random

Don't fall in love with your best friend, there might not be a helping hand when you want to get up.


Promises are like babies, easy to make, difficult to keep.


Isn't friendship too much of a price to pay for love?

Vale is not god.

Another year gone. Another year and someone else gets to wear a funky shirt with the number 1 on it. Another year skeptics will cry hoarse that it is the end. Another year when they can gloat in “I told you so”. Another year when they will want me to believe that you are “just human”.

Another year of how wrong they are.

Because Vale, they can never understand that you are not god because you win, but because you make me realise winning is not everything.

Because you give me hope to keep trying. To enjoy the challenge. To fight the odds, even if you can avoid them. To me that one decision to leave the “factory” of winners made you a god. To me no loss after that will ever take away anything from you. Because that one day you reached the escape velocity. Now the gravity of winning or losing does not affect my respect for you. Now, no matter what the result is, I can ever switch the T.V off. Now, I can never be half-hearted in my love, no matter what. You make me believe it is possible to invest everything in what you love, no matter what the consequence. You might not see it, but you give me hope and courage to go full throttle. You see you make me believe in my friend who once said “Vale might not win, but he can never lose”. You make me see winners. Where the world says there are none. Especially where the world says there are none.

You see you make me realise that gods are there amongst us. Because gods are not the immortals who do miracles, they are the mere mortals who inspire other mere mortals to do miracles.

And that’s why vale, you are god. Because you are not.

Why the Pope shouldn't get the pope rocket.

On its 60th anniversary Ferrari, The Ferrari, gave pope, the POPE, a shinning new Scarlet Ferrari Enzo. In case you missed it, A FERRARI ENZO! TO THE POPE! THE OLD-MAN-IN-CHRISTIANITY POPE. Imagine THE POPE driving a 650 bhp Enzo Ferrari around a city which does not have even a straight road of 650 mtrs. What was Luca ji thinking? No, exactly what was he thinking? Was he even thinking? Maybe he was, about legalizing lobotomy or maybe about the price he needs to pay to the lord for banishing Michael out of the Scuderia. Anyways I think I have reasons to oppose the Ferrarification of the pontiff. Instead, I suggest, I should have been given the scarlet missile. Here are the reasons to support my Ferrarihood.


1. The most quoted comment after someone drives a Ferrari is “It is like the first time you have sex.” Now I think you know that the Pope cannot use the S word. And if he cannot say this line, I am afraid Ferrari is hurtling towards a P.R disaster at the speed even the carbon ceramic brakes will term insane. I know you all might be saying, with a chuckle, that due lack of a social life, even I cannot make a comment like that, but I can at least have sex at some later stage and then I can just say “The firs time you have sex Is a lot like the first time you drive a Ferrari, though not as good.” I don’t think many will notice the difference.

2. The Pope, because he is the Pope, has a lot of stuff that can be termed as flashy, gold sequined dresses, a million pound house, his own personal army – Pansies if you ask me, the fisherman’s ring and a million other things that might or might not be as flashy as the Enzo, but certainly flashy. Now imagine the Enzo being there in the courtyard of the Vatican, it will look cool no doubt, but the truth is it will be one of the flashy things in the courtyard. And for Ferrari that’s a sacrilege. With me the Enzo will be the coolest thing I have, my entire family tree had or my next generations is going to have. Just to be sure that my next generation cannot have anything as flashy, I will use a condom. Everytime.

3. Till now most of the popes have been old wise men who, at their age, should be reigning in the hordes of Christians running amok, or at least one (Don’t rush to CNN, Osama hasn’t converted, I was talking about Bush), rather than spending time trying to reign in all the torque running amok. And the good thing going for the pope is that the Christians might listen to him, but I don’t think the Magneti Marelli in the Enzo is much of a believer.

4. If you’re a devout catholic or just a celebrity autograph hunter, I want to ask you something, have you seen the pope? I mean in person? Now chances are you haven’t. Even though the pope drives to his favourite burger joint in the pope mobile, blessing people while waiting in the drive-thru for extra-crisp, extra-mayonnaise blessed-burger, but still you haven’t seen him or taken his autograph. Please note, this is when the pope mobile goes at a paltry 0-60 in some hah hah seconds, imagine how hard it will be to see the pontiff when he goes in the pope rocket, which can do 0-96 in 3.14 secs in the hands of a good driver. In the hands of pope it can do the that speed in time ranging between 3.18 to 3.184 seconds.


