God was Murdered

It was 2006. I was 24. Back in India from Oz after eternity. For the first time I saw the real world & I didn’t like it. Freshly shattered from the divorce with my golden girl who made me believe in miracles. Real life hit me like a tipsy dinosaur  accidentally  stepping on a well-fed fat rich baby. Pulping the kid into a road sign. Gory & gorgeous.    I took refuge in Ahmedabad. I had tons of time to kill. No job or wife & a small bag of dollars to get rid of.  I activated self-destruction mode. What better way to do it than watching Hindi films. After few months of heavy dosage my condition was no better than a crystal meth addict. Bollywood continued churning out atrocious films with clockwork consistency, destroying my soul insidiously. One afternoon I saw a melodic song playing on the TV. A raw, smoky-eyed girl walking around the aesthetic terrains of Korea. I thought another dumb, teenaged, noodle-haired, three-smooches-two-songs Hashmi hero

People always tell us how to do things or how life works. With all due respect I don't give a rat's ass what they think. There's only one way to really know something, it's through experience. And I like to believe that's why we are born (apart from the obvious lack of contraception), that's why we're given this beautiful, clay-like life. To mold, sculpt, create experiences.  To me a true wedding experience is when I have to travel somewhere else. All the weddings I've attended in Delhi have been (barring exceptions) excruciating. I get so uncomfortable that I wish to be chloroformed only to wake in my bed a day later & have no memory of the wedding whatsoever. So, clearly I was apprehensive when I set foot in the train to Firozpur. Apart from my ridiculous fear of being shot on the border because of Firozpur's proximity to Lahore, I didn't know if I will get any space or get stuck in conversations with people that are so boring or b