Leaving Woodstock


Authors Hanging Out

Car: Volkswagen Bus


In the summer of a glorious year, the Mad Men from Madison Avenue had rolled out a campaign for the impressionable youth. In collaboration with Guy Ritchie, “Woodstock, two smokes and a barrel” had become THE global event to attend. Once a cultural phenomenon, Woodstock was redesigned, repackaged and renewed, making it one of the most widely consumed product world over. Drugged and adulterated, the best of the world were seen caught in awkward moments.

Tennis stars were seen attempting to cut open a coconut with a saw while Bud Spencer’s distant cousin, looked on deliriously.

mccenroe, novak, branson







A sozzled Darth Vader had lost his way from Comic Con and was last seen lifting Hitler’s uncle.

freddy darth vader

Bored and feeling neglected, five friends, Woody Allen, Jerry Seinfeld, Morgan Freeman, Jim Parsons (Sheldon Cooper) and Sylvia Plath decided to take off. Plath was hoping to get Kerouac on board, but he said he’d been On the Road for a long time now and could do with a break. After stealing the Volkswagen Bus from the pretentious Jonas Brothers, the famous five sped across Enid Blyton, who seemed stuck in a déjà vu. “Nothing stinks like a pile of unpublished writing” spat Plath as she took the lyrics of the band and threw it out of the van. Jerry took to the wheel with Morgan sitting in the seat next to him. Woody had begun putting pen to paper when Jim, standing outside the van went on a rant. “Morgan, get up. You’re in my spot.” Morgan Freeman’s Voice: “Son, we all have a spot in the universe. And this became mine when I put my foot inside.” Jim: “I’m sorry Sir, but you are mistaken. History dictates that your race has always come from behind, before it reigned all over the world. You can ask the President if you have any doubts. I, on the other hand, have been in front all my life. School, college, the bathroom. As pattern has it, I always come first”. Morgan regretting the secrecy clause he signed on Bruce Almighty, quietly returned to the back while Jim had his spot. As Jerry began driving, we hear his monologue in the background, “This is a 1950 Volkswagen Bus. Brushed in cobalt blue, this beauty has a 1950 rear engine, a rare sight in today’s world. Today my guests are a bunch of famous people from different eras. The VW Bus has enough space for multiple egos too. I’m Jerry Seinfeld, and this is Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee”. At this juncture Morgan got offended. In his classic Morgan Freeman voice, he said, “Mr. Seinfeld, the entire world knows my voice and act stands for inspiration, cool gadgets and serious drama. I even play a President sometime. I think you should revisit your statement.” After an unusual silence Woody butted in, “I could do with coffee. So would this tall pole with white hair. And that ergonomic robot seated next to you. How about you sweetheart, Sylvia, do you mind some coffee?” After a puzzled look from Sylvia, they all stepped down for a cup of coffee.

Jerry: “Can we get some coffee. Please”? To that the waitress went, “How would you like that? With milk? Cream? Americano? Latte? Cappuccino? Macchiato? French Press?” At this point, Jerry stood on the table and got into his act. “Have you ever tried ordering for coffee at a bistro? It is the most difficult thing to make. Do I add sugar? White? Brown? Do I add water? Milk? It’s like trying to solve some world crisis. And if I say I want milk, the looks people give. Oh he’s not a puritan. He’s pretentious. He just wants to look cool. He is not American enoughhhh. Is it too much to ask for milk in the coffee? It’s not like you have to milk the cow yourself, you know!” When the tape of laughter track began to fade away, Jerry stepped down. In the meanwhile, on the other table Woody was trying to woo Sylvia Plath. Sylvia was lost in her daze. “If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I’m neurotic as hell. I’ll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days”. Woody took in those words and expressed an epiphany he had just had. “That does sound beautiful. A gone era meeting today’s in between. At midnight. Maybe in Paris. Would you come with me to the Golden Age baby? You can play yourself. Neurotic. Preoccupied. Sexy. What do you say? “. Ignoring the invitation, she continued sipping her coffee.
After a rather strange scene at the coffee shop, they all got back in the VW bus and continued their journey.

They saw two funny people asking for a lift.

