With my eyes wide shut ...

I am an Indian ... have always been one. But then, I did not always see things like they were. There's this beggar on the street - I throw him a coin (not always, that) and walk on. The next moment, it's out of my mind ... there are always better things to think about - the movie version of the Hitchhiker's guide to the Galaxy ... that girl I have been getting friendly with ... the reporting assignment that's due tomorrow ...
Funny how the mind always manages to delete the more unpleasant aspects of life from our memory ...
I saw Swades just yesterday ... and, God forbid, it made me think!
What's it about? A non-resident Indian scientist who works with NASA comes back home to meet his elderly governess...and then he sees stuff like poverty and hunger and finally decides to stay back.
Very true, it would take an outsider to actually understand what goes on over here. We better-off Indians - we have seen so much of this thing that we have literally become immune to it. We see impoverished people but don't give them anything more than a second glance...
Why? Hey, we got work to do ... trains to catch, appointments to keep, movies to watch and people to meet. The occasional coin we drop in the beggar's bowl gives us a clear conscience (Wow! My good deed for the day ... getting a step closer to the promised land now!)
And I ain't doing that good either. I remember the time when the tsunami struck ... there were these massive waves hitting the shores, snuffing out lives and rendering people homeless. We newspaper dudes? We were sitting in our air conditioned offices, admiring photos that had wailing mothers kneeling over bodies of dead babies, all the while muttering in awe, ``Man! What powerful pictures! The pages are really gonna look terrific tonite...''
But then, that's what our job demands from us. Bad news is good news. We wouldn't mind Jupiter crashing onto the earth as long as the news sells a few copies more.
Remember that famous picture that had a vulture waiting on a baby in its death throes? They say the vulture won, the photographer got a big prize for it and later, comitted suicide.
God bless his soul.
Funny how a movie can put you in such a sordid mood..n make you post such sordid stuff. But, like they say, life's like that but it could certainly be better. Don't know how... don't ask why...but it certainly could have.

THE ULTIMATE QUESTION: Life, the universe and me

Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror. Laugh. And think, Heavens, God did make some really weird creatures, didn't he!
Really, life, for me, has always been quite eventful. Don't want to sound like I'm complaining but ... well, sometimes I think it could have been a little more drab. Then I wouldn't have had to walk around with scars all over my body :)
Non non, I haven't started looking like Chuck Norris just as yet but ... the way I m going, I would look much worse than a soldier who has spent fifteen years in a Vietnam forest on a lizard and grasshopper diet.
But its been fun. A lot of it. I should be happy. Coz I m really going to be entertaining my grandkids, if I live to be ninety-seven (a gorgonzalatic question mark here).
I was born on a dark night of 1979. And dark it was ... especially because the lines were down and the hospital was a little to cheap to install a decent generator.
A nurse had smiled (pretty one, I guess ... but at that time, I was too busy being born to notice) and said, This guy's gonna become a bat....
And today, when I think about it while I m typing away at my computer at 2:00 am in the night, I smile. And wonder if that nurse had a part-time job with a crystal ball and a black cat.
Really, the last time I had this crazed doubt that maybe I was sprouting bat wings and becoming uglier... I asked a friend of mine about this and he laughed, Hey ... you got nothing to worry about: You can't possibly get any uglier and well, if you do sprout bat wings ... you will stop crapping about how much fuel your stupid bike swigs...
Yeah, I said, and I will be ramming myself into the empire state building then ...
But well, there have been times when I have felt like Superman (like the time I was riding the bike) and then ... something has to happen to convince me that I m not invulnerable by a long shot.
But again, I m not complaining. God couldn't have put together a better package for me (But... well ... he could have included R in it)
I been to a lot of places in my life; twice to the clink. And now, I got a lot of cop frens.
Well, once was when I got into a train compartment that had something funny scribbled on the outside. The graffiti was in Tamil, a language that is as old and stupid as the dinosaurs (and I don't know why the @#$* it did not die along with them).
Anyways, I got into it and the train started on its way. And I looked around ... to find that I was surrounded by hordes of pretty women - all looking at me with eyes the size of coffee mugs.
Uh..Oh! Is this a ladies-only compartment?
They nodded - pity writ large on their faces. I grinned my clumsy grin and looked around for ways to escape. But I had no choice : The train was running at 80 miles an hour already.
Jump? Non, non. Better to die of embarrassment than a shattered hip-bone.
The girls were starting to giggle. The red of my face did not match the blue of my shirt. So I chose to hide it.
The next station was drawing closer. I held my breath ... Ahaa ... at last this nightmare's gonna end!!
Mouthing a silent prayer, I jumped out as soon as the train stopped ... right into the long arm of the law.
Three cops stood silently, their expressions queerly resembling that of the ravenous bugblatter beast of Traal.
One of them pointed at the strange words scribbled on the compartment - which obviously said: Ladies only.
Man .... I can't read Tamil. How could I possibly know what's written..., I stammered - realising only then that none of the dorks knew English.
I spent about two hours in the clink - enjoying the company of hooligans with broad shoulders, ugly tatoos and bloodshot eyes - until one of my frens came and bailed me out.
And that was how chapter one of my life ended. And how Jimmy the cute li'l baby became a criminal.

