Category Archives: Relationshits

Older and, hopefully, wiser

I’m not going to use any gimmicks in this post. No protracted sentences. No loquaciousness. No references only understandable to certain people. It will just be my attempt at simple, straight, hard facts.

I have often complained of how life throws shit in my face. Whined in wangst at fate and the tortures it puts me through. And I did nothing about it.

A mining analogy:

We are all digging for gold, diamonds and other gems (ideological and literal) to enrich our lives. And some of us happen to hit a drainage pipe and end up with a pile of shit in our beloved gold mines. I am one of these people. People try to assist you out of this (in this analogy, literal, but otherwise metaphorical) shithole. And I was no different. Except that I didn’t use them to get out. Rather, I almost pulled them in.

Now, I’m through.

If I whine again, shoot me.

It is time for action.

But first… A few words which I have to make known public.

The people I knew while I wrote this blog over the past 4 years have defined this era of my life. An era that is reaching its end. And they deserve my thanks. I will not hide any details, by the way. If anyone here would like me to; say so and I will give you my id and password for WordPress. Knock yourselves out.

First, and most important:

Monisha Vemavarapu: Venom, SuperMon and a million sobriquets. No one has influenced me as much as she. Currently in London on an exchange program, she is dating a large, oafish, somewhat paranoid, whiny, self-obsessed and neurotic nutbag. I feel that she perhaps deserves better; but she’s a wiser judge of such things than I am. No one I have ever known has ever evolved so much so quickly. When I first was re-acquainted with her, she was a wild, kranti-kari, ultra-modernist pseudo-hippie. She is now one of the most level-headed determined and pragmatically intelligent people I know. I will be frank: When I first met her, both online and in person, I felt I was the superior individual. But I must now concede this title to her. She has proven herself to be a most fascinating person and one who accepts a random destiny with an élan that I wish I possessed. Monisha is one of those people who you just know will not fade quietly into the night, and will leave a mark on the world. I find my vocabulary failing me in my attempts to describe how happy I am to have known, and know, this singularly unique individual. I sincerely hope that we will never become strangers through providence or (more likely) some ridiculous action of mine.

Nimish Batra: After working at Infosys Technologies in Bangalore, Nimish is now pursuing a Master’s degree at the University of Florida. Nimish’s jesting misanthropy was what really resulted in our ever becoming friends. We shared in our fandom for Douglas Adams, I introduced him to Radiohead, and he introduced me to Monty Python. But in our protracted one-downmanship contests, (held periodically over the internet, the telephone and in person) I believe I learnt a lot. And perhaps too much. I appreciate and respect him for a lot of things, but I must say that what applies to me in a large measure applies to you too… Stop whining. Shut up and live. The thing about Nimish that few people get is that he is a genuinely warm-hearted person. Try visiting his home in South Ex, and be amazed at the hospitality shown by him and his family. One part of his brain has the capacity to make him do what’s necessary and drag him across the finish line while the other part is kicking and screaming. As long as that former part dominates the latter, he has nothing to worry about. Genuinely.

Dinesh Kapur: Decay is currently working in Gurgaon for a sustainable ventures firm whose name I can never remember, but it starts with a W. (edit: WinRock! It’s WinRock!) His George Best old-school footballing skills are no longer useful to him in the modern game much like my Karl Marx old-school thinking skills are of no use to me in the modern world. As I’ve often said; this man is a kindred spirit. We’re almost alter-egos of each other. Decay is someone who I can trust to understand my point of view on a matter, usually because he’s been there before. Like Monisha, Dinesh is someone who I feel is destined for far bigger things in life than he can possibly see now. And like Monisha, is an individual in possession of far too many talents, such that it looks unfair to the rest of us.

