tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20109437899399080162011-07-07T19:11:23.633-07:00I know mariohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00054496133125968685noreply@blogger.comBlogger61100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2010943789939908016.post-303697223116605992010-04-07T07:13:00.000-07:002010-04-07T07:26:38.675-07:00<div> we humans have got this fantastic ability to ponder about any  topic but at the same time, forget wishfully anything we want... </div><div>…any topic for that matter…</div><div>and ‘death’ is no exception.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've seen beautiful women glorify death poetically ...</div><div><br /></div><div>its amusing to see how desperately they want a smart ( ..well!!..) young man like me to wholeheartedly think that he is sharing the room with an extremely beautiful creature who ‘over on top’ being marvelously  intelligent  ,desperately want a space inside my head and then get into my dreams and fantasies when im alone at night..and then leave me in my death bed thinking ( with absolute remorse) why i didn't get married to such an intelligent lady( beautiful too) when i had all the resources available right in front of me...</div><div><br /></div><div>yeahh!! ( eat this chicks!! I'm straight ..but eat this.)</div><div><br /></div><div>beautiful women are so afraid of death.</div><div>why blame them ?...so are fat politicians...cheating lovers, athletes and critics..</div><div><br /></div><div>but I'm not going to let share my bed with the whore of some boring philosopher.</div><div>its not the 'much argued upon' death that I'm really concerned about..</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm talking about the REAL death..as in Death like its dead ..gone..you know? </div><div><br /></div><div>an average human being will live about 180 years.</div><div>before you prepare to launch that tight slap at my face...think!!</div><div>i told you about an AVERAGE HUMAN BEING!!</div><div><br /></div><div>But then i can see you still getting up...</div><div>did you expect an average of 60 yrs?</div><div><br /></div><div>Neither of us are wrong.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>60 years…thats the LIFE SPAN of an average human being.</div><div>but that has little to do with death.</div><div>when you technically die, do you think you are really gone?</div><div>Do you believe we just cease to exist once we quit breathing or throbbing…</div><div>The ticker is just a metabolic scale to measure your body’s efficiency to sustain life within it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Think about your grand dad..oh yes..he is dead,technically.</div><div>But is there something that’s still left with him here?</div><div>Yes…and that’s why Mario was talking about ‘memories’ today morning!!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>* * *<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I had this argument with Mario a couple of days ago.</div><div>Is it fame or money that drives human beings?</div><div>The first step is definitely ‘money’.</div><div>But then who wants to be an insignificant rich man?</div><div><br /></div><div>I always wanted to have a big orchard next to my house.</div><div>I will grow all possible stuff that nature will allow me to.</div><div>I will eat what I want and I will sell the rest.</div><div>Money arrives into the picture.</div><div>I'm a human after all, so I am ambitious.</div><div>I dream of bigger orchards and better harvest.</div><div>I invest on bigger spaces ,better seeds and efficient equipments.</div><div>I act GOD.</div><div>I get better harvest..I make more money… the frame just gets bigger.</div><div>I</div><div>I</div><div>I</div><div>But after all , I'm a pathetic ambitious human being who is so concerned about his existence in a wider format. I don’t wanna just LIVE, I want better visibility of my life.</div><div>I</div><div>I</div><div>I</div><div>I want my neighbors to peep into my farm…not to watch my bull chasing the cows, but to get a panoramic view of MY prosperity…so that tomorrow they will go and talk about MY prosperity to everyone.</div><div>MY</div><div>MY</div><div>MY</div><div>I may eventually buy a shiny blue car with a single digit fancy number and will drive it around.</div><div>Everybody would love to be inside …</div><div>I will be so damn famous…</div><div><br /></div><div>Fame…</div><div>MY fame..</div><div><br /></div><div>Though the first step was ‘Money’, it’s of no use if it cant achieve ‘Fame’ for me.