Saturday, June 21, 2014

The Cusp of Bhaiya and Uncle

I’m on the cusp of bhaiya and uncle. There’s no black or white here, it’s clearly a shade of grey. To give you a fair idea, if the title of this post was a game of Hangman and I knew the first two letters of the second word were C and U, I would still wait for “cusp” to hit me than settle for the word that rhymes with hunt. It doesn’t take away from the fact that I still find the C word funny. There’s a moral dilemma. I’m on the cusp of bhaiya and uncle.

I realize how male pattern baldness has come into my life like sleep; slowly at first and then all of a sudden. But I still think that it would be cool if I could rock a Mohawk. I continue to spend a while preening myself in the mirror, but the time allocated to checking out the side body profile to identify signs of a paunch is steadily increasing. I’m on the cusp of bhaiya and uncle.

I dress up in perfect fit suits, not because Barney Stinson rocked that style in my favorite sitcom from a few years ago and Ted Mosby is a perennial moron, but because looking sharp appeals more to me than wearing a football jersey. However, the dilemma of whether I am mature enough to sport the lapel widths of Harvey Specter, or if Mike Ross’ slim tie would suit my age better is still a legit thing in my head. I’m on the cusp of bhaiya and uncle.

Reading The Economic Times has become part of my daily routine. I no longer force myself through the ordeal in the hope of performing better at the next job interview, but because the bulls and the bears seem more interesting than the birds and the bees. To the true fan of John Green, though, the connection with The Fault in our Stars in the preceding para, will clearly disclose my love for young adult fiction. I’m on the cusp of bhaiya and uncle.

I’m no longer taking exams, attending classes nor doing other things that students ought to. Instead, I work at an office ten hours a day, six days a week, knowing well enough that I’m an earning member of the family. But if you ask me, I’m not really, in the known sense of the word, “settled”. There’s money enough to afford frequent Khan Market lunches with friends, but not enough to support a family of four. I still believe in Hum Do Humaare Do. I’m on the cusp of bhaiya and uncle.

There have been times when kids on the road call me uncle, and I’m all like: “Uncle hoga tera baap!” But I can’t get myself to say that out loud to the lad. I’m mostly confused whether to address someone in his late thirties as uncle or bhaiya. And there are times when I unintentionally address those below the age of ten as “bete”. That is hitting the foot on the axe. I translate Hindi idioms to English for subtle humor. I’m on the cusp of bhaiya and uncle.

I realize I’m not complaining about being on the cusp, but about slowly slipping to the other side. I could blame my desk job for it or the fact that ageing shows some physical signs. I still keep faith in the adage that men are like wine, and I move on. After all, the only one blessed to be called bhaiya for life is the beloved gol-gappe wala. On the other hand, he gets unlimited supply of gol-gappas. I think it’s a fair trade off. I’m on the cusp of bhaiya and uncle, and happily so.

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Sunday, June 8, 2014

Candy Crush Saga, F You!

When they warn you about candies giving you cavities, they’re not just talking about gaping holes of decay in your teeth. The brain is equally a victim. The saga of every candy to have ever been crushed between the molars does not end with the picking out of their deformed pieces from between the teeth using nothing but fingernails and then shoving them down the throat again. The candies are back to avenge their brutal murders at the oral guillotines, and how!

Candy Crush Saga has changed my life to such an extent where my parents think that I’m perpetually whacking the weasel in the confines of my bathroom when I’m actually just sitting on my throne, matching pieces of candy to make color bombs instead of making shit bombs and leaving the washroom in a time that does not cause suspicion. Even though it has already become a synonym for facebook and has more number of downloads than actual candies in the Parle factory, here’s a little guide for you on this god of a puzzle game because why should I be the only one to suffer at its addiction. Maro bc saale sab ke sab!

Candy Crush Saga is a little puzzle game which requires you to switch two candies in such a way that three of the same type come together and then explode, giving you a false sense of intelligence because haha, this shit is so easy for me, I have a knack for brain puzzles and shit, so smart, bro! This will also explain why you thought playing Angry Birds requires a natural flair for physics and trigonometry. *pats back*

To start with, the game has six basic types of candies:

The Red Jelly Bean which is shaped like a kidney, an organ used to make urine, nay, peshaab, which is like a chaddi-buddy of tatti, making it pretty much like liquid shit itself. So yeah, in short, it’s shit.

The Orange Lozenge which is basically orange flavored Strepsils that you suck on when you have a terrible throat, which could be a symptom of viral fever, when the antibiotics don’t just make you shit real bad, but make you feel like shit too. So yeah, in short, it’s shit.

