Saturday, July 11, 2009
Fold
They say in each session of poker, of all the hands you play, there are just three defining hands. Three hands that make you. Or break you. Three hands that you remember the next morning. Or the morning after that. Three hands that earn you respect. Or sympathy.
This is one of those three hands.
Once in a while you strike pocket aces. You raise pre-flop and the opponent folds. You win the blinds. But deep down you know you've lost. You check pre-flop, play the waiting game, and the opponent strikes gold on the flop. He raises. You re-raise to check if he's bluffing. he re-raises to assert that he's not. you know that it's time for you to fold. But the pocket rockets are too damn enticing.
This is one of those hands.
At a different table, at a different time, I would have gone all-in against you with the same hand. Gone all-in. And won. At a different table. At a different time.
But today I'll fold.
This is one of those three hands. For both of us.
So I'll fold.
Without waiting for the river card.
I'll fold.
Knowing that this is one of those three hands. Where I earn your sympathy.
And probably your respect.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Sunscreen
Stan: Dost mujhe log ye kyun bolte hain ki thodi energy dikhaao job mein?
Kyle: Mardaana kamzori hai kyunki tumko
daryagunj mein sablok clinic hai
jaa ke ilaaj karwao wahaan pe
2.35 PM
Stan: ajeeb aadmi ho yaar tum
Kyle: apna ek proff tha...retail management ka
chandwani
usko bhi thi
fir wo ecstacy kha ke lecture lene aane laga
n that changed his life!!
2.38 PM
Kyle: all the dope....it has killed all the buffoon blood cells in ur body
Stan: hmmm
thats true
2.41 PM
Kyle: dude when u're drivin slow on a fastrack, cars will always honk at u from behind
Stan: yea mate, thats there
Kyle: so either change the track
Stan: good analogy
Kyle: or increase ur speed
or jus roll down ur window n flash that middle finger of urs to those behind u
2.44 PM
Stan: dude fr the 1st time in ur life u've really killed it!!!
think i'll be takin the middle finger route
2.53 PM
Kyle: hmmm
thats a bit risky, tho
cuz once in a while there'll be a 25 tonner road-roller behind u
n unless u have a maruti suzuki sx4.....rollin down the window might not be the best option!
2.55 PM
Stan: hmmm
Kyle: so this formula aint homogenous
use different strategies for diff vehicles
3.01 PM
Kyle: as they say...
sumtimes u're behind
sumtimes u're ahead
da race is long
n in da end, tis only with urself!!
Thursday, April 30, 2009
subterranean homesick blues - revolution
Sent at 11:53 PM on Wednesday
kule: do u know dylan's history?
Stan: huh nopes....vietnam??
kyle: naah dude
he's a punjabi puttar
Stan: wtf
kyle infact he's the great grand uncle of adit kundra
his real name is booby singh dhillon
*bobby
Stan: dude u gotta b kiddin me
kyle: just like many punjabis of that time (including russel peter's father) he sold his ganne ka khet in jalandhar n went to US
Stan: fuk off
kyle: n changed his name from bobby singh dhillon to bob dylan
just like himess changes his name from rajeev to rocky in karrzzzzz
if u dun beleive it then ask kundra
Stan: jus lik u shd change it to jackass
kyle: kundra still keeps a photo in his wallet of uncle bobby n himself sitting on a tractor n playing guitar
Sachin: :D
kyle: dylan used to be a sardar
hence the long locks
Stan: stop trippin mn u hd enuf fr tonite
kyle: infact he kickstarted the long hair fashion among rockstars
ppl from morisson to cobain to slash owe it to the sardar community for giving the long hair identity to the rock cult
infact dylan, the horny guy that he was...did a lot of shaking round the bush in the ganne ke kheta in punjab
he used to do a lot of screwing in the fields of patiyaala
one of the by-products of this hormonal rage of the dylan guy is gurdaas mann
who still sings in the fields of patiyaala sitting on a tractor
trying to find his illegitimate father
kyle: guess who's the other son?
Stan: u!!
kyle: naah dude
himess himself...who inherited the anal accent from his father:
the bobby
the singh
the dhillon!
lol
lolwltshb
Stan:??
kyle: laughing out loud while listenin to subterranean homesick blues
Stan: dude its the dope in ur blood
kyle: naah dude
tis the fuckin blood in my dope
Stan: :)
kyle: jus like its the fuckin ass in himess'es vocal chords
subterranean homesick blues - reloaded
Stan: hmmm
kyle: http://i-b-t-i-d-a.blogspot.com/
this chat is no more off the record
Stan: :D
kyle: yaar pata hai y i put it there?
not becuz sum1 wud read it
no 1 reads this blog anyway
its just for me
aaj hum atleast ye discuss bhi kar pa rahe hain ki humaari gaand fati hui hai
there will be a time....n it is not far from now
wen our ass will be so fuckin comfortably numb from all the fuckin day in n day out that we wont even realize that there exists an organ in our body called ass
Stan: :D
kyle: at that point in time if i will quote a gtalk chat on my blog then it will comprise of things like car EMIs, home-loans, visit to the dentist, the marriage counsellor n the kids' parent teacher meetings
Stan: hmmmm that day isnt far
kyle: sure it aint maite
the aliens are coming!!