</div><div>Fame is the name of the game.</div><div><br /></div><div>I saw Mario's eyes twinkle when he said the word.</div><div>And then I could see his face darken …he was summoning something.</div><div>Mario was maneuvering the ‘yacht of  argument’ towards the tall standing jagged truth – death!!</div><div><br /></div><div>So he said “ an average human being will live for 180 yrs, that’s when he live in any possible form…and memory is no exception to it”</div><div>But the real Death happens after that…</div><div>After about 180 years…your son dies and then your  grandson ( being the last person who must have heard about you from your son) breathes his last.</div><div><br /></div><div>What if he ( your grandson) ‘forgot’ to mention about you to your great grandson and great great grandson?</div><div>Imagine this situation.</div><div><br /></div><div>There wont be anyone alive in this goddamn planet who might have had gone past through slightest possibility of ‘knowing’ you…</div><div>Knowing you means …knowing that a full ‘flesh and bones’ creature called YOU , once walked this world.</div><div><br /></div><div>You are no dinosaur..so no one will poke your fossil out at anytime.</div><div>But then what did the dinosaur DO to be so famous?</div><div>What made all the ‘inbetweeners’ so less famous or FORGOTTEN ? “</div><div><br /></div><div>“ So my friend” said Mario “ study history and write down the names that you come across.( There will be of course Idiots, Hypocrites, Bastards and  Dictators to name a few ..You can choose what you want .)  </div><div>There will be some ‘real’ famous names., found here and there.</div><div>You will eventually learn that they were never famous for amassing wealth ...not everyone</div><div>What they would have REALLY done , would definitely be MORE than counting dimes…</div><div><br /></div><div>Do all the right things, said Mario.</div><div>And that there are a million things to do on this ‘where’s the green and where’s the blue’ planet…</div><div>Move around.</div><div>Try to spread a smile on somebody’s face ...</div><div>Just smile at people….</div><div>Be careful when you smile ‘insincerely’ at  beautiful women and kids..</div><div> ‘pervert’ and  ‘pedophile’  are placed very close in the dictionary… (if you really wanna check.. go check it)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Say one good word to anybody around…<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Try not to condense the name of the divine art of reproduction into a four letter word and go around saying it to anyone or anything around.</div><div>Try not to carry ‘excreta’ on your tongue…the name of which... I'm saying.</div><div>It’s OK if you don’t plant any trees but don’t be a part of anything that brings it down.</div><div>Try not to waste paper….use water instead.</div><div>Try not to waste time thinking on what to do with those 1411 tigers…There was a plan…there will be always be a  plan…and theres nothing any telecom company can do it. If you really wanna save them, go be their food.</div><div><br /></div><div>Try to look yourself at the mirror, but stop thinking about acne, dry skin and dandruff.</div><div><br /></div><div>Swim …if you find enough good water</div><div>Skip…if you find a rope low enough</div><div>Eat less … if you find theres someone around who really needs the rest of it.</div><div>Don’t waste food…but then don’t let little street kids taste food that’s wasted.</div><div>Don’t fall in love with your old clothes. There are a hundred butts ‘butt naked’ somewhere…try reaching them… with your old clothes you pervert!!</div><div><br /></div><div>Stop plastic.</div><div>Use rubber.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2010943789939908016-30369722311660599?l=blameitonmario.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>I know mariohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00054496133125968685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2010943789939908016.post-27302916271310419052010-02-03T22:54:00.000-08:002010-02-03T23:04:57.393-08:00<div>our Cyclops wasn’t wearing his uniform, so he left us somewhere near the Fort Kochi Police station.</div><div>There’s a huge cemetery of Cyclopes there, near the police station.</div><div>Most of them lack … legs...some have lost their eyes…</div><div>Covered with a thin blanket of dust and dry leaves..</div><div><br /></div><div>Its a scary sight and I saw our dear old Cyclops shudder .Those were the Cyclopes which got into trouble and they were grounded for ever.