When I came to know that Mumbai is the setting of this fake-favoritism, I felt a real senselessness all through my wits.

First of all I prefer serials at the death of my likings and now another reason that provoked me to put forward my emotions here.

If you have those two words called Common Sense, you must have already realized the wacky, fanatic experiences of the serials, baked out of these kinds of soap production houses. What else are there, other than the extremities of religious duplicities, superstitions and the clear sale of Sexual Overdoses, all neatly packed behind fanciful family scenarios? Yes, now there is one more thing, religious impeachment in terms of career and business!

And you are eligible to eat the brains of the public once your Kundali is matched with this great Mother of Soaps! And you are not, if your Kundali doesn’t match!

Nowadays the television is stinking. Just like how a Refrigerator stinks with old food!

Technically, the reason is the same. Instead of old foods, here there are tedious television shows and serials, which stink of fermentation from one another.

All the serials are almost the same, except their names and characters. The locations are the same posh dwellings in the metros, which boast of luxury and materialism through a big mouth. What they carry on is the most unrealistic and unholy sarcasms supposed to be happening in the pretty Indian life, dragged from one tension point to another on a daily basis. Yuk!!! What a mucky mockery on the public face?

And on the other side, there are ‘talent’ shows. Young and fresh fools are picked from various parts of the country and presented on a stage as if it is a ‘fancy dress show’. The appreciation goes for not their real talents, but for other factors like how smart they shake their asses, how well they ‘behave’ with the anchors, or even how dare they are at dressing! In between these hullabaloos, the real talents are being kicked off!

And you, the common man, are royally fucked!

You sit on your muddy floor and starts weeping! You believe what you see. You clap at their sweepstakes, at your own expense! You switch on your cell phones and finish the petty balance by voting for your favorite ’stars’. But you don’t realize, you are being cheated! And till then, this article will not be read & commented, I’m sure!

Well, but you remember, your emotions are being raped!

The event will take place on Saturday 30th September, starting at 11 .00 am, and will take about 2 hours.

Reporting Time- Between 10:30 a.m -10:45 am

VENUE: R.D. National College

Address:

Meera Watumuli Auditorium,
Linking Road,
Bandra
Mumbai – 400050

A Rickshaw driver is my hero today. I just got him yesterday from Andheri. I had to go to Santacruz.

‘I have to reach Santacrus urgently’ , I told him.

Unlike most of the other drivers, this guy has got me through the shortest distance possible, where traffic hardly annoyed.

At the end, the meter read 40. I gave him 50 bucks and he returned 11. By this time, the meter had jumped to 41. I gave him back the 1 rupee. With a pleasing face he hesitated.!

‘39 is the exact fare and you already gave me that’

Amusement widened my eyes, though there was nothing to be amused so much. But hearing something like this, from some one like him had a special charm of itself!

Now I’m happy because I got him to take me to and from my office every day.

I have got gladdened after witnessing an incident last week.

As usual, Sri Ganesh Chaturthi and Mother Mary Feast came together. Above these two, there was a celebration of unanimity between the two communities.

As the Church of Mother Mary and Temple of Lord Ganesh are situated nose-to-nose, believers of both stood close to each other, facing their respective divinities. But what has surprised me is that, whenever there was an open prayer in the Church, the temple loudspeakers would be shut down so that there wouldn’t be any clash. In the same way, the churchgoers would soon finish their open prayers so that the others could continue their hymns through loudspeakers. This used to happen several times a day and most surprisingly, without any prior agreement!

It was really a feast to the ’socialheart’

And whenever the prayers happened to be uttered in both the shrines at the same time, what came out was an amalgamated, inexplicable blend of devotion…may be something the God really understands.

Now let me tell you.

The Saturday brought enough crowds to the Infinity Mall. After a small shopping, I came out and stood in the bus stop just opposite to it. I had to go to Santacruz.

The two girls standing in front of me were quite modish, though they reflected a kind of haziness somewhere, somehow.

There were a large number of people in the bus stop also.

A bus to Santacruz came and without much selflessness, I got into it and could only move a little inside it. I could see a dozen and more people were trying to get in, including those girls. Suddenly one of the girls snatched the hand purse of a lady, who was suffering to get into the bus. And the two girls ran into two sides of the roads and disappeared.

The irony was that the lady did not realize it. Though I made a yell saying that her Purse was picked, she coolly got into the bus. It was then she came back to the reality. But there a nothing much to do, as the crooks had already done their job.

And this is my request to each and every Metro Blog readers. You can be a shopping freak, a dreaming bird or an ideal idol. But at times, you have to be extra-cautious. Be very careful about what you are doing, where you are standing and when you are doing so.

ESPECIALLY DURING THIS FESTIVAL SEASON, BE VERY CAREFUL ABOUT YOUR VALLETS, PHONES, WATCHES ETC.

Yes, the Miracles happened in the last few days were really done by Gods!

Because, when you go out of your senses, nothing will stop you. Even God’s can’t.

