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"YOU GRIEVE AT THE LEVEL YOU LOVED"

Lord Vedder, ALWAYS

I have been asked many a times who is my inspiration, and I have never had an answer, I have never looked for one, I never felt the need for one, logically why would I need to be inspired, I live in a bubble that needs no inspiration.

But nonetheless if there is a driving force if I can call it that, its music, and especially Eddie Vedder and Pearl Jam.

From where I stand, my life has revolved around them since the day I heard their first album Ten, it’s been a never ending relationship since, I own and have literally killed all their records by hearing them over and over again for days to come.

I even once formed a band and sang nothing but their covers, trying to copy his style learning and deciphering his lyrics
.
Pearl Jam and Eddie are that source of inspiration which maybe people ask me about

Eddie’s voice like a rumbling train through a valley, clear and commanding has been a source of my existence and maybe even inspiration.

The Room

Its not the room I grew up in, it aint a room with a view, it aint mine, yet I haven’t come across one which throws so much at you,
Its larger than life yet being only this tiny space in the corner of this really old house.

Its walls are cracking, it’s lit by wee lamps strewn around, there is chaos, there is a soul that lives there, and its free.
The music rambles along, it’s a place I wish I could call mine, the pictures on the walls, all come to life, the birds that fly past the fairy lights in sepia,

The blue curtains faded and old shut out the world,

The books old and aging, the musty odor of knowledge engulfs your senses.

There are no words that will justify this room, the room without a view yet free to view the world.

Bring on the Green Dragon

I don’t advocate for drugs, but an existence so skewed it’s hard to go without a few drags of the green dragon.
The numbness that follows is a never-ending abyss of ecstasy, life slows down, gives you enough time to take stock of what’s around.
The anger abates, the lights grow dim, the music feels like a never-ending orgasm.
The conversation is refreshing, the books strewn around, the mess, the cracks on the wall, all seem surreal.
I wonder why I ever let go.

Re learning the civil laws

It was quite strange how I was never inclined towards civil laws, I hated them found them boring and just not worth the effort, but as luck would have it, I find my self involved with some civil matters and I regret never paying any attention towards learing the civil code.

Back in law school all I did was just learnt the relevant portions and managed to clear my exams, the situation was so bad that a few hours before my exam I had no clue there was a whole chapter on orders which I had no knowledge about.
Sigh … now I find myself having to learning the whole darn thing all over again.

The boss is in her elements this day..

like a tsunami she rumbles along..

like a tornado she blows..

like an earthquake she destroys all in her path..

like a knife she cuts, slow, every blow like a surgeons artful stroke..

the associates run for cover, with no where to hide..

The tempest reigns supreme..

the end is neigh...

Give her some weed.

Really I think they should make smoking up mandatory in our office. There is so much existential angst that’s its scary, screams of despair, shouts of angst, files being torn and thrown.

I have tried finding a solution to this mess, but from where I stand now, I think the only thing that might help is some hard core smoking up.

The good ol’ weed shall come to rescue, we all need to be stoned immaculate to survive this.

Picture source- www.cricinfo.com

Produced above is the image of the healing power of cricket, the image of victory

Cricket always seems to be the soothing balm, a great Indian victory today over the Poms was just what the doctor ordered. 26/11 is still on my mind, the freaking media just doesn’t let you forget it. The boss's unrealistic demands get even more unrealistic with every passing minute.

But despite all this, India pulled off a victory I never thought was possible. For four days I just followed the Indian team’s progress through the newspapers coz watching them loosing was far too painful. But over the last 24 hours they did what no team in India has done, chasing down 387 on a final day of a test match in India.

Its fantastic, its unbelievable, its just what the doctor ordered, fuck terrorism, fuck deadlines, fuck everything else, long live the game of the cricket.

P.S- its high time the Poms give back the Kohinoor diamond, bloody thieves

A Failed State

A failed state? Maybe, do I have an answer? I guess not, I come across cases, news reports et al which convince me that we are a failed state to say the least.