</div><div><br /></div><div>Tigers could very well empathize, so we paid the Cyclops and let him flee.</div><div><br /></div><div>We moved further…the streets were empty.</div><div>Hmm…Well not entirely if you would say.</div><div>This place brings mixed feelings to your mind.</div><div><br /></div><div>More than 80 percent of the folks you see on the streets are non residents, foreign nationals, roaming around appearing a lot busy cause they might be looking for that very ‘special’ gazal performance or kathakali performance which they  should never miss ( as told by their hotel manager).</div><div><br /></div><div>I can very well imagine the picture of this land these visitors hold in their mind.</div><div>It’s so clear because its so damn predictable…every time.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here it goes - A big elephant with a happy kathakali costume (the boring usual green one of course) sitting atop, sipping a tender coconut. And if the vision gets any further creative, then the whole damn thing will be staged inside a houseboat set against a senseless encore lead by the cheer team of a bunch of coconut trees.</div><div><br /></div><div>If you do a picture search for Kerala in Google, the top ten results will throw these ones. How then can you blame the poor westerner? </div><div>This is the impression everybody has about God’s own country.</div><div><br /></div><div>God’s garden is full of coconut trees.</div><div>God’s courtiers and angels love coconuts. </div><div>We eat, drink, sleep, breathe and think...Coconuts!!</div><div><br /></div><div>And when we have to go somewhere …like a quick date or something... we ‘quickly’ get dressed up in that very signature kathakali costume and board our latest jumbo and walk into our backwaters…we can let the jumbo stomp, but we want to be more romantic…so we float our way …especially since our brand new wooden Mercedes houseboat is all at our disposal..</div><div><br /></div><div>While the whole world would spend ‘more’ time with foreplay...</div><div>They think we guys would spend most of our time ‘preparing’ ourselves out of the Kathakali costume and then ..well…go play.</div><div><br /></div><div>Such an insult.</div><div><br /></div><div>I’ve heard that Latin Americans are real passionate people.. but I hate it when this hot ‘Im all dipped in paprika so why don’t you come lick me’ seductress jumps out of her balcony and strikes her killer salsa pose when you think of Rio de Janeiro...or Puerto rico…or any other place for that matter.</div><div><br /></div><div>How can you force/stamp an impression on a land?</div><div><br /></div><div>An impression is never SET ...it is FORMED.</div><div>A land doesn’t stand for a cultural performance alone. Or for its native language or its festivals or its tender coconuts…for that matter. It’s a blend of everything.</div><div><br /></div><div>I believe it stands for the spirit.</div><div><br /></div><div>When I think of Japan, I think about the big mushrooms( the real big ones) and then I think about SONY, MITSUBISHI, YAMAHA and the whole lot of others who grew out after the mushroom died.</div><div>That’s what Japan is to ‘me’...</div><div>It’s preposterous to think of Samurai’s driving yellow cabs and geishas washing kimonos or selling sushi on the streets when I think of Japan.</div><div><br /></div><div>This might sound like a silly argument, but take the case and China.</div><div><br /></div><div>A decade back, everybody used to think that china was full of shaolin monks waking up in the morning on vertical bamboo sticks and doing kungfu till they sleep and if they ever take a break in between they would cook and sell noodles.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, take a deep breath and think of china…the 'now' china!!!</div><div>I guess that’s the only country which is practically  'every where'.</div><div>There a piece of china in everyone...incase you forget , all you need to do is to flex your forearm a bit and then twitch your fingers  to pick that damn cell phone from your pocket when it starts ringing ( or keep it down if you ever get finished with it either !!)</div><div><br /></div><div>A land or a place should leave myriad feelings on its visitor’s mind.</div><div>But then these feelings should not be loud or clear either.</div><div>It should be like looking at a starry sky...there’s not much to focus but the entirety enthralls us…which makes us keep looking at it again.</div><div>I don’t think people look at the night sky for the moon…there’s way more stuff up there than a moon (for heaven sake will you leave the moon alone guys?!!)