Survive from being a fucking sober

While letting her go in front of her home, you didn’t suddenly pull your girlfriend to give her a lingering kiss, while she fought to get away ? Didn’t u get intoxicated in the party and danced like crazy with your friend’s girlfriend, to spend the next two days to get badly thrashed by your own, whom you really realy care for ? Didn’t you bunk the classes to go for a 8-hour beer session,  to be carried home by the innocent bystanders, to get a marching order the next day by your Dad ?  What the hell you are living for, you prude, for a few marks and a few more nickels ? Is that a living ?

If you don’t break the rules, you are a rotten vegetable, ask me. I had the rare distinction of being on the verge of rustication 4 times within a span of 9 years in school, first being at the age of Class 1 and beat that. I snatched the scale from the hand of the Nun who wrongly, or so I thought, punished me and broke it into half, in the strict missionary school I was in. This is nothing to boast about, nor the fact that each time some guardian angel had to come down to save me at the last moment, but I am proud and content that I have proven myself to be a living organism and not a rotten vegetable called “sober” that some parents think as the ideal state for their children.

Sober essentially means he does not smoke, nor drink, nor take grass or cocaine or LSD or heroine or anything of that sort, does not even look at the pretty girls (which I have done all my life, by the way, if I miss someone my wife cooperates to turn me to that direction !!), let alone cavorting with them. What they do, study and study and study and get beautiful marks and even more beautiful marks.  The joke goes that after such a sober guy died, well not by cirrhosis of lever that I will probably meet my waterloo in but by severe diarrhea after taking some outside food for a change, the life insurance company refused to pay the assured sum on the premise that “this guy had never lived, so how could he die ?”

I am not any big guy, just average in everything I guess, including the number of pegs and fucks, to measure the give and takes. The only basic difference is in the pride, the guts, the fucks I give to whoever thinks whatever about me. This is not honesty either, I am not claiming to be a saint waiting to be cannonised, if people had a chance they would rather blow me by the cannonballs. But this is a proof that I live my only life, as I want. In all the schools and colleges, I was known by the Principals to the Directors to the rectors to the Durwans and the security people, often even ignoring me as half-mad anyway because they couldn’t ever digest the facts that a guy may have complete disregard for the established rules and regulations that they hold so dear.

Just because most people live like pigs or lambs, you don’y have to throw away your only life, do you ? Just let go, yourself and all bloody rules and expectations and the fucking rules that the bastard society will impose on you !! (BTW, I am not responsible for anything written above, I have had too many pegs to understand what was written !! ) .

Survive from burning down the small bridges

Let me tell you a telltale story first. A small happy bridge was there in the deep mountains somewhere, on a small river. Just as the other mountain rivers, this was mostly harmless but at times, a very dangerous river. And the bridge was happy to lay down itself, for anybody who cared to pass, over the troubled waters. Only thing, it expected a little tip, as a mark of gratitude. Nothing wrong in that, all waiters expect 10%, you can even give 15% or more if you are happy, a small price for a smile which is often hard to define. Big bridges don’t care for a tip, they always have the high toll gates erected over the clouds and force you to pay your obeisance at high rates. So, one day a beautiful courageous dashing Prince came in a white horse, but he was a little mean too. The bridge jumped in jay and laid itself on the small flow of the waters. The Prince laughed at the river, crossed the bridge and bade goodbye. The bridge smiled, of course there is a smile for every situation in life, and said nothing. After a few months, when the Prince was coming back after rescuing the beautiful Princess and the monsters were in hot pursuit, he reached the bridge again and was surprised at the fury of the river. The bridge smiled in a melancholy way with the sound of silence, laid himself down on the troubled waters but not fully. His one hand remained to his cheek. The Prince galloped to the end of the bridge to find there is a small gap, had no option but to give a jump but could not clear by a whisker. The furious waters took them away.

You think I stole another fairy tale? No, I just cooked it up, just to make a point. People don’t expect much, but usually remember a slight, even if they forget what all you’ve done for them, for gratitude and beauty erodes faster than all other things. When a small crucial service is needed, they open the old ledger book and make the double entry of the open issues. 

For all my minuses, I always hated meanness, it’s simply uncharacteristic of me as a leo. But a few times, I remember ruefully now, when I was much more stupid and immature, I was mean at small things with people which had later cost me very dearly in terms of crucial and critical junctures in my life when for a little support, I could have paid 100 times of the small amount I was mean with, but alas, the bridge had already been burnt and the damage done cannot really be un-winded in life.

We are usually very careful about the big bridges, often to the point of reverence if they are that big, accepting the lordship meekly and even happily. But in many critical junctures of life, when the two roads will diverge in the yellow woods, you will see that the decision on your fate will simply hang on a word of a small bridge. Just like the interviews, most critical decisions on your life, will be taken by other people, often uncaring and even disinterested, just like those parole committee members in tailored suits in the Shawshank redemption who did not care about what you said. Just like the interviews, your life will hang on a cliffhanger on a 5% probability, as that is often the maximum difference between the people whose named are being considered and only one will be selected for the lifetime opportunity. In those crucial times, when the monsters will be after your hot ass and the Princess, you will find that a small word form a small bridge will tilt the balance of the game, believe me, I am an experienced victim who only has himself to blame.

When I see the stupid and the careless immature people burning the bridges rather than parting with a small tip, I sigh inwardly, and alas, you cannot turn the clock back.