Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Surprise Surprise!!!

There are different sorts of people in this world. The intelligent ones, the neurotic ones, the absolutely anal ones. Although this world is surprisingly plentiful in the last category of homo-sapien, you once in a while chance across specimens which form a refreshingly wonderful blend of all these qualities. And such things, let me tell you, are like finding required equations scribbled on your bench when it’s time to take your final exam.

And coming across somebody who existed all this while but you never noticed existed is one of the exotic privelages that this networking obsessed generation is blessed with. I bumped into the seemingly boring junior from school and college who had knew all the friends I knew, who humilated the same teachers by the same nicknames and who hated all the same people!!! Now it was time to engage in the worthwhile activity of prodding the hell out of the new friend with amazingly boring questions like “Oh, did you study Electronics of Biology back in college, mister?”
(Can you BELIEVE I called you “Mister”??) :D

Well, I’m not directing a Tele-serial, so let me skip over the enlightening details to today. Today, the world is different. Today, Marty's no stranger. Today, the philosopher reclined on her easy chair and asked herself a fundamental question.

No, I didn’t ask myself what the purpose of existence was, why my teeth was purple yesterday or for that matter, why a certain professor snorts a highly musical snort before she utters every single sentence. All these questions were agreeably extremely complex and were high contenders for contemplation of the idling Socrates’ brain, but they never made it into the thinking grey cells.

I asked myself How many times can Marty afford to get his legs pulled again and again by Philter Kaapi without losing it?

It is a quite prevalent and undisputed fact, (JUST LIKE Newton’s Laws, the S.A.S. postulate and the if-it-looks-like-a-triangle-then-its-a-triangle theorem) that Philter Kaapi has finally lost her wits. Loony Lakshmi has been another label for this infamous individual, so it would be most apt to conclude that people who choose to associate themselves with Kaapi can be strongly influenced to become demented enough to think that their entire life is a movie. Kaapi has the knack of pulling the legs of each and every person who manages to find anything sane in her speech and her sense of sarcastic humor. And her recipe for lunacy is thus:

(a) Leave a billion nonsense illogical scribbles on such a person’s wall, which might be things like “eeeeeeeeeeewwww!” or, “I’m NOT married to Mister PAUL!” which have no particular inkling to the other person’s life. They are very much out of context, abstract, and weird.
(b) Figure out who the lady love of the aforementioned individual is, and tease him to death with her codename and enjoy the sadistic pleasure of having to watch the other person squealing for mercy.
(c) Spying on them in general and bothering them with the most irrelevant and many more fundamental questions when they are online and want to talk happy things.
(d) Tag them in ugly caricatures and cartoons you drew just to make them look goofy.
(e) Saying “I know” when they say “I’m a loser.”
(f) Calling them by ANY goddamn nickname that your creative brain conjures up at the spur of the moment, conveniently forgetting that the individual’s parents did gift him a decent call-able name for the purpose of being called by that call-able name only and not un-callable things like “chappan tickli”.

Yeah, Marty has been though a lot.
I’m not saying I’m particularly sorry about that.

The thing that holds me in constant awe is that he’s still alive, and his brain is working. And to top it all off, he’s turning 19 tomorrow, finally catching up with the aunties.

It feels like I’ve known the squirt forever. And I have been pulling mhartee’s leg for nearly forever. And to put up with that, believe me, is a great deal. It should be evoking unending sympathy in the more benevolent and kinder of hearts who aren’t quite as insensitive as philter kaapi. (Let’s all hope and pray today that that most benevolent of spirits is some lady cockroach who is very well versed in dance, is popular, speaks fluent girlish, is very very very “whittteeewasheddd” yand drop-dead gorgeous in the eyes of one mhister jigglypuff. ;) ) Woman, I hope you are listening.

It’s a miracle that sanity has still stayed safe with einsteinji even after the horrendous mistake and tarumic experience of having befriended an absolutely obnoxious senior from school and college. Yes, it hasn’t come without suffering some serious side-effects and consequences. There have been some incredible risks and some serious hazards to the aforementioned person’s mental health, sense of peace, self worth and has even provoked unwanted questions from the dim-witted morons that, as I said, this world is surprisingly plentiful in. Yeah, disadvantages.

Well, let me shed some optimistic light on this matter. It hasn’t come off without some perpetual benefits too. For example, I have managed to make the I-don’t-have-a-clue-about-these-things kinds of innocent lamb into a connoisseur bird-watcher of the non-ornithological variety, rather successfully. That means Mhartee will (hopefully,) not fall for Katherine Heigl and direct his full-blown attention towards Bhumikha Chawla, Jayanthi and a very lucky miss-cockroach who’s stalling in all earnesty in the corridors of a certain engineering college.

And you get to be written about. The Times of India is just rushing over to make this headline news. Not everybody gets this famous, isn’t it? This is what you get for putting up with Kaapi. So be really grateful. I’ve invaded your Fb wall with all sorts’ illogical crap. But every Van Gogh paints a starry night. And this is my proud masterpiece. (The jerk who invented face book doesn’t allow me to cross 100 word limit.) Philter Kaapi might actually be a slimy tailed rotten rodent, but she is also human enough to understand that it’s supposed to be decent to thank people who put up with her obnoxiousness. So, I figured you’d like to be flattered a little (As shakesphere said, “That unicorns may be betrayed with trees, and bears with glasses, elephants with holes, lions with toils and men with flatterers.” Or as I re-stated, “I theenk you shall be yappy yappy.”)

So, you get to be written about. AND glorified by such inglorious means. Today, let’s all forget how Mharteee’s taste in girls sucks in general, how’s he’s such an insufferable GEEK and know-it-all, how his computer is connected to the most crappy UPS system in the whole wide world and how he is up at all unearthly hours like 3 am. No, let’s today talk about how good a friend he can be, how he manages to lift that dark grouchy cloud above other people’s heads, how he is ultra-hilarious enough to understand good humor, and also talented, polite and considerate enough to agree to work for my movie when most others rejected the offer in evident horror.

True gentleman. An intelligent introspector. Skilled photographer. Effortless Geek. Undeservingly popular. Easy-going pleasant disposition. Good school-going never-bunking boy. An elegant humorist. (You are most welcome to borrow my superior English for your advert on shaadi.com if it doesn’t work out with miss cockroach.)

Summing up in one word in true sisterly spirit, a great friend, the little (literally) shortie has been. I couldn’t do without my little clown. My life would have been a whole lot crappier without his weird jokes.

I know, It does kinda suck not to celebrate on your birthday and sit there and attend an exam. (KINDA SUCKS??? Who am I kidding?, MAJORLY SUCKS!) And Marty is the unfortunate soul born on March 4. Pity. (No, seriously.)

I couldn’t parcel you my gift of fifteen morteein sprays (With a whopping 20% extra offer, that too!!) So I thought an online celebration of epic proportions might not hurt.

May you continue to be your white cockroach seeking, hilarious leg-pulling, weird profile pictures choosing, unearthly music listening self-- now forever and always.

Happy birthday, Ara.