5. The Italians have gifted an Italian car to a German pope. Nothing wrong with that, except that it will prompt Brabus, Alpina and Bugatti to deposit their road rockets at the Vatican. Certainly not for baptizing them. And if I got it correctly the pope’s job is to make sure the god’s voice is heard, and 6 litre V and W 12s are not exactly the kind of benevolent voices that people will be fooled into believing as god’s. Also if the Pope is going to test drive these cars and endorse them, where will it leave Hamster and the clowns? The fat lard that is Jeremy will have to work for a living, and we all know he is quite useless at everything else.

6. Sample this one-to-one, snooped at the NSA, between the god and the pope over a secured line (told you it was the NSA) : “Father, all my life I have stayed away from all the sinful temptations, including the entire dessert section of a Michelin 3 star restaurants, some by choice and some by force, all in the hope that when it’s time to be with my dear father I can be cleaner than a new recruits uniform, but now that the time has almost come, I hope it’s almost, you have, through Luca ji, parked the biggest temptation of my life right in the front courtyard. Why? Ok now that it’s there can I ride it around Monaco? Please. Can I? I promise I will do good time and Christianity’s Driver will not embarrass you? Please, can I? Hello, are you there? ...(click) He does this every time I ask something from him.” Clearly this conversation proves where unlimited funding and no vigilance can take a federal agency. It also proves that by giving an Enzo to the pope, we have almost destroyed the perfect relationship between a father and a son. My dad will not mind me having an Enzo if I can take care of the fuel bills myself, of course that can be worked between shell, Luca ji and the pope.

7. Now we all know that the pope is a cute old gentleman, as gentle as ze Germans can be, fairly popular and hung around a million walls around the world. Over the years the pope has been on the cover pages of reputable magazines like The Time, The Economist and the likes. Do you want him to be on the cover of blasphemous magazines like Autocar, Top Gear, FHM or god forbid Playboy?

8. The Pope does not need a swathe of girlfriends; even if he did he is contractually obliged to not have them. I, on the other hand, am totally free of such legalities.

9. The pontiff is not allowed, as per the contractual obligation, to roam around in racing overalls.

10. With the pope in the Enzo, even the nuns might be tempted, making Vatican a fun place to be in, thus shaking the bedrock of Christianity. All for one car? Think is it worth it?


Now the biggest reason, why I, Saurabh Yadav, should be handed the Enzo and not the pope.

The pope’s job profile includes making sure that the entire population of the earth bears, and fears the cross. Also, the pope and the whole of the Christian world believe in god. I do not. You get me an Enzo and I will start believing in god. It will make more economic sense as well, when you think of the fact that the wars Christianity has fought over the years to make everyone believe in the true lord and his peace message. So for just an Enzo, I will believe he walked on water. Heck for an Enzo I will even believe Darwin was a fool.

This is SPARTA.

I am red-lining a Lamborghini Gallarado while I keep the steering in full lock as I exit the right, next to South block leading to Rajpath. I stomp on the accelerator pedal as the tyres scream harder than a physical education teacher. The smoke rises from spinning tyres, as they struggle for grip, totally obscuring the marching column of cavalry behind me. As the automatic gearbox struggles to find the correct ratios to slot the gear in and tame all the torque and wheel spin, I have no problem in finding the Oakley lying on the next seat. I put on the shades while the clouds just move to soak me and the neoprene seats in the January sun. The public on left and right have their jaws so wide open that I can count the calories they are chewing. I have just counted two that the president gets up to salute a yellow Gallarado Spyder, so does the guest of honour. I don’t like pompous state festivities like these, but the call was straight from Rashtrapati Bhawan itself, and they promised a Hot Chocolate Fudge, so I couldn’t refuse. That’s totally off the record though, so don’t quote me on it. As if timed with a Breitling a Su-30 swoops down and does a 180. As a rule I don’t mind taking off my shades but 5 seconds after I have put them on is expecting a life time of bull run in the market. So I press the nitro and it pushes me ahead of the goddamn frigging sun-obscuring Su-30. But not before I stick a post-it, on the windshield of that $60 million
inverted bird, for that son of a gun pilot, nothing threatening just “Get a life show-off”. At 240 Kph I slow a little to exit sideways onto the circle at India Gate.

Have you ever dreamt something like this?

If you haven’t, save your 150 bucks and don’t go for 300.

Design flaw.

Why isn't there a "restore factory settings" button in life?

Living your dreams g42y.

I remember the crazy days of college. Running to palika to get need 4 speed High Stakes and then rushing again coz it didn't work. rushin again coz even the new one didn't work. Rushing again.. you get the 800*600 picture. Red lining that Porsche 911 over the wide and winding road leading to the tunnel in landstrasse or Kruger park or celtic ruins was more pleasurable than watching Vivid entertainment's DVD quality porn film at bhaskie's. For months, make that years, nothing was more blissful than hearing the narrator's voice say "Enzo ferrari one of the giants in...."

