Road Rage, Kitty Kitty and ImPULSEive CONVERSATIONs

Well its been a lot more than sometime since my last post and its only after having sent down a sumptuous meal to explore the inners of my insatiable stomach that I can now concentrate on creating the next post.

It was a pretty morose 23rd June afternoon. The clouds battled overhead. Cloud Warlord Apha cried like a baby at how mere cadet had stolen his thunder by posting incriminating images of the warlord staring at the fluffy rear of a 16 year old rep all over the world wide web. "So what if Im the 1st dark cloud leading a nearly all white troop," he thought. "Even I have feelings..Sob Sob". I sat there staring blankly at the resulting deluge of tears wondering whether Zeus would lament the lameness plaguing his ranks; he has been known to morph into a swan for the sole purpose of doing women. (Honest)

Then I got bored.

So I set off to IIT(Indian Institute of Technology) for the then ongoing Blender workshop, the subsidised food instilling feelings in my incessantly growling stomach that can be best described by this image (The gentleman on the right ie; worth a lot more than 1000 words).

The workshop itself proceeded pretty smoothly that basically consisted of me clarifying people's doubts (I was a Teaching Assistant). Smoothly because every doubt that I addressed ended with this smooth expression on the listener's face that looked more like I had just explained calculus to a child who had just discovered what Napier's bones are. Not a frown, mind you; frowns reveal partial understanding. This was just a smooth, blank expression of perfect indifferent perplexity.

My maligned communication skills pleaded for food therapy amidst hushed comments of "What a lame excuse to eat" in the background. A cup of subsidised priced cold coffee, a plate of subsidised priced maggi and a colleague bashing session that was in no way subsidised (Nitin has asked me to withhold his name, so pardon my impersonal reference of 'colleague'), we found ourself exiting IIT; we being Omkar, Prajakta and me. Next stop - Blue Frog baby!

Except for the fact that Omkar noticed this kitten at the gate. The deluge of emotions that morphed his face would've made Pacific look like a puddle. Under compelling need to express the poor animal's pathos, here's the conversation:

Omkar : "Here, kity kitty kitty"

Kitten1 :"Not again. Ive been felt up 7 times in 5 minutes! God, this is worse than being Bill Clinton's sec"

Omkar out of strong maternal instincts proceeds to pick it up by the back of its neck (resembling how cats lift their kittens while transporting them). He then, under emotions fast approaching 'incestuous' proceeds to cuddle and caress the kitten. The kitten meanwhile, seasoned to this treatment stars blankly at Omkar as if expecting him to start rubbing its belly with some lame excuse.

Omkar: "I shall now check if the kitten has worms by rubbing its belly"

Peta, who by some arcane survey has proved that since the living conditions of pet cats superlatively exceed those of slumdogs, human laws are applicable to cats as well, have found Omkar guilty of molestation.

A surprisingly comfortable train journey later we find ourselves walking toward Blue Frog: Omkar on the sidewalk, Prajakta just beside it and me a quarter way into the road. A speeding motorcyclist distracted by some cute girl on the opposite side of the road (at least i like to think he was so that i can partly blame him) raced past nearly missing me.

Since the motorcyclist's distress is comparable to that of the kitten's pathos, I againfeel compelled to relate his reaction.

Motorcyclist: "Abbe takle" (read: "Hey baldy")

That comment is courtesy my new hairstyle (or the lack of it) that has been a product of heat and boredom. But that's not the point. Being no stranger to the city's road rage and being more than acquainted to its expletives, a mere "Abbe takle" is a reaction that would safely win the guy a 'Most well behaved citizen' award. Not to mention a fleet of proud school teachers.

But here's why I actually decided to post this. Pulse Conversation playing at Blue Frog. Its usually a treat to watch your drum teacher shred the drumkit, but when all 3 of your drum teachers get along with a zitarist, a tabla virtuoso and a bassist the ensuing sound texture can send your adrenaline rampaging crazily through your blood. Well Im not sure if I would do justice by translating that into words (this is not good at all), so Ill just put up the video and let you all see what I mean.


Epilogue: Barack Obama has hereby banned all subtle referenes to him as Cloud Warlord Alpha. (I wonder why).