tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71623252024-03-17T01:58:41.114+05:30my dayz with myselfDon't sweat the small stuff . And it's all small stuff .Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.comBlogger223125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-72216164137685237452016-09-23T00:27:00.005+05:302016-09-23T00:27:57.558+05:30Mike Testing !<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Abe iss purani haveli mein koi bacha hai ya sirf japani tel types comment karne wale autobot hee reh gaye hai ?<br />
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Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com104tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-39591170180018062902013-01-01T23:20:00.000+05:302013-01-01T23:20:25.369+05:30The Culprit in Me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Dear Women of India,<br />
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Well, sabse pehle my introduction. So here it is - I am a regular Delhi ka banda. Was born here, fumbled through school here , re-fumbled through my college here, and now am earning my bread in this city too. You know, a regular guy with all the delhi works - a slightly loudish punjabi accent, a pretty decent collection of Honey Singh songs, memories of roaming Dilli Haat in winters, the hardened reluctance to call it "Connaught Place" and not "Rajiv Chowk", the occasional traffic signal jumping. Etc Etc.<br />
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So let's talk, ladies. And first up, since it's the first day of a new year - Happy new year. May this year bring you prosperity and joy. But wait. Maybe I should not use such lofty types adjectives for the upcoming year, hai na ? Words which immediately strike up visions of smiling faces, sprinkling giggles, harmonious living, and such. It's not realistic, right ? I mean, barely 15 days ago, one of you was gangraped in my city. Gangraped. Assaulted with iron rods. Thrown out of a bus, to die. And die, she did. Gangraped. Not the first time I have read that word in a newspaper. Keeps popping up. I read the word, nod dissapprovingly, think "Kitne Kameene hotein hain kuch log". And then, turn the page. Gangrape. Bura hai, but hota hain, I tell myself. Hota hai, at these remote villages in Rajasthan or Bihar. Hota hain, at 3:30 in the mornings. Hota hai, in a world which does not intersect with my world.<br />
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<i>Bure log karte hain, Becharo logo ke saath hota hain. What can I do. </i><br />
<br />
But this time, I am a little shaken up you know. I mean, this is too real. She was out at 9, she was in the Hauz Khas area, she was coming back from a movie my family watched a week before that.This is all like regular stuff. This is not some remote village in Rajasthan, this is not about people from a different world. This is all very real - a situation women in my family could have been in.<br />
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And now, suddenly, I am feeling like those goons I used to read about in newspapers are at the door of my home, beating on it with hockeys and chains, threatening to do the same to my world. I am shaken up. And I am getting panicky. This is not about some unfortunate women and wicked men now. This is about women who are my family and friends now.I am googling for pepper sprays, asking the women in my circle to get to their homes before 7, reminding my wife about 181 all the time. And even though I sound naive and insensitive saying this, it is for the first time I am feeling a crime reported regularly on the pages of a newspaper becoming a threat to my world. My life. My people.<br />
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My people. You know, <i>my</i> people.<br />
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And I guess this is where I messed this up. Because I have never considered you, women who are not my friends and family, as <i>my</i> people. I did not. To me, you were like - others. Not "objects of desire", as some of the more ghastly members of my species would see you as. But still, not my people. I mean, my mom, my sisters, my wife, my friends. My job is to protect them. Any woman outside this circle, and they are not my people.<br />
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So when one of you was being touched by a man in a stuffed DTC bus, I was a coward somewhere in the same bus listening to my ipod. When one of you was being commented upon by a group of bikers at a traffic signal in this city, I was probably hurrying past in my car to catch some cricket game on TV. When one of you was being groped in a bustling market, I was probably in the same market buying gifts for my family. And now, when these diseased waters are threatening to burst through the doors of my home, I realise, that I should have tried to help put up barricades when the flood was entering my city. I realise, with unescapable blame, that everytime even one single woman in this country was being ravished by this epidemic, it was inching closer to one of my own. <br />
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I realise, with shame, that this has happened not just because of men who did it when it happened, but also because of men like me, who did not do anything about it before it happened.<br />
