The Threshold of Coolidity

“Yes, I’ll take it,” I blurted out as I concluded my extreme negotiations with my travel agent.
 Summer, 2001, I had just acquired two tickets to visit India from Alabama. One for me, the other for the biggest luggage I have ever carried on a flight, my cousin, Nintendo. The tickets to see my parents and friends back home cost us $850 each. What a buy! Well, I can’t leave out the fact that the route was Birmingham-Atlanta-Los Angeles-Tokyo-Bangkok-Kolkata, Bangkok-Kolkata being on Air India. It didn’t matter, I was 20 and I was going home, nothing could touch me. The majority of the flight was smooth as ever, fights for window seats, Nendo, 13, tasting Vodka for the first time, changing planes, falling asleep at airports, boarding the wrong plane, the usual. But then came Bang-cock (This joke never gets old!)

“Jesus Christ, hell no!” I screamed out as I walked out of the airport.
We had a 16 hour lay over in Bangkok, the shady sex capital of the world. We were pre-booked into a Comfort Inn, and leaving Nendo outside the Terminal to watch our luggage I had gone back to call the Comfort Inn to send us a cab. The first thing I heard when I walked through the automatic gates was Nendo chanting “Sucky, sucky, 5 dollars!” The first thing I saw was two hookers with pouting lips circling him. That’s when the Jesus Christ exclamation happened. And then one of the ladies says “For the 5 dollar, we sucky sucky both of you.” I cant explain to you how hard it was to pull a 13 year old away from the prospects of his first sucky sucky, on one hand I kinda wanted him to have his fun, but on the other I pictured my aunt chopping me into pieces for allowing her angel the pleasures of fellacio!

“Give her money?” I asked given the receptionist’s statement.
We had squeezed into some variation of an auto rickshaw and made it to the Comfort Inn. A suite, with loaded booze awaited us. Not having much to do, Nendo went for late night swim, while I hit the gym. Later I cooled off in the pool too. After this midnight workout we made our way to the reception to get our room keys back. While handing me the keys the receptionist smiles and says “ Do you want a pom-pom for tonite?” I had no idea what she meant, I really wasn’t in the mood for cheerleading! “What are pom-poms?” I asked her. “The pom-pom” she continued, “She come to room, give you the massage, then you give it to her!” This rather ambiguous statement prompted my verification of what I was supposed to give this pom-pom. “No, no, not the money, you have the nice body, u work out, she come and give you the massage and you give it to her, on the house!” Oh my Lord! We were in the land of sin. I don’t know if I’d call it heaven or hell, but my cousin was jumping up and down chanting “Take the pom-pom. Take the pom-pom!” Well, I didn’t take it, I didn’t give her anything! The next day sulky face (Nendo musing about how he almost saw a hooker in action) and I went to board our Air India flight. The flight was 13 hours late, and our names weren’t on the list. We had forgotten to reconfirm our confirmation for our confirmed tickets?????

“Its all your fault, its your genes!” screamed my Mom at my Dad.
 After intense flirting with air hostesses, sweet talk with Thai managers I managed to secure us two seats on the flight which we boarded with Indian smugglers begging us to take some of their stuff in our bags. It was horrible. The air hostess (she doesn’t deserve to be called that) looked like a fat ward matron, while the smugglers pulled at her aanchal for more whiskey. Off the plane, through customs, awaiting my parents, I needed a smoke after 2 days of insane traveling. I pulled out a stick, lit up, and in the cloud of the first puff I saw my Mom walk towards me, her face full of shock as she turned to my dad and rebuked him for being an ex-smoker and passing on the smoking genes to me. Yup, this was the first time she found out that I smoke! There were lectures, but the fun of being home and the royal treatment commenced.
But nothing, nothing erases the horrendous trip. It can be well summed up by a Chinese woman ( pronounces "R" for "L" ) wishing you while you board the flight, "Sir, have a nice Fright!"

aanchal: The hanging part of the sari behind a woman's back, sometimes accidently falls forward in hindi movies when the hero stares too much.

