The Crooked Cockroach

The pooper – Part I

Posted in Uncategorized by cready on November 4, 2009

The hostel my friends, has a lovely pooper
It poops here; it poops there
It poops every-damn-where

It poops in people’s room; it poops on the volley ball ground
On frantic searching it is never to be found

The pooper is a pain; O what a shame!
Not knowing where to drain, it makes me want to whip it with a cane

Now tell me, with all the filthy smell, wouldn’t you want to be cruel?
Sadly you can’t do anything
‘coz the pooper has the tiny office lady’s solid backing

Sometimes my friends, with great confusion I wonder
If life due to this pooper has become a big blunder
So, I think its time to flex the arm
Before this place becomes a s******g farm

Arise! Awake! And fight back
‘coz pooping randomly isn’t any average Joe’s knack

If on reading the above ‘poem’ you haven’t gotten who all I’m trying to poke, it’s only because you’re not part of the place where I’m staying right now. So, to enlighten the ignorant [and logically the lucky – for having escaped the wrath of the demoniac pooping cats] among you about the latest problem in my life [ya, ya, I know I get obsessed with the pettiest of matters], here it is in simple words:

There’s a lady. She has a billi. No, not one actually, she has the daddy, mommy, three-four kittens, their grand dad, grand mom, aunt, uncle…the whole damn package. But every story should have a central character, right? So for this story, I’ll make this ‘one billi‘  the hero of my kahaani. And what does our hero do? He poops in a devil-may-care manner wherever he finds suitable. Now each member of this family tree poops, but I’m having so much trouble tracking one billi‘s poop that I’ll just pile it all up on our hero itself. Surprisingly, he never finds the lady’s room poop-worthy; I don’t know why. Is it because it is so damn yuck that makes even the pooper go pink with blushes? Or is it genuine respect for the lady and her personal space? Now that is one tough question I’ll leave you to ponder over.

Now, I’ve been staying here for a couple of years and dozens of students have come and gone past. But never did we see any woman. Me and my closest buddies always used to feel how barren this place was with respect to the factor of women. It felt like a jail of some kind, some sort of emotional torture. And when I used to see these pictures of my male friends back home cuddling all these women on social networking sites, it used to end up wondering where did it all go so wrong for me. It was in those desperate, wretched moments that an atheist like me used to pray to God and beg for a little mercy.

The Almighty finally heard my plea – and gifted me and my buddies with the lady. Little did we know that what was coming along was also an avalanche of poop. The first few days and months went nicely; everything was lovey-dovey. We flirted; the lady flirted back. We laughed; the lady laughed along with us. Life was a fairy tale. My faith in God slowly but finally began getting restored.

But the damn cats came along soon. The irony of this story is that the hero billi himself is the villain. Actually the lady didn’t bring them from outside, but they were adopted from the original Godfather of the cats, Mr. Apa, when he left about a year ago. Now, don’t even get me started where this bizarre name comes from – that can spawn a whole new story in itself. I don’t know what the Godfather Apa is up to these days, except I saw him roaming the hallowed corridors of my hostel a few days back with a nicely grown beard [looking much like a cat with whiskers himself].

As I was saying, the cats came along.

Now we are finally ready to embark upon the Adventures of the Lady and the Billi in the magical land of My Hostel. I have a lot to tell you, but I’ll just save it up for my next post. So, far I’ve established the history of the cats and this might seem an abrupt ending, but I guess you should also get used to billis and their antics like we guys did, isn’t it? I promise I’ll be back with a lot of s*** for you to read.

Till then, keep wondering what if the Lady had taught the cats to do ‘it’ this way –

The cat's gotta poop

I never would have come up with this story [:)]. It’s sad that cat lovers don’t have even this amount of common sense.



Posted in Uncategorized by cready on September 26, 2009

Friends, today I’m going to tell you the story of an aashique. I met him two years ago on our first day in college and days have passed by since that first awkward “Hello”. In a few months from now, I know we’ll be choosing different directions. But each day that I’ve known him, I’ve learned a bit more about romance. Now I know the mischievous moron in you will want to conclude that this story is a naughty romance between me and him, but no matter how gay it sounds, it’s not about us. Even if ultimately experts deduce some gay-ish undertones in this writing, believe you me, two years in the company that I have around me right now ought to bring some change in my writing style if not my lifestyle.

I’ve never known love. I don’t know what it is like to be with a woman and often, I’m pushed by my magnificent fate to rely on imagination. And so, no matter how cruel it sounds, I hope most of you too are alone like me. It gives me a much deserved solace. If not my own life, my great aashique friend has time and again given me a glimpse into the life of a real Romeo. Its one thing to read about great love stories in novels, and its another thing to experience it. But when fate is sad like mine is, even a friend like aashique is a God send – its a very different experience to know love through a friend. And so for the benefit of the single losers among you, I’m going to tell you my friend’s love story.

