Simbly Bored

all Gyan BIG & small: A tale of two generations

I guess I never wrote in that kind of detail, but I suppose that’s what I sounded like all these months.

Hum bhi agar bacche hote
Hum bhi agar bacche hote
Naam hamara hota Babloo Dabloo
Khaane ko milte laddu
aur duniya kehti HEPPY BARDAY TO YOU…

We’ve grown up now. And songs like that no longer seem to suffice.

But that’s how simple some things should be. A paper cap, lots of smiles, some cake and a balloon in the park.

Happy Birthday Bhai!

I may be growing old, but, as always, you’re leading the way…

DISCLAIMER 1:
I’m not a cultural queen. I don’t know much about the ballet. But I do know that it’s supposed to be graceful

Disclaimer done with, let me see, how do I say what I want to say?

Hmm… let’s start here… Will try and say it in Drunk Ford Prefect style:

There’s this chick, see. Yes, now I remember. There was this chick. Neat? {imaginary audience: very neat}. No, that’s not the neat part. Now I remember… The neat part is, she was like me. {imaginary audience agrees: very neat}.

But then, something happens. She decides that she doesn’t like being herself after all. She decides she doesn’t like being herself. She doesn’t like me. She loves some people. Admires others. But hates them for the exact same reason. Something eats her alive. You can definitely see that. It’s like watching a silkworm eat a mulberry leaf. Eat eat eat till it grows fat and bursts. And you wait.

It grows bigger and fatter. It wraps itself in its nice cocoon. Neat? {imaginary audience: very neat} Ah, but that’s not so neat! Coz she falls in love with her cocoon! {imaginary audience: awwww, but thats nice!} How can that be f***in* (this is a PG rated blog no violence, minimal sex and marginally abusive words) nice? It is not nice. Because there are all these people waiting outside. Some out of patience and some out of curiosity; some out of compulsion and others out of sheer proximity. And they can see this chick (sounds better than pupa) sleep! She does not want to come out of that cocoon, dig? (learnt that word from Ford Prefect)

And people are waiting, man… (again, Ford Prefect)

It’s obvious, it could die trying to come out, it could die before it learns to fly, it could die eaten by a predator waiting… it could die if it comes out! {imaginary audience: gasps appropriately}

Morons! staying in is not the solution. Coz you see, if the little thing doesn’t come out of there, it’s surely gonna die a sad, constricted death…

Tragic or not, it all seems scripted with the grace of a brilliant ballet (got to work the title in somewhere…:P)

DISCLAIMER 2:
There are no characters, there is no story, there are no dead or living people who should take offence at this.