I became single all over again, thanks to me and thanks to the stars shining down. So, now please do not come to conclusion and start hurting my self-less inner something by saying “Huh, so what if he wrote on Impressing fairer sex”.

So, I was saying I am single all over again and I am on a hunt. And my hormones are driving me up the wall and ceiling, everything unworthy of climbing upon. And needless to say, I have been ruthless in my quest so far. They say it is easy to impress a man than to the fairer sex, I beg to differ. They say all men need is an opening and all women need is a huge long list with TDH factor on top of the list plus clean-shaven, witty, humorous, should love her dog & bitches and her folks (the order depends on her) and blah blah. I beg to differ once again. Few of us are looking for more than an opening

So, now I am going to say what went wrong this time. She was so gloomy that even cheerful Sunday afternoon got depressing within 3 minutes of her silent presence (absence for me). As if I care much, but something as sexy as her was glum worried me. What about the evening and night after the gloomy noon lemonade my inner something said. So, I took her hand which was toying the front hair and tried to be unadulterated in sounding what-happened-to-my-lovey-dovey-baby. I succeeded nonetheless. What I got to know was that her ex from whom she had separated some 3 months back had sanctimoniously mentioned to her 3 months back while breaking up that his obvious interest in her was nothing more than a physical draw. I promptly withdrew my hand from her and folded it between my legs underneath table. That helped. And at the same time appreciated her ex’s interest. The guy had taste like me. And the next thing which popped up in my mind was why something which happened 3 months back is spoiling her mood which now by that time had assured me would definitely spoil the eventful evening and night.

She was witty and nice and that is why I was seeing her. I find it absurd that a woman can actually have this sight of how sexy she is and held that against her. I found it even more absurd when during the night while lounging in a night club, two healthy heterosexual people sitting over nicely made alcoholic concoction, in a favorable environment of a dark corner had something else in their minds. Me: why is she thinking of what that ex jerk said something which was actually true and she: still pondering over did he mean that? Guffaw. The very idea of going out for a drink opens exciting possibilities for me. Will she be coy? Will she be a bashful repartee to my overtures? Or will she let her loose so that I can take a good care of her? Will she mind my ogling which gets piercing potential couple of drinks down? But there was nothing of that sort happening. Now how much can you give in yourself without getting anything out of it. I still maintain I am self-less but this self-less, excuse me. Get hold of someone else then.

So, in that moment of bizarre histrionics I said the same her ex had once supposedly said. I said the same. All hell broke loose. And I surprised myself by saying if she wants to get out of it she can (my inner something scolded me one last time), but that was that. All I remember next was she walked out on me but that is not to be remembered as her walk itself was one to die for, it was that VBS thing which flashed like a lightening to my drunken eyes. Whoa!!!

Was that intentional? Till that time I had not noticed that thing coming out. For that matter I had not noticed VBS in our history of 7 dates so far. Anyways how does that matter now. That moment I saw that VBS and I was for the first time happy. VBS can be a big put off for us, u bet me. For uninitiated, Visual Bra Strip (VBS) is fashionable, but then please make an effort in choosing a bra color. Do we men or any of your more sensible women friends have to point out that a dark colored bra under light colored clothing is a crime?

Not that I dropped her for this faux pas or something like that, she chose to. And I happily respect that now. Thank you, nice to meet you. I value my sanity too much to be with you. And there is good in the world. Go smell some flowers, get spiritual but do not come back to me and for heaven’s sake do not talk of me to your next beau.

I wonder why? Why women talk of her past to their present? So I am done with it but I am still hunting. Now all I am waiting for is a real her? Will the real she please stand up or lie down? I am already.

Disclaimer: After reading couple of posts by Nikhil hinting to 'What a man wants' and 'Bay of Pigs', I thought of coming with my own version. A kinda continuation to Nikhil's ramblings and sorta dedication to his posts on similar lines.

Question for the ladies here. When was the last time you watched/observed/interacted with a male and felt a throbbing gasp arising within your heart, your half-opened lips gave a pulsating sigh (which of course meant take-me-home tonight), or you had full mind to tear apart your hair or dress? Oh, you taking this long to answer? Never mind. I will lend a hand answering it. A long ago or in few cases never. I m not amused and surprised. As they say they aren’t making those kinds these days. Now it’s all about meet & delete or one night Sits. (a la Mumbai Salsa)

Question for the gentleman here. Did you ever make that happen to any lady? If yes, hats off. If not, read on.