Stan: run like hell maite
kyle: the problem with us is that our balls are chained to a hook of social obligation
so all we can manage is running in circles
running in the corporate fucken rat race
Stan: the problemis we are all ass no balls
kanishk: no
the problem is ki humaare tatte chaahe jitne bhi bade ho jaayein
rahenge hamesha kisi ma ke laude ke neeche hi
Sent at 11:44 PM on Wednesday
Stan: dude im listenin to iron maidn aftr a long time
kyle: dude i've started listening to dylan off late
Stan: hmmm
kyle: infact this status msg is also a song of his
its called subterranean homesick blues
listen to it on youtube
nice song
Stan: oh ok sounds kuul
kyle: the guy has a voice as if he's singing from his ass
but then the lyrics of his songs just hit u where it hurts the most: in ur ass
Stan: :)
now i unnerstand y he sings from his ass
Sent at 11:53 PM on Wednesday
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
subterranean homesick blues
Stan: to main kya karoon???
nachun??
kyle: so i cudn't say u all the best for ur review tomorrow
i hope ur review goes well
Stan: dude dont crack me up
dont even try
kyle: so that u are self motivated to over-achieve ur targets
the next time
n the time after that
so that u can get good appraisals
n then u can buy a good car
a sedan
n a nice 2 bhk apartment on the 12th floor in a suburb
Stan: hmm nw wen i think bout it
kyle: a suburb where self-motivated people chasing the great suburban dream like u live
so that u can marry a decent woman
n then produce good children
who score good marks in school
Stan: :D
kyle: so that 1 day they can become a sucksessful person like u
n u can be proud of them
wen they've disowned u for all ur property n u're dying away in the confines of an old-age home
die mothafucka
DIE
DEE
AAYEE
EE
Stan: fuk in hell mn u do put things in perspective
kyle: have u seen this movie called revolutionary road?
is saal oscar nominated thi wo movie
Stan: nopes
kyle: watch it
ASAP
will help u put things in perspective
it's about a man of above average intellegence
trying to get away from the great american dream in the US of the 60s
Satn: hmmm
kyle: u will relate to the movie
atleast i did
it wont solve any of ur problems
but it will raise sum questions
that will make u think
Stan: watever happnd to life man
kyle: :(
there's no fuckin way out man
i have to go to office tomorrow
on a fuckin national holiday
on a fuckin dry day
there used to be a time wen i din used to go to college no matter what
Stan: brb
kyle: now they sell my ass outside dadar station @ 50k a month
Sent at 11:23 PM on Wednesday
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Grey
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Sweet Child O' Mine in Czechoslovakia
Then there’s this HDFC Standard Life Insurance ad, selling the very same product (some child benefit plan) to the very same target segment. Even the backdrop of the two adverts is same: a young, happy family of the Great Indian Middle Class idling away in the living room on a Sunday afternoon. What distinguishes the two ads, though, is the content. While the former advert portrays the typical Indian dad as a pet-trainer, the latter puts him in the light of a facilitator of learning: encouraging his child to dream big, giving her the wings to fly, to be independent, self-made.
There are scores of other insurance ads playing Morpheus to the married (read confused) Indian male. Like this one. Or this one. Even this one. Youtube is uploaded with 79474587834 such insurance adverts (Okay, I made up this figure. The true figure is actually 546735439 :P) in which the role of the Great Indian Daddy varies from the clown to the ring-master; from the mentor to the meteor. The Uber-sexual Papa is spoiled for choice as never before.
Fortunately, the matter of choice was limited for my Dad. It was either Bata or Liberty. Fiat or Amby. Raymonds or….Raymonds! Just a few nationalized banks. And a single player in insurance: LIC. So my Dad had limited scope for experiment. With life insurance. And my grooming. Pretty much summed up by yet another advert: this one.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Come Undone
She handcuffed me behind my back.
I did not hesitate.
She made me swollow the key.
I never even so much as flinched.
Then she wrapped my head in a transparent plastic.
I gasped for air.
I gasped for life.
I turned red.
I drowned.
I asphyxiated.
I turned blue.
I became numb.
I came undone.
I turned white.
Knowing all the while that the key to liberation lay well within me.
All the while she laughed.
She is a bitch.
Love is a bitch.
So is Mary Jane.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
I Pee Ale!
In the Middle-East, they do hash.
In India, we watch various forms of this game called Cricket!
Monday, May 19, 2008
Time to pick up my bucket and my ass, and work.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Run like hell.
"You'll ruin your body clock this way." I'm tying the laces of my sneakers. "How will you be able to work through your job with such a schedule?" I'm gulping the Tang in one sip. "Don't you think you need to get your life in order?" I'm closing the gate of my house behind me.
Hardly have I started jogging when I encounter this neighbour.
I wish him.
"Hello Beta! How are you? When is your job starting?"