Helpless

(Sometimes I get the blues - which is when I start penning poems. And here's one of my more sordid creations)

In the space betwixt the heavens,
And the blazing fires of hell,
Stand we - creatures in black,
In silent wait for the tolling bell.
Options are all we have,
Gambles are all we take ,
One wrong step and we tumble,
Straight into the heart of the fiery lake.
'Believe in God'they say,
'Believe in God and thou shall be free'
I sigh and try to put my trust,
In Someone I cannot see.
But I can't change how I am,
I can't change how I feel,
Guess I should just step out of my room,
To fool around and have some tea.




Copyright ©2005 Jimmy Jacob

When I went `bump in the night'

It was a hard day's night and I was as sleepy as a log (not to mention as hungry as a hog) and I really wanted to get back home to my cozy little bed... and well, the leftovers kept in the refrigerator.
Dame luck had been positively grinning at me throughout my office hours and I had made a reasonable cute little page for the newspaper I work for ... the News Editor had complimented me (for once) and all was well with the world.
I had no idea what a bitch the stupid dame could be sometimes. Coz that's what lady luck is. Smiling like Pocahontas one moment and smirking demonically the other.
So I jumped on my trusty ol' horse (that's my cute li'l motorcycle) and took off through the streets.
It was 2:00 am in the morning (that's when my office lets me out), there was a cool night wind blowing across town (well, mine's actually a city .. but town reads better. heh) and I was in lovely spirits. And as usual, there was a good ol' tune reverberating in my head (think it was Lucille, Cant remember) and I was positively feeling like Superman.
I pumped up on the gas and my bike purred satisfactorily in return. Wow. And like the wind I flew, beyond all cares, sorrows and whatever else plagues 'em poor mortals.
There were no policemen around, no jaywalkers to make me ease my pace ... and no Shain behind me to yell: HEY HEY ... YOU GONNA GET US KILLED, YOU MANIAC!
I closed my eyes, feeling the wind beat against my face ... the ground rip by under me ...
Something had to bring me back to earth. It sure did, and how!
It was a barricade; something that the idiot traffic cops in my city keep on the middle of the road to slow regular speeding dolts and kill the more drunk ones.
I did not notice it until it was too late. And too late was just about three seconds before I took a shot at Davey Jones' locker. The barricade was a long iron piece of wrought iron, about five feet in length and four in height. It was a dirty yellow in colour and there were large letters in blood red painted on it: PLEASE GO SLOW. SPEED KILLS.
Nice advice. Right. But I got it quite late in the hour, you must admit.
I hit the barricade with a dull thud and for a moment, everything went blank ... and then I could feel myself flying.
Flying, yeah. But not the way I wanted to. I was superman for about five seconds, until I found myself hitting the ground with a muffled splat.
Amd there was my dear ol' horsie .... scraping away from me at fifty miles an hour, lighting its trail with sparks.
The world was spinning around me. The stars were not shining that bright anymore, the cold air seemed more annoying than romantic.... and the barrier was slowly tilting - losing its balance... and about to fall on me.
With the last of my energy I jumped out of the way and the dumb piece of scrap metal came crashing down ... right where I had landed.
Reality took some time to dawn. Ask my friends, I m slow (and they kinda remind me about it all the time) but on that very occasion I was acting like I had finally lost my noodle. I crawled my way to the side of the road and squatted like a dummy, looking desolately at my poor ol' vehicle - tough boy that it was, brought to the ground by a discoloured piece of metal and an idiot who mistook himself for Kal-El.
A couple of cars whizzed by, scarcely interested in whatever circussy stuff I seemed to be putting up.
Finally, I found my bearings and pulled my bike back to its feet. A large dent featured on its left side and paint had peeled off from quite a few places. Me? Even my bruises had bruises.
Tamely, I sat on it. The engine purred back to life and the headlights came on.
It was alive. Wounded, maybe ... but alive, nevertheless.
I mouthed a silent prayer to God and started off into the night again.
A lot slower this time, though.