</div><div><br /></div><div>Coming back to the topic…</div><div><br /></div><div>So a land should leave an impression in your mind…an impression which will haunt you for ever but you will never be able to visit it again...</div><div>Forget money, you should never ever visit it again.</div><div>And then retire back at your home and think what would have happened to that little girl in the corner of the photograph, who got accidentally in the same picture with you as you were posing for it…</div><div>You never knew her. Ever...</div><div>You don’t even know if she would ever come back to your life.</div><div>And if she does, will you be remembering the fact that she was the same girl who accidentally happened to share the photograph taken years ao?</div><div>No…you will accept her as if she is a stranger who just happened to walk into your life…accidentally again!!</div><div><br /></div><div>Think…</div><div>This is the impression I would like to take back from any land.</div><div>Im so sad that I will never be able to go back to it ever..</div><div>None of us can…</div><div>…</div><div>…</div><div>Childhood is so beautiful…</div><div><br /></div><div>We were all sweet innocent little kids…hanging from a short little mango tree</div><div>Look at us now…we have all decayed into men and women…</div><div>And we stink too…</div><div><br /></div><div>So I asked </div><div><br /></div><div>”Mario, do you think all these westerners will walk away carrying images of kathakali and coconuts?”</div><div>Mario didn’t answer. But I saw him gaze at a big white Polyethylene bag lying on the deserted road. </div><div>I had noticed it being thrown on the road by a speeding yellow truck, a while ago.</div><div>The bag was cut open and out of it spilled blood stained feathers.</div><div>I\They made me remember the ‘kari vesham’ (the red loud costume in Katha kali)</div><div>The feathers seemed like dancing together on the dry ground with the soothing cool wind that started blowing out of nowhere.</div><div><br /></div><div>They seemed like practicing a choreo number for the next tourism promo advertisement.</div><div>“Impressions they say.” I hear a faint sigh from Mario.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2010943789939908016-2730291627131041905?l=blameitonmario.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>I know mariohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00054496133125968685noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2010943789939908016.post-7912935614039573932010-01-20T05:55:00.000-08:002010-01-20T06:03:15.409-08:00<div>Recently I’ve been to Kochi and Mario suggested that we should go see 'the Fort Kochi'.</div><div><br /></div><div>According to him, that’s where two artificial islands and a huge marina is going to come in the future.( Mario is from the future,remember?)</div><div><br /></div><div>I didn’t believe in it…Im a tiger (I suggest you should try translating this word to Malayalam), so I don’t really believe in what others( inspite of being a tiger) have to say.</div><div>Mario is one too... (So he says…pfft!!)</div><div><br /></div><div>But anyway.. the time was about 9 and we were all game to be animals tonight...!!</div><div><br /></div><div>So we hired a cyclope and started off to Fort Kochi.</div><div><br /></div><div>As we were approaching, Mario said “dude, why don’t you just close your eyes and smell the wind?”</div><div>Kochi is one city that you can tell by the smell it has and the smells are so very unique at places.</div><div>Every wannabe metro reminds me of an aspiring whore (we rape her .and she has no choice left)</div><div>And Kochi reminds me of a very hospitable one with so many deodorants puffed up at various joints of her body, to match the likes or dislikes of...God knows whom!!</div><div><br /></div><div>{THWACK}</div><div><br /></div><div>I got one tight slap and it was the tiny palm of Mario. He said “don’t smell the garbage you moron…smell the air… There’s something else…”</div><div>Tigers don’t like being thwacked… and tigers won’t accept thwacks from anyone who is lesser than a Tiger.</div><div>(So I hereby certify Mario- a genuine Tiger.)</div><div><br /></div><div>“Go on … Bruno sniff” Mario was at his humor best.</div><div><br /></div><div>I closed my eyes.</div><div>Took a deep breath…then held it for a while , combing the layers within..</div><div>Sewers, smell of the first rain, gutter water, sewers again, exhaust smokes, egg roast and beef curry (slurp), sewers again (puke)…</div><div>The Cyclope stopped at a small level crossing.