Next month, I tell him.
"That's nice. But you need to tighten up. Look at you! You look like an underworld don in this beard and dishevelled hair. You need to polish yourself up before you start working!"
I muster a frustrated grin and resume jogging. I turn into a lane that takes me away from my home. And I start running. I run. I run like hell.
I could have offered him a million answers, all false. The truth is that I'm a bad person, but that's going to change, I'm going to change. This is the last of this sort of thing. I'm cleaning up and I'm moving on, going straight and choosing life. I'm looking forward to it already. I'm going to be just like you: the job. The family. The fucking big television. The washing machine. The car. The compact disc and electrical tin opener. Good health. Low cholesterol. Dental insurance. Mortgage. Starter home. Leisurewear. Luggage. Three-piece suite. DIY. Game shows. Junk food. Children. Walks in the park. Nine to five. Good at golf. Washing the car. Choice of sweaters. Family Christmas. Indexed pension. Tax exemption. Clearing the gutters. Getting by. Looking ahead. To the day you die.
I stop. I pant. I bend and rest my sweaty palms on my knees. Drops of sweat form on my forehead and drop on the gravel. I pant. I rub the sweat off my forehead with the sleeve of my Tee. I pant. I start running again.
Run. Rabbit, run!
Mr. Mojo Risin?
are you like Jim Morrison? created with QuizFarm.com | |||||||||||||||||
| Are you a Rider on the storm? Well, I certainly am :) This is what my results on the above quiz say : You scored as Jim Morrison Wow you are Jim to the Bone. You are very Out going and
|
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Just finished watching The Life of David Gale. Kevin "Keyser Söze" Spacey has, as always, done a commendable job in pulling off an intriguing plot.
Here are two dialogues from the flick that kinda hooked on to my grey cells:
"Fantasies must be unrealistic. The minute you get something, you don't, you can't, want it anymore. Living by your wants will never make you happy, what it means to be fully human is to strive to live by ideas and ideals and not to measure your life by what you ever attain in terms of your desires, but those small moments of integrity, compassion, rationality, even self-sacrifice.
To exist, desire needs absent objects. So desire supports itself with crazy fantasies...
This is what Pascal means when he says the only time we're truly happy is when day-dreaming about future happiness. Or why we say, 'The hunt is sweeter than the kill' or 'Be careful what you wish for.' Not because you'll get it, but because you're doomed not to want it if you do. Think about it next time you're at a wedding."
And.....
"Death is a gift. We spend our whole lives trying to stop death. Eating, inventing, loving, praying, fighting, killing -- choose a verb. All to stall this evil, Job's 'king of terrors.' But what do we really know about death? Just that nobody comes back. There comes a point in life, when your mind out-lives its obsessions, when your habits survive your dreams, your losses... You wonder, maybe death is a gift."
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Pigs on the wing
And I didn't care for you,
We would zig zag our way through the boredom and pain
Occasionally glancing up through the rain.
Wondering which of the buggars to blame
And watching for pigs on the wing.
You call, I pick up the phone
You talk, I listen
while you recieve another call....from him
I hold the line
cursing the pigs on the wing.
You know that I care what happens to you,
And I know that you care for me.
So I don't feel alone,
Or the weight of the stone,
Now that I've found somewhere safe
To bury my bone.
And any fool knows a dog needs a home,
A shelter from pigs on the wing.
Walk the (straight) line
Stan: ?
Kyle: Never, ever ask her if she's virgin.
And even if you somehow do that, never laugh at her if she says yes!
Stan: Jesus Virgin Christ!
Dude, every girl says she is virgin. What's the point of the question?
Kyle: Hmmm
I guess it's just like us guys, who are never "drunk."
Stan: No. This is different
Kyle: ??
Stan: You can't ask her to walk in a straight line to prove her virginity!
P.s.: never ask your girl if she's virgin, cuz as an aftermath, she will irrevocably bounce the question back to you. And then, if you say yes, you are no good, and if you say no, you are no good!
Monday, March 31, 2008
Hotel California
And did it make me feel good? Man, I felt liberated. I had found liberation in self-destruction. And what better way to self-destruct than killing your own virtual self?
As the soul of my Orkut Avataar rested in peace, I had started living life in it's actuality, discovering the adventures that lay on "the other side" (and by the other side I DO NOT refer to FaRcebook!!), when about a fortnight ago, I happenned to graduate from B-School (now how I manged to do that is yet another interesting but slightly long story which you might soon find at news stands, titled: 4 Point Someone: What NOT to do at a premier B-School.)
That is when the peer pressure started applying itself. How to keep in touch with old batchmates? How to keep old promises? How to know who switched jobs? who got promoted? who bought a new car? and which one? who got engaged? who broke up? who cheated on whom? who.....? who....? who......?
And I succumbed.
Last week I created a new Orkut account.
And Rao was able to capture the essence of it all very aptly in my scrapbook: "Welcome back to the DARK SIDE my son.....it's just like the hotel california..u can check in any time u like...but u can never leave!!"