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And now, after all that I have allowed to happen, I do not think I am in a position to blame any politicians or cops. Main kya patthar maarun, jab maine hee yeh sab hone diya hain. I was the culprit who set up these imaginary, misplaced distinctions between you, the women of my country and the women of my family. And it is only me who has to dissolve them now.<br />
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Maybe it's too late now. But I need to start now. I hope that the next time I sense one of you being disrespected, I will help you fight back. I am no superhero, not even a six footer - so I may be beaten up, but then, you gotta fight for your people. I hope that I would not help such an incident happen again.<br />
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So, dear women of India, while you are powerful beings in yourselves, the creators of lives and such strong pillars of emotional and mental courage we men can never imagine to be - I hope, however far fetched the idea may be, that some day in the future you will feel safe walking the streets of my city. Not because you have a pepper spray in your handbag, but because of knowing that you live in a city where people , including men who have been as insensitive and cowardly as I have been, have the courage to stand up for not just the women of our families, but also for the women of our country.<br />
<br />
Ashamed,<br />
<br />
A Regular Delhi Guy.<br />
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Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com340tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-78228872291016993822012-11-30T19:03:00.002+05:302012-12-01T13:33:05.979+05:3030 plus. And back.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I was 24 when I set up this blog. It was long back, you know. Times when mobile phones with antennas were around. Times when teenagers did not call me uncle. And times when very few blogged. I was like, "Hey, I write a blog" and most people were like "Couldn't you just buy a lines wali notebook?".</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And now, I am 31. Everybody blogs. Amitabh Bacchan. Aamir Khan. Sunny Leone. ( Kidding about the last one. Don't start googling yet. ). So trying to blog again is like a floppy disk challenging a hard disk to some sorta memory challenge. But here I am. All kicked. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And I will be honest. I had forgotten all about it. Gone.Spoof. And it is only was when I wanted to get a little consumer feedback online for work that I have remembered this blog. But once I hit the blog, it all came back. Almost like locating a pile of long lost "dubious" magazines stashed under the bed. So soon enough, I will be back. </span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Also, can you help me with a few very quick responses to that "work wala feedback" here ? Four questions. Would take much less than an year to fill up. Can save my life. Thanks. Just leave the responses as comments. Dua Doonga. </span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red; line-height: 15.6pt;">1</span><span style="line-height: normal;"><span style="color: red;"> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Link to survey: </b></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b> <a href="http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/K8GC5PZ">http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/K8GC5PZ</a></b></span></span></span></div>
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Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com194tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-17272322406641936212011-10-01T19:40:00.005+05:302011-10-01T19:55:29.713+05:30Marital Tactics Vol.1: How not to be killed by your wife<div>It is said that inspiration is a great thing. It makes people endure pain, leap over obstacles and do incredible stuff like climb the Everest, swim across the English Channel or sit through Mausam. ( I did that last weekend, and it has left me traumatized. My doctor says I will never be able to enter a multiplex with confidence again. )</div><div><br /></div><div>And today, a good 366 days since the last post on this blog, I have found my inspiration to come back here. Yes, the only comments I now find here are gentlemen peddling 'Shakti & Saphoorti' imparting capsules, interspersed by one from a 'prisoner of the Russian mafia' who wants my help. ( Mere Russian Dost, delhi police ki site blocked thee kya ?). </div><div><br /></div><div>But then, the inspiration to write is noble and compelling. For I realised that it is my duty to share with the mankind, guidelines which can help them when they are faced with the biggest challenge of their lives - Being Husbands. Yes, if you thought passing those college exams was difficult, being a husband is like passing them a day after the Dean has found your colourful sms on his daughter's cellphone. Of course, the arsenal needed to surpass this challenge is varied, but here goes some I have learnt over the last one year of marital tactics. In case any of them do backfire and lead to your separation from wives or girlfriends, write me a mail. So that I know it's time to shift to another country before you track down my IP.