</div><div><br /></div><div>I thought I had to give up, but then… Suddenly…’paraffin wax…’</div><div><br /></div><div>Somewhere tucked within the loud smells …as the bell tolled in the distance , I opened my eyes to see the half lit faces of kids walking past Cyclope .they had balloons and festoons and a weird looking red robed man with white faux beard …</div><div><br /></div><div>The makeover was pathetic...</div><div> but inspite of the amateur attempt, the spirit....it was so very alive.</div><div><br /></div><div>I took a look at Mario took a look at me...</div><div>mario smiled at me  smiled at mario...</div><div><br /></div><div>Deep in the jungle two tigers hugged at each others and roared... “merry Christmas”.</div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2010943789939908016-791293561403957393?l=blameitonmario.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>I know mariohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00054496133125968685noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2010943789939908016.post-12849682038377118752010-01-19T05:40:00.000-08:002010-01-19T05:46:21.972-08:00<div>These days I frivolously wait for the tube or the newspaper to tell me that ‘it’s a holiday tomorrow’.</div><div><br /></div><div>Wat's the catch?</div><div><br /></div><div>Hey I'm God’s own countryman….. man..</div><div>I used to reside at his very own country…</div><div>And you know what it is like to reside  in heaven? Its vacation 24X7.</div><div>There's always a chance for a holiday, the next day.</div><div><br /></div><div>I remember the story of the fisherman.</div><div>Who got lost in the ocean once , (not because his wife slept with the milkman while he was away )but because of these unpredictable vacations that came in a row so consecutively that he forgot his way ..Even through the most predictable goddamn sea…see?</div><div><br /></div><div>That’s the power of vacations in God’s own country .</div><div><br /></div><div> They are like sweet tender coconuts , soft like cotton, which hang on hyper pregnant coconut trees ( which means too may of them than what its logically supposed to have…damn this language has to be made ‘open source’) which may fall anytime…the fun is that you are always underneath the coconut tree… and the coconuts are right above where your head is supposed to be..and things are so very predictable.</div><div><br /></div><div>Wow!!</div><div><br /></div><div>And they fall upon you ..no wait.. they occur upon you….(how dare I use unorthodox words in heaven.)</div><div><br /></div><div>In GOC ( yeah… you got it? Thanks) everybody is an angel…and angels seem to like vacations..</div><div>They call it ‘harrrthaal’ which unofficially means ‘the official thanksgiving day the angels celebrate’ .</div><div>They feast, they drink… my countrymen are merry men you know?</div><div><br /></div><div>I was so much indulged. Being an angel was so much fun…</div><div>Until the day, I fell…</div><div>I fell into a garden…</div><div>I hate this garden city…</div><div>There ain't no thanksgiving.</div><div>There ain't no blissful vacations. </div><div>Those were privileges for Angels.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am 'fallen' ..remember?</div><div><br /></div><div>there was a songbird in the garden…</div><div>Sitting atop a ‘newly constructed’ tree .</div><div>I came near and it flew down to me. The bastard somehow found his way to my inner head.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mario was a songbird, his luggage was smelly but his songs were unique.</div><div>It’s been weeks and months and years since his songs were last heard.</div><div><br /></div><div>Hence I resurrect Mario …let him go ‘gaga’ again.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2010943789939908016-1284968203837711875?l=blameitonmario.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>I know mariohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00054496133125968685noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2010943789939908016.post-72227420941369201312008-06-25T00:41:00.000-07:002008-06-25T22:35:46.990-07:00<strong>Ok…<br /></strong>Lemme ask you guys something… (<strong>Just</strong> for the sake of it)…<br />How many of you are born as a <strong>second </strong>child to a couple hooz got <strong>3</strong> children?