Lucas, spielsberg

Jim: “Don’t stop the car. I’m still disappointed with George Lucas for The Phantom Menace.” Jerry: But what was wrong with Spielberg? Jim: “He’s friends with Michael Bay. That cannot be excused or forgiven.” Woody was twitching by now. “Morgan, we need some weed. Do any of your brothers live around?”. Furious at the question, Morgan retaliated, “I don’t come from Boston Mr. Allen. Neither am I poor. I may look so, but I’m filthy rich.” Desperate to act on his Comedian instinct, Jerry blurted out, “Sing a rap song Morgan, will ya? Ha ha ha”. Jim too managed a guffaw, “Oh clever, playing on the implications of colour and music and finding the humour in its euphemism. Heh!”. Plath was getting irritated now with this incessant banter. Thoughts of ending her life were stronger than ever. Jerry at this juncture informed all that he has a friend in Austin, Texas. “My friend, Lance Armstrong used to be a cyclist. Now he’s a peddler. Ha ha ha. See what I did there?” Jim looking lost in the herd of laughter sheepishly asked, “See what? What did you do there?”
The car came to a screeching halt. Batman was standing there enjoying a cigar. Jim excitedly jumped in his seat. While Batman walked towards the car, Morgan, feeling embarrassed, tried to hide behind Woody. Batman: “Lucius, why are you hiding?” Morgan: “What can I do for you Mr. Wayne?”. Batman: “The Tumbler’s not starting. Can you just check it for me?” Morgan stepped out of the car and bid goodbye to his friends. Jerry: “Did we just have Batman’s mechanic with us all this while?”
As they made their way towards Texas, they saw Jesus Christ hanging on a hoarding of Apple Ipod. Looking at that Plath got really excited. “Death indeed looks beautiful. Stop the car; I want to see it closely”. Jerry drove past saying “It’s Mel Gibson. He wants to come on my show. I think he’s trying too hard”.
Woody: “Jerry, can you pull over for two minutes, I want to say hi to my friend Xzibit.”Jerry: You have a friend called Xzibit? Jim: “Is he a mathematician?” All stepped out and went to use the bathroom to freshen up.

Waiting for the others, Plath and Woody were sharing a smoke. “Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I’ve a call”, Plath whiffed out. Woody took a long drag, “Do you know there are worse things in life than death. Have you ever spent an evening with an insurance salesman?” Angry at another attempt to woo her, Plath warned him, “If you ever think you’d be able to sleep with me, it would be over my dead body”. Woody, “Death seems like a toothbrush to you. It’s like you can’t live without it.”
By the time all were back, the VW bus was looking outrageously jazzy. Xzibit: “Yo dawg, since you like to be funny, we installed a mike in your boot. And Jerry, since you always love an audience, we installed a camera with wi-fi, so you can connect with all your fans. We coloured your car black and added these mad fire symbols. And this beauty now comes with 24 speakers, so your entertainment can go wherever you go. Jerry, we just Pimped Your Ride.”

Outraged by the horror, Jerry warned Woody never to stop again for anything. And they drove ahead. As the sun set on them, Chainsaw Wielding Killer was standing, waiting for his latest prey. As he came and growled at their car, no one seemed scared or interested. After all, they had had a pretty long day. Jerry: “Oh come on, one more man lost his way from Comic Con. I am done with these cheap thrills”. Plath: “Kill me. Kill me.” Jim: “I was born and raised in Texas. And I am in no mood for pranks sir. So if you’re done here, we can move along.” Plath: “Kill me. Kill me.” Woody: “Not my genre. I pass”.
Dejected at no one being scared, he took his chainsaw and killed himself. Plath looked rather disappointed as they drove past in the darkness.
Fade to black.
Cut to Drew Carrey: Welcome to Whose Line Is It Anyway, where everything is made up and the points don’t matter.

This is an entry for IndiBlogger’s “The Perfect Road Trip” contest by Ambi Pur.
To know more about Ambi Pur, visit http://www.facebook.com/AmbiPurIndia



Agent K was testing the legs of a squirmy little alien to look for signs of electricity. As he was busy writing the findings from this research, Agent J walked in dressing a Yoda lookalike in the latest Billabong shorts. As awkward silence was filling up the room, a burp sound came from the sandwich toaster. It was a message from the headquarters.

“Agent H is missing. He was last seen in a black alien infested area known as Bandra in Mumbai, India. Indian post was slow with its results as our technology was stolen to create electricity in their country. It’s been 37 years. Find him”.

Agent K dropped the squirm. Yoda let out a wheezed sound after being squeezed. Both agents took their Stark toys and turned the key three times. The toy spoke: “I’ve privatized world peace. I’ve privatized world peace. I’ve privatized world peace”. And then it broke into a smoke. 3 seconds later, the agents were dressed as the title of the movie asked them to – In Black. Using technology and the Invisibility Cloak, they landed outside Bandra station. And within no time they were surrounded by khakhi dressed men speaking an alien language. Agent J took out his space gun but was stopped by K. “They’re human. Don’t shoot”. As they walked out that moth infested, poop smelling area, they saw beautiful women hailing cabs. They asked the ‘Operator’ to program them to understand this language. Hindi software was getting installed as their eyelids were batting. As the area did not have Wi-fi and network service providers were cheating the locals under the garb of 3G, it took some time for the language to load. As the language was loaded, they witnessed the horror.