So, the Gods have made a plot. When you drink these gloomy water turned ‘Ambrosia’, naturally you will be taken to the hospitals and at least for that sake, you will remember the Gods.

(Otherwise, I must say, this must be a brutal plan to clean up all the creeks in Mumbai!!!)

Mumbai is looking so haggard.

Very slight roads but soggy and full of dirt, water a lot but unfeasible and undrinkable, people so nice, but disturbed and disorganized. Too much of spits, shits and litters. Hundreds of ‘Work Under Progress’s. Are we really progressing?

I think it’s a sad fact that we couldn’t do anything much to the betterment of the city except a few construction hullabaloos. Or whatever has been done so far is not so well-worthy of a comment. And this same bloody fact warns us that there is nothing more to do here other than just plopping up some huge dwelling apartments or multi-membranous shopping malls. Because the city is too packed up and feels like a rigid place where any further movement is impossible.

The city needs a complete revitalization. Otherwise the city will soon saturate to a clueless-lifeless-tomorrow. Life will feel boredom here.

The Govt. can’t do anything alone here. There are people who have grown beyond the governments! Sure, they will protest! So what we need is not just a Government, but a DECISION, a strong decision to start moving or make movements. Every Mumbaikaar should take that decision, I mean, a verdict to revamp our beloved city.

‘Bear with us for a better tomorrow’ one of the boards say. But will that ‘better tomorrow ever come’? I hope so. Like you.

This is what I meant worthless.

In the latest days, there was an Art Exhibition, Tits, Clits and Elephant Dick, at Jehangir Art Gallery, Kala Ghoda. The Exhibition was meant to depict the commercialization of sex and spirituality in the current stream of life. It proudly displayed how important it is to understand the self within oneself for a better understanding of one’s own sexuality. It was not an aesthetic outcry of the art today, but was a neat reprisal of the suppressed humanoid emotions.

But it was eclipsed for breaking the moral horizons. Most of the idols were given a cover up. Something which is meant to cheer up the moral apprehension is brutally outshined by the characterless moral prudery. Loathsome.

This is what I meant pretentiousness.

Sex is a taboo in India or it has become like that. The very word ’sex’ itself is enough to turn the heads back. Parents are worried to tell their kids about it and kids are confused and trying new means to find it. Teachers ‘hate’ the word itself. Students are segregated in schools and colleges based on their sex. But day after day, sex-related crimes are increasing. Nights are becoming the hot shops of anti-natural sexual undertones. Media look pregnant with stories of rape, abuse and other sexual imputations. Streets, vehicles, parks and even one’s own home are not safe.

But why is it so? The only reason behind all these commotion is the suppression of this most universal sensation that is as wide and wonderful as life itself. Since normal communication and friendship between a boy and a girl is hindered by social taboos, the two sexes live in two different worlds and suffer from a great communication gap. What we perceive as crimes and problems are just side effects that happen due to these unfriendly outlooks. Human sexuality has always had a darker side, but it is truly the need of the time to have an in-depth look at this forbidden pleasure and how it fits into the strange, wonderful spectrum of human life.

After all there is this most painful fact. Slaughter of Art.

Art is not life. That’s why art is called Art and life is called Life. But art can be life at times. Or it has to be. Otherwise there is no Art and No Life.

Whatever, these billboards are the tongues of a new penchant in Advertising; 3D. I have found one at Haji Ali and another one in Mahim. Quite exciting than the plain billboards, isn’t it? Anyway, I plan to have a word with its creators, so that I can tell you more on this.

After meeting a guy in the Yahoo Lower Parel office, I went to a nearby Fresh Juice Stall. From the menu items recited by the waiter, I picked my favorite, Mango Milk Shake.

Ji Saab Thoda Rukhiye.. (Please wait sir) He told me.

I saw him jumping here and there with a little uncertainty across his face, and he disappeared for the next ten minutes. Then he appeared with the Mango Milk shake.

With the first sip, I felt something strange on my tongue. ‘No, this is not the Mango Milk Shake I wanted.’ With one more sip, this strangeness reverted to a kind of nostalgia, which reminded me of my glorious days with my father who used to buy me the blissfully tasted ‘Mangola’ whenever I used to go out with him.

I looked into the drink once again. The real shake came then. Instead of a real Mango Milk Shake, he poured in some local mango drink and a scoop of milk powder. Mango Milk Shake or Mango Milk Shock?

Anyway, with a fresh sip, I concluded that it was a Mangola Milk Shake.

I just called up the waiter and asked for the bill. He said 40 Rupees. Great entertainment! 8 rupees Mangola + 2 rupees milk powder = 40 rupees Mango Milk Shake. I couldn’t help asking him, ‘How many Mangolas’ have you poured in?’

He did not have answer for that, but had a solution; ‘Sir please gimme 25 rupees only’. Ceasefire! He made a new bill.
(By the way, guys this can be a great advertisement for Mangola)

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