Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Linkin Park

I want to share a couple of links.

You may find this a load of words with no practicality.But I have read this a lot of times.And yet , I want to read this again , partly because my IQ level requires that I read a thing many times to understand it , and partly because reading it helps me keep my perspective in place :

A fellow IIMian was murdered.But more importantly , a fellow human was killed. Maybe India mein kuch change nahi ho sakta , but then , I got to do what I got to do.Please follow the online petition link and sign it if you want to :

I am disabling comments on this thing , because I am just serving as a medium here.But in case you really need to let me know about something , mail me at if you hate me , do not send any virus.

Broke Bloke

Suddenly , I find a lot of deadlines in my life .Submissions and papers and reports.So I spent the last night preparing a presentation on the analysis of the movie “Remember the Titans” for a behavioral course of mine. I forgot most of the things during the presentation in the class . I said stupid things such as “This movie is not about just football. It is about motivation , leadership , and…and…well , a lot of things” and “The central character in this movie is Coach Boone , who is a coach” . Life is a little hurried these days.

But everyday, after chomping on some unidentified un-flying object for breakfast at our mess, I fill a cup of hot steaming tea, and go to the little ‘terrace’ kind of thing we have in our hostel. Do not have visions of those Rs.57 lac apartments which have terraces and owners with French poodles as pets and three ultra long cars down in the parking lot. The terrace at our hostel is a very poor cousin of those blessed terraces .Our terrace is much more unglamorous . It has got some empty beer bottles stacked in a corner and a couple of dominoes pizza cartons thrown in another and even a broken washbasin lying in another . But every morning , I go there after my breakfast .The sunshine feels warm , and I sip the tea , and I flip through a copy of the Economic Times and say “Hey ram , these guys are as boring as a radio on mute , where is the filmy gossip part ?”. I find ET boring. There are so few pictures, and the few it has are of currency notes and smiling executives and sensex charts . But that is not the point right now . I liked this terrace thing, until around 10.15 am today morning.

Because as I stood in the sunshine and stared at the horizon and lazily sipped the tea and wondered why a lovely girl like Kajol married Ajay Devgan , our hostel washerwoman passed by . I looked at her , she looked at me , and somebody in a room nearby , started playing “Humne tum ko dekha , tumne hum ko dekha , aise , hum tum sanam , laakho janam , milte raho ho jaise.” Ok , nobody played the song .Instead , this followed –

Washer woman – “ Aaj aap paise denge kya ?”

Me ( looking straight down in the cup of tea)- “ Jee…umm..actually..

Washer woman – “Saab , pichle mahine ka bhee rehta hai 200 rupya….

Me( thinking that the tea should have had more milk in it )-“ Jee , main samajhtaa hun , but main kya karu….

Washer woman ( looking amused ) – “Saab , main saamne hoon , chai ke cup mein nahin.”

Me (looking up at her) – “He he…umm , dekhiye , main aapke paise pakka dunga , and jaldi hee dunga , please kuch time de deejiye.

She let me go with a “Theek hai saab , but please jaldee paise de dena.”

24 carat gold. That is what her heart is . You can make a dozen gold biscuits by melting her heart. She let me go. Because she understands the plight of a man who is broke.

Yes , I am broke. Kangaal. I was not this way since my birth . I was born in a financially stable family. My dad is a doctor and mom is a doctor and though things would have been much better if they were into selling kidneys and other money making ventures , things were ok .And so they were till a amavass ki raat , couple of weeks ago , when my dad called up. My dad is as predictable as a hindi movie , when he calls me up.

Dad – “Haan bete

Me – “Haan papa

Dad – “Everything fine ? ”

Me – “Perfect , papa.How is everything at home ? ”

Dad – “Perfect , bete.

Now , I swear on Hema Malini’s eyes , Dad always asks about the weather in Kolkata after this. But this night , he did something else .

Dad – “Munnu, you withdrew more cash from the ATM , did you?

Me-“Yeah , went out to eat some popcorn , and needed the money for that .

Dad – “So you bought some popcorn with that money.

Me – “Yeah, salted popcorn , and a little ticket for the movie I watched while eating it.”

Dad – Ok. See, munnu, you shall be managing a family of your own in some years”.