“Baiyya, baiyya, Kaar chaloge?”

“Baut badiya aye”

“Sweety, kitne dino baad baar nikle aye”

“Mera pet bar gaya”

“Yaan Waan, Kaan batak raye te?”

Agent H was missing. It must be hiding in their lands somewhere. It’s not there in their language as well. They had to try to find him.

They went to a tobacco shop and tried experimenting. Maybe these guys were under a spell. “We just need to add the H and maybe the spell can be broken.”

MAHALO went Agent K.

“What men?” replied the shopkeeper.

MAHALO followed Agent J.

“Maal nai mangta aye. Aur aisa maal lo maal lo nai bolneka. Samja tum? Kaayde ke kilaaf aye”.

This was a more serious threat than Boris – The animal. That was one man. Here, one entire suburb was infected. And these were humans. Where could they find him? Rumour had it they might have hidden H in Vikhroli. So Agent J approached a young woman in her mid-20s and asked her if she could guide them to Vikhroli.

“Vikroli. Wat is dat?”

Agent J was taken aback. The ladies here are oblivious to everything outside Bandra. Either they deny the existence or they simply don’t have the knowledge. They must be unaware. Or maybe, they seriously are under a spell.

As they were crossing the stretch near St. Andrews College, they spotted a few Nigerians and what seemed like Agent J’s lost brothers from Boston. As a wide grin was plastered around Agent J’s face, he went and shoulder hugged them with happiness. After around 4 rounds of Waddups, J discovered that these boys trying to be men are not from where he thought they were. They were locals again. One of them though was a foreigner; he claimed to have come from what he called ‘Maaim’.

Baffled with this behavior, the Agents found themselves trapped under a serious spell. One they found was more threatening than any alien invasion. This one seemed entrenched. A virus that was seeded years ago, and has been growing ever since. They had lost connection with the base. Also with the operator. Their wallets had been stolen. And they found their own ties being sold on the streets. They were in a land far superior to theirs. There was a time, when they actually believed they were cool. This suburb with all its flair and disguise was a goldmine of geniuses. Some, they understood. While others they claimed were far ahead of their time. How they wished Griffin could come. The fact that he couldn’t spoke highly of the power, this small suburb possessed.

They put on their invisibility cloaks on and took a train to Marine Lines to meet the Navy officer to help them sail away to America. As they stepped out, they couldn’t believe what they saw. It was Agent H polishing shoes. He was wearing earrings and had a tan. He looked very close to the Bandra folk. When Agent H greeted them with Whaddup, he told them his story.

“That small suburb is a very powerful place. It has a quicksand quality. It sucks you in its world. Takes away all your possessions. Changes the way you talk. Makes you look down at people from other parts of the world. It has a life of its own. Only when I got out, I realized what had happened to me.”

“There has to be a way out. You must have figured something out.” Agent J pleaded.

“There is. But we have to enter Bandra again for that. I’ve tried 272 times, but failed. Getting back in is difficult. And once you get in, getting out is more difficult. Those people have a shrine; it’s called “Carter Road”. I’ve been caught every time I’ve tried to go there. Their Gods come there. And their goddesses, well, you get sucked in those flying kisses and that accent, and within no time, you’re trapped. And caught. Naked. Exposed. Anyways, on that road, there is a stone. Under which I’ve kept the portkey that will transport us back to our world”, concluded Agent H.

The agents had invisibility cloaks. Using that, they not only entered Bandra again, but successfully reached the stone.

Agent H looked in their eyes and said– “We have to say this together and say it right. Three times, only then we can go back. Ready boys? 1, 2, 3”.

“Aye bugger, wat men. Baiyya baiyya”

“Aye bugger, wat men. Baiyya baiyya”

“Aye bugger, wat men. Baiyya baiyya”

They were back in the living room where Yoda was steeling wheezing and the squirmy alien was creating electricity. And that’s when Agent H kissed the Yoda and the Squirmy Alien. There were tears in his eyes. At that point, Agent j said, “Welcome home man. Welcome home”.

