By ye Gods!

Few things are sweeter than the fruit of one's own mind. Consequently, few things make one more bitter than when the fruits of his mind are plucked by others. Have you ever had the feeling that a joke or a pun you may have heard had been made up by yourself a gazillion years ago? I tend to trust my feelings. And if my feelings weren't such backstabbing bastards, they'd learn to show me some respect. Nothing gets me more peeved than when after a good recital, when I sit back complacently, basking in the glory of the imminent applause, some retard of an eavesdropper stares smugly all around at the other listeners and with all the omniscience of a Vedic priest in orgasmic enlightenment, declares "I came up with that!"

Ever felt the veins at the small of your neck? Did you even know they existed? When they begin to throb like a fire alarm gone bezerk and fury makes your ears ring and go all red such that your entire being begins to resemble something in the intermediate states of Bruce Banner's transformation into the Incredible Hulk, something triggers the alarm in the sly bastard's head and he begins to shift and twitch and think of an explanation. Instead of calming yourself down, his constant mumbling only seems to incite you further and 20 minutes later, you regret sending him home with a red fist mark on his sucker. But that'd be you. I say the fucker deserves it. Sometimes, however, my gut feelings make claims so outrageous that even I am not thoroughly convinced. Lately I've been getting the feeling that I came up with 'Whatever!' It's an ingenious piece of work. Knitting together two word so nondescript and half-baked into one complete nondescript and half-baked masterpiece. Or something like 'same difference'. The only problem is I think I'm the only one who uses this one. Whatever. Same diff!

Anyway, all this leads to a very interesting conclusion. Originality, as a concept, is misleading. When I see the masses rushing to the ticket counter, aching to watch Ghajini, trampling innocent by-standers like myself waiting to watch a more sensible movie like Madagascar, ( It's not bad. Really), I curse. I curse with all the mock-joke creativity I've been blessed with. I say 'baal-er-chaal'! I've always loved that curse. I thought it up of course!(What? Really.) It literally means the skin of the hair! So technically it's not even an explitive. There are a lot worse things you can be called and you can never really take offense when someone says 'baal-er-chaal' because, quite frankly you never know if you're the target. It's 'baal-er-chaal'. Like 'Fudge', but not as tasty. Not digressing any further from the topic, I wholeheartedly believe in this view of mine. Originiality, as a concept is totally flawed. We would not be able to create, if we didn't know where to begin. To think up something, we need to make some assumptions. These assumptions, however, might be something someone else has created ie, the fruit of his brain. When we so cruelly pluck this fruit away and use it to sweeten our own work, do we ever give a shit? 'Baal-er-chaal'! So why does it piss me off so when I watch a movie like Ghajini? It made me lose all respect I ever had for Amir Khan as an actor. Ghajini, I don't care how many crores it ears at the box office, literally castrated Memento bare-handed.

But then, few things in this world are completely original. The other day I heard the Israeli National anthem. Ever heard the song 'Mera Mulk, Mera Watan'? Uncanny resemblance, I'd say. Then I realised that this was a song I actually liked. The fact that it's been ripped off the national anthem of a goddamn country angers me, but then again it doesn't cease to be a good song. So I have decided to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to plagiarism in all its varied aspects. And since most great things in this world are my brain-children (Hah! See? I rock!), it suits me quite fine. So screw the world! 'Baal-er-chaal'!