What is black in London, yellow in New York, and black n yellow in Bombay?

India...! Just do it (anywhere!)

Inter-Racial Fraternity

Ok, so this is an extreme case. But it has happened! And if you follow the medical logic, you'll believe it has!

The reality...
Once upon a time, there was a lady. She was well in reproductive age. She was in the peak of her menstrual cycle. So, obviously, her already highetened sexual desires overwhelmed her. Now, this lady in question, she was of a liberal mind. She was definitely not a racist.

So, she decided to have sex. And she decided to do it with a man. And she decided to do with a white man. And so, this non-racist liberal woman, she did as she had decided.

Two days passed, her sexual appetite was not satisfied. And thus, she went for another man-hunt. This time, she found a black man who satisfied her.

Before continuing on with the story, let me tell you two points about the lady. Two important and relevant points. One about her nature - she disliked contraceptives. She might have worn/consumed them if she knew what the fate had kept in mind for her, or maybe not. The game of fate we shall see soon.

Second, about her reproductive system. This time, this particular time when she demonstrated that sexual desires are beyond racial barriers, her ovaries played a game with her. But, she was not to know, was she? Normally, one ovary, and only one of the two ovaries, release an ovum (egg) in one menstrual cycle. But this time it was different. This time, both of them decided to contribute in the process.

Now, it so happened, both of the men, the white one and the black one, ejaculated inside her. None of them had used any sort of protection. And, i must re-mention the fate's hand here, the sperms of white man fertilised one ovum and those of the black man fertilised another.

This lady, she got pregnant, and she decided not to undergo an abortion. So she had twins! Twins, indeed! The doctor, in the delivery room, must have had the surprise of his life. It was evident that the twins were unidentical. And how! One of them was black, and the other was white!

And so we see, life, at it's comediest!

Psychosexual development

Freud hoped to prove that his model was universally valid and thus turned to ancient mythology and contemporary ethnography for comparative material. Freud named his new theory the Oedipus complex after the famous Greek tragedy Oedipus Rex by Sophocles. “I found in myself a constant love for my mother, and jealousy of my father. I now consider this to be a universal event in childhood,” Freud said. Freud sought to anchor this pattern of development in the dynamics of the mind. Each stage is a progression into adult sexual maturity, characterized by a strong ego and the ability to delay gratification (cf. Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality). He used the Oedipus conflict to point out how much he believed that people desire incest and must repress that desire. The Oedipus conflict was described as a state of psychosexual development and awareness. He also turned to anthropological studies of totemism and argued that totemism reflected a ritualized enactment of a tribal Oedipal conflict.

Freud originally posited childhood sexual abuse as a general explanation for the origin of neuroses, but he abandoned this so-called "seduction theory" as insufficiently explanatory, noting that he had found many cases in which apparent memories of childhood sexual abuse were based more on imagination than on real events. During the late 1890s Freud, who never abandoned his belief in the sexual etiology of neuroses, began to emphasize fantasies built around the Oedipus complex as the primary cause of hysteria and other neurotic symptoms. Despite this change in his explanatory model, Freud always recognized that some neurotics had been sexually abused by their fathers, and was quite explicit about discussing several patients whom he knew to have been abused.

Freud also believed that the libido developed in individuals by changing its object, a process codified by the concept of sublimation. He argued that humans are born "polymorphously perverse", meaning that any number of objects could be a source of pleasure. He further argued that, as humans develop, they become fixated on different and specific objects through their stages of development—first in the oral stage (exemplified by an infant's pleasure in nursing), then in the anal stage (exemplified by a toddler's pleasure in evacuating his or her bowels), then in the phallic stage. Freud argued that children then passed through a stage in which they fixated on the mother as a sexual object (known as the Oedipus Complex) but that the child eventually overcame and repressed this desire because of its taboo nature. (The lesser known Electra complex refers to such a fixation on the father.) The repressive or dormant latency stage of psychosexual development preceded the sexually mature genital stage of psychosexual development.