You know, great authors and poets out there will paint you the picture that a true lover is a born casanova. But my aashique dost was never like that when I first met him. He was almost womanly coy and totally an adarsh bachaa in the eyes of any parent who knew him. But while I whined about my overhwelmingly male surrounding, he did the right thing. He found himself love – and thankfully, the love of a woman. Plus, he had, what a man would identify as boobs, but what only a woman would identify as man-breasts. Its mean to say it, but all people here playfully tease him and touch them thanks to the absence of real ones. I know he likes people touching his gorgeous assets, but now that he’s in love, he just won’t admit it. Infidelity has become a strict ‘no-no’ for him. Over the months, the guy who almost always stayed shy metamorphosed into this aashique that not just us, but no batch in the last ten years here had ever seen. In my eyes, the aashique has become some sort of legend – a man with mystical powers to make any female go weak in her knees.

As I was saying, his mobile phone which previously was witness to only drab calls started enjoying itself to the sweet chirpy female voices from the other end. The aashique began to be seen with his phone everywhere – lying on the ground in front of his room with his luscious hair gracing the floor, on his friends’ beds scrubbing his tummy casually, sitting on the katta outside the hostel gazing at the empty sky above, in the college bus enjoying the romance alongside the warm afternoon wind…and even in the toilet! He became first an inspiration to the men around and later a source of envy as to how he could be so smooth. We the beasts tried to harass him and teased him incessantly by prying on his calls and even tried calling his lady love from our phones, but his prowess rested unmatched. That smile..that was just unbeatable! The aashique who previously sang songs purely for platonic reasons now began humming romantic tunes in memory of his janemann. Soon, janemann became cutee pie and sooner she became ‘butter scotch’. These days, whenever aashique goes on an ice-cream trip, its just amusing to see how he unfailingly has the Butter Scotch scoop as if it were some religious thing. Such geheraa is his love for his janemann. This man who previously used to stare at perplexing equations hours on end now gazes romantically at her picture on his computer screen. He has even became conscious of his looks – once upon a time he was this barbarous Tarzan with unkempt, long hair and now he gets conscious every single time someone were to click a picture. A few times I also saw him complaining about his tummy.

No wonder someone rightly said, “Pyaar aadmi ko andhaa banaa deta hai“…Love was in the air..

And then, a major thing happened one day. While speaking on the phone with his janemann one day, she invited him to come visit her. At first he was exhilarated. This was the first time they were gonna become serious face-to-face. While it sent a pleasant shiver down his spine when he first heard those words, the magnanimity of what he had just committed struck him only after he had finished all the sweet phone talk. By all means it wasn’t a fucking joke. His head began spinning with all sorts of puzzles as to what he should wear, what gift he should buy for her, how he should treat her friends and so on…for a moment, he almost went nuts. Then came ‘we’ to the rescue. After all, what are friends for? “Take this. This..this will give you confidence”, bhaiyaa uttered patting his back encouragingly placing a pack of condoms in the aashique‘s hands. “Bhaiyaa, usne pappi di to bhi bahut hoga“, he uttered blushingly over his vibrating tummy, his goose-bumps almost apparent. Well yes – that was his dream. He had given her a jhappi so many times on the phone and now, he just wanted the real thing. After all, what’s love without a kiss? A kiss was to be the manifestation of their love for each other. He was so desperate and nervous for that perfect pappi that before leaving, he went wild and even tried practicing his kissing technique on the bushy faces around.

Finally, the day of his leaving arrived. The entire boy crowd came to bid him good luck. It was a very emotional moment. The badey bhaiyaa hugged him teary eyed and told him to return with head held high. All the others also hugged him, pulled his cheeks and told him it was a matter of pride for single men all over. With determination in his head, love in his heart and passion in his loins, the aashique set sail for the greatest romance ever told.

Well, my friends, that is all I know as a fact. I saw all of this. What happened there is what I’m about to tell you now, but I was not a witness to it. So you got to believe the aashique’s version for this.
The moment he set foot on his janemann‘s city, it was like a dream for him. They went to the Mall, they watched movies and also had a very romantic aankho-mein-aankhe dinner at a fab restaurant. She then took him over to a hill behind her hostel at night where they lay on the grass gazing at the magnificent sky. They sang the usual songs and danced and so on. They did all the hero-heroine things – except that one thing. Bhaiyaa‘s teary face always kept haunting him every time he came within striking distance of her lips. He felt her warm hands, smelt her dashing hair and looked into her dark, dense eyes. But her lips always, always remained elusive. He tried very hard to muster the nerve to make the first move, but his damning girly boobs always got in the way.

Finally, the day to leave dawned. His janemann came to bid him good-bye on the station. Dressed in the dress that he had given her as a gift, she looked just stunning. The tension was so immense that while janemann was absolutely vulnerable, all our aashique could think while looking down at his boobs was how sad a person he was. He kept thinking of how he had chickened out like a girl. No wonder God had given him girly boobs. The condom, bhaiyaa‘s tears, his friends’ hugs…all that kept spinning in his head. Terribly disappointed with himself, he bid an emotional janemann good-bye.

“Wait!”, exclaimed janemann just as he turned around. The love had poured over – but the story wasn’t yet finished. Racing towards him, she leaped into his arms – before he could say anything, before he could care about the on-lookers around, she pressed her luscious lips onto his. The tension had been broken. The inhibitions were now history.

And in that passionate hug, their boobs got pressed against each other. They had finally proclaimed their love for each other.

Thankfully, it was a rapturous ending.

Moral of the story? The girl took the call. The girl should always take the call. You know why? Because while God gave real breasts to girls, our aashique had a mere set of fake boobs.

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