There was always a subject on my mind which I wanted to elaborate while doing nothing. A subject very close to my heart. Okay ladies and not-so-gentle men, hold your breath, the subject is ‘nothing’. It’s quite an elaborative subject on which reams could be written, provided someone is doing nothing. But then, everyone is doing something or the other, but when poked, the ubiquitous reply that comes instantly is – ‘nothing’. And to further buttress their claim, they’d even yawn. Years of histrionics can deceive anyone, you included.

I usually read a lot (show-off), and collect words. So the words which I don’t know (I don’t know many words though, to be very honest) I jot them down in a diary and use them in my stories or writings so that once I use them, I’d remember them. So in case you find somewhere a word misfit to the sentence, please excuse me.

So talking about nothing, few days back I read there’s turmoil in an unusual ‘wintry’ Mumbai. No wonder the temperature surged. But why do they fight? If a certain Thakeray decides something, there are scores of followers to back him, ready to alight buses, shatter panes and fight with cops armed with tear gas (time to get something different now, don’t you think?). Buffoons.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. That’s what I did on the day world celebrates that crazy little thing called love. I went to a mall to shop (for myself, of course) and was amused to listen to a girl crooning in a hoarse voice for her lover who was laughing with the crowd until a whack on his head by an usher made him realized she’s professing her love for him in the sweetest possible way in front of the world (small world, isn’t it?) and would acknowledge if he joins her in a duet. He did the same. I mean sing in a far worse voice. Why? Love yaar. Love ke liye saala kuch bhi karega. Crowd ko bhi pakayega saala, mall bandh karwayega saala, TV pe aayega saala, mummy daddy se pitega saala, phir kabhi V-day nahi banayega saala, bevakooof banegaaaaaaaaaa, love ke liye saala kuch bhi karega.

Sorry sorry sorry. I was talking about Mumbai, and jumped to another paragraph. Now too lazy to cut-paste the paragraphs, let me start again from here only. So, friends from Mumbai were cribbing about the drop in the temperature, and comparing with Saddi Dilli’s winters. I mean, how can one even think of comparing Mumbai’s winters with Delhi’s, even if their temperature goes a tad lower than ours. Dilli is Dilli boss. Ask that Mumbaiya lyricist who penned down the song – “Tadpaye tarsaye re, Dilli ki sardi.”

So I was talking about Valentine’s Day, right? A schmaltz (misfit word, note) like me would any day prefer a photography exhibition, theatre or a concert than crooning my love for her in front of people whom I don’t even now. Not that it matters. But c’mon, why scream your feelings. And why, why, why, I mean, why should I boast about her in my group, saying she’s a humdinger (misfit word, start noticing now), and she is intelligent, she knows me in & out, understands me, is a good company, is more like a buddy etc. I hate pseudos. They all should suffer from Gonorrhea (misfit word again, are you observing?).  

Okay, why is it that the kind of music I listen to is tagged sad? Romance naam ki cheez nahi hoti kya? Does a song should have beats to be happy and romantic? Can’t it be slow pitched? Or if I play songs in a faster tempo, colleagues would again complain that I’m listening to stupid classics. Hell. I spend most of my time in office, and it’s very natural to listen to songs I love. Beatles, Buddy Guy, Muddy Waters, BB King, Elvis, Bob Marley, Air Supply, Eagles, Kenny G, Bee Gees, ColdPlay, Eric Clapton, Sting, Scorpions, Pink Floyd, are all these losers? Then how come I become one?

So I was talking about Valentine’s Day, right? Wrong. I was talking about music. Where is your mind? If you are too occupied with something, you may leave, I don’t want anyone to read this crap unless he/she is doing ‘nothing’. Any way, let’s continue on the subject of love! So I was saying, love is like somnambulating (misfit word?). It’s an illusion. Love actually is a perishable item. What stays in your heart is romance. So better be romantically inclined than be in love (something Baba Ramdev don’t ever tell you, nor would Osho). Why break your heart and cry tubs? Just romance and feel good. If it ain’t working, chuck it. So the new tagline is – Spread Romance, Not War. Love to me is a by-product of condom and vice-versa (this whole sentence is misfit).

By the way, it’s been more than 3 weeks since I’ve drank!! And been longer since I drank apna Budhha Baba (Old Monk, how many times I’ll have to tell you, you don’t read my blogs regularly). Saari baat ka lollypop yeh hai that I’m not writing all this in a drunken stupor. Had nothing to do, so I wrote ‘nothing’. If you have something to do, go do it, and if nothing, then read this post thrice.