When you skip while returning home at 11 at night, you've Got to be a happy man.

And it's funny how it works. I bought an NFS carbon from park circus and went over to Vikrant's, and as it turned out, the ruddy cd didn't work on his laptop. But what Did work, was this old Counter Strike cd he found lying around somewhere. All that is cool.

But this is where Magic begins. We set up a LAN from his wi-fi, and played as a team, on the same game, from different computers. You don't understand the thrill this gives you until you see a player named International Khiladi running around beside you and you know it's controlled by some one in the same room. And i suck at computer games generally, and i'm even worse at something like Counter Strike, but who the fuck cares.

And with my newly-acquired terrorist look, i fit into the terrorist gang also.

So bring it on, fuckers and fuckees, Gunmaster Gogo is in the house.

Today, i saw an ad on television where Virender Sehwag says that he'll be going to the stadium to watch the Hockey World Cup, which is taking place in India this year. It's so ironical.

"Dhanraj Pillai, whose career spanned from December 1989 to August 2004, played 339 international matches. The Indian Hockey Federation keeps no official statistics for the goals scored. There is no credible information on the number of international goals scored by Dhanraj. He reckons it is more than 170, but a leading hockey statistician insists it is closer to 120" says Wikipedia.

There was a short span of time when i followed Indian hockey very closely. They weren't anywhere close to the top of the game, but they were an amazing bunch of players to watch. Prabhjot Singh, Jograj Singh (penalty corner specialist who was involved in a car accident and has probably never played hockey since), Dilip Tirkey and Dhanraj Pillai made up a team which made life more exhilarating. This was a time when players were still allowed to charge out from the goal line at the time of a penalty corner. They would get hit on their bodies every second time, and would go back and charge out again, with the same vigour.

Dhanraj was as close as i'll ever get to watching a freedom fighter in a battle. He made one shout and scream at the television set. But such is the state of Indian Hockey.

Quote of the week.

Sion, after bumping into me at worldview while everybody was getting excited about the solar eclipse, said this.

"Arre, solar eclipse ta dekhish na re. Akkebaare safdar theke iqbal hoye jaabi"

Par main toh pal do pal ka raahi hoon ji.

khush rehta hoon, khush rakhne ki koshish karta hoon ji.

hansta, khelta, gaata bandah hoon ji.

aur rahne ki chaahat hai ji.

Arre but at the end of the day, it's all the same shit na.

Nobody gives a fuck. Nobody gives a fuck about what's right and what's not, what should be done and what not. As long as it's all convenient. If i help someone, it's because i derive happiness out of it. I smile at you because i want to smile, not because i want to make your day. Or even if it is because i want to make your day, ultimately it's because even that will make Me happy. Because you see, You are the centre of your universe. And i am of mine.

Some days, you just feel pissed off because they all come and smile and laugh and maaro lyadh, and go back, and you know that's not what you want to do. But you don't know what you want to do either. Other days you feel pissed off because there are people Teaching you what to do, who don't know shit about shit themselves. And then you see other people laugh With them. And it creates this ugly contorted image as a whole. Of a pile of shit. Every single way you can look. And all you want to do, really, is go back to yourself. Because That shit, you can still take comfort in.

And then beer comes to the rescue. But not quite.

Today i saw a dachshund.

Their lives exist till the bonnets of the cars. Imagine. That's so Fucked up man.

Every other day, i find things which change my perspective on life.

Also, i went bald today. Well, almost. One more of those things. I haven't lived long enough to remember the last time i felt cold wind blast upon my scalp. It's something else, it is.

I have a yellow room somewhere, i know i do. I just saw it in my dream, and i’ve just woken up with a start, and i’ve dreamt of it before, and i can see it in front of me. It’s a bright room, with curtains always drawn. It has the softest mattresses which cover my bed, mattresses which protrude from the end of the bed, so that when you sleep, you gently slope and fall to the ground if you start moving too much. It’s how i get up from the dream, by falling to the floor. And it Always has people. Right now, it had buddhadeb babu sitting and writing poetry, no he was drawing venn diagrams, and there was tanmay, and there was someone who was taking a shower, and lots of other people who came in and out of the room at their free will. Before i went to the room i smoked a cigarette with my dad. But that was because i smoked a cigarette with my school teachers yesterday, that doesn’t have anything to do with the room. And the room has fancy lighting, like stage lighting, only it isn’t so dramatic.