DIVINE COMEDY

for the average journalist, its (journalism i mean!) synonymous to selling your soul to the devil. we r well prepared, planned beings (did ja notice the careful exclusion of the word 'human') (sub human would suit better). so there is a PLAN A and a PLAN B. PLAN A is gettin story ideas. PLAN B is roaming around aimlessly, going to a nice place to eat, overeat and well walk around some more and come back home. somehow the PLAN B always works and the PLAN A always fails. it doesnt seem to affect me. its just the way life is. dont blame me. blame it on the devil, fate, reality, blah blah.

SO WHAT MAKES IT A NICE DAY?

eating pizza off the floor: if u have never done it, your life is not worth living. what is the point of wasting precious cheese, chicken, pineapple, sauce, pizza bread? wipe it with a tissue paper and hog.

fighting for your feminist rights: the first thing i do when i board a bus is, look around to catch any 'MALE' resting his bottom on the 'ladies' seat. and then i take great pleasure fighting for my feminist rights. not because i want to sit. but because am a woman of priniciples. it aches when i see little boys sitting. you cant do anything because unfortunately they do not ejaculate and therefore despite having similar organs they fall under the category of 'children'.

appreciating those who can multitask: i once met a busdriver who was also the acting conductor and when i asked for directions, he actually gave them to me. so busdriver-conductor-touristguide. i cant coordinate peeing and shitting together. i have tremendous respect for people who can multitask.

eating sandwiches and ice tea : aaah.

having hookah ; going to purple haze, eating sheekh kabab from a roadside stall : sheekh kabab from a roadside stall and eating pizza off the pizza hut floor is almost the same thing.

blogging : even here i cant multi task. if i switch on my music, i wouldnt be able to write a single word.

so by now u must be wondering, WHERE IS THE NEWSSTORY, THE INTERVIEWS, THE RUNNING AROUND.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

so what i dont have a news-story.

so what i think there r so many; that doing one is doing injustice to the others and there r soo many tht u cant possibly do all.

so what i ate too much so i cant think straight.

so what i anyway crossed my deadline.

so what since i have come here i have never read the newspaper.

SO WHAT is the real question.

they call it the inverted pyramid in journalistic jargon; the details r too boring to be explained.

however almost like egyptian slaves even we r maimed after building the pyramid. how r we maimed?

well its supposedly such an addictive career that once u r in it, you would be living, eating, shitting, barfing, farting stories.

welll welll welll.

hmm i wonder where the money comes in.

i am paying 2.7 lakhs. for...

for waking up at 8:50, rushing through morning 'stuff' (which will eventually lead to rotten teeth if i dont spend more time brushing....thereby increasing my dentist bills) and rushing through my breakfast (which will cause indigestion and chronic stomach disease by the age of 36 and thereby increase in ...u guessed it doctor's bills) and rushing through the newspaper which i pay for (another bill) and then reaching the college where classes continue till tea break (tea : hot drink: adding to the indigestion...u know..MORE BILLS) stress makes me smoke (lung cancer ; am not bothering bout the will, i wont have any money to leave).

and then on beat days, in the heat i walk around the city (pollution and the sun : LUNG AND SKIN CANCER). bumpy bus rides (tht has its negative effect on my organs...am so sure my stomach is where my kidney used to be....FURTHER MEDICAL BILLS)

i wouldnt have mind if i wuld have got paid for it.

the irony of my life is....am paying 2.7 lakhs to do this.

its a cosmic conspiracy. ;)