Conversation with a pimp

Hi all, sorry for the delay. The net in my house is down and so I have to come to dad's office and pursue this blogging hobby. One strange thing I have noticed about my reader count. It seems to spike whenever I write a new blog. Now if I was a very popular blogger, this would have been an easily understood trend. One or two people checking, then news spreading out, and count spiking whenever there is something new to offer.

But being a struggling blogger(an analogy for struggling actor, as opposed to star-son) its a little hard to imagine how this goes on. Obviously news doesn't float around that there's a new post but that my fans check regularly. Also once a post is read, I don't expect people to refresh 10-15 times, meaning that each person reading equates to one addition to the count. Now the only explanation I can think of, is that every time someone finds a new post, he/she looks around here and there, and in turn increases the count. But even this sounds silly because what newer things can you find on a blog than a new post. If anyone has anything to say to this do comment.

IMP NOTE: In case after reading the entire post, I hurt or misguide anyone please don't consider me to be an ass on the pretext of this incident (... if you though so before, I have no problem) I wasn't drunk when I did this, and it was just for a some adventure, as I was a little bored that nothign interesting had happenned. The story has been extremely exaggerated, and just to reiterate I am still the nice, sweet, smiling Arjun that you all know and love, just a little more adventurous.

Coming back to the point. Yes.... ROADTRIP. As I said before, and if I didn't let me say now, about a dozen of my friends, wingies at some point of my BITSian life, and who had been to Goa for PS-1 and who obviously hadn't had enough of this place, despite my terrible hostship during their stay(I was never with them, which in a way was good, because after their time here, they know more about Goa than I do... woh kehte hain na, ghar ki murgu daal barabar) felt that they needed to return despite the short span of holidays. And December being the peak tourist season, the incentive was more the stuff on the beaches, than the beaches themselves. Running, sun bathing, playing and moving freely on the beaches, as nature meant them to be. :)

The first day was a roadtrip, and just that. People from PS-1 will realize how silly the route was that we took, but this was because it was meant to be a roadtrip and nothing more. So we went to Panaji from Margao, shifted to our rooms, and came back all the way to Palolem and biked our way back.

At the end, the bikers.. that is me, Karan, Raghav, Manav and Karthik had our pelvic regions screaming for rest, but we went on. The weather was great, the roads even better and with the wind blowing and natural scenic sights left and right what more could you ask for. Most of the time we went through places where there was just the green of trees, brown of hills and blue of the sky all around us, and not having to deal with the usual rain water pelting downfrom above, was just what we needed to put the accelerators on full throttle and just sway to the curvy roads.

We reached Palolem, walked and talked for some time, and came back to Colva(near Margao) for dinner. the dinner was great, and what happenned afterwards even better.

After dinner, when we were walking back to our bikes, I noticed a slip of paper tucked near the handle bar of one bike. What I saw shocked, surprised, roflmaod and gagged me. Shocked because it had never occurred to me that we decent looking 20 somethings looked like that sort of people, surprised because the slip proved that we looked otherwise, roflmao and shocked(for e-illiteates rolling on the floor laughing my ass off) because the whole thing was too good and funny to be true. This is the second type of incident that I spoke of im my previous blog. Now I still have the slip tucked inside mywallet for proof. Let me type it out for you. On one side was"Waiter" and on the other, "Priya Madam, All Girls, and a phone number"

We all looked at each other, we had here an opportunity to make this day truly memorable. Needless to say, though we would state otherwise, at one point of time we were hesitant. But I was determined to make the most out of this opportunity. Also we had plenty of phones that wouldn't be of any use later, so Barun handed me his phone and I volunteered. I dialled the number and waited for the ringing. The call was busy. A few wanted to back out, but I said let's try again and this time it rang. If we had thought this through, probably the idea would have sounded really stupid and I would've cut the phone now. But being so spontaneous, we went through with it.

Don't ask me how but from what I heard, I could tell that this was a young teenage girl, with a dark complexion and black uncaring and staring eyes, wearing a yellow salwar with a green dupatta, with two pony tails with red ribbons on them. This is the mental picture I had of this girl, more from the image that Hindi movies have given me than from a proper knowledge of things.

Me: Hello, actually hum 13 log hain, Punjab se, Goa aaye hain. Humein yeh number mila and...(I just let my voice trail, this wouldn't even out me in a bad light in case it was a wrong number and also the point was conveyed to the right number.)

Girl: Abhi Priya madam hain nahin. Main aapko rates bata deti hoon. (Now by now I had figured out the first point, and the second confirmed our suspicion)

Me: Haan, to batao.