Anupam Guha: After a successful stint at the Georgia Institute of Technology (where he completed a 2-year Master’s course in a year with a perfect 4.0 CGPA), Guha is currently in Ahmadabad, working for a company that pays him to essentially be their poster-boy. His relationship with Anupama (who I’ve never met properly) was much joked about (my contribution was the idea for “Anupam (1+a)” wedding cards) in college. Oddly enough, it appears to be highly likely that theirs’ will be the first marriage of a friend that I will be a guest of. The conversations on every topic under and beyond the sun were, and still remain, much appreciated. Even the ones where we vehemently disagree. And his conviction to “save” me and show me that humanity is worth saving might just pay off. The path of the wannabe Bushido-ist is fraught with many perils, I joked of him. Well it appears that he intends on making these words an eerie prophecy. Much like a Katana, he has forged his tamahagane worldviews by repeatedly putting it through fire, folding it and beating the shit of it. And that’s why Guha will probably end up as that rarest species of all: A happy, intelligent man who is satisfied with his life and the world he is living in. Or we’ll embark on our plan for revolution. He’ll be Trotsky, I’ll be Stalin… Minus the backstabbing, of course.

Ashwin Murali: After half a year of working 80-90 hour weeks at Citibank, he’s now at his palatial penthouse in Nasik preparing for a second MBA. Ashwin’s greatest trait as a friend has been his ability to listen to me constantly abuse, demote, shout at, vilify and generally insult him for over 3 years with a patient nod and that irritatingly reassuring stupid smile. He set me off on a tangential path in my worldview, for which I still hate him by the way, but it might perhaps lead to a better future. You better hope it does bro.

Akhil Garg: Working at Accenture in Hyderabad, his tryst with the Alagappa family continues as my sister was his HR rep as a trainee. We have both learnt, very late, that we weren’t as bad roommates to have as we thought. Perhaps immaturity came between what could’ve been a far more rewarding friendship for us.

Swati, Priya and Ankur: Swati is working with Wipro in Bangalore while Priya is doing her Master’s at the University of Sussex, I believe. Ankur is doing his Master’s at IIT Kharagpur. I drove you guys away from me in a fit of madness and have regretted that decision since. My yet unfinished college life would have been far better if I had not done that.

Nitesh Bhasin: The entrepreneur and fellow backlogger. We really dump on you more than you deserve. The fact remains that if you hadn’t taken the effort of befriending me in IP University that day, I wouldn’t have gotten to know a lot of the people mentioned here. You’ll either end up in jail or in Forbes. Have fun in Vegas.

M.V. Harish: Another man at Georgia Tech, here’s to perpetuating the “crazy Telugu mofo” image with me. Keep it real with the brothas in the hood in Atlanta. We’ll meet up in a gun shop or seedy beer bar someday.

Many others ought to feature in this list, but I feel it has become so sappy, your monitors might have started leaking already; so wait for another epiphany and moment of emo-ness.

Seriously, I have so many epiphanies; it’s hard to tell which ones are genuine.

Oh, and I almost to mention… This post formally ends this blog. There will be no more posting on Chaosverse any longer. Frankly, I would like some order. Unpredictability and randomness are, as always, welcome; but I’ve had it with the chaos.

I would like to delete this blog, but perhaps will save it. Someday, the people mentioned in this post will look back and this and other posts and laugh at the naivety, stupidity, folly, and immaturity on display.


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Is it the 3rd of November?

The title may confuse you. By you, I mean the person reading this. Except unless it is me, who is the most likely person to be the one reading this at any given point of time. Thus, it is more likely that the person reading this will not be confused by the title. Yet, I endeavor to throw a little lifeline to anyone drowning in the deluge of meaningless verbosity of the above paragraph and vagueness of the title.

The title may confuse you, but I assure you it is not random. It is a reference to a book written in 1877 by a man who was born on either October 30 or November 11, 1821. 

’tis a strange world we live in. If I could summarize all my thoughts into a single word, it would be quite an achievement or would indicate the lack of depth or complexity in my thinking. But surprisingly; as I sit here, typing, listening to the Badinerie from Bach’s Orchestral Suite No.2 in B-Minor for flute and strings (BWV 1067) – an ideal background theme for a madman, if you ask me – pardon my digression… But surprisingly I CAN compress the clamoring mass of thoughts in my head into a single word. And the word is: Malice. Indeed, all my thoughts are currently malicious in their nature.

Why? Why not. 

I am quite exasperated. Of fighting. Of battling. Of combating. Of fending off. If only I were nice person by nature, I could look at all the gifts nature has given me. But I am not a nice person. I am a vagrant (my father calls me that), a peripatetic thinker (which I shall prove as this rambled post continues), a loser (as many people are oft to refer to me as), a vindictive, pessimistic nitpicker of thoughts. But devoid of any actual mental facilities and more importantly devoid of any inclination to convert reserves of potential energy into work that will effectively put an end to the incessant questioning. And there is a lot of questioning going around, oh yes! I do not throw words like incessant about to exhibit my limited vocabulary. Whose limitations seem to be on an upward spiral. I have said the word “Cool” more times in the year 2008 than I did in the 15 years before that.

