‘I’ this… ‘I’ that…

This is something that I do not prefer to – talking about myself. Reasons: I don’t think anybody would want to know about me in the first place. Secondly, I find nothing to tell about myself.

I literally go mute when someone asks me, “Tell about yourself”. The campus interviews invariably started on this note. I have seen people who would wear a mile long smile on their faces when they hear these words. They would start from their grand parents, cover all their friends, family members, relatives, pets, neighbours, enemies, favourite movie stars, sportspersons, crushes, subjects and lecturers they hate the most, what they had for breakfast, why they scolded the beggar kid who followed them for half a mile and end with what they were doing just before they entered the interview hall. Now, that is what I would call eloquence. When the interviewer uttered those all-important-words, I mumbled some random thing for less than a minute. The interviewer flashed a dejected is-that-all-you-have-done-in-your-life look at me. Luckily, I underwent that horrible experience just once.

Now I am to do what I am bad at. Chitra tagged me!!! I can’t believe someone would think about tagging me. Me! Of all those in the blogosphere, me! This also makes me do another thing I am not good at – writing about specified topics. Writing about random things is different. But, when I get topics to write about, I remember the nightmarish experiences that I went through in exams, struggling to answer the questions. Never mind. Let me try this.

I am thinking about: Nothing. Actually, I try to avoid thinking as much as possible. Thinking is sooooo tiring. One of my great asset is to stay quiet with blank mind for hours (ofcourse awake).

I said: “Don’t throw stones at the dog. It looks crazy”. As always, my friend didn’t listen to me. We were chased by the crazy dog till an anonymous braveheart took pity on us and drove it away.

I want to: win a Olympic gold. Watched by the whole world, acknowledging the cheer from the stadium, going on a victory lap, singing along the National Anthem with teary eyes – that is some dream. As the olympic committee doesn’t consider AOE, I should invent a new sport to make my dream come true.

I wish: everybody a good day.

I regret: giving 10 rupees to that begger. He went straight to the TASMAC store. He wasn’t a teeny weeny bit bothered about me standing there traumatized.

I hear: well. The problem is only with my eyes. My auditory system is pretty fine.

I am: I. Hahahah... Inder.

I dance: with 20 right legs. Hail Dharam paaji. To all those who think that they are Hrithik Roshans and Prabhu Devas: “Kutte, kameene, chunn-chunn ke maroonga”.

I sing: and that would be the end of the world.

I cry: when I chop onions and chillies and when my friend makes me listen to every single thing that happened to him that day.

I am not: an alien. At least, I believe I am not.

I am with my hands: a legspinner who can turn the ball consistently by 3 dergees, one who can type at the rate of 15 characters per minute provided I am allowed to look at the keyboard.

I write: crap, more crap, lot more crap and only crap.

I confuse: everyone who talks to me.

I need: help. And that too from a specialist shrink. That is what my mom thinks.

I tag: whoever don't mind to be tagged.

I eagerly searched for this. As I couldn’t find it, I add it to the list.

I see: not the dead, but who will be dead one day. Kya dialogue maara... Hahahah :P