Dad went on to mention terms such as money management , kid’s fees , life insurance policy , money management , family budget , house loan and money management. But then I decided to join in the conversation and before I knew , Dad was mentioning phrases such as “how dare you reply to me like that”, “what do you mean” , “shut up” , “shut up I say”. And I ended the conversation with a “Ok , main aapko apne pairo pe khade hokar dikhaunga”.I hate it when I remember dialogues from hindi movies.

So now I am standing on my own feet , without any money .Things between me and dad are fine again , and he has been asking about the Kolkata weather with no mention of ATM card over the last six calls. But I feel I have been spending too much , it is like my “andar ka accha beta” has woken up and decided to save daddy’s money .

So I have kept away my ATM card and decided not to touch it before a specified date. And the side effects have been quite stirring. I have seven rupees as my cell balance now. I am fine as long as I talk to people who call me up. I am fine as long as I do not call back boys who give me a missed call and expect me to call back. But I get restless if some girl gives me a missed call and expects me to call back. In such a situation , and with seven rupees as my cell balance , I am unable to call back and am left watching my interaction with the female species drop to abysmally low quantity.

The hostel departmental store wallah observes the change in my eating habits.

Me – “Woh ‘Hide and Seek’ pack kitne ka hain ?

Store guy – "12 rupya"

Me – “Oh , who Bourbon pack kitne ka hain ?”

Store guy – "15 rupya"

Me – “ Parle G de do.”

Store guy – “Kya dada aap bhee , IIM mein bada paisa wala naukri milta hai aap logo ko , tab bhee Parle G ?

Me – “Swad bhare , shakti bhare , barson se .Parle G !”

I wish I could tell you I love Parle G , but I cant tell you this , because I don’t like Parle G . But with a three rupee price tag , it looks like a juicy pizza to me these days.

I have to buy a gift for my sister and send it to her as promised. I have no money to buy that right now. I researched on the internet.A survey said that less than ten percent of shoplifters get caught .I plan to make my move next weekend .I be in the ninety percent , and my sister gets her deserved gift.

And I have been participating in a lot of business school contests who have these big monetory prizes.So half the day , I am mixing up a lot of stuff in a word document and writing my name on its cover and sending it as an attachment with a mail that sound like this –


Please find attached my submission towards the marketing paper writing contest being organised by your institute.Thanks.

PS - I am unimaginably poor."Ghar ka karz" , "chote bhai ki fees" , "behan ka dahez" , you name it , and I have to pay for it.So Please help me win.I need it.I shall gift you a dry fruits pack if I win.Promise.

I have not won any contests till now.But a couple of NGOs are willing to sponsor me after some of these business schools forwarded my mail to them.

And in case you need some help in preparing power point presentations, writing reports or applications , editing images , leaving comments on blogs , googling information , hacking your company website , sending hate mails or any other kind of appropriate cyber activity , I am your guy .At very reasonable rates. Completely secure online payment facilities. Now I shall go.I have to work on a essay called “What I want to be when I grow up” for my seven year old cousion.He needs to submit this essay at his school by this weekend.This essay is not so challenging , as every child thinks he wants to be a pilot or film star , till he grows up and daddy tells him to be an engineer. . It is rather easy writing this essay .But tell you what , he is paying some damn good money . I just hope that somehow , someday , when the washerwoman asks “saaab , paise denge kya ?” , I wont have to look down into the teacup.

Saturday, November 19, 2005

Nattu bann gaya CD

Hi , I am 21 , Male , Single .I want to know you more .Please Please Please talk to me !!! Mail me at Romantic_bandar @

Like a good masoom seedha saadha Indian Citizen , I should warn you beforehand – Highly senseless and Hindi ridden post ahead. You better watch TV instead. Or listen to backstreet boys instead . Or take a bath instead .

This post is inspired by the numerous cyber guys who would give their pancreas , large intestine and liver to talk to a female. Some facts have been modified to protect the privacy of some individuals. The views expressed are entirely and stupidly MINE , intent is not to offend anyone , but just to express my amusement. But if you are actually offended , I can’t help it. All I can offer is an apology in anticipation.


There is a blog which is maintained by a girl. Some days ago , I find this comment to one of her posts -

hi ,

Blah Blah Blah ( you know , all that nice blog , cute blog , sweet blog , mast blog , coochie coochie blog types formalities )

I wanted to know u more, plz drop in a mail to me

So I was like “Hmm , must be from a boy’s school .Theek hai , itne saal ladko ke beech , thoda sa direct hai…fine.”

