"Dad, I'm just calling to let you know that I'm a millionaire."

 Most 18 year olds dream of becoming millionaires over their lifetimes. Yashasvi Jaiswal is not your regular 18 year old. 

When the coronavirus was just a whisper in the corridors of power, young Yashasvi was busy accumulating runs on his way to a Player of the Series trophy in the acclaimed Under-19 Cricket World Cup held in South Africa, over the months of January and February 2020. This is the same tournament that has paved the way for cricketing stalwarts like Prithvi Shaw, Yuvraj Singh and even our current Indian captain, Virat Kohli. His presence amongst such august company is a testament to his unflappable focus and tremendous determination in the face of adversity. 

As a young cricketer blessed with some natural talent, the road to success usually takes a detour to the city of dreams, Mumbai. And so begins the story of this particular cricketer. Born in the town of Suriyawan, Uttar Pradesh, 10 year old Yashaswi convinced his father to take him to Mumbai to hone his skills on the maidans that have produced innumerable sons of the game that have gone on to make the country proud. He was put up in a room above a bakery, working on the premises part-time in order to pay the rent. But numerous time consuming practice sessions threw a spanner in the works, and Yashasvi was relegated to the curb. 

The mean streets of Mumbai bring even the hardiest men to their knees, but Yashaswi put his head down and soldiered on. He decided to lodge with the groundsmen of the renowned Azad Maidan in canvas tents, giving him easy access to the cricket pitch. People say that man can sleep hungry, only if his heart is full, and this holds true in the case of Yashaswi. Forced to sell pani-puri by the roadside to make ends meet, he did not let his hand to mouth existence deter him from giving his all on the cricket pitch. On the maidans that see seasoned veterans struggling to put bat on ball, Yashaswi played with a fluency that astonished those that watched him play. Fortunately for the young batsman, amongst the audience was Jwala Singh, the coach and founder of the Mumbai Cricket Club. He spotted the raw talent in this strapping lad, and saw in him the potential to play at the highest level. He took Yashaswi under his wing, adding tools to his arsenal to help elevate his standard of play. 

He was catapulted into the limelight in 2014, and the Limca Record Books, for his marathon knock of 319 runs and breathtaking figures of 13/99 in the same match at the Giles Shields Cup, at the age of 12. Since then, there has been no looking back. This innings paved the way for his selection into the squad for the Under-19 Youth Asia Cup where he top scored with 318 runs in the tournament. Yashasvi continued to break records with reckless abandon, becoming the youngest List A cricketer in the world to score a double century, achieving the feat in the Vijay Hazare trophy, in 2019. The national selectors sat up and took notice of this youngster taking the cricket scene by storm, picking him for the Under-19 World Cup, where the rest, as they say, is history. 

But Yashaswi’s story doesn’t end there. He was included in the pool of players for the IPL auction in 2020, and was signed by the Rajasthan Royals for a whopping 2.4 crore Rupees, culminating a bidding war that included IPL powerhouses Kolkata Knight Riders and Kings XI Punjab. In a country where rags ever so rarely become riches, a roadside pani-puri vendor surpassed his wildest dreams and became royalty. 

Beggin'

 Reality is a horror story

Scored with a haunting melody

Life is cruel, people claim

A dog eat dog world!

The law of the jungle!

A jungle, yes, of concrete monoliths 

Peopled by cold, unfeeling machines

A man is on the street 

Hunched under the relentless rain 

Hand outstretched, pride dead in his acidic stomach

It's his fault, of course, rustle the Chinese whispers

Why can't he stand on his own feet, as I do, they declare

Riding past on the backs of their ancestors, 

A cocoon of privilege, wrapped like a kashmere scarf

A woman is on the street 

Draped in the colours of the world

Hand outstretched, a prayer on her lips

It's his choice, of course, the sheep bleat

Why can't he be like the rest of us, normal, they wonder 

Putting on their blinkers of prejudice,

A mask of conformity, designed by the factories of intolerance

A child is on the street

Armed with an infection smile

Hand outstretched, eyes blind to the cold world

It's his luck, of course, the sound echoes 

Why isn't he in school like the rest of us, happy, they question 

Stepping over the gates on their high horse,

A wall of entitlement, separating us and them 

Humanity is on the street, 

Trampled by our indifference

Hand outstretched, begging for our attention

It's not my problem, of course, mankind implores

Why can't you look away like the rest of us, selfish, they grumble

Making their way into their ivory towers, 

A nail in the coffin, man, woman and child buried under six feet of apathy. 