I can now hear the William Tell Overture by Rossini. How pleasant!

I am quite thoroughly annoyed. Of people. Individuals. Human beings. The whole lot of them can bugger off and boil their heads in hot oil, if they wish to please me, which of course they don’t. I am annoyed of my roommates. Of the people in my college. How every second I spend with them seems an opportunity lost. Of how intellectually hollow their company seems. I haven’t learned a thing in the time I have known them. I stand there, listening… words flow from their mouths like sewage into a gutter. Meaningless talk devoid of any shred of original thinking. All their “thoughts” have been subconsciously instilled. On occasion I want to start pointing out the sources of each and every statement they make. But if I interrupted them with “parents”, “movies”, “media”, “unfounded claim”, “peer circle”, “public perception”, “remnants of a phase of juvenile delinquency” and “neurons rotting” all the while; I would leave them with no recourse but to retaliate. And I do not take kindly to criticism. It is a flaw, I admit. I am quite arrogant. Extremely full of myself. I enjoy the philosophy of you-leave-me-alone and vice versa. It allows me to live in a little bubble of self-delusion and an exaggerated sense of my own importance. 

But the retaliations do disappoint. The usual attacks made against me concern my physical appearance, my atrocious academic record, my weak mind, my emotional instability, my judgmental attitude and lack of an open mind and a supposed tendency I possess whereby I degrade myself as part of a subtle ploy to garner sympathy. Everywhere I turn I see my attack on any issue, be it subjective or objective, being countered with an ad homenim derision. I am, strangely enough, not very good at attacking people. If anyone notices, I attack issues with greater ease. I call institutions, beliefs, actions and statements a multitude of names. When it comes to an individual, I find it hard to criticize. I cannot just start using what Nimish calls “my cutting wit” on anyone just sitting in one place doing nothing. It is from their actions that I draw inferences and those inferences are where I begin my attack. 

I believe it was Richard Dawkins who first succinctly explained my world view. He said, and this is one of my favorite quotes from now on: “By all means let’s be open-minded, but not so open-minded that our brains drop out.

Piano Concerto No.1 in B flat minor, Opus 23 Allegro ~ Tchaikovsky

(to be continued…)

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Today is gonna be the day that they’re gonna throw it back to… someone or the other

It must be Saturday.

I can never get the hang of Saturday.

They go well. Or weirdly. Sometimes, like today for instance, it’s both.

Woke up late! This is the first weekend I’ve had in a long, long time. The ones till now were ruined by cleaning up after a drunken night with a huge hangover, going to pointless college fests, internals, the trip et cetera. But today was a blank slate. I have nothing to do. Absolutely nothing! Ah!!!

Played basketball after a long time. Dressed like a fool. I couldn’t care less. Had loads of fun.

Met a random person and bought them dinner. Had a nice evening. But… something felt strange. There’s no way to explain it except for an analogy:

It’s like someone’s trying to understand the Standard Model immediately after reading the Copenhagen Interpretation.

Things got weirder:

I got down from the bus at AIIMS and plugged in the mp3 player. It starts off with the lines:

(…) looks like the real thing
Tastes like the real thing
My fake plastic
But I can’t help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
If I just turn and run

I then walked for an hour from “Rajnigandha Chowk” to ‘ma crib/hizze’ in sector-49, listening to The Bends in album repeat. Usually, I skip three songs (this one, this one aaaanddd… this one). This time I skipped this one.

I feel… unusual.

Intelligence is the ability to articulate one’s stupidity.

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Before Sunrise

Finally saw the damn movie. It’s quite obvious that I’m not the kind of people who enjoy such flicks. I mean, it was no surprise that I happen to be a fan of four of the top five movies with the highest deaths in them. So… why this? Why a movie that drips with sappy romance?

Answer: Curiosity. It was recommended to me. I still thought I’ll never quite get around to watching it. Then my roommate sees it and gives me the review, “Ethan Hawke’s character is 80% you.WTF?