Ages passed before i discovered CS and you discovered MIS. Nothing changed though. If the world didn't had a performance index and there wasn't any need to rate higher on it, maybe you would have been with me with a handle pisaach or save_tibet or 4saal_4saal shoutng "the last one to kill the bd guy buys the beer" as we went ahead with our colts in burst mode.

Then came the pod. Ages passed then you gave me a call one day when i was just near okhla - coming back from the office. I dn't know if any other call on the phone has given me so much happiness. This reminds me the other great moment of jubiliation was also with you. Remember when we went to college, phatti hui thi yaar, and came to know that we have managed to complete four year course in, well, four years.

I know now that dreams have been cut short. I know now that it's all the more reason for me to live those dreams that we shared. Yup, they say deams can't be shared. But, we shared them bro and trust me to live all of them.

Brings me to the point, I got a shiney nuu blak pee ess pee. And its profile name reads "g42y"

One down. Many more to go.

A Vince Carter style salute to you. And say my hi to god. Tell him to be prepared, he has a lot to answer and for him there will be no essential repeat.

Two things.

I think in life there are just two things that one should remember.
1. What you are made of.
2. What you are made for.

More often than not knowing one will lead to discovery of the other. Great ones know and remember both of them. To-be greats know and remember either one of them. Losers? Well they should thank me for posting this. Now remember it.

Am learning to write. One day i will write my own destiny.

Ohh, i forgot.

I have tried like hundred times. Maybe more, I am not sure, I was dreaming about sleeping, in the class when the teacher was teaching counting. I can’t remember the birthdays of my friends. I mean I just cannot. My best friend was born in august. I mean in AUGUST. 6 days after India got independence. And who can forget Independence day? I mean, the only day with a guaranteed off. So, his one is an easy one. 21st August. The next one I remember not because it’s 7th December, but because it’s on 7th December. I love wars. And any self-confessed lover of wars will be a pretentious bastard if he didn’t knew on 7th December at 7:53 A.M on a lazy Sunday morning on the call of “tora tora tora” from Admiral Yamamoto, Japanese planes begin pounding America’s pacific fleet at Pearl Harbour. So lucky she, that she was born on this day and I can remember her birth date.
Then comes the duffer who has to be born, like 7 days before I did. I hope you don’t expect me to not remember my own birthday. That would be like so duh. So his is on 13th Feb. Next up is the fat bum, she was like born 3 days before the pearl harbour attack. On the 4th of December. You can’t miss any birthdays near the pearl harbour date, if you like know that on the 7th of December at 7:53 A.M on a lazy Sunday morning on the call of “tora tora tora” from Admiral Yamamoto, Japanese planes begin pounding America’s pacific fleet at Pearl Harbour. One of the other buffoons I know was born on 26th Dec, that’s like a day after Christmas. That night is too bright to miss. Miss. Bite-to-show-your-love was born on 18th Feb. Like two days before the day I was born. Told you not dumb enough to miss that one. Miss. Baloon was born on 1st august, and that’s like 1st. No one forgets 1st. It’s like the first thing you learn, because it's the 1st number, silly. And it’s possibly the last thing you will forget. Another one of the crazy ones was born on 23rd January, that’s an odd day. Like just 3 days before Republic day- another guaranteed chutti. Since it’s kind an odd day, I remember that day too. And…..
Wait a sec, this implies I remember their buddays. That’s not a conclusion I thought I would arrive at when I started writing this. Goddamn it. I don’t like to arrive at something different than what I thought of arriving at. My brain took me for a ride. I don’t like these kinds of rides. I don’t like any rides, unless it involves an internal combustion engine. I love bikes. Even Bhaskar has a new one. Wait a sec, when was his birthday? Hmmm

village wedding ceremony 

village wedding 

Remember? 

Community service 

Peephole to history? 

Asian paints ? 

where streets have no name 

village trip 

So which one are you going to chase today?

We are going to get them,
each one of them,
the crazy ones,
the weird ones,
the normal ones,
the wild ones,
the sweet ones,
the mushy ones,
the ones made for us,
the ones not made for us,
the ones which are too down in the list,
and the ones which top it..
Bang, splat, in the head
None of them will be spared.

Dreams.
Ours for the taking.


So which one are you going to chase today?

Reaction

Periodic table, that lousy creation by some twisted isotope, isn’t worth a shit. That’s what I thought, when I was as innocent as inert gases, of that stoopid table. Frankly speaking I still think the same way. Why, then you may ask is periodic table the starting point of this article? Well because it is about chemicals. Hold your horses or to be more apt ponies.