Freud's way of interpretation has been called phallocentric by many contemporary thinkers. This is because, for Freud, the unconscious always desires the phallus (penis). Males are afraid of castration - losing their phallus or masculinity to another male. Females always desire to have a phallus - an unfulfillable desire. Thus boys resent their fathers (fear of castration) and girls desire theirs. For Freud, desire is always defined in the negative term of lack - you always desire what you don't have or what you are not, and it is very unlikely that you will fulfill this desire. Thus his psychoanalysis treatment is meant to teach the patient to cope with his or her unsatisfiable desires.
(oh, by the way, Freud is one of the most brilliant men, his works in psychoanalysis (something like psychology) is greatly recognised!)

My Comments: Pervertism is inherent! So, world, open your mind, and reveal your true nature, people!

Shania Twain - I'm not in the mood (to say no)

I won't be layin' low
It's not my style to take it slow
No, it ain't like me to slack
There's no time for holdin' back
...
I won't be sittin' down doin' nothin'
I'd rather spend my time doin' somethin'
Ain't no need to plan it
Jump right in and jam it
No need to say no
...
(I'm not in the mood) I'm not in the mood
(I'm not in the mood)
To be shy
To stand by--and not give it a try
No, I'm not in the mood(I'm not in the mood)
To stay home
Be alone--face the night on my own
No, I'm not in the mood
To say--to say no!

Avril Lavigne - Anything but Ordinary

Is it enough to love?
Is it enough to breathe?
Somebody rip my heart out
And leave me here to bleed
Is it enough to die?
Somebody save my life
I'd rather be anything but ordinary please

Airborne...part 3 of 3

My flight: Sahara Airlines...

I loved-

1) View (that's nothing to do with airlines)

2) Black coffee (i ordered another one! altho the stupid air-host gave it to me after 20 minutes, by then i had lost craving for it, but once i sipped it, i was loving it :) )

3) Food - panner tikka, hot pakodas, ras-malai (a sweet-dish). One word - Yum!

4) My co-passenger to the left. old. ugly. fat. silent. so why do u like him? well, he understood i am new in the world of flying (which was wrong, i did fly as kid) so he helped me adjust my chair which had developed a tendency to go back, for which the air hostess (the only one left in this creul male-dominated world) told me twice to make it upright. He also showed me where my (food-)tray was hidden (beneath the handle between two seats!!!) and how to assemble it... Merci Monsieur!

I loathed-

1) Air-hosts, or whatever the aeronatuically correct word is. sheesh! no feast(for eyes)! just snacks(plane-food!)

2) Seats, i'd rather go that 2000 kms by an A/C Volvo bus, whose seats are much more cosy! Or, if it has to be the plane, by the executive class :) The plush leather seats were appealing, but that meant a big hole in my dad's pocket. A few holes, rather!

3) My co-passenger to the right. a beautiful girl. flawless skin. thin. casual dress. great voice. smooth hairs that were acting as a magnet to my fingers. so why do i loathe her? oh! that sleepy head slept for half the time. and what about the other half? well, the iPod addict was... er... listening to her iPod. Sheesh! Have some mercy on your ear-drums, lady!