Choose.

Life sputtered into existence

Crawled out of an evolutionary cesspool 
Or draped itself on Michaelangelo's canvas
A miracle akin water to wine
Choose.

Life fused into existence
Love's culmination, seeds of joy
Blooming, growing, fighting
XX or X Why
Choose.

Life laughed into existence
Disdain for convention, apparent
Music, for the soul
Doctor, without a begging bowl
Choose.

Life rose into existence
Summits, a child's play
Woman. Entrepreneur. CEO?
But what will people say?
Choose.

Life plummeted into existentialism
Knocking on death's door
Weeping, questioning
Do we choose to live,
Or live to
Choose?

X and why?

A soul, driven to endure
Cards of irretrievable fate dealt
Weaving molecular connections
Of infinite curiosity

Princesses, in castles, not
Taught of Prince Harming
Who stalked women, as deer
Prey hunted, lacking fear

With trodden maturity
Age, a hidden Whisper
Volume, hair synonymous
As opinions, unheard

Romance was futility
Bliss, ignorant
Flowers bloomed to wither
Men, born to lie

A pedestal for love
Broken by passion
Women and sex?
Utterly Fucking Ostentatious

Columns written, unafraid
Feminist pen capped
Thought crime was Orwellian
1984, averted

Finally,
The wait was over.
The future,
Arrived.

10 Reasons Why An Appendectomy Is The Perfect Vacation You Never Thought Of

Disclaimer : This comprehensive list may leave you in literal (and/or; proverbial) stitches. Please consult your nearest medical student before reading.

While the title of this clickbait-esque piece promises actionable results, you will notice that the effort required to achieve them is conspicuously absent (as such things usually go). This is where you are in luck, as the only effort an appendectomy requires of you is the patience of dealing with doing nothing all day. Also, mind-numbing pain with every breath, cough and sneeze. But let's focus on the positives.

Now that it has been established that I have lost my marbles (appendix, actually), bear with me as I chronicle why this might be the perfect vacation you have never thought of.

1. Surprise!

    What transports you from enjoying a quiet post-exam/conference weekend to a writhing mass of uncontrolled pain and anguish in a matter of minutes? Suicide Squad. Appendicitis comes a close second. The unpredictable element of this disease was demonstrated remarkably in my case. One moment I was dancing to the tunes of DJ Wala Babu in our college basement (no h8 plox), and 48 hours later, I'm in a hospital bed using flowery language to "converse" with the nursing staff. This also goes to prove that there is a correlation between terrible Hindi music and life-threatening health conditions.

2. Don't hate the player, hate the game.

   You'll be happy to know that you can do absolutely nothing to prevent the onset of appendicitis. While this is generally not something to be pleased about, in the context of the shitstorm of blame that will inevitably follow, you're entirely free of liability. Your boss/principal has to find another outlet for all that frustration building up from the bevy of atrocious DC offerings. Please remember that this is coming from a sleep deprived 2nd year medical student, so my word is go'spiel'.
 
3. Emergency life-saver

   An appendectomy is an emergency life-saving procedure. Is that quarterly review taking too long or will that Professor just never shut up or do you want to leave in the middle of Suicide Squad without seeming like a DC hater?! Keeling over holding your belly screaming 'Oh, my appendix', will probably smoothly extricate you from these situations without any fuss. Easy as spelling Laparoscopic Appendectomy.

4. VLCC, who?

  Prior and post an appendectomy, you are required to maintain NBM (nil by mouth), which is basically medical slang to prevent you from shoving absolutely anything down your throat. It also happens to be fantastic life advice for some people. No, I'm not insinuating anything, orally or otherwise. Back to the meat of this point, I was starved for nearly 3 days, losing all that puppy fat I hadn't accumulated over the years.When everyone who comes to visit just wants to fatten you up, you know you've achieved that beach body you've (I've) wanted since you were 13. Moreover, they're removing a part of your intestine. Lose-lose.

5. Wet Dreams

  You read that right. Putting it as indelicately as possible, you're not allowed to get your stitches wet, so enter sponge baths. The hot nurse that induced law-suit inviting thoughts in your head has to rub you down, from head to toe, with soapy warm water.... Or you could get as lucky as I was and land yourself a middle aged mustachioed man who will make you wish that the anesthesia had never worn off. But remember children, man lives to hope. For sponge baths. From hot nurses. Always.

