It was just another Sunday night, the end of another boring weekend. Much to my annoyance Monday was just two hours away. ‘Another fucking week Akash Mehta’ I said to myself. Unlike in the sitcoms (those which I can tolerate that is) weekends weren’t something grand. No big date on a Saturday night, no drunken Sundays. A dinner with the family at some relatively fancy restaurant, while hearing lectures as regards school work, career and other assorted bullshit from my old man, and lessons in appropriate table manners from my dear mother, can be categorized as the high point of my weekend. Ironically of course, throughout the week I’d wait for the weekend as a temporary respite from the frat house, which some refer to as school. At the end of every weekend I can’t wait to go back. A ‘Fuck My Life’ type scenario if there ever was one.
As is routine on most Sunday nights, I was sitting in my room, lights off, laptop screen on. I checked thepiratebay for any new movie torrents that might be out. Facebook was open in the background. No one would actually engage in a conversation with me (not that I care), more as a form of habit. And because I think Mark Zuckerberg is cool.
Internet pirates had once again failed to provide any kind of meaningful service. I mean seriously, what’s the point of getting arrested and having to put up secret servers in Sweden if you can’t even provide a torrent for Tropic Thunder? So I decided to start my end of the night, ‘I have nothing better to do with my life’ practice of googling for stuff. Movie reviews? Read on Friday. Gadget reviews? No new gadgets out. Sports news? Arsenal lost again. Actual news? Who gives a fuck?
You know how sometimes, when you’re online you just end up reading random stuff. I don’t even know how I got to a webpage that said ‘Best Bars with cheap Beer in Mumbai’. My instant reaction was to type ‘it’s Bombay you choot’ in the comments section of the article but I couldn’t find the comments section. So I decided to read the article instead. It listed ten bars, which according to the author were definitely worth a trip to. Sure, four of them were in the Suburbs but I suppose he had to cater to the masses. Ass. But despite his suburban inclinations, the article sustained my interest. It was complete with pictures, addresses, prices and small descriptions as to what made each one of them special. The unique aspect of the bars mentioned was that they were all in and around the frat house. I fired the print command and got a hard copy of the article. I folded it, and kept it in my wallet.
Call me an optimist, but I had the faint feeling that going to school might have some purpose after all.
As is routine on most Sunday nights, I was sitting in my room, lights off, laptop screen on. I checked thepiratebay for any new movie torrents that might be out. Facebook was open in the background. No one would actually engage in a conversation with me (not that I care), more as a form of habit. And because I think Mark Zuckerberg is cool.
Internet pirates had once again failed to provide any kind of meaningful service. I mean seriously, what’s the point of getting arrested and having to put up secret servers in Sweden if you can’t even provide a torrent for Tropic Thunder? So I decided to start my end of the night, ‘I have nothing better to do with my life’ practice of googling for stuff. Movie reviews? Read on Friday. Gadget reviews? No new gadgets out. Sports news? Arsenal lost again. Actual news? Who gives a fuck?
You know how sometimes, when you’re online you just end up reading random stuff. I don’t even know how I got to a webpage that said ‘Best Bars with cheap Beer in Mumbai’. My instant reaction was to type ‘it’s Bombay you choot’ in the comments section of the article but I couldn’t find the comments section. So I decided to read the article instead. It listed ten bars, which according to the author were definitely worth a trip to. Sure, four of them were in the Suburbs but I suppose he had to cater to the masses. Ass. But despite his suburban inclinations, the article sustained my interest. It was complete with pictures, addresses, prices and small descriptions as to what made each one of them special. The unique aspect of the bars mentioned was that they were all in and around the frat house. I fired the print command and got a hard copy of the article. I folded it, and kept it in my wallet.
Call me an optimist, but I had the faint feeling that going to school might have some purpose after all.
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