There is Nothing Called a Goodbye....

....certainly not in the blogworld. A post inspired by Vikas

I dont know Vikas at all. And yet I know him so well. He is among the many other interesting folks that have got appended to my life because of Opu. And it seems that Vikas is going through exactly the same cycle that I went through a couple of years back.

I was a solitary blogger, its writer and its reader. I was happy, very happy. I used to read my posts many a times. I still do that.

Then I met the so called professional bloggers. People whose living was around writing. They had these large social nets. Nets which sometimes were made impregnable. Each commenting on the others' blog and sagging the comments window.

Suddenly I felt my faith shaken. Why am I writing? Who is reading? Isn't it futile?

This post sums it up. And I wish Vikas reads it. That expalins the cycle that I have gone through.

Personally there are so many facets to blogging.

Blogging helps me engage in uninhibited and sometimes impersonal conversations. Small talks which are so refreshing, better than reading newspapers in the morning.

Needless to say, it will remain like an album. And like all album it will mature with age. When I am old it will help me to reflect back. It will help June to know what a jerk her Dad is.

My blog has certainly helped to expand my world. Though at times I am tempted to use it as a platform for my non existent writing skills but those are moments when I am foolhardy. At most times it is a place to reflect, introspect and share.

Of late it has helped me to connect. Connect not network.

So Vikas you may have a point but you certainly have no right to leave this world.

The Long Wait is Over

And like all long waits I hope this one doesnt end in a damp squib.

Wish me luck friends!!

Asexual Voyeurism - The Gloating Gaping Indian in SF

My first trip to the San Francisco suburbs using the Muni - the metro rail system.

An excellent journey. As the snake winds through the tunnel it comes out of its hole once outside the main city area. The train then becomes the tram winding its way through the streets. Stopping in between roads. People hopping off and hopping on.

It took me to the Ocean Beach. San Francisco's very own full fledged beach.

Families playing around. Some completely engrossed building their castles of sand. Here most men are like my father. They get fun out of small activities even when they are adults. Flying kites, playing with sand, flying planes.

Tanned bodies strutting their stuff. Handsome and beautiful dogs fetching the odd balls and frizbees. The ugly Chihuhaha rendering the owners even uglier.

Odd couples finding each other with a vengence. An ugly obese pan caked woman hanging around with a large torsoed Mexican. Kissing and slobberring. And looking beautiful and vulgar.

Even our own Bhabiji indulging in PDA and getting embarrassed by their brethren from the South East. As if she was saying "Oh sorry! I got carried away. Mera husband se control nahin hota." An apologetically glance thrown at us.

But I cant blame them. Even Gandhi would have found it difficult to stay away from his spouse.

Young men surfing the waves. Young boys and girls learning the tricks. All the tricks. Bay Watch style coast guards flaunting their bodies. Their chest thrusting walk makes them look so unhealthily crooked. They try and walk macho but end up looking like aliens. But no Pam Andersons to be spotted. They are only for the show.

Bikini clad women looking completely clothed. They look so comfortable in their nakedness. You actually dont notice their nakedness. You struggle to feel excited. Where is the fun if you can see everything?. Our low waist wearing, armpit exposing desis in India are greater turn ons.

We walked the shore, sat the beach. Two faggots, condemned to such a life. It will be few months till we can flaunt female kinds once again. Till then I am condemned to think of my smallness. $3000 is beyond my Indian means - cash or kind.... actually a bloody Indian mind.

P.S. - Photos will uploaded in due course.

Poetic Resignation

Courtesy Rajesh Gode

The name is good, the brand is big
But the work I do is that of a pig
The work or the brand; what is my way?
I don't know if I should stay.

To work, they have set their own way
Nobody will care to hear what I say
My will be NULL, they wont change their way
I don't know if I should stay.

The project is in a critical stage
But to do good work, this is the age
This dilemma is killing me day by day
I don't know if I should stay.

The money is good, the place is great
But the development is at a very small rate
Should I go for the work, or wait for pay
I don't know if I should stay!

The managers don't know what they talk
The team doesn't know where they walk
That's a bad situation, what say?
I don't know if I should stay.

I can go to any other place
But what if I get the same disgrace
I can't keep switching day by day
I don't know if I should stay.

The -ves are more, the +ves are less
Then why have this unnecessary mess
No more will I walk their way,
It's all done, I won't stay.

Thanks & Regards
Employee

P.S. Next post will be the manager's response