6. The one with the morphine

  "All the world's in pain, and all the men and women have morphine". - Snoop Lion Samhita

 The weekend has arrived, all your dealers are in jail, and you really want to give Mary Jane some company. Fear not, an appendectomy is the one stop shop for all your higher priorities. Get yourself some of that really good stuff, on demand. For everybody who thinks Mary Jane is/was Spiderman's girlfriend, that's exactly what I meant.

7. 1 month your slave(s)

  You are not allowed to lift, bend, push, pull, run, cough, sneeze, breathe etc etc for atleast 2 weeks post surgery. Any indication of work being delegated to you can be met with a hand to your stitches, a wince of agony and a soft "It's okay, I'll work through the pain", and watch how everyone scurries about trying to put you out of your misery. Work it well, and you can milk it for a solid 4 weeks. Who thought that the answer to an overbearing boss, nagging spouse and lazy colleagues is a bandaged abdomen and theatrical ability.

8. Free Lunch

"Mujhe appendix do, main tumhe medical certificate doonga." - Dr. Tilak, Azaadi Hospital

There is something called a free lunch, despite what Jessica Pearson says. The insurance pays your hospital bills, you get paid leave from work. If you discount the fact that you might not actually be able to eat lunch for a while, you have yourself a technically sound freebie. Not so often that life throws you one of those, and all you have to give up is your appendix. Let it go.

9. Bragging Rights

Who wouldn't want a chance to say Joker's iconic dialogue "Do you wanna know how I got these scars?" and mean it? Bill Weasley had them on his face. Al Pacino was called Scarface. Scars are cool. And also nearly invisible in the case of most appendectomy procedures. So if you have a prominent scar after your appendectomy, please go to the doctor. It's infected. And potentially life threatening. Do not use this as a pick up line. All you will be picking up is the hospital bill.

10. LOL.

 Lots of love, duh. Your laughs out loud will be limited to the virtual realm till your stitches are removed, unless you want to spill your guts everywhere. Every colleague/friend that you may/ may not know exist and their sister will use you as an excuse to get out of dates, engagements, watching Suicide Squad etc. You'll never want for company and everyone leaves when it starts getting awkward. It's the perfect party scene that you'll never have.

While these 10 reasons might seem highly convincing arguments to embark on this journey, I don't recommend googling the symptoms and definitely do not advise faking them at your convenience. Anybody who does wish to employ such methods must keep in mind that this is a single use excuse and hence, must contemplate it's effectiveness before execution.

Well, what are you waiting for? The change that you've been waiting for, conveniently, comes from within.

So fake it till they take it.












 

When life gives you lemons...

When life gives you lemons...

I googled this phrase the other day, wondering how it actually ended, and as quite often with the internet, I wasn't disappointed. If you have a citrus fetish, or feeling a little thirsty, you're better off drinking a glass of lemonade than reading this article. Maybe not. 

Yahoo, which has deigned itself to be my default search engine by some mystical alignment of the stars (there is a joke about love hiding in this sentence somewhere) and a measure of laziness, declared some possible endings to this phrase, which have no roots in literary fact, but are nonetheless absolutely profound. I shall list some of my favourites below, along with the philosophical significance they don't hold in my (your) life. 

1. When life gives you lemons, make grape juice. 

       

      On first glance, you'll probably dismiss this as a waste of a stranger's time and grey matter (and your own), but pause just a moment and you'll realise that grape juice might just bring all the boys to the yard, after all. But from a philosophical stand point, and this is what this piece is all about, anon #1 is encouraging you to not just think out of the box, but to rid yourself of the box entirely, which is not bad advice entirely. Refer to Schrodinger's cat for reasoning. Also, if you succeeded in making grape juice from lemons, then congratulations, you just made Prof, McGonagall a very happy person. You have received an 'O' in your OWL. 

 2. When life gives you lemons, start a lemon orchard and then use all of your lemon money to buy a lime orchard, beginning your citrus monopoly.

    Quite straightforward financial advice. From an anonymous source. On the internet. Nothing can go wrong. Nothing. But if your mind is set on potential financial suicide, then go on, I'll prepare a convincing noose. What anon #2 has concealed so very well in mundane finance, is a motivational speech, which touches on exploring your potential as a citrus magnate, which fits right in with every child's dream of infinite lemonade. If the words touch and child in the same sentence made you feel uncomfortable, you might want to see a psychiatrist. Immediately.