The real writer behind Apple ads discovered

They say it’s the best product ever made. It has revolutionized life as we know it. While every lady is going ga ga over Steve Jobs and his achievement, the communication mastermind was lost in the design. You know apple products are the finest gadgets you’d find around. Some even call it a life form, without which, life would be so drab. But who told you about these masterpieces. You read about it. You’ve seen the commercials. But the punchlines, well they really packed a punch didn’t they? Very soon you’d know why.

He has been found. The copywriter who gave you these marvels. The real life Avengers assemble if you may call it. Thank him every time you call yourself a mactard. Or look down on someone when they have a non-apple device.

Chiat/Day had to really dig deep to find this gem. They met this superhero at a Rapid English Speaking Course. He was in the middle of accent training, playing with his long streaks of hair, twirling and straightening them alternatively. While this peculiar man grabbed their attention, they were unsure about his capabilities, but they offered him a job nonetheless. And that’s when he took to the stage and announced himself to the entire world. As his shirt unbuttoned itself, and his pelvic thrust knocked the daylights of the other students, he literally made time stop and delivered a punch line, “Mujhpe ek hi aisaan karna, ki mujhpe koi aisaan nahi karna”. The students were stunned. The Rapid English teachers were speechless. Chiat/Day couldn’t believe the impact he had. They also couldn’t believe their luck. There was a thunderous applause and a song too. After this great man catwalked or what he called dance, the CCO offered him a two-year contract. Mr. Mass Appeal, yes, hindi pun intended, accepted the offer but refused to sign. Puzzled, disturbed, scared and partly amused, the room turned silent. And then once again, this time with a reverb effect, he said, “Maine ek baar commitment kardi toh main apne aap ki bhi nahi sunta.” The impact those words had still echo in the hearts of the people present there. Mothers cried of pride. Young boys shat in their pants. Men had found their modern-day messiah. And Chiat/Day, a voice for this generation. They could already sense their victory. Their supremacy over the world.

Steve Jobs was standing confused in front of his closet. There were 23 black turtle neck t-shirts hanging for daylight, looking at each other. Each one was as confused as the next one. After 47 minutes of contemplation, Jobs chose the 11th one. The reason behind that is still unknown and research is underway. The publisher has promised to add this as well to this biography whenever they find an answer. Mr. Mass Appeal walked in wearing a satin shirt. Jobs was standing in front of the mirror with a comb. After a 48 hour discussion on hair weaving, Jobs, that guy from Chiat/Day and Mr. Mass Appeal began talk on the commercial to be aired at Superbowl in 1984. 38 seconds. That’s all it took for Mr. Accent to narrate the punchline. (He never wrote. He just said it. And it was written in the pages of history later). “You’ll see why 1984 won’t be like 1984”. That line is considered to be a classic. Or in modern terms, epic. As the accent got thicker, the design got slimmer, but the line, still packed a punch. A few years later, Mr. Mass Appeal was trying to call his girlfriend and failing miserably. After being accused of 40 missed calls, this technological challenged tag was showing up on his hairline. Receding by the day, he approached Steve with this problem who was trying to shred his bills through a gate. He had also broken a window by now. These two frustrated souls then walked into a bar. *pause*. After drinking for 4 days and talking to a black buck, Steve Jobs decided to have a white revolution. At first. “I’ll introduce a black version later”, he promised. Mr. Mass Appeal pleaded for something simple, something that even a layman could understand. The IPhone was discovered. This time around, Mr. Mass Appeal held the phone and cried for 3 minutes 40 seconds. And then he took off his shirt and said, “If you don’t have an Iphone, you don’t have an Iphone”. The world had changed by now. LOLs had taken over. Jobs at the peak of his career had one final straw to pull off. He called it an upgrade. Mr. Mass Appeal this time (successfully) called from the Iphone and over a con call he said, “This changes everything. Again”.

Steve Jobs passed away. So did these epic lines. But both these legends have left behind a legacy that will never stop to amaze. Or amuse.

Trap / Drill

Black and white traps the slumdog

Colour traps the millionaire

Bokeh traps the flower

And its close-up traps the bloom

Sepia traps fine old age

Treatment does not make it vintage

Wines are always trapped in red

Parties are always trapped in dread

Portraits trap the personality

Landscapes trap the vision

Presets trap your imagination

Lenses trap your skill

A camera traps your memory

And in short, that’s the drill.

The Dance

He dropped his towel. And walked into her arms. The embrace locked two bodies. It locked time. As the hands of the clock ticked, their hands moved around. It spoke of a different time zone. A time where communication did not need words. It did not need eyes. The lips played harmonica and their feet glided in motion. Lips were in sync with feet, and they dove into an emotion rarely experienced before. Clapton clapped. Vincent was left starry-eyed. Martin swayed. And within that unchained melody, they got chained. Trapped between minutes, they spent a lifetime.