One day almost 6 years ago I was returning home, pretty late at around 9, in a friendly neighborhood DTC bus from my college. There were less people on that bus than there are people on the continent of Antarctica. 1 driver, 1 conductor, 2 drunkards, 1 girl and one timid me. For almost half the amount of time it takes for a bus to reach Delhi to Gurgaon on an empty highway, I discovered how heavy lead is.



These two drunk bastards were saying things that were reason enough for a submersible pump to be installed on them through their hole. Every time they said something I just wanted to go and slap them and every time I felt lead around my legs that just didn’t let me get up and do it. That’s when I realized how heavy lead is.

Nothing more than a few verbal comments happened in the bus, but as soon as the bus reached Gurgaon bus stand, these two morons just crossed the limit and the girl made them realize that with a tight slap.



As I got on the rickshaw and reached my home, a distance of around 15 minutes, I discovered something that stings you more than Hydrogen Sulphide. It’s called cowardice.



I still can’t get over it when I think about it.





Then a few days ago I discovered something that burns you more than Sulphuric Acid. I was at vaastu with Vani, Gaurav and Harita, and I noticed something that I have been noticing for some time but this was at it’s worst form. I saw a family which had a child, who had his care taker (who was a girl child). Now I don’t like this business of employing kids to take care of kids, but what just made me come closer to chemistry was the way these guys treated that girl. After finishing off their dinner, all these son of cock suckers emptied there leftovers in a plate and asked that girl to eat it. I felt like chopping off their balls but knowing they will survive that I didn’t knew what to do.



And guess what? now I know. Next time I see any of these characters, they are going to get money from me. I am gonna get all the change I can find and tell them to take this if they can not afford to buy that girl her dignity. No, am serious. I would do something that will embarrass them out of their slumber.



I am so goddam serious that I am gonna do it next time. I might have lead around my ankles for quite some time but when you have Sodium burning in you veins at the mere thought of what I saw, lead is going to loose it’s weight. Table be damned. Now lead might have finished quite a bit of Roman empire but am gonna trust this burning blood in my veins to finish these morons off. They are going to get Hydro Choloric acid right in their kisser.



Am not kidding.



I never kid at 5 in the morning.

Scripted Crossing

Andy and Lary Wachowski are the one. If you know it, no kudos, you should know it. If you don’t, well, your GK sux and not my pun. Awrite, awrite before these witty opening lines make me forget what I have to write. Let me cut the chase. So, as I was telling you, Andy and Larry were looking for something to do to not have their kids say their names in hushed up tones. Basically, to avoid existentialism angst they wanted to make a film that could win them some award and enough cash to bankroll a Lear jet for each of their family members for another 50 Years. So they came to India and saw people crossing Roads. And the rest as they say are special effects. Okay, rite now the last few lines are more difficult to understand than the movie “The Matrix” itself. But as long as I don’t cross the word limit there is hope. So here it goes. Well, in uninspiring West, people don’t die of hunger, the president’s are mostly idiots and above all Superman respects CIA’s jurisdiction*. Basically, the wards are a tad bit boring. In India, something as mundane and simple as crossing the road is so adventurous that Tom cruise is planning a M.I on it. Now, generally what happens is that you look right, you look left and right again and if no one is coming your way you cross the road. Fair and simple, only if you don’t take into account Biology. Worldwide most of the humans can safely trace their ancestors back to playful chimps. In India, I postulate, there is a dog involved somewhere. Dogs are pathetic with judging speed of things coming their way, with or without the front lights on. So like dogs, they think they can cross the road and then in the middle of the road their brain starts shouting “Iceberg Dead ahead”. Then what? Left, Right, Centre, Run, Walk, Peee, Mommy. What to do? Ahh, Since Darwin says humans are more evolved than any other species that needs to cross the roads. They use hand. Mind you hand and not brains. Yes. The Palm. Just show them the Palm. It’s like God mode in a FPS. They will have to stop. You will not die. Who cares, whether they have to reach from 60-0 in times that won’t register on atomic stopwatch or see their whole life flash by their eyes. Just show them the palm. Just show them the palm. Just show them the palm. That’s what I think a kid like me has to write these days on the blackboard as a punishment. Heck, I think everyone has to write this on the blackboard. Now you remember Neo, Stopping bullets by showing his palm, Now you know the connection. Now it hits you, That’s what Wachowski brothers saw on their trip to India. They used special effects to fill in the rest of movie with was mainly due to pressure from the studios. But the Kodak moment that inspired them to make it was a proud Indian crossing the road. Sure, A biker seeing his speedometer and his tail light at once also inspired them. But, then they sold rights of that script to Tom Cruise. Wouldn’t Mr Hunt look cooler on the bike than Neo? Well, wouldn't he?

*= Why don’t you think then Superman catches Mr. Osama?