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Guideline 1: Don't Ignore the Bathroom Ki Tubelight</b></div><div><br /></div><div>When I was unmarried, it would have taken me a death threat from Lahore to change a tubelight that's not working. I distinctly remember that during my entire year in Chandigarh, I stayed in a house that had no lights in the bathroom. So when last month, my wife informed me that the tubelight in the bathroom had died a quick death, I smirked and said 'Chill maar yaar, andhere mein padosi par thode hee paani dal jayega.' And then I turned up the TV volume. Double Fault. </div><div><br /></div><div>Dismissing the Tubelight crisis. And turning up the volume. Never do either of them when you are married. Wives have this unrelenting ability to get you to fix the most useless of things, things any unmarried guy would barter for a DVD. Washing Machines. Power Plugs. A mixer grinder that won't smash up 'dhaniya'. So when your lady approaches you with a task of this nature, never smirk. Just switch off the TV, put on the most grim expression in your kitty and change that damn tubelight.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Guideline 2: Know her Kaamwali's Schedule</b></div><div><br /></div><div>I had booked the 11 am show on a Sunday. The reviews had been great, it was all about guns and explosions, I had picked up the car keys and excitedly yelled "Oye chal yaar, late ho jayenge !". And in that moment of anticipated happiness, floated back her voice from the other room 'Abhi ruko ! Sabina jhaadoo karegi abhi.' Unable to believe that she considered a clean floor more important than a couple of hours with hollywood, I tried winning this and shouted back 'Jhaadoo kal lag jayegi yaar! Roz to lagtee hain.' </div><div><br /></div><div>No reply from the other room, as my wife chose to refrain from countering such imbecile and 'unhygeinic' remarks. Just the heart breaking sound of a broom sweeping the floor. By the time we reached, the villain was already half dead. So the learning is - Accept that to a wife, the complete and satisfactory discharge of the duties of her kaamwali are paramount. She will make you miss movies, hop across the floor, and even order you out on the balcony, all with the single minded objective of 'Sabina maarofying acchi jhaadoo.' </div><div><br /></div><div>So after your marriage, plan your life and activities around the schedules of her kaamwali. Don't be me. Don't miss that awesome movie.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Guideline 3: Just go where she says the better Tamatars are</b></div><div><br /></div><div>The entire wives clan loves to shop in crowded places. They have this logic strangulating hypothesis that if there are so many women fishing around in that stack of tomatoes, those tomatoes would the best. So even though there is a perfectly cheerful gentleman selling a diverse selection of vegetables right on the street next to our home, Missus makes me drive to mall every weekend where she spends hours smelling cabbages and poking through potatoes, while I push the cart zombie like, planning to stab myself with a banana. And the literal cherry on the top of this veggie pile is when at on our way back, she smiles arrogantly and says 'Dekha ! Iss store mein tamatar kitne acche milte hain, aur saste bhee - I just saved almost 45 bucks on them.' I nod, feign admiration and say 'Wah. Kya badiya tamatar khareede hain.' And think to myself 'Car Parking ke charges hee 60 rupye the.' </div><div><br /></div><div>There are so many more. And I am quite on a self ignited drive of 'husband anshan' right now. So I must save these pearls of wisdom for some other evening, and stop now. And before you transform into a little Anna Hazare yourself and say 'Bechara Abla Aadmi", save yourself the bother. Yeh sab to main aise hee timepass ke liye likh raha tha. I am drenched in marital bliss, and my wife doesn't have a problem with dead tubelights, cares a hoot about the kaamwali's work, and buys her veggies from that seller next to my house. It's all good. ( She may find out about this blog. And one should never criticize the wife's habits when there is a possibility of her finding out. That's the last guideline for today.)</div><div><br /></div><div> </div>Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com68tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-39711469797432086432010-09-30T09:58:00.003+05:302010-09-30T10:09:22.857+05:30Bass karo yeh Babaji ki dawa ke ads !<span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I mean, seriously yaar ! I got busy and all and lost a little track and look whats happened ! All the comments here are by those spammer guys who talk about pills and tonics and home loans and mopeds and pups on sale.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So bhaiyon aur unki behnon ( Haye raam, main to itne time baad bhee cheap harkatein kar raha hoon. ) , ek baar fir yahan chaarpai lagate hain, naarangi daaru ke glaas bharte hain aur rang birangee baatein karte hain.