They opened their eyes and said goodbye.

Poonjabi Boys

We wear cool suits
We wear shiny Shoes
We’re the Poonjabi Boys
Oh yeah
We’re the Poonjabi Boys
We’re special, we trailer
Goods and stuff we trailer
We’re the Poonjabi Boys
Oh yeah
We’re the Poonjabi Boys
We do chat
and we do mail
We do gale
We do all on the move
Oooo, ooo, ooo, hoooo
Cos We’re the Poonjabi Boys
Oh yeah
We’re the Poonjabi Boys
Na na na
We’re the Poonjabi Boys
Oh yeah
We’re the Poonjabi Boys

Ron Jeremy – Pearl Jam Lyrics

At home
Drawing pictures
Of mountainous tops
With him on top
Lemon yellow cum
Legs spread in a V
head lay in pools of maroon below

Daddy didn’t give attention
To the fact that mommy didn’t care
Ron Jeremy the wicked
Screwed the world

Jeremy groped in class today
Jeremy groped in class today

Clearly I remember
Drippin’ on the boy
Seemed a harmless little fuck
But we unleashed a lion
Gnashed his teeth
And bit the recessed lady’s breast

How could I forget
He hit me with a surprise left
My cunt left hurting
Dropped wide open
Just like the day
Like the day I heard

Daddy didn’t give affection
And the boy was something that mommy wouldn’t wear
Ron Jeremy the wicked
Screwed the world

Jeremy groped in class today
Jeremy groped in class today
Try to forget this…
Try to erase this…
From the black rod.

A different need. A different weed.

From drugs that expand to drugs that escape

A nirvana sometimes, sometimes a pale gape

As the great inventors fed a man’s need

Man lost his mind in the greed of weed

While some were driven to outperform

Many floated in mid-air, going askew from the norm

What I complain is about this Godsend substance that expands

With our minds already in Woodstock, we don’t need these ‘other lands’

Jinxed with knowledge, horizons can remain at bay

Give me a contraction substance, 2 pills a day

Coz the mind travels everywhere, beyond the present

Hope has eclipsed, I’m staring at the moon, waiting for a crescent

Mind’s become a pirate, and thoughts are its dead crew

Oh, beautiful drug of contraction, where the fuck are you?

When the Big Idea takes a sick leave!

The opportunity has presented itself. It is today. And all you need to have is a hard on for a long time, and then pleasure will be complimentary. Because you have the craft. But what if the mind refuses to give you an erection? The result, you become slimy, and no matter how much you shag, you’re not getting a hard on. That’s how the brain’s been today. Slimy. Let me put it this way, what if you can score with Ana Ivanovic (don’t ask why), and then Jeff’s Melty Man Cometh. Such is my state today. How I wish Nolan was residing in me in this very moment. But instead I have the redundant David Dhawan, or any such regressive guys. Can you believe I thought of a Swiss Knife for an idea? I mean, kill me!!! There have been many such ‘waccrap’ moments. And as they say it, I’m reinventing the wheel. Tried to distract myself with music and youtube and smokes. And where did I return?? HERE, writing this post. Also makes me wonder how annoying it can get when on decisive days, employees take a sick leave. Not being a hypocrite, as I, too, like you have been a culprit. Why do we have all these days? And being human is not the answer I’m looking for! Yeah, being whimsical and moody fit, but there has to be something more concrete. Maybe there isn’t, and I’m looking for a good reason today. Don’t want to resort to science; Dr. Cooper is fun on television, not for good. Though would be fun for some time. Hmmm. Returning to my impotent state. What do I do now? Just start afresh tomorrow? But then that would be like resigning my mind today! Why are we so demanding from ourselves? Why do we breed such an ego that’s tough to calm down? When you keep yourself on a pedestal, it’s very tough to be satisfied. No wonder our kind is often termed clandestine. It’s not like we are leprechauns, just we’re tough to satisfy. Ok, that just makes me sound like a smug king.

What was I talking about again? Fuck it. I’ll keep trying. Maybe some spark will be kind on me.

70 word story


She looked him deep in the eyes. Slid her tongue out. And said, “Do it now”

He was taken aback. He asked, “Are you sure?”

She sat on the couch and took off her belt. And said, “Hell yeah. Do it now”

He took his pants off and did it. Hard. For long. Till she cried.

Moral of the story: Don’t always look for a twist in the end.