Two days later , I find this comment on the same blog by the same guy –

Blah Blah Blah.

aur haan , agar time ho , then i wud really like to chat with u.

So I was like “Oh , must be from a boy’s school and must be having no girls in his colony. Theek hai , na school mein ladkiyan , na colony mein , thoda chipku types organism hai…fine.”

Two more days , another comment .Same blog.Same guy.

hey, sach , i want dosti .
Can we chat sometimes on yahoo etc


So I was like “Whoa ! Is it a bird ? Is it a plane ? No , wait ! It’s a CD !”

CD ? Now before the techno geek in you thinks Compact Disk , let me explain. And in a tribute to all the dadi ma log of this world who have long serenaded the colony kids pappu , gappu , pinki and dinky by their stories , let me explain in the way of a little story.

Ek CD ka janam :Ek ladke ki tanhaayi ki sacchi kahaani

Once upon a time , there was a boy called Nattu , who lived in the remote village of Ramgarh in some remoter state of India.

Now Nattu had a very deep interest in girls .Nattu cut out pictures of bollywood actresses from Hindi Newspapers ( primarily Punjab Kesri , and some other ‘chatpati khabron” wale papers ) and kept them in a little wooden box and dreamt of having a girlfriend of his own . He spent 25 minutes before the mirror on a daily basis and moved a comb in his ‘chameli ka tel’ oiled hair to grab the hairstyles of Ajay Devgan or Anil Kapoor or Mithun Chakraborty. But haye yeh bedardi zamaana, uske gaon ki kisee kanya ne Nattu ko nahi daala daana .

So Nattu kept to cutting out pics of Mamta Kulkarni and Juhi Chawla and Kimi Katkar ( Kimi who ? Abbe HUM nahi dekhi ? The Jumma Chumma kudi ) from Hindi newspapers and wondering when he would find some girlfriend.

Then one fine day , Nattu’s Dad – Chaudhari Kartaar Singh , and their neighbour Chaudhari Lalkaar Singh were sitting under the village Banyan tree in their baniyans .Over long and gurgling blows on the wooden hukka they were sharing , Chaudhari Lalkaar singh bragged about his son Lallan finally moving onto class 3 after spending three years in class 2 . Chaudhari Kartaar Singh felt offended at this unwanted bragging .

Within three minutes , Chaudhari Kartaar Singh and Chaudhari Lalkaar Singh resorted to physical fighting and were rolling in the dust while tearing at each other’s clothes with elaborate referrals to each other’s sisters and mothers in their native language. Villagers managed to separated them , but not before they had broken the hukka , torn apart each other’s baniyaans and threatened to murder each other’s cattle .After this , Chaudhari Kartaar Singh went home , beat his wife Laajwaanti , gulped down three bottles of Haywards 5000 and yelled “Mhaara Beta bhee Sakoool Jayega !”.( My sonny boy shall attend school too ! )

So Nattu hoped he would be able to work his imagined charm on the girls in his class now . But Nattu was heartbroken again , to find that he was being sent to “Ramgarh Senior Boys School”. So even though Chaudhari Kartaar Singh could now sit proudly under the Banyan Tree and proclaim about his son spending years in the same class , Nattu was all the more frustrated . He tried to woo the RaamPyaari , who sold cheap ice creams near his school gate , but was promptly beaten up by the Pappu Muscle , brother of RaamPyaari and the reigning champion at the “Ramgarh wrestling tournament” organized by the local Hanumaan Akhaada on an annual basis .

And then , it happened.

Nattu was introduced to a computer in class 9 .And with it came internet .The revolution.

Messenger. Chat rooms. Orkut. Blogs.

The world was his playground. And the world’s cyber girls were his potential girlfriends.

Nattu picked up Salmaan Khan’s image for his profile pic , learnt some basic “ hi hello how are you thank you” English , stretched his fingers on the keyboard and unleashed his desperate fury …..Nattu bann gaya Cyber Despo !


And the cyber world is bubbling with such Cyber Despos right now. I am not talking about the thing where guys and girls around the cyberspace log on , indulge in harmless banter , a bit of leg pulling , silly talk and then log off . It happens all the time and isn’t anything too freaky for me .