<br /><br />You know? Your parents might have put ‘<strong>all their love’</strong> shaken it thrice to the right and two times to the left… (May be a bit more here and there…now ...I don’t think I need to teach you guys and girls the rule of ‘this’ particular game…cuz most of you guys and girls might have already played it…for those who haven’t played and anticipate much…believe me …its not worth what the condom companies say.)<br /><br />Ok…what was it again?...<br />Ah…<strong>your parents</strong>…<strong>love</strong>…<strong>shake</strong>…<br />…ok…<br /><br />They must have thought of having a baby boy (or a girl) and they might have got him(or her)…<br />Next time they might have thought of a change…say? Wishing on a baby girl (or a boy) and they might have got ‘you’ …who might be a baby boy (or a girl)…<br /><br />You guys know that you don’t let things pass by <strong>so </strong>easy…so your parents would have thought the <strong>same </strong>way saying “let’s play the game again fella…nobody’s gonna live forever”…<br />..And they might have got what they <strong>really </strong>wanted for the second chance.<br /><br />So the bottom line is simple.<br />You have an elder brother,you have a younger sister and you are a <strong>boy</strong><br />Or<br />You have an elder sister, you have a younger brother and you are a <strong>girl</strong>.<br /><br />You are a God sent <strong>‘Plan B’</strong> to wreck your parent’s <strong>Plan A</strong>.<br /><br />Nobody would have ever been told this if ever it would have been the truth…but if  ever there lived any 14 year old walking moron on this earth who would have invented <strong>this</strong> stupid theory just to make his life pathetically miserable ,then it would have been ...me.<br /><br />For no reason, I was <strong>not</strong> the way I am ‘used to be’ right now…<br />At my age, I had a <strong>hundred similar</strong> and <strong>quality certified</strong> stupid theories which would (pray) make me <strong>different</strong> from others.<br /><br />Wisdom must have come with age…at least in my case..<br />I guess that was why Mario was born…with <strong>no </strong>elder or younger ones to bother him.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2010943789939908016-7222742094136920131?l=blameitonmario.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>I know mariohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00054496133125968685noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2010943789939908016.post-15953601420338032922008-06-25T00:33:00.000-07:002008-06-25T00:39:53.634-07:00I know it’s weird and rather a bit too late to introduce Mario…<br /><br />That’s because there’s a thing or two about Mario.<br /><br />Before this cryptic narration was typed down on this unimportant blog page…, nobody has ever..ever heard of him before.<br /><br />* * *<br />Mario is never before heard cooking his meals… not that he does it so silently with no mustard seeds in it…<br /><br />Neither has anybody heard him flushing his loud commode … not that he constipates.<br /><br />You probably haven’t even heard his bed creak…KREAK …KREAK… as he makes love with himself...Well he sure must be fantasizing like you and me …<br />(When I said ‘you’, I did mean you my friend …C’mon gimme a break… we all know you do fantasize like everyone of us. I just didn’t say ‘what’ you fantasize at...did I?)<br /><br />Coming back to Mario…as I told you …yea… nobody has ever heard of him.<br />…That’s probably because I’ve never told anybody about him before…<br /><br />***<br /><br />For years he’s been living up there in my head …paying no rent, using my energy, reading my newspaper, (and of course laughing at how I am ‘cynically unaware’ of my flab) but still doing all those things any noble bachelor in this garden city would love to do without grabbing any attention at all…<br /><br />I still don’t know ‘when’ Mario stepped in…<br />I never remember seeing any trunks or boxes…y’know?...the kinda stuff a person like him should carry around.<br /><br />But then one day ‘he’ happened.<br /><br />At first I thought he was somekinda ghost…I started hearing voices from my head.<br />Voices like sorta…Whispers..<br />Murmers…<br />Words…<br />Phrases…<br />Sentences…<br />Monologues… and then the bastard started communicating to me.<br /><br />***<br /><br />I always prefer to keep a certain distance from all humans other than me.<br /><br />(Ok ...Now that’s a bitta blabbering about me myself…y’know ? everybody wants to tell that he is a bit of something strangely different…<br />…We all think we are so very unique…don’t you agree?