register a complaint

The landline is not working since morning that’s what my mom told me when I reached home after yet another hectic Monday of my life. Monday could have been a bit better if it had not followed the Sunday. I studied Physics in 1996 but the theory of relativity still doesn’t leave me. The poor Monday is always abused by all of us for no fault of his. Anyways that is the case with most of us, blamed for everything and appreciated for nothing.
So while leaving for office on Tuesday, I promised my mom to put up a complaint for the landline. But another day at work and that too full of chaos, and I missed to register the complaint.
Well this word has become a part of life these days, the gap between the expectations and the deliverables is increasing day by day thus increasing the complaining attitude of all of us. Complaining is becoming more of an attribute rather than attitude.
Long time back I learned the difference between concern and issue but it seems the gravity of things these days starts in complaining mode only.
We complain for and from every possible aspect ... If something did not happen, if happened then why ... even if how or if nothing else then why not.
Well my landline is still not working and I am yet to register a complaint. An unexpected assignment kept me busy for full Wednesday and I missed to do it again. I always complain that the work is so boring though I forget the everyday unexpected excitement of it. My mom is intelligent enough to skip me for the day.
So Thursday morning I asked her to take the initiative (very encouraging word for our management people who always wants to take it every day irrespective of the odds) and register the complaint herself. Later in the day I learned that she tried a lot but could not beat the idiotic IVR system and register the complaint. She kept on dialling 1, 2, and 3 but without reaching the cause.
I have always loved Friday for its so called proximity to Sunday although there is havoc Saturday in between. So while leaving in a good mood I asked my mom to remind me during the day and I would register the complaint immediately. Somehow the day didn’t start well and when my mom called I was already agitated and said I have a complaint against myself where do I register and kept the phone down.
When I reached home, I didn’t say anything and went straight to my room but my mom followed to thank for registering the complaint as the landline was working. The frustrated land line started on its own. So is it like that there are things in the world that works on their own or the patience or the ignorance worked for me but my own complaint still remains unanswered ...
I want to register a complaint against myself.
Where do I go ...

The Smoker's Delight

The air just got thicker, as I started loving my ciggu ... and then ... main zindagi ka saath nibhaata chala gaya, har fikr ko dhue mein udata chala gaya ... really don’t know whether the song was written for my ciggu but it really suits her.
Fools are those who say smoking ... i say loving my ciggu...
Smoking is injurious to health, indeed very injurious but only a smoker can describe a smoker’s delight. Delight will be underestimation of my ciggu, may be ecstasy - hell and heaven or earth.
Apart from all the logical reasons of impact of smoking on senses, there are several illogical reasons that can never be defined in black or white. Please don’t go back to re-read illogical ... yes this is exactly an after-effect of my ciggu ... you can be actually logical to identify illogical.
However being a passionate smoker I would like to smoke a few.

Smoking is a slow killer, indeed but who wants to die faster. Lot of people say love is a slow poison but still die to taste the poison.

I am very passionate about smoking but it is only the love made me realise the love ... excess of anything is bad so it applies here as well, I play only one stick a day.

Doing anything out of frustration is not fruitful so does smoking so I always do it before I am frustrated ... though I happen to overdo it when I am elated ... I see a lot of people doing it when they are tensed and hence don’t even have the joy of it ... I emphasise joy not pleasure.

There is something to cheer for the love lost ones ... not aware who penned it ... bewafa sanam se cigarette achi hai dil jalati hai magar hothon se to lagti hai....

Somehow the dark character of life pumps the smoking giant within, but nothing wrong as we all live a dual life, so live that part as well.

The actualization of thrills of life happens with the cigarette between your fingertips ... for that moment you rule the world.

Smoking in the bed is just height of elation ... I leave the rest to imagination...

Smoking ... is at its best when you do it just after getting up and before waking up ... don’t know whether it is healthier or not but if you toke before the morning brush, it tastes very tasty.

What else than the smoking also increases the effectiveness of breathing exercise ... the inhale and exhale exercise just getting interesting with my ciggu ...

Smoking is not biased for gender however there are lighter versions for brighter sex but the same gets more interesting while smoking the harder ones...

Then there is beedi ... probably the hindi version of my ciggu... high on nicotine and nick named as poor man’s cigarette.

I find the dog’s end as the tastier part of my ciggu but fail to understand why it is being referred to the dog’s end.

As naturally to my likings to filtered things ... one of my ciggu I don’t like is the one without filter ... I really don’t the unnecessary hardness of it.

I could have smoked all my life... until I realised that it contains a chemical that boost the dopamine level in brain, which calms the brain and reduces the aggression ... reduction in aggression may reduce my passion for ciggu... hence I rather reduced the affection.

I will sign off saying – the last cigarette is your best cigarette as sooner or later everyone stops smoking, as either you leave the ciggu or the life leaves you.