I am talking about this exotic breed of guys who continue to amaze me with their amazingly low sense of self respect and amazingly high need to talk to a girl. I mean , the way they sound desperate , I guess they must be going around pleading “please talk to me” before electric poles in some time . I mean, I don’t know if girls like such guys , but I would have been a girl , I would have been like “Abbe , itna desperate kyun hai mere laal ? ”.Before I end , some real scraps left by guys on girl’s orkut scrapbooks -

Salaam... u look so cute...u look sort of simplicity...wana be my friend...

( No thank you , and if I look ‘sort of simplicity’ , you look ‘sort of stupidity’ )

friend so sweet as me
u wont have else 2 see
wanna have an awesome twosome rap
then drop a word in my little scrap.
hi, love to have me
ur friend?
u'll be gettin such sweeties ,i send

( Arre Baba Sehgal jee , aap orkut par ? )

hey hi hw r u du hve any yahoo id of urs

( Yess yess yess I have a yahoo id : sis_of_tyson . Wanna chat ? )

Hi....hand of friendship......wanna hold? :)

( Hand of friendship ? Uee ma ! What happened to your own hands ? )

hello mam u havent told me abt what ur doing....
i m not like all guy present here in ur scrap book.....if u r intrested in reply then only i'll write u scrap more....otherwise i wont write u ny more...
so dear just like a good frd tell me something........

( Hai allah , kitna self esteem se bharpooor ladka hai , subhaan allah ! )

what r u dooing now a days bcoz u stopped scapping me please reply i'll wait four your reply

( It is so moving to hear that you would wait four me. I will wait five you )

Sunday, November 13, 2005

Twenty aur Troubly

I am a very rude boy , the type who pushes old ladies off escalators , but I have to say this . I think if anyone takes out some time to leave a comment on this blog , even if the comment is about some Russian Matrimonial Website , it is my responsibility to reply to that comment .I mean , its like someone says "hi" to me , so I need to say something back to him/her.But one fine day , I come back from my class , kick off my shoes , log on and see 55 comments on a post of mine.So I forget my responsibility and choose to say a combined THANK YOU to all those who left a comment to the last post.I am grateful to all of you.It's not that I am like "Seee , I got a comment !!" . It's like when you left a comment , you spent some of your time saying something to me , even though you could have saved that time .So thanks to all those who commented on the last post and to those who mailed me --

ashu , sayesha , ruchita , meena jee , nidhi , viv , divya , mani , viveka , zarine , neetie , samir , ajay , vidya , handa , hari , karthika , fathima , senorita , aastha , phoenix , kanika , cactus , vidhi , deepako , rusted , shreyansh , vikram , tinkerbell , antonio , rana saab , entrance exams wale bhaiyya , myth , rinku , the dq , pratik , ck , ruchika ,all the anonymous angels and devils , stuti jee , sunshine and of course , yossarian .

If I say I need more time to blog , it’s like Bill Gates saying “Hey, can you lend me a dollar?”. My typical day is made up of a couple of classes, some Business school contests, some table tennis and movies. So I can fit in blogging. But blogging is like making a baby pee , you cannot force it , it just happens. I don’t want to make anyone click on this blog and find no new post and be like “Kalmoohe , khud ko kya Vikram Seth samajhtaa hain ? Naya Post karrne mein itne nakhre !” , but what do I do ? The baby decides to pee when it does. Anyways , now that baby says “Uwwaan Uwwaaan ( Remove my diaper idiot , I want to peeeee )” , I shall blog .

Now I see Miss.Zarine has tagged me. And the tag is kind of troubly. ( I know Troublesome is the right word , and ‘Troubly’ is no word ,but I used ‘Troubly’ in the topic for Filmy reasons ).

I wish Miss.Zarine had asked for one of my kidneys rather than tagging me with this. I have to write 20 random things about me. Now If Shahrukh Khan says he loves Chocolate Ice Cream , some thirty three hundred girls would sigh “Oooooooh , you heard that ! Shahrukh loves Chocolate Ice Cream , how cute !”. Or if Sushmita Sen says she likes men with impeccable english , ‘Rapidex English Speaking course’ will be a bestseller overnight . But even my mother won’t be interested in facts about me. Anyway , what me worry.