"Have a nice fright" -- copyright Beer n Lost in translation!

Sitting on a plane, listening to music, blogging: my laptop rules! So, I paid a much desired visit to sweet home Alabama . It’s weird to live in Maryland and dream once in a while about Alabama the place at one time I was dying to get out of. However, 3 years of undy-grad life in bama has made me quite a southern boy. I can't get enough football on tv, country fried steak makes me drool, and Southern Belles with the Southern drawl make me have to take a shower 5 times a day. The Southern hottie is quite the woman: flowing blonde hair, wandering blue eyes, a flirtaceous yet elusive smile, sexy hoarse voice, southern drawl, and friendly enough to make you think she is coming on to you the first time she meets you. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention the bod! Breasts so well shaped that gravity has accepted defeat, dark legs that beg you to stare and get caught staring. All in all, a lady, a woman, a girl! However, the intriguing part is that every belle who catches the eye seems to look just the same, as if they are clones. Same complexion, same voice, same accent, same smile, clones all clones. Are they similar to the clones in Attack of the Cones, Episode 2? Well, some of them are in the dumbness area.  Neways, I boldly subjected myself to this clone army on the streets, in the bars, in the shopping malls for a week, until a tri-variant of Order 66 was executed on me while I used the force, lots of force.

Back to the real clone wars, Star Wars was a huge part of the week. Appalled by my failure to watch Episode 5, 1 previously, my cousins took it upon themselves to rectify the situation. We went through episodes 4,5,6, Empire Strikes Back (5) being my favorite. Then we tackled the much cursed The Phantom Menace (1). In my opinion the movie was a delight. Excellent plot, exceptional acting, mind-blowing pod race, Natalie Portman, and an awesome light saber duel. I did have the advantage of seeing the movie after being familiarized with episodes 2,3 though. Attack of the Clones (2) still remains the disappointment featuring the whinny Aniken Skywalker who looks more like Nick Carter from the backstreet boys, with a voice that could never compare to the great Lord Vader. The only saving moments in the movie were Yoda wielding his saber, and Natalie Portman. Return of the Sith (3) was up their with the oldies barring a slight jester like performance by Obi-Wan, lack of focus on the dark side of the force, and the movie overall was a ADD’s dream come true. But undoubtedly Lucas is a genius; his picturization, the accents influenced from cultures far off, and the close to impeccable tightness of the story are to be marveled at. The only issues with the splicing I have found or been pointed out so far are:

1. Larce, Luke’s Uncle does not recognize 3PO in Epi 4 though 3PO serves him in Epi 3, by the way 3PO is one really gay droid
2. Leah says that her real mother was kind, but sad etc, whereas epi 3 shows that her mother dies within minutes of giving birth, but she may have been talking about her foster mom.
3. Can't remember the last one, damn!

If any of you know of more, do lemme know. However, while watching these movies I was taken aback by the resemblance to American Politics and Religion in this dual trilogy. The Sith Lords, as powerful as the jedi, one with the dark side of the force, wish to bring peace and order to their empire by ruling the galaxy their way and imposing their will on their subjects. They believe in absolute power though they want the war to end too. Sound familiar? The Jedis on the other hand believe that democracy is the way politics should be decided and plot to overthrow the Chancellor (The Sith Lord.) I would hardly want to label George W. Bush as a Jedi but again America ’s attack on Saddam (the Sith Lord) resulting in mayhem, and formation of separatist groups (terrorist orgranizations and bittered nations) still loyal to the Master do strike a common chord.