Airborne... part 2 of 3

Then, I found myself in the waiting room where I was, er, waiting for the plane to get ready for departure. As soon as i got in the bus to transport us to the plane, my thoughts echoed those of a typical male mind : Air-Hostess. Rather, Air-hostesses.
Little did I know that I'd be thouroughtly disappointed, little amused, and that my female co-passengers would get to feat their eyes... on... "air-hosts" or air-stewards, whatever.
Men, 3-4 Men!
Only one woman:
Fully clad
Figure: tubular (not hourglass)
Looks: mediocre
Hairs: unremarkable
Skin: smooth, but shiny and oily
Verdict: "NEXT!"
but there wasn't any.
Apparently, the men were handsome. So told me a transient female-flight-friend (man, i am good at alliterations!) Not narcissistic workout-obseesed brainless models who've drained the insides of the cranial cavity to puff their chest and shoulders, but tall, sophisticated, polite, gentlemanly, men (et patati et patata). Ah, bah!
The only amusing part was the instructions before the take-off (or during it?) which was done by a man, again! Well, that made me grin quite a bit (I'd have luaghed, but then i was in economy class with sundry passengers, so I hid that bit). Imagine a (allegedly handsome) gentleman wearing a tie gesturing (mono-acting? dumb-charading?) in air in accordance with the tape (?). Ha!
But without hostesses, with uncomfortable seats and accompanied by sleepy co-passengers (did I mention an occasionally wailing baby?), I was more than glad that my flight lasted but for 2.5 hours! I sincerely am grateful to the printing press for magasines and newspapers, the inventors of window and the creators of CD-player (a.k.a. Disc-Man), without which I'd have died of boredom...
Enuf said!

Airborne... part 1 of 3

And I went to the aeroport after many years, the last time i flew from Mumbai to Kolkata was like 5-7 years back! Summoning all my courage, I entered the aeroport. Visitors not allowed. So, I had to travel alone. Check-in alone. Wait alone. Fly alone. I had some problems in the hand-baggage counter. I had carried my college bag, and so there were the permanent constituents of the bag - scalpel, scissors and stethoscope (did i tell u i am a second year medical student?). Well, so i was held bag and asked,
"Are u a doctor?"
"No, i'm a medical student"
"Yeah, we noticed several medical instruments in your bag."
"Oh yes! i never remove them. it's actually the same bag i carry daily to college."
"Well, there is a pair of scissors and something long and sharp."
"Oh... hold on...."
And i removed my 'dissection box' which i didn't even remember existed. I opened it. Two forceps. One scalpel. A pair of scissors.
"Sir, the scissors wont be allowed. You can keep the scalpel though."
The scissors to me, was non-existant. It was heavily contanimated and it was blunt.
Although, i found one thing strange. She, the policewoman, didn't have the idea that the instruments were used for dissection and were sticky and contaminated. But she could see the difference between the scalpel and scissors. At the most I could poke somebody with scissors - maybe cause minor local infection. Period! but the scalpel! I can cut someone's throat! The blade was used just thrice, it was new and sharp! And knife always scores over scissors as a weapon. Strange.
Anyway, I allowed my scissors to be confiscated. I wished it were the scalpel. the blade comes cheap. damn cheap... far cheaper than the scissors! Aeroport security! Blast!

When it rains in France...

In England (or the US of A, or Australia, or... blah!) it might rain cats and dogs. But, apparently in France dogs and cats have better things to do (ahem!) than fall from the clouds(!). There, it rains cords - or ropes - (il pleut des cordes), as boring as it may sound, french would argue that it's a better imagination than falling cats and dogs. Although, in modern France, it rains like a cow who's pissing (il pleut comme une vache qui pisse)! A round of applause to the french imagination here, hein? to those who thought of a cow (with an unusually huge bladder) sitting on the clouds and... well... urinating! Albeit, I'd like to ask themwhy do cows in India urinate only from June to September (the period of 'rainy season' aka 'monsoon' in India)?

Telephone Etiquettes, or lack of it!

Trrring Trrring, the phone rings.
“Hello?” I pick it up.
“Hey! Sudeep, It’s me, Sam*”
*any arbitary person representing all of the following.
“Hey Sam. What’s up?”
“Ah! Nothing much. So what are you doing?”
You bloody fat-head, I am so obviously talking to you. “Hmm. Just. I was reading something.”