Hard work never harmed anyone and nor did good manners. Good manners are nothing but a general sense of not pissing off the opposite sex complimented with a common sense of clear politeness. Holding door open and rising when lady gets up is all thing of past and so dead now. So now you must be wondering what it is then if not being a typical gentleman. It’s all about your gestures and your seduction style. Suggestive gestures it is all about my dear friend. I know few who still live in the age of queens and look for mannerisms of kings in their men. Fair enough. Hope they get those kinds who would be doing that all their life. But as the topic here is just about impressing women, why should I be talking of impressing any women as if I will be marrying them. Let them first get impressed and things will follow.

So, now at least you would have guessed what I am trying to say here. Dudes, friends, and guys it’s not all that cumbersome it looks. Those taught to death stuff of poetry and chocolate are just in their mind and varies from girl to girl these days. TDH is no more the prime requirement, remembering the names of all her dogs and family members is downright considered invasion of privacy. All they want is someone who can do something which makes them get faint

Walk into a gathering, settle with a glass of chosen beverage (should be pure alcohol if the place demands so, do not go for cocktails/mocktails) and survey the scene to unleash your indicative gestures. Note down few points here:

· Do not get slipshod drunk: if you won’t be in position to locate your own vitals in if-all-goes-well situation how will you locate theirs?

· Do not be I-am-such-a-cool one: If you are into yourself a lot then god only save you.

· Do not stare: stop pretending your eyes possess see-through capabilities.

Be relaxed, just one drink down one and someone who is not gazing at their throat (you will get to gaze at lot more if all goes well). Once you have the subject chosen, focus on her as whole. Women are much more gifted at getting hints than us.

If on a date (doesn’t matter pre-decided or blind), do not ever go by the rule book and do not come up with the regular stuff of first giving flowers, then trying hard to make polite conversation (read trying hard to avoid sexual talks), insisting on footing the bill, dropping her home and giving a peck on the cheek types of nowadays-considered-useless-and-waste-of-time activities. Surprise her instead with something random and inventive stuff. If already met then do something out of blue which she would never have expected. Instead of memorizing the rules think what you are good at, could be anything and do that. Instead of done to death bits and pieces, come up with a matter where her interest lies. Of course you should know her interest as I said you have already met her. If on a blind date, go by the instinct or leave all to her. Do not bother at all in that case. Be at home and let dear mama get you a nice homely one. Come on, if you do not have a good sense of startling, take help.

Now no matter what do not be late which ever type of category you fall into concerning above. They sometimes, ah no most of the times are hard-to-get types. Even if they are not they pretend. Arrey, something should be there to rant about yaar in the next gossip meeting with other girlfriends. And trust me she will be gladder to say that I ditched cuz he was late, no matter if you are next Al Pacino to grace the face of earth.

Those were the situations where either you were on a hooking spree or dating someone. Mull over now hows and whats of general standing situation. This could be anything. You can bump into your old crush or someone who just shifted into your neighborhood or she just got introduced to you through a common friend. I mean any kind of open, sudden, or common situation.

Smell nice always. Yes I said ‘always’. No matter how good those flowers smell which some of you still might decide to carry, if your body odor cannot be differentiated from that of the drainage then you should be banned from making a public appearance of any kind. If muscular, put some brains in those muscles and for god sake do not try to put accented English if you just happen to return from foreign land.

Do not go on ranting of richness of any kind you possess. Listen intently but do not be of adjusting types if she turns out to be the talking-non-stop-nonsense types. We do respect and value feminism but to an extent and then after all what is this equality all about? Is not a date or whatever that follows supposed to be a mutual one? Should not that be pleasant to both parties involved? Not that you are doing some kind of favor to us by letting yourself go out with us upon asking. Even you want to have same amount of fun which we are looking for. Apparently it was you who tempted poor Adam to lose his abode in Eden, and his virginity. I am not sponsoring remorse free sex here but I am also not denying the fact which is when it comes to that we all want to have (s)experience of all kinds.

