Not What I Promised

Yes, yes, I know, and I apologise to all of the four people who read this blog. I haven't been updating for a while. First the holidays started, then my father came to visit and kept snatching the laptop so he could play Freecell *snarl*, and I do have ideas in my head for one of my Alter-Ego posts, but I haven't really formatted it out in my head, so bear with me. All in good time.


This week has been pretty good, seeing as I basically gave up on studying and the mother has been quite alright with it. I had a Lotus Buds Editors Meeting the other day, which was rather fun, except for the fact that the Junior Editors are lazy pain-in-the-asses. I also survived getting hurled to death, because I was supposed to go on the Deshpriya Park ferris wheel with SGpt and Sood the same afternoon, but we were too contented after lunch to walk, so we decided to stay indoors and stalk people on Facebook, which we didn't do, but the thing is, the next morning I read in the papers that the ferris wheel had catapulted three people to their death the evening that we were supposed to go. So, yeah, I thwarted Death.
I also attended the birthday party of a three-year-old. While the child is question is one that I am quite fond of, birthday parties for toddlers aren't exactly the hippest place to be, but to salvage that, there was a ball-pit (!) in the room, and although no one let me in (on account of me being completeyl capable of killing a few children while in the pit), it made for some good daydreaming. And there was Chinese food, which is always a treat.
Oh, and an ant got into my ear that same day. I know it doesn't sound like a big deal, and even if it is, in fact, a big deal, it is ordinarily something that people DON'T post about, but how many of the four people who read this blog have had an insect go into their ear? And FYI, it hurts like bloody murder. Slightly more painful than if you decided to saw your leg off and hopped one-legged around the world on a blood-stained stump of a footless leg. Ants that generally die because of my thumb's wrath finally got their revenge when one of their bravest ventured into my ear, and scrabbled all over my eardrum, causing me to writhe on the floor, having painful spasms. And my parents, (yes, both of them. My dad's visiting, remember?), well, both of them, for a good while, thought that I was being a whiner, and that I was throwing a tantrum because I didn't want to go to the party of the aforementioned Three-Year-Old. I think it was my repetitive cry of "MY EAR! DAMMIT MY EAR IS ON FIRE!!! *silently* FCKFCKFCK!! *loudly* MY EAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRR!!!"
At which point they probably realised, that me yelling about foreign objects in my ear is probably not the strongest argument that I had, and that maybe, just MAYBE, there was something in my ear?
I also went book-shopping today, and bought a wonderful new sketchbook for myself, because the old one that I had finished, besides, the pages were so big that it was becoming very hard to draw things that covered it entirely. The new sketchbook is so pretty that I'm actually a little afraid of drawing in it.  And I went out and bought One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey, and The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More by Roald Dahl. The first out of curiosity, the second because I've been waiting a while to finally buy it. 
On the way to the bookstore, I passed a cinema-hall which was promoting "Hello!", based on Chetan Bhagat's One Night at the Call Centre, or as rabid fans of the book/author say "ON@TTC". And at the store too, there was some shiny version of ON@TTC the book. Shiny book versions are only reserved for those books which are actually good, which essentially makes my blood boil, because Chetan Bhagat, quite frankly, is a SHIT author. His books read like the journal of a half-wit. The vocabulary is uninspiring, so uninspiring that in the course of reading, I am tempted to throw the book at the wall, because reading it is like working at an assembly line. You drag yourself through it because of no real reason, there is no brain activity involved, and each new thing you see is exactly the thing that was before.
My mother (who at least tries to be less opinionated, or maybe she just doesn't argue as vociferously as me) says that his books are meant for people who don't generally read, for people who aren't that naturally interestedin literature, and for people like these, it's an enjoyable read. Fine. Maybe. I'm not classifying his books are BAD literature, because (like this debate topic we once had), there really IS no such thing as bad literature. What I am APPALLED by is the singular fact that although someone as dimwitted as Bhagat pens his books, there are still people who read his drivel. Seriously, I know his writings are directed towards and centered around the common man, but all his three books deal with somewhat fat, loser-like Caricatures who, in the beginning, start off as highly useless and detrimental to general well-being, and then, somehow, normally unavailable Hot Girl becomes friends with them. Caricature will also have stereotypical friends - the Cool Dude (gets all the girls, is rich and is a poster boy for promiscuity and Brylcreem), the Total Loser (who is good at heart, and just like protagonist, only WAY lamer). Then, Caricature will sleep with Hot Girl, and no matter what the situation, things go downhill from here, everyone argues, screws up, cries blah-blah-blah, someone tries to kill themself/kill someone else, or some other life-altering change happens, Hot Girl and Caricature get back together, and the friends return too, and The End.