On a different note, the force is omnipresent, within us all, around us, omniscient, omnipotent. Mmm define God? Anniken Skywalker’s immaculate birth, his infant display of special powers, the prophecy of the Chosen One to bring peace to the empire by slaying the Sith. Are we watching the Bible? But wait, have the story of Jesus and the antichrist been muddled up. The Chosen One turns to evil, but finally does fulfil the prophecy by overthrowing the sith ok literally overthrow, hee hee. So was Aniken the son of God, the good side of the force with highest midichlorians ever, or did Darth Plagueis, the sith who could control midiclorians find a way of reincarnating himself after being slain by his treacherous apprentice Darth Sidious. My take on it is that Darth Plagueis taught his apprentice, Sidious how to create/sustain life. Plagueis did not create Aniken, Sidious/Palpatine did by using the force to will the midichloreans. Given his evil creation he was always prone to the dark side (impulsive, greedy, whinny), however, in ROTS when Anakin is dying, Palpatine uses his sustaining powers (touches his brow) to prolong his life as Darth Vader though he never teaches Vader this trick. In any case, it was an amazing ride, enjoyed it I did! I’m sorry I did the yoda thing again. Sorry, I am! Again? stop it, no you stop it, no you stop it …………

-Conghoolius

P.S: Went to watch Episode 3 at Birmingham , Saw some people with sabers, 3 dressed as Vader, and one dude as a Storm Trooper. Who on earth decides to dress up as a retarded, insignificant clone? Seriously? Which Storm Trooper was he? Number 766 from Episode 4 or Number 67 from Episode 2?

Most people would rather stand in front of a raging bull than be single. Being single has its charms, but most of its charms are only an attraction to people in relationships who have a wandering eye, and just aren’t monogamous (technically none of us are monogamous but we’ll talk about that later). The rest of the population comprises people who are with someone and dread the days they spent in pursuit of companionship: those lonely nights, individual dinners, unease being the third wheel, and constant disappointment in others and themselves. The other group of people who have the morbid fear of singlehood are in fact the single people living the dreaded life. It’s a jungle out there. If there are a million single men out there all on the prowl, and another million single women waiting to be pounced on or to pounce on someone, why is it so hard to find a partner to dance with. Well, firstly some people just have ghastly communication skills, ie even a rock can come up with better conversation than they do, or they are timidly shy yet awesome once they open up, but opening them up is akin to opening a coke can with your teeth, and lastly the breed of people that keep saying to themselves, “I can do better, this person is not a perfect match!” Pretty much we all have this notion of a match, and finding a person that matches the match is where the game is at!

I guess in India, parents believe in taking a personal interest in every single problem their kids face. So if Ramu or Rima ain’t getting laid, mama will find them a partner to tango in bed with. Of course, this process of finding a life partner incorporated by mama may entail horoscopes, bias to race/cast/creed, extensive photograph scrutiny etc. So in short, mama finds Ramu the prettiest and smartest gal she believes will satisfy him yet not dominate him (A M.S degree guy rarely is set up with a PhD holding girl). Some of the selection criteria are pretty subtle too. I was aware that arranged marriages favor women who can dance (maybe bharatnatyam). A couple of years ago though, a lady in her forties told me that it had nothing to do with the woman dancing for her man, coz wives don’t really bharatnatyam for their men, it is a test of flexibility (viva la kamasutra!) and well done mama!

Neways, given that the arranged marriage culture is renowned to be typical to India, some Americans even believe it to be compulsory in India, I have often heard peoples view of it and that inspired me to blog this out. Let the record show, I don’t particularly appreciate the concept of arranged marriage given that it sometimes is accompanied by parents coaxing their daughters to be with someone they don’t want to be with. Not Cool!

