I just watched the trailer for a movie some people I know made. This led to my harking back to my four-year stint at a fifth-rate “educational” institution in Chennai – punishment for having read Harold Robbins between the covers of my textbooks during the run-up to my board examinations.
Watching the movie trailer (it seems absolutely horrendous, but that’s a moot point) brought back a whole flood of memories. As I organised them in my head, and repeated them to a friend of mine who does not know a single one of the protagonists and has never been to India, I was amazed at how surreal all of these thoughts were.
As I feel too lazy to elaborate, I shall write an obfuscated account down. If you’re in the know, you can piece the pieces of this puzzle together.
A repressed, intellectually and lexically challenged homosexual, pinched nipples, a pimping Computer Scientist, loose, generously endowed women, conspiracy theories, Guy Kawasaki, and a liquor baron – they all tie in together. Add in the University of Edinburgh, the anthropormorphisation of a beating heart, and me, and we’ve got my poor friend from the land of Viv Richards tied into this surreal mess. Along two paths, even.
Dane, I hope you understand this. On the plus side, you’re only four degrees of separation from the (allegedly) loose and (definitely) generously endowed Indian lassies that feature in this tale.
P.S.: Contrary to what the reader that lacks discernment may think, I’m as sober as a Calvinist during Lent. If Calvinists celebrate Lent, that is. And if Lent is meant to be celebrated, that is.
