the bike unless you get a decent straight. Then also it is there in the rear view mirrors. Always. Unless nannu has taken a stop to admire the beauty. To top it all you look all party stopper on it.
That means you should just go and buy the pulsar.
Yes, pulsar. You see R15 is enjoyable but it is making-love enjoyable. it is holding hands, looking into eyes, thinking of your kids names and having sex once in 2 months sort of experience. You enjoy it. You cherish it. You love it. But it makes you feel old. Coz you are not doing much. You are walking hand in hand. Into the sunset, sure next day you going to top the boards.
The pulsar is the bastard child of you don't know whom. It is the fuck that no one admits is what they want. It is what everyone will chuck making love for, if they were not dying to be decent. It is the after fight sex. you have to behave like an alpha male to fuck around with it. Wrestle hard, show who's the boss and still shit in your pants coz you know she can walk away anytime she wishes. She is what cosmo wants you to be. She can be a headache, she will never have one. She's a wild child. And so am I.
And that's why we fucking rock.

Prime Ministerial Ambition

Sitting aside a river that's making noises, though not as much as the wind i have decided i want to be the Prime Minister of India, having an absolute majority in Parliament. Then i will creat an Isle of Mandi. Coz d roads are already there. Just did edge of cliff driving. Well, 110 on a pahadi road cnt be termed anything else. Rode over a dam. Went through a tunnel, at 80. In a car these roads can be like watching lesbians going for it. On the bike this is fucking threesome. With tongue pierced girls.
For Isle of Mandi i will join politics. And then we will have Isle of Mandi TT. And rest as they say is life.

Today's ride from home to office.

Home.

First. Dil. Yeah Dil. Second. Yeh dil DEEWANA, deewana hai yeh dil
Deewane ne mujhko bhi, ah, kar daala deewana
Third, Maine uske shaher ko chhoda, Fourth, uski gali, Third, Second, First, mein dil ko, Second, toda Phir bhi seene, Third, mein dhadakta hai yeh dil, Fourth, Maine dil se usse nikaala, Fifth, jo na, Fourth, Third, Second, karna tha kardaala
Phir, Third, bhi yaad ussi ko karta, Fourth, hai yeh dil
Yeh dil, Fifth, deewana, deewana, Wish there was sixth, hai yeh dil.
Dil, yeh dil. Fourth, Third, Second, Neutral.

Red light.
Dil ki khataa bhi hai kya, mujhko gilaa bhi hai kya
Is dillagi ke sivaa, dil ne kiya bhi hai kya.
Aashiq hai, First, yeh chor nahin hai, Second, main kya karoon, Dil pe, Third, mera zor nahin, Fourth, hai, main kya, Fifth, karoon, Fourth,
Yeh dil deewana, Fifth, deewana hai yeh dil.
Dil. Yeah Dil. Fourth.
Dil kaisa beeper, Third, Second, hai, voh ek tasveer hai, Fourth
Main kehta hoon tod, Fifth, de, kehta hai zanjeer, hai
Koi kachchi dor nahin hai, Fourth, Third, Second, main kya karoon, Third, Dil pe koi zor, Fourth, nahin hai, main, Third, Second, kya karoon.
Yeh dil deewana, deewana hai yeh, First, dil
Deewane ne, ah, mujhko bhi, Neutral, Ignition off, Park, Lock.
Kar daala deewana. Helmet off.

Exit Parking.

Girls vs. Optimus Prime.

The biggest myth propagated by anyone is that of a “Lil Girl”, there is no such thing as a little girl. Girls are never born little. They are born with mental capabilities of a well grown and intelligent adult - adult men, because the brains of girls do not grow, which is all right considering they are already born with a well developed brain.

It has its Pros and Cons. Pros being the fact that till the time the guys grow up, which sometimes they never do, you get to control them. Because you are smart. The guys could be more powerful, but what use is that power when you can’t physically subdue girls. Remember you can’t hit girls and who told you that? Your mum, a girl. So, if you are a girl, you get immense benefits at every birthday party. In the school. And in the school bus which takes you to the school.