All citrus fruit investments are subject to market risk. Please do not read anything on this article before investing.

3. When life gives you melons, you have dyslexia.

   You might have read that right, which means there's something wrong with you. Or you might have read that wrong, which means you might have dyslexia. Confused? Me too. But I'm writing this piece. Anon #3 is quite the social activist, what with slipping dyslexia awareness into a joke. Or he/she has quite a sick sense of humor, because how makes fun of dyslexics? Oops.

That concludes our brief (but profitable?) foray into the realm of citrus philosophy. Thank you for spending, what Word Counter says should take you two minutes to read. Not accounting for dyslexia. Oops.



... you might want to thank your dealer, because that was some quality stuff. Wink.

Ajab Internet Ki Ghazab Kahani

  We, Indians, are an amusing lot. If you've noticed, whenever a discussion about foreign presence in a country comes up, you can bank on an Indian proudly saying, "Eh, you know, India has never invaded any country, like ever.", while casually engaging in sexism, misogyny, communal unrest and female infanticide in the same breath. We, Indians, are an amusing lot. We are a country that gives directions based on time and movable landmarks. I can imagine an Indian giving directions to go to Mars, "Haan, go straight up for around 3 minutes, you'll see a big ball of fire on your right, no no, don't go there, take the free left and keep going for 300 days."

But the thing that gets me everytime is the way we categorize our internet. As a college student of all of 10 months, and as an NRI enjoying infamous speeds back home, the thing that breaks us first, if diarrheoa doesn't do it, is the agonizingly slow college wifi. It is not uncommon to find a student ensconed in a cupboard or perched on a shelf, because '3 bars bro'. As getting a separate internet connection in a hostel is a laughable fantasy, we avail the concept of an internet dongle. Facing dire straits, I found myself in the office of a local internet service provider, you know, because the internet is too slow for "Skype".

The following is a real life, albeit slightly exaggerated, incident. (Names have been withheld due to fear for life after recent Vyapam Scam incidents.)

"Sir, you are a college student?", to which the answer unfailingly is yes. Smiling as a Muslim smiles at a goat on Bakri Eid, he reached for a box on the shelf.
"Sir, this is the best offer for college students, 20 GB unlimited internet, one month validity, 9.8 MBps speed, just for Rs.999". I was dumbfounded. Unlimited internet for a month at that speed for a 1000 bucks? Surely, there was a catch. But, of course.
"So, I get unlimited internet for a month for Rs.999?".
"No Sir, 20 GB unlimited internet." Trying to wrap my head around having '20 GB' and 'unlimited' in the same sentence, I put forth the following reasonable conclusion.
"So, you're saying this offer is for 20 GB for one month at Rs.999."
"Yes, Sir, 10 GB unlimited morning, 10 GB unlimited night." Now, he was just playing with his food. I wondered what sheer confusion tasted like.
"But you said 20 GB?"
"Yes, Sir, this offer is for 20 GB unlimited internet, one month validity, 9.8 MBps speed, 10 GB morning, 10 GB night, just for Rs.999." At that point, Inception seemed to make more sense, so I just gave up, and called a friendly senior ( Yes, they do exist), who assured me that it was what I indeed wanted. I purchased said internet package and bolted before further assaults could be made on my intelligence.
And scene.

For my readers, who might be wondering if I didn't belong in a mental instituion, let me translate what just happened, with experience gained in hindsight. What, our dear friend, the internet salesman, meant was that the internet package would avail me to 20 GB of data at a speed of 9.8 MBps for a month, after which the speed would be regulated to certain pre-determined, much slower, limits. I still haven't figured out the 10 GB morning-night deal, but let me assure you it does not come with a complimentary breakfast.

What is now an amusing anecdote, is a prevalent scene across India. Seeing huge billboards advertising the very same 'Limited data, unlimited internet' is not uncommon. Fellow NRIs and other unsuspecting Indians, this is what it means. You are welcome.

It also provides us with an answer to the quintessential Indian question.
"Kitna deti hai?"
"20 GB unlimited internet, one month validity, 9.8 MBps speed, 10 GB morning, 10 GB night, Sir!"

Jaago, Grahak, Jaago!