With every thought begins a new story, and with every story there is an interjection, adjunction, conjunction, beginning and end.. I like to concentrate on the t-junction's.. "Frost: The road not taken" (ref: b - shaadi, 2003).. They make for interesting narratives which get labeled with the term - injunction.. The title being self explanatory, eluding to - for you a thousand times from The Kite Runner is the point from which I was rushing into a tangent..

But I'm misleading you.. This shpeel is about aught else.. Its about vee-hic-als.. Im a lay person.. I do not lay, nay, au contraire (damn with the tangents man!!! :( )

What I'm trying to say is Ami's birthday came and sped by recently.. My gift to him was going to be this bike.. Stripped to its bare engine (like Ranbir stripped to a low waisted hipster /peddle pusher in the Greece setting of Bachna ae haseeno *slurp* *lick*) and then remade and reworked to something unrecognizable.. My specs, my conditions and their engineering.. Much like the war show on travel&living about vintage versus modern day technology on the british biker build off.. I wanted to have made a droooooooool worthy bike for Ami.. It was gonna be a gift more so for me than him.. I love to watch people hop on to their bikes.. I think its ridiculous for people who dissipate into the crowd to ride a bike.. A bike requires a certain kindda personality to go with it.. There is a way you get on to a bike which is more like the first tenet every rider should follow.. The legs need to be posied just so and the leg that needs to drape itself across needs to go just at the right angle at the right momentum in the right frame.. It makes for a beautiful setting.. A moment a cinematographer ought to capture on canvas considering what a glorious moment it is to be at one in the most intimate way riding a machine.. Much like the way a person would hold their pistol or gun.. Its the most graceful thing to watch which is paradoxical considering the noises generated later.. Vinay Pathak can tittilate your mind but you need a Ranbir Kapoor with a slight hitch in enunciations to make getting on the bike look sexy.. I even observe the guys through the dripping monsoons.. I can't help but ogle at what seem like children in comparison to my ripe old age when I see them in their beauteous art ways.. And I imagine Sol in their place and an ageing woman in mine and I feel like slapping the woman leching at my child but ESHTILL!!! wah kya scene hai....

What's actually anda maraoing my bhains recently is - theres this stupid moronic asswipe who lives in my society.. Next building really who has a fleet of cars (well he has 3 AT LEAST).. In a city like Mumbai, he has a white Mercedes convertible, an Audi SUV in silvery gray and a Lexus 470 in champagne.. He makes my insides squirm.. Every morning when Elvis (aka me) has left the building, I have to witness his ostentatious glorifying his stouty rowdy old tired self and flaunting his (wait he has NOTHING to flaunt except for his cars which should ideally be MINE MINE MINE) nonexistence :( Now I don't know this guy from Adam's but believe you me, I hate him from the pits of my heart.. Like I've never known hatred before.. I thought of getting a Toyota Prado in white but he went and got a BMW SUV.. Oh how I loathe this human's existence.. Obese turd.. Be sure to read your headlines in the coming few days.. I have quite a mind to go give him my housewifely cheerful earful to stop flaunting his vee-hic-als in front of regular ole folk like me.. But my feelings toward him are quite unlike what I felt for the guy who I lost my heart to this evening.. He was driving the Boxster.. :( God must truly hate me for throwing the lust of cars in my face and then snatching them away without even dangling the keys in front of me!!

Anyway, a mere mortal such as I, got me a new phone and yes I'm being extremely self-indulgent but its a thing of beauty which I hope remains to be a joy for a very long time.. Keats was quite nuts if he thought anything and I do quite mean ANYthing could last forever.. However, the omnia currently is in my loving stage which seems like forever at least to my rosey eyed view..

But all these are vain and frivolous in comparison to my crush on a true blue chocolate boy for the first time.. He's not a brooder, not one of those silent, dark, weird concoctions of human notions.. He's a regular shmoe but yet - Milton's "Paradise Lost": "To love or not; in this we stand or fall".. Ranbir Kapoor you light up my insides when I see you on screen..

Polarities..

The punishment for incompetence should be decapitation.. Anything less than a full 100% (more would be better) is debilitating to the entire cause of the matter.. I can't stand imperfections.. One strand of almost not there hair left behind on a wax job.. One strand of gray not covered up, one corner of the wall not touched up in the fresh paint job, one line of plaster over the skirting, one strand of hair from the brush on freshly painted nails, one iota of excess salt in the food, one whoosh of liner went wrong (worse when black), one stone on the road that makes u feel the bump on an otherwise beautiful ride, one hospital corner on the bed folded wrong, one wrinkle on the perfect crisp white linen shirt, one wrinkle between the eyebrows growing in size, one vein showing on your feet indicative of .... , one line of dust on the exhaust in the sparkling bathroom, one drop too much of the citronella oil in the burner, one color too much on the boheme kindda clothes, its all a matter of just that one that irates me deeply..

My son takes after me and every toy has to be placed in the same exact spot in the same angle manner fashion it was before he took it out.. his clothes need to be dust free and smelling fresh off the *press* (ironing is called pressing out here.. go figure?!) even for his birthday party, with the animal show where he held a rabbit - instead of having a smile on his face he had a big old frown and demanded a hand sanitizer immediately.. the tray needs to be laid out just so for his food consumption.. his milk in just that nike bottle.. his water in his paddington bear glass.. and nothing else will do.. and god forbid its unavailable - the whole house collapses in fear of his tears and fury.. Yes my son is an ideal reflection of me..

My daughter needs her juice heated evenly just like her milk before consumption.. She hates her fruit so I have to trick her into juice.. She loves anything with cheese so I add carrots to her cauliflower n broccoli cheese mash, squash n sweet corn to her mac n cheese.. Yes she has her own mind and taste buds at 6 months.. She loves my lime n honey concoction in the morning and recognises my travel mug and demands at least 10 sips from it.. She'll be fine with most people who she is familiar with but if I disappear for longer than 2 hrs then hell freezes over..

Yes we all have our little quirks.. I have yet to learn to live with mine.. But I will always be proud of my kids characteristic traits because of their quirks.. I admire them for their strong sensibilities and I hope they turn out "weird" and "quirky" in their own ways but please God do not make them 'normal' and mundane.. Anything normal is forgetful, anything mundane is what everyone else is and within the societal norms I hope my kids turn out to be difficult pills to swallow because God forbid they fade away into oblivion - that would be my biggest disappointment.. I would rather them be the one hay in the grassland than be a fresh sprig of mint in the herb garden..