The Yellow Lemon Drop which is yellow and shaped like the last droplet you shake off after taking a leak. Now refer to chaddi-buddy reference above. Also, it’s yellow. So yeah, in short, it’s shit.

The Green Gum Square, which is known more popularly as chicklet, which has absolutely no flavor at all. At all! No, wait. It tastes like shit. So yeah, in short, it’s shit.

The Blue Lollipop Head, which is sure to make you look like a shithead if you lick a lollipop in your twenties or beyond. Just so you know, a man is defined by what he eats. So if you think this blue round thing is edible, it would mean that you’re shit too, because you think it can be eaten. Might as well believe that it’s inedible and shit. So yeah, in short, it’s shit.

The Purple Jujube Cluster. WTF is this shit! So yeah, in short, it’s shit.

Now, there are also some special candies in the game, which have superpowers! Oooh! But you don’t get them on a platter. You have to earn them by playing smartly, putting your Forrest Gump of a brain to best use. Here’s explaining what these special candies do and how to get them.

The Striped Candy: Whenever you switch candies in such a way that it makes a straight line of four candies, it gives you one striped candy and removes the other three candies from that line. Now this is no ordinary candy! It has white stripes and its superpower is that it reminds you of the stupid striped candies Alpenliebe had brought to the market. We all know that if a candy brand can only afford to bring in Kajol to be its brand ambassador, it’s not really making a lot of profits. Also, Alpenliebe was shit. Even though the striped Alpenliebes (esp. the strawberry flavor) were not bad tasting at all, but here, urge to mock is much greater than urge to make any logical sense, so yeah, shit!

The Wrapped Candy: If you form a T or L shape with candies of the same color, the candy at the intersection turns into a candy in a wrapper, which makes absolutely no logical sense whatsoever because we know how once you take a candy out of its wrapper, you can’t put it back in the same way. It doesn’t even work with candy wrappers that have twisty sides. What kind of crap does this game want us to believe in! Anyway, in case you hadn’t figured it by now, the T and the L stand for Tatti and Latrine, respectively.

The Color Bomb: When you make a straight line of five candies of the same type, the one in the middle becomes a color bomb. Now, whichever color you try to swap it with, it destroys every candy of that color. How frikkin’ racist and genocidal is that! It’s disturbing how it doesn’t realize that all races are the same. You can’t tell an African guy’s shit from an Asian dude’s shit from a Caucasian person’s shit because all shits look the same. It must be buried in shit for it to learn the lesson that every person may be different on the outside, but is just the same as every other person in the deep burrows of the intestines. Shit!

As we’ve already established that the core of this game is crap, let’s move on to the other things that make this game so wonderfully addictive.

This beautiful game has various levels, all having such descriptive names like “Lemonade Lake” which urges me to make another susu joke; “Salty Canyon”, which is basically an Indian buttcrack in the summers; and “Licorice Tower”, which um.. let it be. It will challenge you to do things like clearing all the jelly and bringing down the ingredients, which you will keep at for frikkin’ weeks and not be able to. And on a random day, if you happen to tell a friend about being stuck on a level for weeks, the said friend will borrow your phone for a minute and clear the level in two attempts, making you feel like shit about yourself. Also, it will put you in the dilemma of whether you should move on with the next level or reattempt the crazy level because you want to clear each level all by yourself. Misery! So much misery!

The look of the game is pink and rainbowy, and it looks beautiful in your hands when you play it in the Metro, almost falling into the ladies compartment, which is so symbolic, but anyway! Unicorn farts and Pixie poop in your eyes, yay!

Within fifteen minutes of playing the game you will realize that you’re out of lives and if you wish to play further, you will either have to wait for a period as long as it takes for a season of Game of Thrones to get over or you may purchase a life for Rs. 55, which is basically so shit an idea that it is clear from the fact that $0.99 does not convert to Rs. 55. Now, instead of waiting and thinking about how this game has changed you into a person who remains furious at things like jelly, corners and chocolates, you miss the fake Amitabh Bacchan of a voice that encourages you to play on with words like “Tasty!”, “Wonderful!”, “Delicious!” despite making so many innuendos and poop references. So you find another solution, which is sending some Candy Crush Saga requests to a few friends on facebook, making them realize that the reason why your significant other broke up with you is because you have some really crazy unresolved issues in life, your priorities are messed up and you are so addicted to this shit of an addicting game developed by King McShitworth that everyone else on your facebook friend list now has to feel like they’re passive Candy Crushers like passive smokers or some shit like that, and if you send me one more Candy Crush Saga request, I shit you not, I will write a post on how much I frikkin’ hate your shit existence for the blog’s audience of three people to read, you frikkin’ Candy Crusher!!

So yeah, in short, it’s shit.

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