genetically modi-fied expectations - take 2

his highness peach glow* namo

after a hectic tour of the europe, our next stop is the americas.

it is alright if they will not issue a usa visa to our p.m. narendra modi bhai, 

after all they are controlled by the italian mafia who in turn are connected to 

the italian pasta in so close yet far away delhi.

our p.m. narendra modi bhai has a solution to every problem ever known.

so under his guidance, we disguised narendra modi bhai 

as a native apache indian chief and air dropped him in the grand canyon. 

why? because red or white they are indian after all 

and our p.m. narendra modi bhai is such a opportunistic nationalist.

there is no royalty in washington to shake hands with our p.m. narendra modi bhai

but out here they have bestowed on our p.m. narendra modi bhai a honorary royal title.

no dehati aurat or maut ke saudagar but the one of a kind honorable

his highness peach glow namo*

and to top it all the crown of feathers headgear is simply bhezzablowing.

*peach glow - the native american word for the lotus

**his highness peach glow namo - his highness the lotus namo

genetically modi-fied expectations

ever since i parked my not so designer butt in goa, it has been a rather nonsensical experience.

i am being molested by inflated bills, inflated egos, inflated expectations and a punctured wallet.

so when a midnight caller for a covert operation came knocking at my doorstep

accompanied by a falguni pathak background score, i was fully electrified by the colorful nonsensical expectations and thoughts of being a vibrant millionaire.

whisked away was i into the land of great rivers and wide roads with wholesome women and equally wholesome men. wait a moment, they all looked the same, walked the same and talked the same,

and than i heard it. they were chanting namo 4 pm. thousands of namo 4 pm chanting clones were lined on the streets to welcome me. my reputation of fake identities and more faker artworks had hit the gai mata's* eye and i was going to milk it faster and harder for now.

i was cornered in a room with well-fed faces but their shifty eyes were obscured with dramatic lighting. all i could see on the huge round table was operation 'secular namo'. i was briefed and bullied both at the same time with an undisputed deadline.

the fine print of the brief was to photoshop 'na** more secular' to 'now more secular'.

 

presenting marquesses modi de gujarat

take 1

so the first stopover of our secular p.m. modi is in the not so happening

'land of the conquistadors' - portugal.

why? because they once used to be in the backyard of narendra bhai's vibrant gujarat.

yes yes, daman and diu and a lot of gujju's whose mai baap were born in those european backyards before 1961 have all procured portuguese passports and dumped dandiya gujarat for electric europe.

portugal is also a largely catholic country. imagine the lot of gujju bhai behn paying in euros

to meet 'marquesses modi de gujarat'. so exciting!

but the real excitement of modi bhai other than the title of 'marquesses modi'

is actually his fetish for fancy headgear. get it?

*gai mata's - holy cow's / cow's

**na - no in english (nao in portuguese)

(to continue)

i do have a hangover, albeit a fake hangover

my benefactor whispered, just be you for a day. i smiled all my 32 whites and nodded my red bullhead. so excited was i with this fantastic opportunity on my designer doorstep that i had to grab it with both my hands and hug it in my huge protein pumped up macho arms. oh it felt so good to hug something that was not designer for a change. 

and there i was wanting to scream out of happiness,  so i expanded my eyes in all four directions better than a kathakali dancer and opened my mouth big enough for three golf balls, gasped for air more dramatically than a gold fish, clutched my waxed chest and faked it. what? a scream! but of course i could not hear it, and it dawned on me that I no longer scream. it is so gaunti* right. metro-sexual men did not scream. gaunti men did.

and there i was back at table no 4 waiting for the love of my life to share... well, a coffee with me. i browsed on my pad for any updates on the highly secretive, bubbles themed bath bash overnight, and it was still a secret, albeit officially - and bravo behold the love of my life was on the runway sashaying towards me.

and out popped a message from my benefactor, 'just be yourself'. so parking my designer shades on the table i rushed to meet my babe and grabbed her and kissed her face, and for a moment i felt so good. but just for a moment and than a vibrating slap of her palm on my well groomed face resounded in my virgin brain.. and the words were thundering 'we don't kiss anymore we only air kiss lover boy!’

*gaunti-country bumpkin

the end is nothing but an opportunity for a new beginning!

hellO everyone

wanted to share my thoughts on what has been and what is yet to come. this blog expands from my personal life experiences and flows into the subconscious space all round us. being a first time blogger, i was concerned about what i needed to say, and it is with that intention that i turn to you for inspiration. i intend being a catalyst around you and expect you to fire my imagination.

about me

call me jason. i’m anything but normal even now in my 4o's. but than who wants normal guys, they are boring. instead try people who paint the holy cows with wings and write about the delights of being a fruitarian, and sleep in graveyards to better understand living with the dead.

as extreme as that might sound, deep down we all have an ‘abnormal’ in all of us. and at the risk of sounding patronizing, i am abnormal in so many things that i have cultivated over the last 40 years. like jason is not my real name, i am not exactly a six-footer, i am a lousy lover, a bad designer. well the list is long. but it is still me and finally i embrace wholly this abnormal person that i am. so you are in good company. salute.