Once was enough. But if this guy tries to go all Bollywood of the 90s on readers and taints literature by mechanically selling us assembly-line drivel, SOMETHING'S got to give.
And all this, just because I saw a shiny edition of a shit book.

I just know it now. I'm going to become one of those short-haired spinsters with a cat, who lives in a sterile apartment, goes to bookstores to purposefully knock over stacks of crap books, and writes mean Letters to the Editor in the newspaper. I'm going to become one of those bitter old hags (who blogs).
Or, I'll become one of those women with more children than she can count, in a bookstore trying to buy good books while all the children slide across the store's floor - the woman who 'accidentally' knocks over a stack of crap books and blames it on the kid who happens to be running the fastest.

In either case, the thing is, stacks of books by Chetan Bhagat are never safe when I'm in the store. 

6 Comments:

  1. Death On Two Legs said...
    What fantasies you had about the ball pit, I wonder.

    Anyway, I bought One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest for Rukmini upon sheer instinct and she LOVED it. So much so that she thought the movie was a disappointment. So happy reading, and one of you will have to lend it to me soon.

    As for Chetan Bhagat, I haven't read him yet. After this, I won't even try. I H.A.T.E stereotypes in Literature.

    If you get old and lack the cat, you can count on my pets' posterity to complete the image :D

    And yes, I'm done. I've seen posts that are shorter than this :s
    cry freedom said...
    chetan bhagat writes out of his ass. and he's so not a half-wit. he possesses no wit at all. i read this review of the latest book of his which went like: "the first mistake of my life was reading his first book, my second mistake reading his second, and my third reading his third. there go the three mistakes of MY life." and every time i try making people see reason and try telling them there is much much better literature in the world, they all say the same thing: "it's enjoyable and simple. he writes real stories." FUCK YOU.

    and hey! what about four? i read ur blog.. :(.. (that applies if i'm not one of the four.)

    @ anushka: DONT TRY. honestly.
    ad libber said...
    I never, ever try reasoning with rabid Bhagat fans. They rant and foam and turn rather shrill.

    Congratulations regarding One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. All I hope is that you have already seen the movie. Watching the movie afterwards might be rather disappointing.
    Sahana said...
    @Death on two Legs,
    As regards the ball-pit, you do know I'm not going to tell you, so why bother?

    @Cry Freedom,
    Ah, alrighty, I'll make it FIVE people who read my blog.
    And yes, FUCK THEM. These aren't real stories. They're not stories at all.

    @Ad Libber,
    Holy Moly, there are SIX people who read my blog. And I'm finishing the book so fast it's amazing. And judging by what I've heard of the movie, I'm thinking of not watching it at all. Maybe.
    Clezevra said...
    Now that I've finally stopped laughing... you now have another reader for your blog.
    Firstly- because, yes, it is becoming astonishingly hard to find people who hate Chetan Bhagat. For really, there are only two kinds of people- those who like him, and those who don't.
    And secondly, because, god can I do with a good laugh!
    VelocityGirl (tm) said...
    @Clezevra,
    I feel like a celebrity now.
    SEVEN readers.
    Tee-hee-hee. I'm sure that at this rate, I'm going hit double-digit-ten by the end of the week!

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