Back to the point, a friend of mine, Dan once went all out on the issue of arranged marriage being inhuman, absurd, disturbing since the parents do the matching. I never really debated it out with him since I am not a proponent of arranged marriage though my reasons are different. Anyways, Dan has met the girl of his dreams and he called me up to tell me that he plans to go down on his knees soon. Being currently single I had to push forth the question “Where did you meet her?” “Through match-maker.com” came Dan’s answer. Silence oh awkward silence! Arranged marriage is supposedly absurd and disturbing but match maker is cool? What is the difference between the two? Well in the Indian case, two people who love you (parents) tell you who they think is the one for you, and in Dan’s case, some Dr. Phil, or software program tells him, “So Dan, Elizabeth is the girl of your dreams, you are both vegetarians, love kayaking, favorite color is green, and your favorite book is the Da Vinci Code. So get married, and reproduce like bunnies so that more morons (your dumb offsprings) use our pathetic website!” Dan lost his footing to ever belittle the arranged marriage system, and got me thinking that are similar tastes a criteria for love? It does help people get along better, but sounds more like a trivial friendship test to me, and similar tastes is not even an issue in friendship. And the Da Vinci Code is half the human populations favorite book. Why? Why? So as far as I am concerned resorting to match-maker should be restricted to only those with communication skills of a rock, unless matchmaker is ready to broadcast their successful pairs’ honeymoon nights live on their website. Then it’s a different ball game!

Darwin Darwin! Beware! The Evolution process is either breaking down or a new species is on the verge of attempted existence. I know becoz I am the chosen one. I have become too hot for my own comfort. Nature can’t keep her hands off me.

To make things more lucid, I will translate. I am being molested by trees! Yes, those things with branches and leaves, not as docile as u think. They have spotted me and are trying to impregnate me against my will. It all started 3 weeks ago. Came Spring (Nature coming in to heat i.e. nature’s horniest moment) she spotted me and decided I should have her baby. This is where the evolution theory is collapsing. Me, the male, is being stalked by nature (trees), the female, and she is the one letting out her minions of reproduction, pollen, and that too lots of it, to overwhelm me by her lust. This deluge of pollen, much like sperm is unleashed upon the world. And some of these motivated swimmers make it to the desired target, me the egg, via my nasal orifice!

I do wonder why does this pollen thingie, meant to reach other trees/seeds or whatever, regard me as a prospective mating target? I have reached the answer; 1: coz I am just too hot, 2: Trees want to start this new species with humans, botanica sapien mobilus. This is their attempt to save themselves from breaches in the ozone layer, and from being chopped down coz you can’t really take down a tree that runs away or puts up a fight! Mmm makes sense!

In the midst of this molestation I show several signs of clinical torment. I sneeze profusely, incessantly, sometimes it hurts, though it feels great when I let it out. And the sound I produce is similar to “aaaoonchchchooooo, aaaooooonchchoooo”, which in gujrati means: I am cuming, I am cuming! So this sneezing event seems to be analogous to the pleasure and pain associated with intercourse, and the translation of the sounds I make justify that nature is good, real good at what she does! A second sign is intense fatigue, well, I guess you do feel tired when you get banged all day, and last but not the least, my eyes itch and water, this is probably my way of showing that I feel used by nature as she bangs away at me without any consideration of whether I am in the mood or not!

But here comes the saddest part, I was ready to put up with all this, even though there are so many trees involved in this gang bang, coz at least she chose me. But recently it has been brought to my attention that I am not the only one!!! She is has been with another, and another, even my own roommate! The bloody slut is molesting half of America. Damn, she gets around! Well, since I don’t really have a choice in the whole matter, I must use protection, I need to go on the pill. My doctor has said that the pill Zyrtec will help me out, and Flonase a nasal spray (analogous to KY jelly) will help ease the pain of the bitch’s attacks on me.

To help myself and other victims of this predatress, I am starting a support group called the Garden of Pollegamy. Feel free to share your experiences on this forum. We shall not go down without a fight! Well, we won’t go down period. She doesn’t deserve the pleasure ;). Be safe and use protection. No means no! And if she comes for you, remember Tom Hank’s movie and scream to yourself, “Run, from the Forrest, Run!”

Just a thought: If date palms let out pollen and I was the victim it would give new meaning to the phrase date rape!