What ARE you doing? That’s one of the most annoying questions over the phone. On phone, you feel calm, relaxed, and so you forget all the tenses. You call, and after the perfunctory Hi’s, what are u doing? What do u think I am doing? Am I not pretty apparently talking to u? What do you want to hear? Tell me! I love your voice and I’m wanking myself? Or do you want to hear the truth that I’m actually watching a movie/chatting online and that I honestly have no desire to hear your voice, especially if it’s filled with such conversations! NEVER ask me that question. It’s a 99% turn off. (The remaining 1% is reserved for women with exceptionally sexy voice… ahem... never mind).

“What were you reading?”
“Pharmacology”
“Which part?”
“Cardiovascular drugs.” (Ignore the medical jargon here, if u would rather)
“Which chapter?”
“Umm… anti-hypertensives.” (I said, forget the medical parlance)
Hum... “Did you finish it?”

Details! Details! I sometimes seriously wonder (you, by now, must have gotten a hint, that I have all the time in the world to ponder about and reflect upon such details!) that my parents must have hired u to sneak upon me, or maybe the Crime Investigation people because of my girl-friend’s cat I boiled last summer (I – want to – know what you did last summer). Come on! Spare me! Does it really matter what page of the book I am on? Or what line of the song I am (was) listening to. Will u remember 10 minutes later my occupation and note that in your personal diary – Thursday, 3rd May: I called up Sudeep and he was on the 376th page of a Pathology book? Blah!

“Nah. You called me”
“Oh, so did I disturb you?”
“Um, yes, so to speak”
“Hey, come on. You could have said ‘No, it’s ok. No problem.’”
“Ok. If you insist. No Sam, it’s ok. No problem…”

Disturb and being disturbed! If u ask me a question, be prepared to face the honest, even if brutally so, answers. If I was disturbed, the answer would be yes. If u want me to follow to niceties of society, there’s a simple task… assume that you’ve asked me the polite question and that I’ve already given that socially-acceptable non-offensive politically-correct answer, and get on with it. Or better, decide if you want me to be honest with you, or do u want me to memorise and blindly answer - “Oh mate. You can never disturb me!”? Get this thing straight - I am not your mother! Neither am i being paid to be polite with you.

“Huh. Fine. So, did you have your breakfast?”
“Yeah.”
“What did u eat?”
“Food.”
“Ha-ha. I mean what exactly?”
“Dosa.”

Of mouth and morcels. What will you do knowing the details of what I ate? If you are from another country, or another planet altogether, fine! But not otherwise? What’ll u do? Tell your mom “MOM, Sudeep is eating dosa and I also want one.”? Or do u intend to compare the nutritional values of our breakfasts? Or lunches? Or dinners? Huh!

“So what else?”
“Just… that’s it. I might plan to study most of the day”
“Hmm.. good good! And what else?”

Nothing else! This is, by far, the most exasperating part of a phone conversation. The string of ‘what else’s. Listen, if you having nothing to talk, don’t waste your cash over the growing minutes. Keep down the phone. Remember, I am NOT a talking autobiography that will keep parroting if properly punctuated by your battery of ‘what else’s. Just say “so long then, brother” or some similar nice line, and go! Au revoir! If u don’t have anything to say, or ask, don’t attempt! Or, be more precise - Ask my plans for the day, or something. Open a dictionary-cum-thesaurus and look for new words, new phrases. Use your broken-nail-sized brain and think some questions. If u want me to ask questions and answer them myself, I’ll mail u. Or maybe not. But don’t bother me with that! It just doesn’t get on my nerves, but it stays there, and then dances on the nerves! Please be wise enough to realize the convo is leading nowhere and it’s time to hang up. Or I’ll have to take anti-social politically-incorrect measures:

“Nothing. That’s all. I have to get back to page 376. so, can I get back to you later?” maybe like after a few months?
“Yeah. Ok. Um. Fine. See ya. Bye”
click

