I Am The Maitreya

Now, don’t think this as my full come-back; it’s just a cameo. As if anyone cares. But, all the comments were encouraging, more so surprising, people like reading my crazy shit. Don’t you guys have anything better to do? No way should eccentric behaviors (mine) be encouraged this way, very harmful for the wholesale health of the society.

Anyway, I was expecting comments something like of this effect: please don’t go, without your write ups my life is void; I would probably commit suicide without the reassurance that the world is full of insane people just like you, which makes me feel better, since you make me feel saner. But alas! Nothing of that sort. I can’t help it, since I am a self aggrandizing bastard. Nevertheless, I’d like to think my writings had profound effects on people. Someday, I hope, they (I don’t know who the fuck), would put my statue in the middle of Kathmandu, anywhere else but not in Ratna Park, please, since I don’t want some drunkard pissing on it, or some hooker giving blow-job underneath it. I want it to be made with a white marble, with all my limbs intact unlike ‘Bhanu-Bhakta or Devkota,’ so that I can kick the nuts off the drunkard, if he were to piss on my statue, or the mutt’s. I want parents to point their finger (not the middle) at my statue and say, ‘now, that’s the pride of Mankind.’ Be like him. And the kids would go, ‘what the fuck, that bastard was crazy.’ I wonder how many parents aspire their children to be like Devkota or Bhanu Bhakta these days. Had my dad said, ‘be like them son,’ I’d have said, ‘are you crazy old man? One was ‘ghasi’ and the other teacher.’ I want to be a ‘Doctor’ to serve the poor and needy. And, the dad with his infinite wisdom and a smirk would say, ‘oh! Fuck! My son wants to be Mother Teresa, some one help.’ By the time you are in your final year of medical school, you are already preparing for your USMLE, for others GRE/GMAT etc. Dad would come around to remind you of all your altruistic benevolent cause of pursuing a medical career or whatever the fuck you are doing, or think you are doing. By this time you’ve gained some wisdom of your own if not infinite through those few decades of your meaningless existence. And you would say, ‘oh! My resolve to help poor and needy is as strong as before, but old man think bigger, time have changed. It’s a global village now; what the fuck does it matter anymore, if it’s Humla or Harlem? I will tend after poor Blacks and Latinos in the ghettos of the mega cities in the US. Service is the same just the location has changed, and the currency, 1 to 70, that’s all. I am still that Mother Teresa at heart.’  Where was I? I’m like a puppy, keep getting lost with my own disconnected thoughts. Oh! Yes! I was on Devkota/Bhakta baje. I seriously believe that no parents want their children to be Devkota or Bhakta anymore.

Once I had one of my family friends had me call him in Nepal. Ok, one of the ‘uncles’. Fuck! Everyone is your uncle/aunty in Nepal. His son had just finished his 12^th grade exam, and he wanted my advice on, what should he push his son to study that would be very helpful in getting some lucrative job (as in make lots of money) in the US. Now, believe me when it comes to seeking SOUND advice, I would be the last person my own dad’s list. But, this gentleman heeded it anyway, his bad luck, I guess. First of all, I was already irked by the fact that he made me call him to Nepal, and more so, he wouldn’t let me talk to the kid—my recipient of advise. So, I laid down few options that would fetch BIG money to him.

1. American football
2. Basketball
3. Hollywood

The kid turned out to be just 5’ 5’’ tall, and scrawny and ugly at that. The only consolation was that the kid played Cricket, something distantly similar to any sports that Nepali play with American sports—Baseball, as only consolation, I told him, that his son should tryout for Yankees/Red Sox, some asteroid might do some trick. All options were ruled out, and his old man was devastated. Well, he wanted my advice, and he got one. I haven’t heard anymore from my beloved uncle since then. And I seriously hope that, that kid would want do a theater or want be a painter or anything other than just crunching numbers, just to give a kick at his dad’s ego. Stupid kids, stupid dads.

On different note. Anyway, thank you guys/girls for your readership (here in the US guys include both the sexes, even one in the middle too) it was necessary to add that ‘girls,’ since I am hoping that there are many ‘girls’ secretly reading my blog. Fuck! ‘Girls’ sounds tad pedophilic, ok, some clarification: females over 20. And they would be wondering, ‘who’s this dude anyway?’ I so very much would like to go on date with this Maitreya guy (Maitreya as in me, no, not the promised Buddha, he doesn’t give a shit about hot females, so give up, and focus on me), and discuss things like: how eating Sushi affects aquatic marine life in the Artic, or on how the discovery of the elusive particle ‘Boson’ would explain the definite working of the Black Hole in the universe.

If you are expecting all these from me, my lovely ladies, you’ve got the wrong person. Sorry, look further, guy with Einstein’s brain and Brad Pitt/Hirtik look is somewhere else. I’m just a regular guy; in fact, I don’t like Sushi, and that weird hotness of Wasabi sauce. I only eat my raw meat with all that heat is not on my plate, but in my bed. I don’t want to be befuddled with the Black Holes in the sky; I want to cuddle with one on my floor, since, I’m a simple man, but still worth making a statue of. Thus, you shall appropriately name it not ‘The Thinker’ but ‘The Confuser.’