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Next Post: Weekend. </span></span></div>Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com67tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-73350144868042996202010-05-02T01:24:00.006+05:302010-05-05T14:36:32.454+05:30Thakur, Life se Panga ho gaya.<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">You know, all the pangas you face in this life, from a quarrel with the subjiwala over the rates of tinda to dropping your cellphone in a drain, can be classified in three distinct categories, ascending in order of their gravity.<br /></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">The smallest and most chindi sort of pangas are those where your sneaky boss sneaks up from behind, while you are chatting with pinkbunny_89 on the office system. Not very dangerous, if you remain as calm as a dead rabbit and tell the boss that the client from New Jersey likes to discuss project requirements under the guise of pinkbunny_89 due to 'security reasons'.</span></p><p align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Then there is the little more jaanleva category of pangas, when, a month later than the aforementioned incident involving your boss and miss pinkbunny_89, your sneaky boss again sneaks up on you, and catches you chatting with pinkbunny_89 while the client from New Jersey is on the phone with the boss. Still manaeagable, I would say, if you can put on a facial expression as wooden as John Abraham’s, and say to your boss, 'Pinkbunny_89 is NOT our client from New Jersey ? …Pinkbunny_89 is not ? Well Sir….what can I say….I am disappointed by the morals these cyber criminals display…”<br /></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">But then, there is the biggest sort of panga, big enough to wipe out the dinosaurs upto the last inch of their tails, a panga scarier than Archana Puran Singh’ laughter on Dolby surround , the sort of panga which happens when one warm evening after the aforementioned incidents with pinkbunny_89, the sneaky boss sneaks into his daughter's room as she works on the computer, looks over her shoulder and makes the discovery that she has a rather girly chat id called pinkbunny_89, while you are merrily sending her rather disturbing emoticons from the other side.<br /></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">So ladies, gentlemen and the members of ayepaisanikaalna (yaar ye jisne decode kiya na usko main apni car ka stereo nikaal ke de doonga , comments mei likhna . Waise stereo china made hain.) , over the last 8 months, I have discovered that I have taken a panga with life, which belongs to the third variety.<br /></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">If I try to discover where to start, I will be busy discovering while you grow old enough to buy yourself a 36 piece set of Adult Diapers, so if I winzip the agenda, my life over this duration is represented fairly by two glimpses of the flashback ( Yes, you are supposed to read them in Black and White font. )<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong><u>Scene 1<br /></u></strong>Venue: My boss’s cabin.<br /></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Boss: "You want to think again?"<br />Me (thought to myself- Abhi, think again. It has been proved that A man without money is mathematically equal to man without a girl within a radius of atleast Five kilometers): "No."<br />Boss : "I would say, give it a thought."<br />Me ( thought to myself – So I need to get to a distance of more than 5 kilometers from myself to get married !) : "Nopes, I already have thought , I do not want to continue."<br />Boss : "Ok."<br /></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">And with that sigh infested two lettered 'Ok', I quit the biggest company in the world, to join one of the smallest .I mean, picture this for a perspective – Every morning you walk to the ocean with a bucket, towel and lux ( aur kya ?) to take a bath, and then one day you decide to take a dip in the water accumulated inside a shoe. Or another surrogate view, you have been eating a cheeseburst pizza with oodles of toppings every day, and then one day you are supposed to burp after chewing on your fingernails. Just as a demonstration of how ridiculously paagal I felt about myself, I did not tell my family that I had resigned till after two months of doing it.<br /></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I do not know wether it was the quarter life crisis people talk about, or it was some part of my restless soul crying out like a himesh mp3, or just the gas experienced on a monday morning, but I just had to do it. We spend all our lives being scared of “what if”, but once you walk out a situation you do not enjoy and face the fear, you discover it was not that bad. I mean, yeah, your parents will think you have been smokin opium and all the girls who thought you were cute would delete your number from their cellphones , but you would not be scared anymore . I mean , you are facing it right there, so you are not scared of the future. I needed to do it so that I am not scared of the future. Makes sense? Not to most of the people around me, but it sure feels good. Onto to the second BIG panga.<br /></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong><u>Scene 2<br /></u></strong>Venue : Home.