<br />Well I did …<br />…that was why I used to feel so. )<br /><br /><br />I was always afraid and shy…<br />I never gelled with my friends and hence was called upon as ‘some kinda weirdo’<br />At first I felt sad …but then I kinda liked it…<br /><br />Weirdo ‘me’…heh<br /><br />I deliberately started reading books which seldom made no sense to me at all…<br /><br />(y’know I never really ‘read’ them but instead used to carry it around so that others can see it...<br />just like you do when you go out to places like Café coffee day…y’know where the ‘supposedly intelligent’ and …of course beautiful chics and metrosexual males hang around…you gotta please the mob..cause you desperately want somebody to get impressed and then smile at you once ..and repeatedly smile at you ..till you buy another book )<br /><br />I was constantly in search of a new ...Hmmm…music…..<br />Yea….music which nobody has ever heard of...at least not y’know? Very often.<br /><br />I started listening to everything offshore...with little or no reason.<br /><br />I used to search out its lyrics from some ‘goddamn site’ and then spent so much time to by heart it…so that the lyrics ‘frequent’ in between conversations (stupidly of course!!) and it used to confuse my counterpart so much that he starts to think I’m an intellectual kernel!!<br /><br />I did not figure out till I once heard an acquaintance of mine…talkinover phone to his friend and he (bloody) used the same phrase as if it was his own invention.<br /><br />I was ..so…damn…piss (happy) ed off!!<br /><br />How dare He (finally somebody) use my invention ( Im getting somewhere..I getting somewhere) without permission ( I did the whole stunt for this day..remember?)<br /><br />Poor 'NDH'ites…never would have they thought their lyrics would influence an ‘accent absent’ techie from white field when he talks over phone about his interest in playing cheap interoffice politics in recruiting new members for his project.<br /><br />Anyway..thats a bit of me..<br />You know? I’ll be often doing this ‘goin back and comin back ‘ stuff so that it doesn’t become a Mario story … afterall.<br /><br />You guys should remember that ‘I’ gave him a space in this city..that too in an artistically intellectual cerebrum…<br /><br />I cant just let..y’know ?….somebody…. just simply ‘use’ me?<br />Heh…<br />So?..<br />…<br />Well…<br />Hmm….<br />…<br />…<br />…Mario …Ok.<br /><br />***<br /><br />Mario is single as far as I remember.<br /><br />His Underwear is so stained that ..You know? He “ought to be’ a single.<br /><br />He is probably as tall as me…for he can surely stand from inside and see the world through my eyes.<br />He is probably as tall as me myself ..cause there aint no shit up there in my head to support his frame if he wishes to stand upon something…<br />You guys know what an intellectual brain feels like from inside right?<br />( wOw..I cant believe you guys fell for it)<br /><br />But he ( Mario)surely does see everything<br />There’s proof<br />The proof is me myself, because at times I think Mario is a manipulative ‘[outspoken English word for productive or leisure oriented intercourse]er’ …<br />…and that he is now changing my course of life!!<br /><br />***<br /><br /><br />I never wanted to be like Mario<br />But then one evening, he told me something which shook me from my heel…<br /><br />He said he is from the future…<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />My future...<br /><br /><br />Sent by an ‘older me’…a ‘regretting me’…<br />To change his ‘past myself ‘(which is the ‘present me’ of course…)<br />So that when I grow old …I would never regret for what I never did when I was supposed to do it all…<br /><br />Mario said that he ‘has’ to help me…<br />And that he is duty bound…<br /><br />I neither agreed nor resented<br />He might have taken my silence as an answer, for he went back silently into my head..<br />For days there were no signs of the phenomenon called Mario<br /><br />But then it started…all of a sudden<br /><br />He started living my life in parts…<br />And then I started being different<br />Very…very different<br /><br />As Mario had said… he had come for it and he knew all ways to get it done..<br />To make the present me a better me for sake of the future me…<br /><br />Godamn me!!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2010943789939908016-1595360142033803292?l=blameitonmario.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>I know mariohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00054496133125968685noreply@blogger.com3