Now she asked me a whole lot of questions, which were mainly to confirm my authenticity as a potential customer and that I wasn't a police officer or any threat. It was easy to dodge them. So basically we were a group of 13 people, students form a college in Punjab, Punjabis by origin(mu indi is really that good you know :) ) come to Goa for two weeks for... ahem fun. We were staying in Mapusa and had come to Colva for dinner, when we received this note from a waiter of XXX hotel.(hehehe... did you think I'd tell you that too. We had two bikes and a car.

Girl: Theek hai(with a satisfied sigh) so rates hain. indian ka do hazaar aur foreign ka teen.

Me: Foreign mein kya kya hai?

Girl: Indonesian, Nepali... and a few more random countries.

Me: AIDS WAIDS ka koi certificate hai kya.

Girl: (Now this is a prize winning line) Agar darte ho, to karte kyon ho. itna hi dar hai, to mummy papa se bolkar shaadi karlo. itna risk to lena hi padega.

I was shocked at what she had said. Obviously she was hardened by life and didn't hesitate from showing it. She didn't try to woo me or try to impress me with cheezy lines. She bluntly stated the facts and the risks. While most advertisements and publicity material today, try to get the customer on their side, hiding even the smallest of risks, she was candid about such a big one.

I stammered and stumbled, I had no answer to this.

By now I knew that I had been found. I just murmured a few things, said that I would call back and put down the phone.

We later joked about the whole episode over ice-cream, and I returned home with an experience to blog about and a new found respect for the oldest profession in the world.

PS: If you want the number, send me an e-mail request along with an essay stating why I should give you the number and why I am the best blogger to have ever roamed the earth :)

It's official now, I don't have AIDS!!!

As usual, before I come to the topic, I would like to express some weird emotion. Today it is surprise. Surprise at how much I have become a blogger, and how addicted I have become to this new-found hobby. It so brilliant now, there suddenly seems so much to write about. I have begun to live from a blogging point of view. No no, its not like I need to be before the monitor screes 24x7, actually its just hr opposite.

Basically there are two noticeable changes. Every time something happens that's even remotely funny, out of the ordinary or just plain unusual, something devilish awakens inside. I hunch back my shoulders, lick my lips, stare desirously and rub my hands with glee(I don't actually do it, its just a picture I like to paint for myself), thinking about how I'd blog about it and how challenging it would be to present this bland incident into something really worthwhile.

The second is everytime an opportunity to do something different presents itself, I grab it without a second's thought(or a second thought... whatever appeals to you) hoping that whatever happens, whether I fail or succeed(in the above mentioned differentiating opportunity) I will most definitelt blog about it, and feel good.

Most surprisingly, I don't have to go around looking for topics, things just happen, as they always did. I am just more observant. Try it, I'm sure you'd feel the same.

Waise, today's topic belongs to the first category of incidents, and my next post, "Conversation with a pimp" belongs to the second.

Though I'm sure a lot of you would like me to post the second one first, I'm not going to. Why? Just to show that I blog for myself, and don't care whether I am read or red(hehe, I meant to type read or not, but the typo was too silly to backspace). To prove that I am unaffected by my reader count(though I visit it everyday, :) when it rises and :( when it falls)

Here goes. Some of you may know, and some may not, some on hearing it would smile and be happy for me, while others would dart my face mentally with choicest fleeting expletives(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fleeting_expletive for non GRE-ites), going !@#$%^. But I am going to Singapore and there isn't a darn thing you can do. HEHE, lite lo, just kidding.

As part of my VISA application, I was required to undergo a few tests, and guess what the Ministry of Manpower requires people seeking an employment pass to undergo a chest x-ray and an HIV blood test. When I first read it, first I re-read it, and then told everybody about it. Though it's nothing extraordinary, it just... I don't know.. it felt like something different.

As it was too late I had to get it done here in Goa, so the day after I arrived I went to the family doctor. I took my mom along, as she knew him and hopefully that would help us jump the queue(don't you bloody make that face, we all do it, I am just admitting it).

Now this trick worked, and I went in ahead of half a dozen people of all possible, shapes, sizes, colours, ages, dental conditions, clothing tastes, even genders(hehe, just made up the last one). A post could be written on the 5 minutes that I waited in line, but not even my enemies deserve this brutal a punishment, so I'll let that pass.

