meaningless banter

I am 18 and a half years old with no inkling of a life and the odds of it improving no better than a Vatican  City side has of defeating a first grade Australian side in a cricket test match. To add to it, the ones a person looks forward to for help at these junctures in life, family et al does not seem to make things easier for me as well.  For instance, I was at a bookshop today looking for books that I could spend time with over the vacations and suddenly my mother walks in, looks at the stalls(at least pretends to do so) for a while before she actually says, “You do not have much time to read all this stuff. Have you got time for this with the amount you already have to study?”That was when I had already mentioned clearly the number of books I was going to buy. Well it wasn’t this simple and not in English either and there’s no way one can pen down the accent but it all looked like I was again a 5 year old lad crying my heart out, standing at confectionery shop asking her to buy me two chocolates when she was ready to buy me only one. Well, my childhood wasn’t much different either: me asking for petty things that appealed to me then and my parents trying to wriggle out of the situation without creating much ruckus.

 

But this is not the reason I am boring you with this stuff. If you want to read along what I have written, you would have to follow a very simple rule: it is me who is speaking (‘writing’ would have been a better word, but I have decided to go with ‘speaking’) and therefore I get to decide what you get to read. So I have decided to ignore what my lousy childhood was like and write myself an autobiography here because firstly, that kind of stuff bores me and secondly, my parents would have about two haemorrhages apiece if I told anything pretty personal about them because this is a book and not some petty personal diary which would be open for only me to read. I wish I could stop writing like this but there are just too many things I wish were the way I want them to, but they aren’t? (Why am I mentioning this here in the first place speaks volumes about my present state of mind) Before I continue to speak, yes speak, I think you would be glad to know why on earth I have decided to do this and have successfully (use of the word regretted but it only strengthens your ground to slam me like you take those jibes at Chetan Bhagat for writing English you think a sixth grader can) driven away half of those who had started reading this work of mine already. It is because I kind of had a kick-boxing match with this smouldering-hot-always-ready-for-a-tussle kind of a brother I have. I haven’t mentioned him yet because this is one species which is highly unlikely to get extinct in the future and you most probably ‘own’ one too, having been left with no other choice by your oh-so-lovely parents. Well, you can curse him now for two reasons now: he is the one responsible for me writing this crap and you reading it and; he so nearly destroyed my laptop which would have made it impossible for me to write without MS Word’s much appreciated help, which in short would have spared you this travail you might have been having for the past ten minutes.