When most people quote their first crush it is a recollection from somewhere between the 2nd grade and the 10th. However, awareness of the opposite sex, that tingling feeling a guy gets when a beautiful girl enters his force field (proximity of an arms length), starts long long before. And btw my force field sweeps a radius of one mile given that I am a jedi and one with the force. (Sorry, saw Revenge fo the Sith last nite and had to incorporate the force into this blog.)

After watching a James Bond movie (I think the Spy who loved me) with dada at around age 5, I was convinced that my purpose on this planet was to get girls into a room and take off their clothes coz the girl in the movie looked very happy when her bra was undone and said "Oh! James, you're the best"! The "best", thats the aim! Attention seeking only-kids want people to love them and to be the best, and if that necessitates taking off millions of bras so be it .... I hope that explains me playing doctor doctor the rest of that year (1985). And ever since that, I spent my middle school years, running after highschool girls, highschool years running after middle school girls, and college years (well we dont talk about college years) And through the years I preached to all my friends that making girls happy is the epitome of heterosexuality, it doesnt matter how many women, but the woman you are with should be the happiest girl in the world!

Anyways, this piece wasnt supposed to be about me so I'll get back to the point. Recently, I have revamped my definition of the Epitome of heterosexuality. I no longer believe that guys who are naturally good at getting women, saying the right things at the right time are worthy of the title. There is a much more deserving candidate.

Meet Rakesh Saxena: 29, working in Los Angeles , for ok …. lets hit a stereotype IIT Bombay, and now working for a hardware company, say Macrohard. Our friend Rakesh never really spoke to girls when he was in high school since he wasn’t born with the talent of starting a conversation. The first time he spoke to the woman he loved (read puppy dog high school crush) was when she tied him a rakhi in the 10^th grade. Oh! that mean day that women back in India used deviously to put an end to men’s secret crushes, the day half the guys of the class feigned sickness and stayed home. Neways, rest of his high school days were spent ogling at women, perusing debonair, playboy, the works, and dreaming of the prospects of meeting women in college. Two years of hammering away at books for the infamous IIT-JEE exams resulted in the honor to grace India ’s premium Engineering College and also ensured celibacy for the next four years. Let me explain why, and yeah, there are a few cute women in IITs but if they are, they are taken, and taken quite a few times if you know what I mean. Girls who never ever got checked out immediately get raised to the status of goddesses and the guys worship the ground they walk on. Neways, so Rakesh spends four years, sitting around in his hostel room with friends bitching about the world over several pegs of McDowell’s premium whiskey. But the world has more in store for them. Virginity is just a temporary phase. Rakesh next decides to change countries to improve his chances, and of course to pursue a PhD in the United States , the promised land, where opportunities present themselves, and the babes are wild (At least so promised Club MTV). Six months later, Rakesh finds himself wearing the tightest jeans ever in a strip club peeking at boobies for the first time. The stories of American babes showering their easy love on him were myths. One Phd and 2 years of job experience later, Rakesh is still clinging on to his cherry, while his mom (who has learnt how to send e-mail) keeps flooding his account with pictures of cherry busters for him. He considers each one of them, smiles at the thoughts of getting lucky, even if mommy brings luck to him, but still hasn’t given up the hope of finding the woman of his dreams. She may be around the corner, on the subway or on shaadi.com or friendster! My friends, Rakesh Saxena, who in spite all the downs of his love life never loses hope and remains loyal to his sexuality is the Epitome of Heterosexuality, unchallenged and unparalleled by any other man. His untiring exuberance and his optimism must be lauded. So all you guys out there, join me in a toast to Rakesh Saxena, the epitome of heterosexuality. And to all you girls, consider this: a smart guy, a solid bank balance, and 18 years of pent up sexual energy to be unleashed on you. I don’t think even a convict on death row could beat that. Think about it!

This blog is a result of a conversation between me and my roomy Vishal about our relentless friends. Please note Rakesh Saxena is a fictional character! at least by name!