I explained to the doctor, what needed to be done. He scribbled HIV and chest X-ray on two slips. Which slip said what, I couldn't figure, but I'm not a pharmacist right(I guess they'd need to have a course on handwriting recognition in pharmacy colleges from what I have seen them reading from) I remember once, when a doctor apparently spit on my prescription(given that he used a red pen, that's the closest simile I could think of) but the pharmacist had no problem at all getting my the right stuff.

Coming back... where were we? Oh yes, there was a pathology lab on the ground floor of the building with the doctor's clinic(aren't there always.. and yes, you guessed it, a pharmacy too). It looked more like a bar than a lab.. but then again, this is Goa we're talkig about. Who knows what happens there at night? :)

Now here comes the funny part. The person in charge, was a young nurse in cheap party wear(I swear that's what I thought when I first saw her) and when I entered my mom was with me :) . No, the situation wasn't awkward, it was just a stupid thing that needed to be done, but the nurse didn't know this.

When I showed her the slip, she looked at me and them at my mom, and gave an awkward smile. It struck me a little later, and it was hilarious. I'm sure she must've thought, "What a supportive mother!!" I couldn't stop giggling, but somehow composed myself. It got even better when she asked me questions like, How old are you? Where do you live? and Have you had this test before? I guess seeing my mom there, she's didn't probe further, else I'm sure she would have asked, When did it happen? Did you use a ...? And if it was a male nurse. Was it worth it? HEHEHE. And seeing my adventurous form lately, I'm sure I would have given some worthy answers.

The test took little over 5 minutes, and I was determined to get more out of the situation. Before she came out, I asked my mom to wait outside near the bike. When the nurse came out with the report in a sealed envelope, I feigned a worried look and for extra points tried to shiver my hands as though the envelope held the key to my future. Of course, she was smiling. I furst wore a worried look, but smiled only after her smile and made sure she noticed my awkward delayed smile turning into a full fledged joyous grin, on opening the envelope.

Nothing as eventful happenned with the chest X-ray. Just that I would have liked to face the camera when he took my pic. LOL... no guys I'm not drunk.

Later on the day, Katiyar calls me to ask about the HIV test result. What a bastard!!

My last post from Bhagirath

Nothing I say, or do, no joke that I crack, no speech I make, no sarcastic comment, no amount of distractions, no amount of alcohol... nothing can change what today is. Today is my last day at this abode of education, this dwelling that has given me the best days of my life,  the best, the very goodest place on earth, and nothing can change that. 

Forget summer of 69, these were the best days f my life. Everything changed that fateful night when I entered the gates of BITS-Pilani. Though we did not realize it, it set wheels in motion. People from all over India, who given any other permutation would never have met each other, began a journey that would change everything in their lives. That day I saw and met strange people, people so strange I hadn't even heard some of the places they had come from. From time to time I thought to myself, if I was an hour early, or had I arrived the next day, how different would things have been. I would've been in another hostel with different people. How different would I turn out? Would I have become a ghotu, maybe later to be part of Wi-Fi?(However ridiculous it may sound, it was a possibility) Or would I have become a hard core gamer, spending all day on DOTA or CS? I probably wouldn't have done a lot of things that I am grateful for, or would I?

Now 3 and a half years down the line, I think again, and you know what? I wouldn't have changed a thing. Not because I am happy for what I have become. But because, it wouldn't have changed things. You see, we are what we choose, consciously or sub-consciously. 

The course of our lives is not determined by our abilities, but by our choices. No matter where you are from or when you arrived, nothing would've changed. A few friends here and there maybe, but what you are now is a collective outcome of the choices you made, during the course of your time here, and I am happy for the choices that I made. 

Coming back to psenti-stuff. I admit it, I love BITS and have no qualms admitting that I am going to cry all the way to Delhi. No other place in the world could've given me what BITS has. The answer to who I am. My time has been a journey of self-discovery. Every person I met, every thing I did, every course that I studied, taught me something about myself, and for that I am ever grateful. 

Coming to the people, every place is defined my its people, and in India, where the most abundant resource is human resource, its difficult to get such quality in quantity, unless you're in a university such as BITS. 

Here, in 3 and half years, I have made friends and foes, people I will forever remember, people I wish I had never met, people that I want to be like, and people seeing whom I am thankful that God didn't make me like them, but most importantly I have met people who are special and have become important to me, and that includes each and every one here. My wingies, my PCr mates, my juniors, the chowkis, the mess workers, the Deans, the professors, the rediwallas, the C'not people, the worshop fellows, the rickshawallas, the guy selling sweet corn, IC workers, the guy in O-Lab, the fellow in Gym-G, the OASIS outstation participants, the alumni who visit.... each and every one of you is special, and I thank you for making me feel so very special.