Imitation of Life

A certain mad man once told me "Why do we live?" I was, to say the least, taken aback by the mere thought that a mumbling, reeking( of chullu), stooping, wheezing, swooning idiot in muddy, tattered clothes chose me to be a suitable partner to have a highly philosophical and uplifting conversation with. Oh yeah, did I mention he was crazy? Yes, this guy would stomp his foot every now and again and shake his head and scratch his well, misters , engrossed all the while in a heated argument with himself about life and goats and his (insert explitive here) neighbour who swindled him out of umm, goats and probably a life. Strangely enough, every now and again his intermittent stomps would coincide with my ever-ignorant and wishfully blissful act of 'trying' not to take notice of him by staring out the window in the backseat of the rusty old 234. Yeah, it did freak me out! He might have been doing it on purpose. Maybe he was pissed off at me for not answering his question. To be honest, I really didn't have an answer. I mean...what the fuck? Why do we live? If you asked me - "Why are we born?" there could be a plausible and satiate answer. Maybe your parents actually wanted a kid. Maybe the condom broke. Maybe your mom got pissed at your dad and had a midnight affair with the candyfloss guy at the circus. All possible. But faced by such a question at such an inconsequential point in my life was an altogether different kind of sucker punch. You could almost say that I achieved a higher level of consciousness. I’m not saying I actually DID achieve this, but you could say it and I wouldn’t mind. Are you going to say it?

Now that I have had time to figure out why we live, I have actually figured out what I do not live for:-

1) I do not live to learn driving. "Wheeeee! It's so cool! I can drive!" Congrats! you know how to turn a wheel and press a few pedals and switch on the FM radio. Well you certainly can do what I can't. Call me stupid, but I really can't get myself to release the clutch on time, learn theory related to the history of the rickety old Maruti 800 that I drive, press the accelerator slooooooowly, as if I'm sloooooowly, looooooooovingly strangling an old man to death, and then shift gears. I mean what happened to those awesomely hilarious racing games where you get to button bash your way to high scores, road kills and real time takedowns. Jeez! I mean I just so much as bumped an old guy in the ass( almost like a feather touch) and he guy flamed up( not human torch style...more like cranky old bong style) and started hurling explitives at me. It was nothing that couldn't be silenced by the ever-realiable "Ami to gaari chalate shikchi, aapni ki raastaye cholte shikhchen?" Then there was the time when I 'accidentally' hit the lamppost near the street and got shouted at by the driving school instructor. 'Well fuck you asshole! You may have an extra set of brakes but you've still gotta wear your seatbelt!' To be honest, I really wanted to feel what it's like to hit something going at 2 km/hr, you know....for the experience. I mean, give a guy a break - If you sat there for an hour, watching rikshaws, cycles and old ladies with crutches pass you by while some freak with hyper-excitability refuses to let you accelerate, you'd be banging into lampposts too.

2) I do not live to take dance lessons. I always thought studies were useless and a wasteful way to spend about 25 years of your life.( I also think mondays are a sad way to spend a seventh of your life, but that's besides the point) but seriously, months on end with no compulsive urge to touch anything with text, has left a complete void in my life. Hence, the dance lessons. The instructor is a pleasant, kinda effeminate guy with buck teeth who never ceases to amuse me. I shall write about him when I have enough to write on. Anyway, so my mom comes to know this guy through one of her astrology classes. Sigh! Yes, astrology. Wear this stone, eat this root, piss here, bullcrap which everyone seems to have blind faith in nowadays. He offers to give me dance lessons. I'll admit, I am more than clunky and when it comes to my dancing, two left feet are an understatement, BUT I'M A GUY GODDAMNIT AND I WILL DO THE MONKEY IF I WANNA DO THE MONKEY!! Elegant dancing was never my forte and I guess this guy's in for the time of his life.

3) I do not live to kiss Father Mathew's ass. If you don't think 96% is good enough to get me in, then fuck you father, for I shall sin. You stinking, motherfucking, cocksucking, gonorrhea-afflicted cockroach! I don't care if you have 50% reservation for christians and 25% for those who've sucked you dry on wednesdays, if you think I'll smell your fart and hand you a nice lakh or two while you enjoy a snack, you can go shave your nuts!

4) I do not live to bribe autowallas, abuse taxiwalas and narrowly avoid getting hit by south Indian scooterwallas and then have legitimate conversations with them in adverse languages. Of these skirmishes, I have won 33.3% of the time and have drawn 33.3% of the time. I shall not tell you how many times I have lost! Hah!

So you may say I don't have much to live for. I whole-heartedly agree with you, but there's no way I'm gonna die( or as Shakespeare would say 'Give up the ghost') before I see "The Dark Knight"!

Signing out.

P.S. Aaaargh these flesh-eating cockroaches!! Oh the humanity!

P.P.S. "No! I'm Batman!"