Now one of those situations wherein you just happen to see each other much better only after hitting the bed. Mind you I am still not discussing what this topic in initial look seems. It’s just about impressing women and this situation could be one, more so in current scheme of life we all live. Yea, so I was saying you both are there and needless I say we all men have this tendency of overriding and showcasing the ever-going strength of our libido. No matter what, do not get caught without the rubber. One, two or zillion drinks down we all men have this hunch of things-about-to-happen and you still turn out a jackass by not carrying it. Forget the morning-after-pill which she in that or in any case might have to pop up but what on earth are you trying to prove? It certainly would make an impact if you carry it. She might forgive you for not carrying it in that moment of heat and passion but what possibly could have been a second meeting is definitely a foregone reality for sure. And dare I say about the importance of foreplay before following the big O (as they say in novels) and much more importance of the instant just after the successful follow-up. That matters too. Do not behave like someone who has OCD of heading straight to the bathroom to fresh up. In this type of scenario or for that matter any such scenario where sex plays an important part when it comes to impressing all three sub parts namely foreplay, the intimate chase of big O and the moment after are equally important.

Am I complex being with split personality? Coming to think of it I might be and might not be. Well, thats not the point is.

The point is I have spoil myself rotten watching movies of all types/genres in last one year. I am talking of world cinema here. Asian, Eurpoean, Latin American, movies from lesser known countries are few which I explored though I cannot say I am even 10% done with them. And I am enjoying them. But, thats not the point.

The point is whenever I gave a quick reviews of these firang movies, the comment which I always got from Smita was "*yawn* What kind of movies do u watch :P". So, I would like to tell her that I am not done with Bollywood. In fact, I can never be done with it and even if I have to, my family won't let me. Cuz we are all filmy, too Bollywoodish. We talk films given any chance. I was brought up in a family that knows more of Bollywood and its intriguing souls than their own relatives. And we don't just talk of Stars/Music/Directors, everything from editing to screenplay to script to cinematography goes under the scanner. We have huge stock of all possible magazines that remotely smells Bollywood since '92. However, thats not the point.

The point is writing on it comes easy to me and I kinda enjoying ranting about/on/of it. So, I came up with a separate blog as I see Bollywood. Hence, the name Oxys-Bolly-Eyes.

http://oxys-bolly-eyes.blogspot.com/

Check it out guys.

Every once in a while, we are confronted with something so large, so magnificent, so ridiculous, that it changes our life forever. Every once in a while, we are shocked into silence (in some cases sexual excitement) by the sheer being of an object, a person, a sentence. It has happened many times to me. Now, that could be ironical. How can be life changed ‘forever’ many times. Get into habit of reading books and you will know. Thelast it happened was when I finished “The Kite Runner” and now it’s again knocking on my heaven’s door with Orhan Pamuk’s magnificent piece of work, “Snow”.

Every once in a while you might have felt that everything has come to a standstill, when you come across something so stupendous, so awe-inspiring that gives the phrase “It can’t get better than this” a whole new meaning. A writer is someone who spends years patiently trying to discover the second being inside him, and the world that makes him who he is. And Orhan is the living example of such writer of discovering that second being inside him.

And I say so based on the fact that the narrator is talking of himself but not as himself but an unnamed alias which could be a friend or anything, something like talking in third person. And as you progress you feel the author has taken a mean to talk of him.

It snows only once in our dreams:
Ka, forty-two years old poet after being exiled for twelve years in Germany returns to a small city Kars (Turkey). Having been raised lavishly in Istanbul Ka knows nothing of poverty and is intrigued to cover the recent events in this city apart from attending his mother’s funeral. At one hand, Kars had fallen into destitution given the political mayhem and on the other hand young Muslim girls were committing suicide.

Ka, as portrayed is one of those moralists who believe that the greatest happiness comes from never doing anything for the sake of personal happiness. But that was not so. The reason to come back was not as mentioned above. He secretly was hoping to find and get married to his old love, Ipek. As he landed, the snow was falling thick and fast than ever before he experienced twelve years before and he remembered a poem he had written long back – It snows only once in our dreams.

Love, Religion and Poetry
Ka meets Ipek. The snow made him lonelier than ever. Ipek was with him but it took some effort for them to strike up a conversation. The only thing they could discuss with ease in those uncomfortable silences was the ‘snow’. Ka told her how he was suffering from writer block and hasn’t written anything in long time. He wants to love her, aspiring of an inspiration from her to write.

