AT&T – Cingular – Text Speak Commercial

A mother and daughter have a conversation, the daughter talking in cell phone text speak.

The conversation:
Mother: Beth Anne!
Daughter: WU? [What's up?]
Mother: Your cell phone bill is what’s up. All this texting.
Daughter: OMG, INBD. [Oh my gosh, it's no big deal.]
Mother: It is a big deal. Who are you texting 50 times a day?
Daughter: IDK, my BFF Jill. [I don't know, my best friend forever Jill.]
Mother: Tell your BFF Jill that I’m taking away your phone.
Daughter: TISNF! [That is so not fair!]
Mother: Me paying this bill, that’s what’s S.. N.. F.
Voice-over: Now too much texting is NBD. Cingular brings you unlimited texting. Just five dollars more a month.

Mercy

One upon a time there lived a king. The king was a very kind-hearted person and was liked by all, envied by few. The people were very happy in his reign. But king was not happy, he had a serious illnes, he was dying.

…crawling in my skin, these wounds, they will not heal

I live a life
that is so desolate
so confusing
there is no hope at all.

There is death
which is so easy, so full of fear
and life
the unknown.
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It’s cold yaar…!!!

People in Delhi have lately been feeling a more than slight chill in their spines. In fact, in here, its chillier than Big Apple. I read today that Central Park is abuzz with all the morning joggers and lovers and for them the best spring, in a long while, has struck. In here we have a slight different way to beat the cold.

Here, we eat livers. Cannibalism isn’t a sole domain of some German net-addict or someone from the tribes of Papua New Guinea. We are at it too and the world should stand up and listen. The developed world should take note that we are also capable of producing serial-killers and weirdos. In fact the cannibal, killer-couple lives within a few kilometers of my house, so practically we are neighbours for all out-worldly purposes. If this eating people thingy is caught by the popular fancy then this could be the excerpt of future talks:
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Advanced State Of Decay

I understood a lot of Mahabharata only after I was through reading The Great Indian Novel, it is really a marvelous book by an equally, if not more, sexy writer. But still meeting Shashi Tharoor after having kissed your boyfriend for the first time is not such good thing. It makes you feel as if you have just committed a ‘blunder’ which is only somewhat lesser in intensity than the Iraqi Invasion, but mind you only somewhat. You are merrily shopping after your first kiss feeling all elated and what not. Then you happen to chance upon ‘The Shashi Tharoor’ on the Delivery Counter in some Cottage Emporium and you think, he looks like Shashi Tharoor and before you know it, he comes out to be the man himself. Before the bells ring and the violins strike a chord and you get a chance to brace yourself up. You blurt out, ‘Excuse me, you look like Shashi Tharoor?’ And he is like, ‘Eh, yes!?’ Not a very good beginning, not kosher at all. But who cares. I don’t.

I do. I do love him a lot. But what about his past. I still am More

Examination Blues

There are somethings which just get under your skin, like I read this somewhere.

“Tell me what you need, and I’ll tell you how to get along without it.”

Like, yeah! Really, bring me life Gawd!

- Ishan Dubey

What is love?

A few days ago my friend got married. He is the first one among us to agree to those 7 promises. Initially it was shocking to know of his impending doom, then it became funny but now that everything has been done with, it seems like a reality. On the wedding day we all friends gathered around him and wanted to know what’s the secret. Secret of love. Secret of marriage. Everyone of us has been in and out of love atleast once, all but me. I have never been in love, I have always been without. I’m proud, I’m not emotional, I don’t easily give in to senses. I’m happy.

Don’t begin your relationship thinking of sex.

Feel the real love.

There is happiness in just being together.

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Space Truckin’

What’s it going to be then, eh?

The three of us were sitting in the pub that evening. He came along with his girl friend. She was very pretty and had everything, nice figure and all. He had landed up a cushion job in some place, all very nice with some cool pay-packet and all.

The two of them were very happy. They were sipping on their beers and smoking their cigarettes. I asked, if any one of them knew how to make smoke-rings. They said, no. I always tried making it but then I don’t even know how to take a proper drag. I never told any one that I don’t know how to smoke them ciggies properly. It makes me sound all foolish. I rarely smoke and even less of a drinker I am.

I wasn’t feeling all that okay that night. I loosened up my tie, I was not in the office anymore, I could do that. This corporate dress code is real killer, stuffs me like anything. All those suits and ties-pins and shoes and More

Lack of Flight

So today one satelite launch went awry. It went up with aplomb but then somethings happened to its strap-on boosters and it came down in the flames, to be doused by the greenish-blue waters of the Bay of Bengal. In the past two days, this is the second time, that an Indian dream flight has refused to reach its destination.

This is very true of the country itself, of its people and of its history. We just refuse to fly-high as a nation. We test-fired Agni-III, which was supposed to clear out the Chinese cities like Beijing and Shanghai, instead it returned back after covering just one-third of the distance. Our Defence Minister said that it was only a minor mishap and we must learn from our mistakes and move on towards better things. Move on. Yes, move More

Crying

The same things have been happening over and over again.

I called.

“Hello, is Reshma there?”
“Yes Kabir, she is…she is saying she is not at home.”
“Ok.”
“Hello, what do you want?”
“Hello yeah, what happened?”
“Don’t you know? I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Ok. Bye.”
“Bye.”

I IMed.

Kabir: hi
Kabir: how come u r online so late?
Reshma: sut up More

I hate talking to girls

Am I in love with him? I wouldn’t know.

Does he know? Yeah! I told him that day, didn’t I. But still he hasn’t called me yet. Is he already married. Might be, his clothes are always well-pressed and clean, nothing is improper. But then, that’s why I like him.

Oh my God! he is married too, might even have kids. No, he is too More

Is it too late?

It was one of those annual events organised by Bombay Chartered Accountants’ Society. These events never fail to invoke a sense of deja vu in me, as if I’ve been through all this before. The same felicitations, the same speeches, the same speakers, the same client-solicitings, the same back-stabbings, the same plastic smiles, the same anger, the same joys, the same faces, the same everything. But this time More

She loves me a lot

I could never trust myself with heights. Maya knew it very well. But still, when her boyfriend wanted to rent a flat of their own, she chose the top-most floor in some tall building having some talk-of-the-town neighbors.

High places have always scared me. They tend to corruptly use the powers, vested in them because of their status, against me. Maya is a real bitch. More

Shahrukh Khan takes money to dance at weddings

Blank. Blank was the wall. It could do with a picture, I thought. The plain walls don’t give the right impression. A fake Tyeb Mehta or one of Maqbool F. Hussain’s would rather emphasise the sophisticated yet so subtle and subdued nature of my being. But then everyone will think of them as real. Maybe the Portrait of Dr. Gachet will look fake enou More

Superstition In Numbers

in the middle of the road
a sleep-walker
wake up to reality
she is dead
life is difficult
there is no prose
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Sania Mirza – To Her Love Means Nothing

A tennis player does not believe in love, to her love means nothing. Even though all the games begin love-all. It has happened to me, but I don’t play tennis.
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