1. As a kid , I was very violent. Almost a mini Suniel Shetty or something. In class sixth , I broke a tooth of one my classmates. Maybe it was already loose , but I still am sorry for doing that. Then I changed schools. I hear that guy grew up into a big guy and is a regular at some Hercules gym now and still smiles a toothlessly wicked smile and is hunting for me . It’s rather nice he doesn’t read blogs and doesn’t surf the net too much .

2. I desire fame as much as you desire a dead dog. If you are the kind of person who dreams of getting on the cover of Business World , send me an X ray of your brain . I do not understand the way your brain works.

3. I hate arguments. People are like “Your blog puts me to sleep.” , and I am like
“See ? Who needs sleeping pills now.”. People are like “You are a pig” and I am like “Grunt Grunt Grunt” .People are like “You are a little boy who is lost and has no idea about life” and I am like “Can you take me to the “Gumshuda Talaash Kendra” and get me admitted please. ”. I don’t want to irritate people.But they wont stop judging me.And I wont burn my fuel on arguments.

4 .The day my hair straightens out , India would beat Brazil 9-0 in soccer , Osama would open up a Flower Shop in California and start handing out white daisies to little kids for free ( with a smile ) , and Brad Pitt would star in a Bhojpuri movie. In short , it keeps curling itself into locks and wont keep straight even if I use an iron comb on it.

5 . I am short . I meet people and ask “Hi. How is the weather up there ?”. Ok , maybe not so bad. I don’t need binoculars to see people’s heads , but you won’t dream of me playing basketball even if you have the IQ of a Miss.India.

6 . I like shy girls. Girls who keep looking at the floor and think forty one times before uttering a word.No I am not making fun of them.I really like shy girls , there is something so Indian and elegant and pleasant about them.

And haan jee , for the anonymous guy who left the “Seedhe Saadha bol nayi ladki chahiye life mein” comment to the last post–.

“Bhai sahib , tussi to gajab ho , bheje mein ghuskar thoughts ko newspaper ki tarah pad lete ho .Very good. Aapne jeeta hain ‘Cheap and Anonymous Limited’ ki taraf se 50 rupye ka gift hamper !!”

7 .Take away my small intestine , take away my marksheets , take away all my Aishwarya’s posters , but don’t take away my winamp and my music collection. I need oxygen and music to live.

8 . I cannot dance. I tried once. It was my cousion’s wedding and some fat aunt pulled me to the ‘dancing area’ and yelled “Naach munnu , naach !”. I started doing my moves. She looked at me in horror. Then she yelled “Someone help ! He is having a concussion !”. She killed my self confidence. I cannot dance ever again.

9 . So now we present the ‘Outsider’s View’. Last week , we had this personality exercise in one of our classes. Some of the adjectives my classmates gave me – Down to earth , humorous , never loses temper , great attitude to life , trivializes issues , natural ,undisciplined , low on sincerity , hard working , Fun loving ,unambitious , too much chilled out. Guys who stay with me said that , so I need to be a politician to deny what they said.

10 . I sleep between 3 and 4 in the morning. My biological clock has had its frame crushed , all its springs pulled out ferociously , its dial smashed and its hands twisted .

11 . I speak a lot and I speak nonsense ( Hai na jee ? ). As I explained to a dumbstruck friend “Yaar , I don’t think my tongue is gonna be placed in some museum after my death , so I better use it enough.”

12. I do not drink. I do not smoke. Mommy , I am a good boy.

13 .In my class nine , a girl from my class took hold of my collar , shook me to and fro as if I was a toothpick and growled “What is your problem ?”.Wait.I guess it was “What is your bloody problem?”.Yeah.She said bloody. I swear on Rani Mukherjee’s eyes , I look at my collar even now , and I see her hand clutching it. Psychological long term scarring is the phrase I think.

14. I faint at the sight of blood. Mommy nicked her finger in the kitchen once. I was in a coma for three days. Ok. I love exaggeration. But I did faint.

15 .I cannot get away with lying to my mommy. Have you seen a walking Lie Detector machine ? I grew up with one in my house.

16. I am beginning to hate Miss.Zarine by now. Someone get me a pistol.Ok , I haven’t got a licence.Someone get me a baseball bat .

17 . I hate lights. Most of the time , the lights are switched off in my room , with the computer screen being the only source of light.Could not Edison invent anything else ?