Brazilians, Ch@t and English

I've talked with people of many nationalities online. People from Japan, China, France, English-speaking countries, Hungary, Holland, Sweden, Slovakia.. many of them, and all of them laugh as "hahaha" or "hehe", at times it's "HiHiHi", and at yet other times, it's a wierd, though acceptable "houhouhou". And rarely, it's a Santa Claus mimic "hohoho". But brazilians they laugh strangely - "kkkkkk" or "rsrsrsrsrs" or "hsauhsaushasu" or "hiuhdsuiadhsad". I mean, how can they produce such awkward sounds while laughing? Try laughing as kkkkkkk... u'll have serious throat problem even u r in the pink, or orange, or lavender, whatever, of your health! Once i asked a guy "why do u laugh as - iuhduishdsauhd?" He replied, "you can laugh anyhow, there's no rule!"

Brazilians are strange! Period! Be it the stereotyped jungles and monkeys or anacondas, or the beaches and parties or carnival, i.e. consider Brazil either a giant Rain Forest, or a giant Rio de Janeiro, Brazilians are a strangely odd lot, c'est vrai!

And apparently, no matter how less english Brazilians know.. English slangs are on the tip of their tongue!!! Fuck, shit, bastard, Hell... most know these words. I guess I can venture that "ALL know these, and such, words." A guy i was talking to told me, "Suds, wait, I'm going to make some shit." Come again? MAKE shit? I was surprised! How the Devil can u make shit? It's like having a shit factory. 'I make shit that?' I'd be the first to ask 'And pray, tell me, what do u DO of that shit u make?'. And why make SOME shit? Make all of it at once, and get over with it! Yuck! Never mind.

Then some folks choose the simpler route. Who'll bother conjugating a verb? Let's use the good ol' infinitif sense. So the sentences produced are - I to have to go. What you to be doing? I to hope he don't to be talking about me. Damn! Conjugation is too complicated.. You (the reader) do the dirty work! And, come on. Brazilian verbs have like 56 conjugations! and they can't bear with just two per english verb? It's always - I has, u has, we has, they has, and then, it have, he have, she have... like a rule! conjugate wrongly -show we r Brazilians!

Et puis, some newly-introduced-to-English Brazilians incorporate portuguese (port) words in the sentences because they aren't aware of english counterparts and are too lazy to use an online translator website, and after doing that they ask "Did u understand?". How the Devil am I going to f***ing understand? I surely am not God, am I supposed to know all languages? And even if I did know portuguese, I'd be talking to u in port, rather than suffering the agony of your Brazinglish!

And we have the verb-inventors and sentences-lengtheners. The former generate new verbs (i out now, ok?; i didn't entend) and the latter make sentences unnecessarily long (i'll go out to have to make lunch, write simply, i'll go to lunch! Period!)

They also ask to be corrected. You correct mistakes, i.e. something wrong in lots of right stuff. Point? You should be able to understand what is the mistake-maker trying to mean, and then u can correct or better his sentences. For eg: you are permanent derfered, it makes hot or cold? Here, what the hell are u supposed to reply? or even understand? and what'll you correct? That's lucky I know a bit of French, so i know he meant to ask about the weather, in the latter part. But the mystery of permanent defered still remains unsolved.

Il y a des gens qui ignorent "you". They just do not know the usage and application of "you". They can understand it when spoken to and reply appropriately. But, they'll adress u as "it". It is a student? It works? It has a gf? Hello! Are you talking to me? Or is it my pet dog who's in mention?

An excerpt:
Me - Are you a student?
the Brazilian - yes, i are.
Me - good.
B - it works?
Me - no i am a student
B- ok, and it is an Indian?
Me - you* are* an Indian?
B - no, I are a Brazilian!
I mean, WA-HAT? I actually advised this Brazilian just before the end of our conversation "Please improve your english and come." Rude? I agree. But there's a limit, I was almost at the end of my tether!

Anyway... too long for a first blog, i must say! but I hope it's turned out well-enough!Comment and stay tuned!