Intrigued, I sat down and saw it in one uninterrupted stretch. And my review: I am definitely not like that, am I? As for the movie itself, I hate to say this… but it’s actually quite good. Yes, it’s romantic and unreal and all that crap… but it’s not annoyingly romantic, unreal and all that crap. And that makes a huge difference.

Plus, it’s Hollywood… It’s Europe… It’s Vienna… It’s a beautiful French girl and an American guy (I have given up trying to figure which kind of men women find attractive and which kind they don’t)… Instead of getting mugged, they find a poet who writes them a pretty decent poem… They *ahem, “make love” in a park and don’t get arrested and/or molested and killed by hoodlums… They find topics of conversation that last all evening…

So, yeah, it’s unrealistic and is capable of ruining a relationship by setting the bar for a romantic conversation while walking around a city somewhere in the stratosphere. But, strangely enough, most romantic movies do that. They’ll give couples an insanely unassailable benchmark which will make the people think, “Wait… this isn’t like <insert movie name here>, so he/she is not my “one true-blue honeybunny” love!”

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Ladies and Gentlemen: This is an official announcement which I have tried my very best to avoid, but circumstances are such that I am left with no option but to speak out. There’s a big rumor doing the rounds and it’s about time I put an end to it. Not just because it isn’t true, but mostly because I get bugged by the looks of incredible surprise, shock, horror, awe and downright bewilderment I get from people who believe it. Mostly.

I am not really “committed”. I do not have “a girl” (or “a boy”, for that matter). I’m as single as they come, if not more. The committed status, along with the rest of my orkut profile, is a big old (except for the profile bit) joke. I will no longer entertain questions that go like, “Hey, how’s your girl?” et cetera.

For those not in the loop, the correct rumor is that there exists out there, a female homo sapiens sapiens who is romantically infatuated with me. Ha! Ha!! Ha!!!

Since we quantum-geeks work with probability, I better factor in for the one in a three hundred million chance that the rumor is true.

So, I give you a list that deserves its place amongst the hallowed pages of Cosmopolitan magazine! I present to you, ladies and ladies alone…

Statutory warnings to anyone who wants to be “my girl”:

Warning! Harish Alagappa is…

  • Prone to mood swings.
  • A disgusting sight to look at.
  • A bad singer
  • A bad poet (“if you think my poetry’s bad, my prose is verse”)
  • A bad dancer
  • A man who doesn’t like clubbing/disco-type parties, with the loud music and flashy lights and people crowding the dance floor swinging sweaty filled arms, stinking up the air and polluting the atmosphere which weakens the ozone layer, allowing a greater amount of harmful ultra-violet radiation to enter giving everybody skin cancer with the spores and the itching and burning and miserable pain!
  • Prone to droning on and on about matters that have no relevance to the topic at hand.
  • Atheist
  • Anarchist
  • Deficient on moral fiber
  • Poor (Middle-Class, actually)
  • Incapable of playing any musical instrument
  • A forgetter of birthdays, anniversaries, names, faces, clothes you wore, hairstyles and all that jazz
  • An anti-social, reclusive, introvert nutcase.
  • A bad judge of fashion
  • A man who despises shopping for anything except books.
  • A nobody. If fame is an aphrodisiac… I’m an impotency drug.
  • An uncivilized brute who lacks table and other manners.
  • As opposed to being a suave, sophisticated toast of society… (should I hyperlink you?) an unsophisticated, un-suave cold turkey of society.
  • A pedantic hyper-intellectual who simultaneously criticizes and arrogantly justifies his own nature.
  • Trying to be Zaphod Beeblebrox, but ending up like Marvin.


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Run, Children, Run!

Aha! Your diabolical plans have been found out! Fiends!

Ever noticed that all that separates a friend from a fiend is ONE measly little alphabet? Should’ve been an indicator of some sort. A warning bell of which I took no heed.

Was reading Akhil-dasroommate-I’mgonnasulkmyassofmotherfuckers-Garg’s profile, and what did I see? A testimonial from Swati that says, and I quote:

(…)we have lots to do in life, get harish married, make sure his kids arent THAT spoilt(…)


Are these people my friends or spies from my parents? You guys think of getting married at 19? Nine-fucking-teen? And worse, you think of getting ME married off?