Corruption in every sector including the judiciary and the legal system is totally disheartening,

I have been reading a charge sheet for one of my clients who was arrested for reasons made by the state, reasons which were a manifestation of the politics we find ourselves entwined in.

It pains to know that we cant and wont take action against such atrocities and corruption.

The “great India” is a myth, its more like toilet paper I wont wipe my arse with.

I don’t know how many people is it gonna take for a united stand against this rubbish. The corporate’s are busy making money and following the stocks and we human rights lawyers and activists are reduced and termed as the ‘jhola clan’

O come on wake up

One of the statements that really hurt me post the 26/11 attacks on Bombay, was how bad it was that the Taj and the Oberoi were attacked, and the said statement was made by a famous cine artist and all while ignoring those who were killed at the VT station where the common man takes a ride back home.

Will the corporate’s only rise when one of their own is killed or shot? The common middle class man who cant pay 2000 rupees for a meal is not valued by this failed state.

I am not trying to undermine the death of the corporate’s the crème de la crème, all I am saying is give a thought to the common man. The you and the me.

The events of 26/11 left me numbed, distressed and disturbed, it was a tough phase not just for every human but also every Indian who watched terror being unleashed live on their television screens.

It was scary to say the least, by the end of it, I was raging, fuming and hate flowed from every pore, but I restrained from going over board with my emotions and thus took a conscious decision of refraining from writing anything on my blog, instead I channelized my energies to pen an analysis on terror and international law which I shall post here soon enough.

It’s a catch 22 situation, you sit at your workstation, waiting for the boss to get up and leave for court with you, but she just refuses to, the clients have called up three times and the matter is about to start but the boss refuses to leave, she sits there and every request made for any action is responded by contorted facial gesticulation.

I wonder what to do? Anyways she woke up on the wrong side of her bed this morning and any form of communication with her is riddled with danger. She has been snapping at all like a rattle snake that’s been stepped on.

So much more to tell, but so little to write about, the hair is growing yet again, a wee pony returned this morning. I have a new turtle named Gimli ( all while violating the Wildlife Act,) therefore attracting penal consequences, super!!

My house slowly and surely turns into a wee zoo, a wildlife sanctuary, that day aint far when my neighbours shall refer to it as the Mehak’s (read Noah) ark.

Mind continues to wander to the day that never was, its all strange, winter does bring with it a constant nostalgic thought process

Love Thy Neighbour.

Those eyes say it all, disapproving looks, their heads shake each time I pass them, words uttered, its all about me.

I am THE neighbour from hell, a role model from Satan’s backyard, that day aint far when my neighbours will cover the eyes of their kids every time I pass them.
Loud head-banging music pours out of my apartment at all times to come, all while my God fearing neighbours play gospel songs and bhajans, I have roudy drunk friends who sit in the patio and create mayhem from hell.

I almost sport a ponytail, I abuse clients and threaten cops, my friends and me are quasi alcoholics, who raise the bar a wee higher every Saturday night .
I don’t answer their calls, I don’t heed to their requests to turn down the volume at 3 am, I don’t attend their prayer services every Sunday.

I also don’t have a picture of an Indian God at my front door, what I do have instead are empty booze bottles lined up like trophies from a kill.

I am from their perspective the Devil himself, I fight with them over parking, on one occasion we even trashed a car parked near my house, who had allegedly brushed against a friends car.

It aint funny but its fun, when I watch their kids run for cover when they see me approach, maybe this has something to do with the time when I held one of them upside down when he tried teasing my dog.

Their parents don’t mess with me, ( its at times like these when I love my profession or atleast the threat factor that comes with it, more like fuck with me and ill make sure that’s the last time you fuck with anything)

Yea I am a great neighbour.

St Anger!

I wonder what’s wrong? Is it the weather? Is it the flu? I dunno, but all I wanna do is punch someone, hit someone, the anger within is real and pure. It needs to be unleashed, someone needs to be a victim, I need to see blood, I need to feel the pain, I need to hear me knuckles crack, the sound of flesh hitting flesh shall be music to my ears.

