Another bomb, another shot,
Another life, what have they got?
Blame time, play the game,
Wash your hands, you're all the same.
Political indecision,
Shrapnel incision.
Hostage scared,
Hardly cared.
Lives saved, lives lost,
Forgotten with every cost.
Move on each day,
Until the next Bomb-Bay
If I could wait, would it be till a new shadow?
Or, will the next sunrise show the way?
Would those fishes come out of the water,
And would the dogs jump in?
Will the monkey wash the dishes and answer the phone?
Would you go back into the jungle?
I guess not, so why wait?
The same sun shows up each day.
The fish are still picky about which bait to take.
The dog still wont part with its fleas without a fight,
And the monkey still does what it does best.
This posted is truly madly dedicated to one of my close buddies: Mojo Jojo. I have been wanting to write this for a while but somehow didn't get around to doing it, since it's kind of hhhmmm bleeehhh, well, you'll see.
During my 5th year in MCC, I used to sleep with Mojo. Ok, don't get excited now. You too Mojo. Don't flatter yourself. I meant we used to share the same bed. Well, that didn't come out right either, but you get the drift, don't you? In spite of me having the luxury of a balcony attached room that was bigger than all rooms, I preferred dozing off in a room that was right next to the toilet. I swear, it was the good company that Mojo was. We used to lie awake late into the night and chat and chat until we fell asleep. Neither of us were too keen on making it for the 8:30am class so we usual slept in and woke up when ever we woke up.
On this fateful day, Mojo realized that he had a very important class at 8:30am or maybe he figured that his attendance was in jeopardy and so made up his mind to go to class. The previous night we followed the same ritual of chatting and dozing off. Mojo wakes up just in time and rushes to do his morning rituals. Thank God the toilet and his room almost shared the same entrance. If his door was open, a first timer could easily walk in mistaking it for the toilet. Anyway, I assume he was in a hurry that day because after he got dressed, he grabbed his books and ran out of the door in a hurry, and guess what, he locked the door with his pad lock, from outside. Either he was oblivious or he was totally nonchalant to the fact that I was still snoring away on his bed. I still ask him how he missed seeing such a huge figure curled up in his bed. Gosh, did I feel invisible or what.
Moments pass and eventually I wake up somewhere close to 11:00am. Oblivious to my fate-to-be for the next hour or so, I walk to the door and try to open it. Uhh, now that's weird. I thought someone had put the latch, which is a common prank. I wait for someone to visit the toilet. When someone does pass by, I shout out, "dude, could you take the latch off please?" His response was, "But there is a lock. Who locked you? Do you have the key?" This is where I panic. I don't think I mentioned before, but what usually wakes me up in the morning, is the need to shit, or pass my excreta, if I may put it mildly. Now here I am, in a room bolted and locked from the outside, and I want to shit like never before.
Meanwhile, my buddy Mojo is totally unaware of what he has done, or what he almost made me do to his room. After some class of his, he decided to come to his room for something. He walks up to his door and notices that it is locked. He assumes that I locked it when I left and that the key was with me. Not for a second did he remember that it was he who locked it and that the damn key was in his pocket and worse, I was in agony inside, totally oblivious that Mojo was standing just outside, wondering where I could have gone after locking his door. Not wasting much time, he quietly slips away to go search for me.
It has now reached a point where I cannot get up from the bed. If I do, bad bad scene it would have been. I think of my options. I open the window and take a peek. It's the top floor, but still I can't be choosy. Relax. The open view towards the road made me drop that option. I manage to stand up and walk towards the door. I kick it, and bang it hard with the glimmer of hope that some guy might want to take a leak and walk towards the toilet and might hear my cries of agony. I bet I would have hated him if he was going for a dump and did not stop to help me. No signs of anyone coming. I look around the room, but this guy Mojo doesn't even have any plastic bags that I could borrow. Not exactly borrow, but I mean, take it. DAMN YOU MOJO. Only option I see is something of a bucket. Ok, there is no water, but so what. I could probably rip off some pages of his Shakespeare or maybe Milton's Paradise Lost. I didn't care one bit. No, I did not consider buying him a replacement bucket later on.
Before the worse happened, I heard footsteps. I was overjoyed and stood by the door and cried out, HELP...HELP....!! The voice from the other end was very familiar. It said, "Georgieeeee... is that you? What happened? Jimmy locked you? Ha ha ha ha ha." It was another close buddy Mawi (whom I slept with in my 4th year). I almost cried while I said, "Have you seen Jimmy? He locked me inside. Find him fast, cause I need to take a dump." I don't think he understood how serious my condition was, because he just stood there and went, "Ha ha ha ha ha... Georgieee, you got locked? Ha ha ha ha." I almost lost it (my temper I mean) and I shouted, "MAWI.....FORGET JIM. GET A STONE OR HAMMER AND BREAK THIS LOCK.....NOW...!!!"
This is where Mawi figured the seriousness of my condition and within a minute he managed to find a hammer or a stone and was banging away on the lock. This was one of the occasions where I was glad Mojo never invested much in the safety of his room, because the lock broke pretty fast, and I rushed out next door, and what happened next was just heavenly. I'll leave it at that. One of those feeling you can't ever explain. It's like explaining to a deaf man what music sounds like. Meanwhile, one of those spectators who had gathered around while Mawi was breaking the lock, was walking back to class and he bumps into Mojo. He stops him and asks him, "What did you do to Divyan? Did you hate him that much?" I bet Mojo was confused but after some explaining, he realized what he had done and rushed back.
If I remember correctly, we exchanged very few words when we came face to face. Mojo had the nerve to complain about his busted lock. I still wonder what he would have had to say if Mawi would not have come at the nick of time and if I had used his bucket instead. Like all things that happen in college, in a few minutes we were sharing a smoke and laughing about it. We still do. We still talk about that incident. We still share smokes and laugh about it, and in case you were wondering, yes, we still sleep together when I visit Bangalore.
Yeah, Maybe I deserve this, and it definitely boosts the id, ego and super ego. So what the hell. After all, Everyone's entitled to my opinion..!!
I want to win, but the problem is,
You want to win too.
Well, it's not much of a problem for you.
There was a time when I could win,
And you would lose.
However, I ended up losing,
And you ended up winning.
It hurt my ego, real bad,
And I swore I would never let you win again.
Now it has come to a point where,
If I win, you win too.
But I don't want you to win,
And I am tempted to embrace defeat, to see you lose.
How can I get what I want,
And not give you what you want?
I hate it that we both want the same thing,
But it was I who changed, so why blame you?
Actually, why does it bother me so much if you win?
Go ahead, knock yourself out,
And while you're at it,
I might win.
It might be too early to pass judgement on how he performs or what kind of image he would maintain. We probably know for sure that he ain't stupid like Dubya and we might see less spoofs on him on Jay Leno and Jimmy Kimmel. For me, Dubya was pure entertainment and I loved him for the fool he made out of himself on most occasions. From most Americans point of view, he screwed up a lot of things. Health care, Industries, and of course his war policy, where he believed the best way to peace was by bombing innocent women and children. I read a comment somewhere that said, "Bombing for peace if like fucking to cure virginity." Rightly said.