Ka meets Muhtar (Ipek’s husband) and the sheikh and fears that the country will sooner than later see the ultimate nail in its coffin being prepared by the fundamentalists. They fear he is an atheist and wondered whether he is apologetic of that.

Ka meets Necip. Necip, who was member of Islamic group and who wanted to become a science fiction writer found a friend in Ka and discussed poetry, religion at length. Ka saw his youth in Necip.

Covered girls committed suicide
Ka also was intrigued about the recent increase in the number of Muslim girls committing suicide. The education institute banned girls from covering their head/hair with scarf and this was not well received by the fundamentalists and also by few girls themselves who willingly wanted to wear the scarves including Ipek’s sister Kadife. Those who did not agree to shedding the scarves were thrown out of school and purportedly committed suicide.

‘Suicide is a terrible sin in Islam’, Blue (Islamic extremist) conveyed this message to Ka while rationalizing the suicides to love affair and not to them being thrown out.

How beautiful the snow was falling?
Amidst all this happening, there was a snow everywhere to accompany Ka. He was given a heroic welcome upon his arrival but soon he found himself in police headquarters for being present at a scene of murder of the director of the educational institute and later catching up with fundamentalists. Yet, nothing bothered him. He was devoid of the silences inside him and felt noises piling up inside which made him write. Poems started coming to him. There was despair in him for girls yet a happiness to see the falling snow around and the ultimate melting of them. There was hatred for the fundamentalists who had brought this country to such poverty yet a love for Ipek and longing for her embrace.

The verdict
Orhan, Nobel Prize Winner, is a master story-teller and here he dishes out the facets of a wandering mind in form of Ka in a restrained manner. You feel sorry for Ka and his state. But he is not for himself. He has nothing but he has nothing to loose either. Ka is shown as an unapologetic person of his behavior and thoughts despite him at times giving in to his head rather than to heart. Nevertheless he has a pure soul who loves the small things around him. The sight of snow elates him and makes him think how short life is as soon that snow will melt. He believed snow can draw people closer by casting a veil over hatreds, grieves, and greed.

Orhan has etched out each and every character in a very emotional way in this 400 pages plus book. You feel getting attached to each of them no matter whether they are idol or criminal in the whole act. Every character has some reference to the snow and showing its connotation by paralleling it to their lives.

As you near end the lives of each of the characters take a leap from the usual and you get to know the real reason the girls were committing suicides. The story delves in aspect (while nearing end) of differentiating between the love and the agony of waiting for your lover, the pain and loneliness which Ka and Ipek endowed to each other, the joy of weeping together with your lover after a long-drawn-out reunion, and the silent gazes at the snow after zealous act of lovemaking that followed.

I warn those who might pick this that the story is somewhat multifaceted and the readability gets complex at times and you need to shun all the noises (both inside and outside ones) to understand the intricacies of this piece.

It was quite an exhaustive read. Anyways, pick it up if you like books of these kinds.

You can hardly find me in a fix. I have been reasonably unambiguous with respect to matters pertaining to me. But last few days surprised me too. For, I have been feeling very sturdy about few things.

Why ‘being yourself’ is absolute no-no?
How come speaking your mind is not welcomed and acknowledged?
How important is it to be courteous all the time?
Is it REALLY worth having certain people in your life who claim to love you and know you the most, which in its totality isn't so?

People whom I love and like have often made mistakes. I agree I am no saint. I made mistakes too. But how often can we allow them to do so? But how long can we tolerate? Can we still love and like someone even if they did something you loathe. I can’t. Is love all about ignoring each other’s mistakes and trying to be almond-coated all the time? Is there ‘Love’ in the first place?

Which takes me to territory called 'Marriage'

Nobody can guarantee that two persons will always be happy together, because people change. When you meet someone, she is one person, and you are one person. One year, two years, or five years down the line, she will be another person, and you will be another person. Now you have two alternatives, if you want you can cling on for the sake of promise you made to each other, though you both know very well you are not happy together. Or you can let go of each other.

The real understanding is when you do not promise for tomorrow. Who knows about tomorrow? Tomorrow may come, may not come. I am against marriage. But never sure till today why was I against it? Now I know why? How can I promise to be with her all the time? Tomorrow I may change, tomorrow she might change. I might find someone else with whom I fit more deeply. She might find somebody with whom she goes more sweetly. The world is vast. There are many alternatives. There are many doors to choose from. Then why exhaust all your options with one person. It is marriage that creates problems. It is marriage that has become very ugly. The most ugly institution in the world is marriage, because it forces people to be false. People change, but they go on pretending that they are same.