I need this to pass, I need some sleep I guess, but I am stuck at work, and I have a hearing coming up in an hour and I so don’t want to be a part of it.

We won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won…..

The sun sets over Delhi, the haze hangs low, orange hues streak the skies, but for me only one thing matters, India’s victory over the cry babies bad loser’s good for nothing cheaters the Australians.
It’s a victory of good over the evil, right over wrong, men over ‘monkeys’ (monkey is not a racist comment ), fighters over cheaters and more.
India have avenged their overtly wrongful defeat at Sydney earlier this year, where the mother fucking aussies cheated their way to a victory.
I love cricket and I respect good cricketers, but the aussies deserve nothing but shyte rubbed across their faces, every one of them.
To be honest all aussies are bastards descendants of criminals and sore losers.
Long live Indian Cricket and I do hope Ponting their captain is fired and Symonds drowns on his next fishing trip.

382 is the magic figure, the number of runs needed by Australia to win the 4th test match, which would enable them to square the 4 match test series and therefore retain the border gavasker trophy.
I spent the whole of last night and early this morning in sheer anticipation of what lies ahead. I don’t have access to live cricket but I am following it very closely on my laptop on the best cricker site in the word www.cricinfo.com.
It’s a tough task on a fifth day pitch but its not impossible, for India its imperitve the aforementioned number stays out of reach of the fucking aussies, who have cheated and brought disrepute to the game all while climbing the ladder of success.
They deserve to lose they deserve to be beaten for what they did at Sydney earlier this year. For India and as a cricket loving Indian there is nothing more important than to avenge that defeat and retain the trophy.
As time stands right now, we have claimed two aussie wickets and were close enough to getting the third had it not been an umpiring error.
I got my hands folded and a constant prayer on my lips.
Lets hope India wins this…

Cant get over the hangover.

Hangovers, ah well they are a work of art, they are a form self-inflicted torture, it’s a direct outcome of a night of debauchery, a night of indulgence.

Its not like I cant hold my drinks, I can to be honest, and over the last few years every time I have neared the point of no return, the point where your head spins like a top and the world resembles a vomit bowl, I have stopped, my body has over the last years shouted and told me to stop and I have obediently given into the needs of my aging body.

But last night was different, there were no signs, I kept drinking till I heard a bang in my head, it was actually my head hitting the floor.

And before I knew it I was gone!!, my head spun and the urge to let it out was overwhelming, I cant remember much, just the fish in the tank looked prettier and the light from the fish tank was too painful to look at.

And like it always happens, the sun rose, bright and beautiful, but my head, lord my head, it felt like a lead ball being pounded by ironsmith

I literally had to drag my sorry arse and my heavy head to work, where I sat popping pills and drinking tea, coffee and juice just to get rid of the hangover, and frankly I have been fighting a loosing battle all day

What have I learnt from this? I don’t know, maybe quit drinking, quit mixing whisky and wine? I don’t know , only time will tell

A quick quip on litigation

The problem with litigation (at the higher levels of the judiciary), atleast from where I stand, is that even the smallest issue snowballs into this out of control monster, which is hard to tame at times.

The sun sets over Delhi and I am back in the office, its been a long but not so fruitful day, was handed a really badly drafted and researched draft to argue this morning, despite my efforts to salvage the case I doubt we will get favourable orders.

At the High Court the constitutional challenges to the penal section penalizing adult consensual gay sex is coming to an end, with today being the penultimate day of arguments. I am glad we are doing rather well with the matter and it shall all be over tomorrow. (at least for now, till the matter is appealed to the Apex Court)

On a happier note, India has done decently well in their final test match at Nagpur against the biggest wankers in the world the Aussies, and Lord Sachin made a century after a long time.

The evening ahead looks as boring as ever; there is some research, some drafting and lots of reading.