Because they are smarter and more mature, they tend to outsmart boys and get what whey want. The only trouble they face in school, is not the kiddie boys with underdeveloped brains, but girls who are as intelligent and cunning as them. A boy gets along with 24 guys in a class with 26 boys; a girl is pals with 2 girls in a class of 32 girls. People of same caliber rarely get along.

The education system too is geared to reward the hard working rather than the genius and tremendously gifted and talented, which is not a bad thing, because rarely do lil boys with intelligence come along. No wonder then, though Vineet Paliwal was the smartest guy on planet Gurgaon, Bhanu Chawla topped the class. Even she knew he was the brightest thing in Gurgaon. They could put his brain in the jar and that would produce enough energy to power Gurgaon and South Delhi. If you switched off the ACs, maybe West Delhi too. But he never topped the class. No one now in my school will know of a certain Vineet Paliwal, while Bhanu Chawla’s name will be on some board honouring the toppers. But then those who studied with him will never forget that he had 9th rank in IIT-JEE. Even Bhanu Chawla won’t be able to forget that.


Let’s admit it then most of the “lil” girls are bright and more intelligent then lil boys. Fair enough.

But then is it really a virtue to be intelligent and brainy all the time? Now, if you were a pre-human, without fangs and claws and teeth that could rip out the living daylights out of anything, the intelligent thing to do would be to pussyfoot around the cave, gather food, come back home, eat food, have sex, produce kids, go to bed and hope you will live another day. But no, some idiot guy, acting like a lil kid, went ahead one day with his friends, killed a saber tooth, did hi-fives with his pals and returned home to be told by his wife “WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT DID YOU DO YOU DIMWIT, DO YOU REALISE HOW MANY OF THEM TIGERS ARE OUT THERE. NOW, WE’RE ALL DOOMED.”
Trust us lil kids to do something incredibly stupid, chase incredibly ridiculous ideas and end up retarding the growth of humankind on the whole.

Which brings me to Transformers. 1 or 2 does not matter. Go for it if you sometime jump in a puddle to splash your friends, drive like a maniac, make a fool out of yourself at the restaurants and more often not are told to grow up. Don’t go if you’re married or have a girlfriend who tells you to grow up more often than she tells you that she has a headache. No wonder then the girlfriend of the guy sitting next to me could not understand what the brouhaha was all about. She couldn’t understand why her boy was drooling at some truck called Optimus Prime. Or a butch looking car called bumble-bee. It would have been still process-able by her brain if he would have had made more noises on seeing the boobs of the girl with bigger-tattoo-than-boobs but no, he was gleefully jumping at watching a truck called Prime get jet engines. This did not make sense to her. It never will. Therein lies the charm.

Two more sequels and either the guy will break up with her and she will regale her girl friends by telling them stories of him being such a weirdo or the poor boy will tell horror stories of her to his friends after watching Optimus Prime kick some more ass and then call her up to tell the meeting went just fine. Either which ways he will keep making noises while watching Optimus Prime roundhouse kick a Decepticon.

What if?

It jut hit me. No not the fan. The thought that what if i die without ever laying my foot on the accelerator of a Ferrari and my palms on the flappy paddles and the steering? What if i can't power slide on the road next to Lotus Temple? What if i never high slide a Ducati? What if i never go to Laguna Seca to screw the cork screw? What if it all remains in my head as things that i would have loved to do but was never able to? What if all this is a wild goose chase? What if in the end it is just me and family in a family hatch back? What if that hatch back does not have a rear wheel drive? And a million bhps and a quarter million Nm of torque? What if the hatch back never goes fast enough to activate its airbags? What if i get to be with the girl i love and not with the girl i have always craved for? What if it is all making love and no fuck? What if i won't be able to drown these what ifs in the growl of a Termignoni? What if i end up in a box without ever being in a Recaro? What if they save the planet but fail to save me?

What then?

Then i will be glad am as evil as i am. As arrogant as i am. As painful as i am. Most definitely as blasphemous as i am. And as idiotic as i am.

Because am sure i won't achieve Nirvana in this birth. That leads to being born again. 8.4 million times, if my mother is to be believed. And then 8.4 million plus one time i will be back. Clinging to my belief in a 4 point harness, ready for this quest of taking a hard left.

That's that then.