18. I can maintain a deadpan face and say weird things .There was this foreign national student who had just joined the class through an exchange program. And he wanted to approach a girl asking for some class notes. And I was sitting next to this guy.So he asks me –“Hey man , what is that girl’s name ? The one in the pink shirt .”.And I say – “Rani Mukherjee”.And he goes over to her and says “Hi Rani Moo-ker-jee”.As time went by , that firang guy met kajol , urmila matondkar , sushmita sen and a couple of others through me.

19 . You need to be amazingly bad to make me angry. I don’t believe in messing up my peace of mind because someone else got pissing me off on his ’50 things to do before I die’ list.

20 . I don’t believe in forcing people to do a thing. I pass on the tag to Sunshine , Mani Raj , Ruchita , Lakhotia and Ashish. Take your time to complete it.I am not forcing you.But do it , or I will kill you.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Happy Diwali :)

“Chetan Bhagat graduated from IIT Delhi in 1995 and IIM Ahmedabad in 1997. He currently lives in Hong Kong and works in a prominent investment bank . Chetan’s first novel , “Five Point Someone” was released in May 2004 and continues to top the bestseller lists across the country ever since , over seventy weeks after its release.”

And last Sunday , I met Chetan Bhagat , listened to him tell about his life and writings , and bought a personally signed copy of his recently launched second book .

That’s another good part about being at an IIM. You get to meet people who get clicked by pesky reporters and can be seen smiling on NDTV and smiling a little more on page 3 of glossy newspaper supplements . Over the last few months , we have had Lillete Dubey , Harsha Bhogle , Shyam Benegal on campus , to name a few.

Chetan told us the bosses in corporate world can be real bad . And in spite of the fact that the employee stood first in every contest held around him , from the leg tied frog race in class three to the entrance exams , the boss can make an employee feel like a perfect ten scorer on the uselessness meter . And he said his boss did just that to him. And he needed to do something which he enjoyed, and made him feel slightly more useful than a ladies perfume in a boys hostel . So he wrote . And wrote Five Point Someone.

Now I do not if this like a god given gift or something , but I can feel things coming. And I can clearly visualize my boss, yelling in a Americanized accent – “You goof !! When are you going to submit that report ?! Sometime after the next Hailey comet sighting happens ?” , while I stand apologetically and mumbling something to prevent an immediate firing from the job. And I would love to do a little rebel act then , and come up with some novel called “I am not a goof. My Boss is a goof.” or “Kidnapping my boss’s daughter” or something which goes onto become a bestseller and is talked about at all the parties my boss attends and is discussed by my boss's in laws .

Chetan pointed out a thing. A young , pretty , shrill voiced Nursery class teacher asks a classroom full of bumbling little kids , “Tell me how many of you can draw ?”. Rahul remembers the Giraffe he drew in his last class and sticks up his hand. Shreya thinks about the drawing she drew of her pet dog , and even though her depiction looked more like the corpse of a dog ran over by some three trucks , she sticks up her hand. And most of kids in a nursery class would say “ I can draw.”

But when a lecture hall full of IIM students was asked the same question, just three hands went up. Are we scared to free ourselves and see what happens ? And who knows , whom you may have within you , a writer , a poet , a painter , a singer , a kuchipudi dancer , a caberet dancer .

And in other news , imagine a big mental asylum. Imagine all the crazy inmates there who drive imaginary cycles and swim in imaginary pools and spend hours calculating the distance between New York and USA . Now imagine taking out all of their brains and fusing them together to make one combined brain.If you think this brain would be crazy , the class schedule here at IIM C is going crazier. I attend classes at 7.30 in the morning and some classes end at 10.45 in the night. Mom calls me up at 10 in the night and I say I am in the class and she says a three year old kid can think of a better excuse to avoid talking to his mom.

And before I close this post , I wish all of you a very Happy Diwali. It sounds a little strange to wish someone I don’t even know. But , whoever you are , whether a jealous you stole your rich classmate’s expensive pencil case in class two of school , or you still bitch about your boss who drives a Lancer and makes you work overtime , I know you are good at heart . Everybody is good at heart . So bring out that goodness . Be good. Do good. May you get all the good things you want , except Aishwarya Rai.

I would miss being at home and the Diwali aarti session where we sit down before the little temple at our home as a family , and sing all those aartis . Its more like yelling though and god must get real pissed at all that noise . If someone asks “who can sing ?” , no one should from my family should put up a hand.

Happy Diwali .