How do one define self? Shucks, what kind of question is that? Let me rephrase it. Everyone describes self as they perceive themselves. Aah, not happening. Anyways, the point is considering the current SNS, Blog, and sites of every kinds wherein first thing anyone asked is to fill in the 'About Me' section. My reasoning here is if I know 'About Me', why should I say it there? Doesn't it make sense if you join, interact and let others say 'About Me'? Makes sense. But then virtual realization could be diametrically opposite to that person's real self. So, doesn't it make sense if I fill that section? Makes sense to me. Didn't I just contradict myself. Well, I am Oxymoronic for nothing. So, There I go and rant 'About Me'.

BIRTH

This creature Oxymoronic a.k.a Oxy was born on February 16, 1411 as Eros Adonis. He was born special. Cuz he was born in an ordeal!!!! Satan came all the way from hell to sanctify the baby and took him in his hands. When Satan lovingly pinched the baby’s cheek, the baby slipped from his hands. Every one was about to scream in horror but screams got stuck in their throats with eyes and mouth wide open when they witnessed baby landing safely on the ground on his feet. They all then knew he was special.

POST-BIRTH

It was few days after his birth that he began showing evidences of supernatural powers. He began to walk when he was 7 days old and could talk after 12 days. People already started fearing him. Who wouldn’t, if an infant called you a fat, stinking idiot.

4 days after he started talking he wandered around like a nomad and there on the top of hill he saw a beautiful person. He smiled first time since his birth for that exquisite sight of that beautiful person making a drink with aphrodisiac (for beginners, it is a drink or food that makes people want to have sex). He came within reach of that beautiful person and asked her name. She coyly said Aphrodite with a glance that depicted she was waiting only for him all this while. She offered him half the drink and drank herself the further half. And then they got strangled with the hands of lust. In those moments of definitive bliss, he grasped she was not born as ordinary women were; but tied with silver splendor of foam. Blazed in starry skies; raised from the depths of sapphire seas.

Oblivious to the marching steps of some human, they remained entangled in each other’s arms. That ‘some human’ was Zeus, father of her. He saw Zeus raising his right hand with a sword caught in it. And before he could do anything, he saw her head separated from her torso. All her bright golden hair tarnished with rust; She that was beautiful and fair, fallen to dust. Lily-like, white as snow she hardly knew; She was a woman, so sweetly she grew. He laid the heavy stones on her breast and vexed his heart alone; She was at rest. Peace, peace, she could not hear. All his life is buried there; heaped earth upon her.

Nothing interested him. He departed this life before he could grow up. He devoted most of his time in his dingy study room. He started making things that were of no use for him. He called them his inventions. He first made metallic girl – which much to his annoyance did nothing but spit. Then he made sword made of plastic to kill that metallic girl and fire made of snow to melt the sword made of plastic.

And then he made his biggest mistake. He made a time machine…

THE DEATH

He made the time machine when he was 16 years old and the year was 1427. He called that his best invention ever. He loved going back into the time and meddling with history. He pulled the only leaf, which was covering Eve’s private part. He tickled Dussashan in his armpits whilst he was trying to pull off Draupadi’s saree. He slapped one of Ravana’s face and plucked hair out of his nose from the other face. He drank the Jesus’s wine at his supposedly last supper.

He decided to go into the future only once and that day he died.

He leapfrogged to 1981. He was been born again. Satan was bespectacled wearing some white apron this time and there were few girls who surrounded Satan in white hats. He guessed they were Satan’s secretaries. He took more than usual to walk and talk this time. However, wandering stayed put. Everything was diverse and new-fangled to him. People were rotten pieces of scum in this life as well. His soul was filled with gloomy heaviness. He had no joy in nature, in its people, in their activities.

He knew nothing and wished not to know anything at all. With his machine he could easily go into past and come back to present as Eros, but now he was in future and could not go to past as Eros. Cuz he knew it’s effortless to go into past and come back to present but even more complex to come into future and go to past.

That one day a bee sang out a tune for him and mocked his heart. That it stung him to anguish, so there he placed; self-tortured, self-tormented. And that day he died….