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Monday, July 30, 2007

An Apology

To all of my friends out there who read this (and even those who don't)...........

I have finally realized that I have been acting like a dumb jerk all this time. I have been trying to be someone I wasn't, and in doing so, have alienated many of you. I have been trying to be at the centre of things for so long that I did not realize that I have almost lost my true identity.

What has already happened, I cannot change but I certainly can change my attitude towards the world and towards you. I begin by saying a heartfelt SORRY to all of you, whom I have hurt by my behavior.

To all of those who stuck by me, in the hope that you would get the old Rohit back, and made me realize my mistakes, I cannot thank you enough.

I thought the people I hung out with in recent times really liked me, and I did a lot of unnecessary things to keep that non-existent feeling alive. Thanks to my real friends, I have realized that you are a big bunch of losers. To you I only say, "Fuck Yourselves".

P.S. To all those who have read and not understood, refrain from discussing this with me.
Those of you for whom this apology was intended, I am back........

Saturday, July 21, 2007

Ga Ga over Yoga

College has finally started and third year already seems to be a major pain. But I noticed that I was really getting out of shape. I really want to maintain my physique which closely resembles that of a major bollywood star...... yup that's right I am talking about Govinda. (Good Lord! I need to do something fast.)

I needed some form of exercise which didnt take up a lot of time and also one which did not involve a significant monetary investment. So Vineet, who is the best source of news about what is happenning in the Goregaon area, suggested we take up yoga at the nearby gymkhana. To be honest, I was more attracted by the fees of Rs. 550 for a 3 month course than by anything else and I agreed.

As it turned out, we had missed 2 weeks of the course before we joined and would have to work hard to catch up. Strapping youths that we are, it didnt take long. That is, it didn't take long for us to realize we were in deep shit.

Yoga, the ancient Indian fitness routine, has a number of postures or aasanas which can be performed standing, sitting, lying down, pretty much while doing anything. The aasanas are graded according to difficuly level as:
1) Painful
2) More Painful
3) I need anaesthesia
4) Just shoot me and get it over with

Every day, we start off with the Vajrasana, a simple enough posture. We keep saying "Aum" throughout the one hour. The instructor is a friendly guy makes you work hard enough for you to actually dream of a prison camp in Siberia.

The class is full of oldies who looked suspiciously at us when we came the first day. They were under the impression we were misguided and turned the wrong way while we were going for a football game. I looked at the oldies and smiled in self satisfaction thinking that because of my younger age and stronger physique, I would make them look like idiots while I was doing my aasanas. Wrong. Turns out, these guys have already done yoga for years and the ease with which they seem to pull off the toughest aasanas, makes we wish I could sink into the ground.

Each day, we do a different set of aasanas, standing one day, lying down the other and so on. I have been in the class four days and have enjoyed it immensely. Yes it is painful, but as the instructor puts it, "Pain is good".

Hopefully I will survive the next 2 months. Wish me luck because right now, a posture means pain in the posterior. Better still, an aasana is a pain in the arse. Egad!!!

Thursday, July 12, 2007

The PH Level

My vacations are dragging and because I have nothing better to do and am a total waste sometimes, I decided to come up with a new unit of measuring something.

What is the one thing that plagues modern life with all its weird propaganda and irrelevance today? Its the news of course. So now we are measuring newsworthiness.

But newsworthiness is a very complex thing you tell me. How can we define it? And more importantly, how do we measure it? So I decided like all units, we need a standard. The standard kilogram is the iridium bar they have at the International Beureau of Weights and Standards in France. The standard second is the time taken a cesium atom to complete a nasty and huge number of vibrations.

So who is the person who sets the standard for being on the news? I went into a reverie, and was lost in deep thought and .08 seconds later, I came up with the perfect candidate. It is so obvious. The one person whose every action makes it to the news. Innumerable debates start when this person so much as drops her handkerchief (more often her pants). I am of course refering to the incomparable Paris Hilton.

So Paris Hilton is the standard and the unit is now aptly titled "The PH Level".

Now, the comparing begins. Which brings us to Rohit's first law of newsworthiness:

"Every action of Paris Hilton automatically has a PH level of 10."

Now we have drawn the boundary. Because no one is more newsworhy than Paris Hilton, nothing and no one has a PH level of more than 10. Now the question is - how newsworthy is a random event? Which leads us to Rohit's second law:

"The more irrelevant and totally unimportant an event is, the higher the PH level of that event, keeping in mind Rohit's first law and its implications."

So for those of you still reading, it will come as no surprise that the events and people described in most gossip columns and The Bombay Times, will necessarily have a PH Level of at-least 7 (Though this is not a rule).

As a guideline, the following events are described along with their appropriate PH Level:

1) Sienna Miller thinks her neighbour's nephew's pet cat is gay.
PH Level: 8.6

2) Abhishek Bachchan weds Aishwarya Rai.
PH Level: 9.8

3) Militants hold hundreds hostage in Lal Masjid
PH Level: 1.2

4) Mandira Bedi's views on militants holding hundreds hostage in Lal Masjid.
PH Level: 8.3

You get the drift. So if you have nothing better to do (Stop kidding yourself. We are both blogging and you are reading The Dateless Diary. We are both losers. Just accept it) please submit your examples of news and your reckoning of their PH Level*. This will greatly aid my research and help me formulate my theories and further my research on the subject.