A bird, a plane.... or is it just me?

``Jimmy! How are you ever going to get into a second childhood when you don't get out of your first one?!''

This happened last week. My dad was the one doing the yelling and his victim was little ol' me - doing something as harmless as reading an Incredible Hulk comic.

Can't blame him ... I mean .. how would you feel if you had a kid who worked someplace as serious as a newspaper but came down every vacation just to laze away his hours with Spiderman and Wonder Woman?

Can't blame me, either. Coz I just happen to love them guys in tight nylon and colourful underwear - whether they are saving damsels in distress or reducing whole cities to rubble with huge swipes of gigantic green hands and HULK SMASH!! war cries.

And many a time have I sat and wondered which superguy I would like to be ... and for some reason, Spidey has always been my hot favourite.

Mebbe its because I am a journalist, just like ol' Peter Parker. Or mebbe its coz I have an editor who bears an uncanny resemblance to J Jonas Jameson (especially when he roars at me with his mouth wide open). Or mebbe coz I have also lost a Gwen Stacy from my life (though I guess this one did not go tumbling from the Washington bridge).

Or mebbe ... just mebbe it's coz my wildest fantasy is to swing from skyscraper to skyscraper leaving loads and loads of gooey webbing in my wake.

Superman? Naah! His might be a pretty boring job... fighting green aliens, grovelling under rays of ozonised kryptonite every other day and last and worst of all, telling idiot schoolkids to avoid littering the place with chewin gum wrappers.

But really, the big blue is a bit too nice, a bit too perfect and a bit too invulnerable. Nothing nutty about him - so unlike me, so unlike anybody I would ever like to be. And there are times when I actually wish that Brainiac wins a bout, for a change.

But what really beats me is why Spiderman curses life as much as he does. C'mon, he's got a job, he's got webbing, he's got Mary Jane and he's got funny guys like the Green Goblin and Venom keeping his life from getting too boring.

Someone help me on this one.

Genie in a Basket

About three months ago, I became an uncle. And guess who was responsible! Well, thought I should put the li'l chimp in my blog - lend it some colour and stuff.

HOME AGAIN ....

Last year’s December was my worst ever.

The days were going slow … the flowers seemed to be having a good time frowning at me and … more importantly, I had come down with a hell-of-a-monstrous writer’s block, which had made me distance myself from blogworld for quite a while. Later, a good friend of mine - S – had left for some greener pasture, abandoning me to a very lonely feeling.

Thought Santa Claus and his merry season would change all that.

Wrong again. December 26th brought with it a gift that nobody would have expected: a gigantic tsunami that came, conquered and snuffed out thousands of lives. The survivors, including me, were left with a feeling that was not very Christmassy…

I just needed a break. A 200-mile journey back to my native place. To meet my folks. To play around with my cat. To watch HBO 24-7. To indulge in the joy of stuffing myself with food without having to pay for it … heh.

I am writing this from home. Mom’s watching something on TV and dad is out there, feeding the goats (Oh, didn’t I tell you – they are the new additions to my dad’s assortment of farm animals). And there’s a big crow sitting on my windowsill and the stupid bird does not seem to know the meaning of SCAT!

My house’s located in a quaint little country-side, with greenery all around and a cute little stream that has little fish jumping in and out of it at regular intervals. Little wishing wells dot the scenery and if you look closely, you would be able to see little brown pixies jeering at you from beneath the leaves.

Well, kidding … really. I have never seen any pixies – at least not when I wasn't drunk. But pssst, let me tell you this, GOBLINS exist! If you don’t believe me, come over to my office and take a look at my boss sometime.

And right now I am living the good life … I wake up at seven every morning – coz my dad insists that I accompany him on his morning walks. My mom has me eating my fill and though it’s been only four days since I reached here, I am already stouter. So, really! Life's going just perfect for me - which is why I don’t know what else to put in this one …

There are no tough policemen here and there ain’t nobody in particular to mistake me for a plumber. My hair’s grown back (well, most of it, anyway) and people don’t refer to me as a bogeyman here – in fact, they all know me.

And I still have a few more days to enjoy myself – before a train takes me back to the big bad city, where I would find lots of stuff to curse (and later, blog) about ... AHAAA!