Haven’t I made my stance on marriage quite clear already? Maybe, it’s a good thing; maybe it’s not. But I know for sure that if there exists on this beautiful planet of our’s a human being who is fundamentally un-marriable… ’tis me. And as for the kids part, that warrants an explanation.

You see, my views on parenting are quite different from most others. I feel that since ALL the people I know want their kids (pause: Yes. I know people who have clear-cut goals as to what kind of kids they want to bring up… and they’re in college. For e.g.: my sister (aged:22) has already decided what she’s going to name her kids. The above mentioned Swati has gone one step further and has already decided that her kids will follow in mommy’s footsteps and study in AFBBS. Many male friends I have want to send their kids to Doon School. Err… guys, make your own life first, please?) resume: to grow up to be a successful, good looking, 95+%-scoring, captain of the school football AND Debate team, Head-Boy/Girl type. So on one fine occasion when I heard this inane topic crop up again, I expressed what are my genuine views on parenting. I (very important point here, you bring up your kids nicely, please) am going to make my kids (if I have any, that is) the most spoilt, arrogant, lazy pricks to have ever existed.

Harish: “What’s the matter, son?”
The Boy: “Failed ANOTHER exam”
Harish: “That’s alright. How many girls have you laid?”
The Boy: “Oh, around twelve… if that includes faculty… fifteen-ish”
Harish: “Faculty?”
The Boy: “New English teacher. Just passed out of college. What a piece of ass!”
Harish: “Did you fail English?”
The Boy: “Nope. Topped the class. She wants to see you at the next PTA Conference. ;)”
Harish: “That’s my boy!”

This, of course, excludes the SUV of his choice by the time he’s four- alright, fifteen.

As for a girl… well well well…

Gucci, Armani, Prada, Versace, D&G, Dior et cetera… the cabana boys… the cars… the parties… you know the rest.

As for my friendish fiends (or rather…), just try and stop me!


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Sin City and a few not-so-wisecracks

Been reading, or rather, re-reading quite a bit of Frank Miller’s ‘Sin City’ graphic novels. Take my word for it, the man is a brilliant story-teller and if you’re a fan of noir… well, what can I say! Beware though, it’s filled with graphic depictions of sex, violence and every negative emotion the human mind can possibly concieve.

There was a Sin City movie a couple of years ago which received media attention ONLY because of what Jessica Alba wore in her role as the stripper, Nancy. My current favorite actor, Clive Owen, played the role of Dwight McCarthy. I cannot think of a better choice. The flick was based on the stories, ‘That Yellow Bastard’, ‘The Big Fat Kill’ and ‘The Hard Goodbye’.

I would say that my favorite story has to be, ‘A Dame To Kill For’. Apparently, Sin City 2 is going to feature this story! 😀 Also, they’re probably going to cast Angelina Jolie as Ava Lord. You might say, “Oh, no! Not another seductress role! Beowulf was bad enough, thank you“, but I ask of thee, if not her… who? I shall assume from your silence that you are in agreement.

Also, according to highly unreliable sources, ‘Hell and Back: A Sin City Love Story’ is also going to get a celluloid makeover with Johnny Depp as Wallace. Wait a second… Johnny Depp? Law of averages, I guess. Two perfect castings have to be countered with one completely buggered one. I doubt if Frank will allow it, though. Any Johnny Depp fans who disagree better take a look at the illustration of Wallace. I know this sounds extraordinarily stupid, but the character of Wallace needs someone like a long-haired Hritik Roshan. Not that he should be cast, of course! Neo Noir is not a form of cinema that anyone from the Indian Melodramatic Farce Film Industry can handle.

Apart from that… going through another bout of writer’s bloc (sic.) Speaking of which, saw a T-shirt caption that said, “Bad Grammar makes me (sic.)”. Where do people get this stuff? Why can’t I have any? 😦

What else… people are asking me how I know so much about smoking a cigarette properly? Keep guessing…

And I’ve cut me hair. Commanded by a spiderman villain/snake spit and orchestrated by Goofy, this 100-rupee haircut is the most I’ve ever spent on my epidermal follicles. People say I actually look good, but I know better than to believe stuff like that. If I do look good, though…

I have a message for ye shallow and stupid but sexy girls :



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