*Since Research is in its nascent stages, PH levels might vary slightly. Also, for the time being, PH Level only applies to celebrities and stuff that appears in print or any other form of media.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

The Boss Rules

The other day I finally saw Sivaji: The Boss at infinity. This was my first Rajni movie in a theater and it was simply an awesome experience.

Ticets were 130 bucks. Total rip-off but thats a multiplex for you. I really thought the place would be empty but was surprised to see it was almost full. Even the 175 waala seats were taken. I waited in anticipation for the spectacle which was to unfold.

The cheers and whistles that could be heard when Rajni made his big entry, could have blown the roof off any theater. I found myself clapping and cheering with the rest of the crowd.

The story is simple. Rajni is Sivaji, a computer engineer who returns from the US with a fortune of Rs. 200 crores, with which he plans to open a hospital and college for the poor in India. He is also on the lookout for a bride, a girl who is a total Bharatiya Nari. Someone who sings classical music, knows Bharatanatiyam and all that.

So he tries to get things done legally, obtaining permission for building and stuff but finds out nothing can be accomplished without bribing people. So going against his principles, he bribes a lot of people and gets the construction of his college started.

Now the baddie is Aditya. A guy who is desperately in need of Close Up. He is the owner of another medical college and charges hefty amounts for seats in his own college. So Sivaji's free college is obviously going to screw up his entire business and so he plans Sivaji's downfall.

After a lot of bad stuff happens to Sivaji, he ends up penniless and vows to take revenge and construct his hospital and college.

What follows is an extravagant display of Rajnikanth's trademark style and fights. He kicks everyone's ass and ends up victorious.

There is a sub-plot which follows Rajni's rather hilarious attempts to try to get Shriya, the girl of his dreams, to like him. In this task, he is ably assisted by his uncle Vivek who gets in some good comments and has acted really well.

Special mention should be made about the incredibly hot Shriya. If being bald, 55 and really not that good looking was the price to pay for getting close to this girl, I would embrace my fate gladly.

What Shankar lacks in the story, he more than makes up for in the ambiance and sets. The art director has done an exceptional job in creating the sets for most of the song sequences. Really extravagant and lavish. And of course, he has Rajnikanth, who could make even a pathetic movie like Jhoom baraabar Jhoom a success.

The first half of the movie is all about Shankar, the dialogue writer and the art director, along with the various supporting cast. the second half is all about Rajnikanth. He pulls off the most insane stunts with ease for example the stoppie he performs with a car or the way he does a simple thing like eating chewing gum.

All in all a movie that should not be missed. And all those who still think Amitabh or (God forbid) Abhishek is better, watch Sivaji: The Boss and see your beliefs get scattered among the dust. It is full paisa vasool.

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

Memories of happiness

The wind whistled through the trees as the old fiat came to a halt by the gate. The word "gate", did the rust covered obstruction between the dirt road and the old house a great courtesy.

The old man who stepped out of the fiat, preceded it by almost half a century in age. He was well dressed. But he rather looked like he would be better half indoors. Indeed, it had been several years since he had last driven his car. But he had managed the drive to this forgotten old house. He wanted to see it one last time.

The gate was half open and he walked through it, supported by his cane. As he walked up the neglected pathway, his gaze fell on the ancient mango tree which stood like an obedient servant, on one side of the path.

Memories flooded back, as he saw a young boy with sweets in his hands, being chased by at least ten other children. The boy tried to shelter behind the tree but his pursuers had already seen him. Laughing, they surrounded him and took their rightful share of the sweets.

He had been the youngest in the house. With so many children, there had been no dearth of playmates. His childhood had been one filled with happiness.

The house did not have a door. He gingerly stepped inside, only to be greeted by the dust and grime of decades. Years of neglect had reduced the one grand mansion, to a place where even the homeless refused to take shelter. As he moved through each room, he was filled with a deep sense of sorrow, that he could not do anything to prevent the decay.

He saw the patio where his grandfather would sit every morning, reading the newspaper. "Thatha" as he was affectionately known by everyone, was a grand old man, whose word was law in the house. And he had been Thatha's favourite grandson.

He remembered his grandmother or "Pati". She was a pious old lady who brought him up strictly in accordance with the scriptures.

They had all been very happy. The several uncles and aunts and their children; his cousins, with whom he had had such a wonderful childhood.

Then it started. Each brother broke off from the family to a house of his own. Far away from Thatha. And they took away the grandchildren, the light of Thatha and Pati's lives. His father was the last to leave, and when he left with his family, Thatha completely broke down. He did not live long after that. Neither did Pati.

As he reminisced about the past, he came across the framed photo. Surprisingly, no one had stolen it. It was the photo taken on that Diwali night sixty years ago. The house was decked up like a bride, and it drew envious looks from even the white people in the area. It had been his last diwali with the entire family.

A tear rolled down his cheek as he stared at that memory of a time long gone. He noted with sadness the expressions of utter joy on the faces of his cousins and himself. He looked at his beloved parents, his uncles and aunts and his Thatha and Pati.

All were gone now. He had been the youngest and he was the only one remaining. Time had taken its toll. He sat down cross-legged on the ground whit the photo in his hands and rested against the wall. What he wouldn't give to go back to that time, he thought as he closed his eyes for a brief moment. Outside, the wind still whistled, as darkness crept......

They found him 2 days later. He hadn't moved an inch. At last he was with his family again.........