<br /></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Dad : " If you walk out of that door, make your own stay arrangements"<br />Me : ( thought to myself – He would never mean that. ) : Heh ! Ok !<br />Dad : "I mean that !."<br />Me : ( thought to myself - Shit . He means that .) : Gulp ! Ok !<br /><br />And around seven seconds after that, I walked out of the door to travel 233 kilometers and ask for the hand of the girl I am going to marry soon. (Oye hoye !!! oye dhol walo dhol bajao !!! oye punjabi music play karo oye !!).<br /></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Over the last eight months, I have been exposed to a bad version of the world war 3, and I say bad version, because you can attack a German soldier if you are a US dude, but how do you attack when the people you face are your own ( ah !! is it similar to the dilemma arjun bhaiyya faced in mahabharat.avi ? ). I have been kicked out of the home for a brief period of time, have cried enough to fill a 500 ml bottle of diet coke, she has cried enough to fill out a swimming pool filled with diet coke, have slammed doors, wanted to drive into a truck only to realise "ui ma !kaafi bada truck hain ! cycle mein drive in karun ? , but most importantly, have been assured, reassured, and re-re-assured that she is totally worth it, and I shall be proven dumber than Uday Chopra if I were to do anything which resulted in her heart being broken, or even dented.<br />So both of us have stuck together like we eat Fevicol three times a day, and we shall be getting married in some time. I can only try to tell my parents that accepting a girl with such a beautiful heart is the biggest favor they can do on me and on themselves. I mean, bhaiyya kar kya rahe ho, dekh to lo ! ( Mujhe na feeling aa rahee hai that if my parents read this post, mere mummy papa mujhe hayden ke size ke bando se pitwayenge !)<br /></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">So bhaiyya , the whole thing is, that job mein panga, and personal life mein panga. Watt itni lagee hai life mein ki kaano se smoke nikal aya, but watt lagne ke baad hee to the irons is converted into the golds !!! ( wow man, the day I am converted into gold, I would sell off an ear and buy myself a sportsbike ).<br /></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Life has been as dizzy as a polythene caught under a ceiling fan on full speed, but hopefully, I shall come through and survive like a strong polythene.<br /></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Hopefully you guys will see me fighting it out, getting stable in this job, getting married, and hence finding myself looking at a happy future of working 6 days a week and paying huge bills.<br /><br />Chalo aap log bhee kuch kaam etc kar lo, hope all of you face equally big jhatkas so that I feel nicer in comparison, and remember, if your sneaky boss catches you chatting with pinkbunny_89, make sure it is not panga of the third variety. </span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">****</span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Arre Arre Arre...aap to bass..you guys are sounding like maine The Great Khali ko uske ghar mein ghuske maara ( aur judge order order karta raha ! :P...damini dekhi hain chaar baar ) . I am just a guy , asking a girl to marry me and a job to pay me ! :P ( Ui ma , notting hill bhee dekhi thee ek baar ). </span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>Chalo ab kaam kee baat , we guys want to hire some Graphic Designers and Web Designers working out of Delhi. Although full time employees are preferred, those interested in freelancing may also get in touch with me at </strong><a href="mailto:abhinav.jain@brandsofdesire.com"><strong>abhinav.jain@brandsofdesire.com</strong></a><strong>. </strong></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span> </p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span> </p>Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com82tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-1313564754138442382010-01-12T12:36:00.006+05:302010-01-15T14:01:01.331+05:30She Speaks...<div align="justify"></div><p align="justify">Hi ! Before anything , a very happy new year to you . Hope you gain peace , prosperity and the keys to your neighbour's car in 2010. </p><p align="justify">Now to the important part . ( What could be more important than getting the keys to that idiot's car , you think ). Having read the last post , a dark reminder of my rudimentary english skills , 'She' felt she wants to write something , obviously , in much better grammar . So she has asked me to publish something she wrote . And as an obedient and scared ( I better be scared after she told me she plans to to buy a kitchen knife next weekend ) lad shall do , I am publishing here the same. Even though I feel grateful to her and I really believe I am the luckiest dude alive , I really do not think I am special enough to deserve any of this , but as she says "Ye tum decide nahi karoge ki tum special ho ya nahi !" . See , I get to decide nothing !</p><p align="justify">~~~</p><p align="justify">Dear Abhi<br /></p><p align="justify">Thanks a million to all the readers of your blog who wished and prayed for us. Though I could have expressed my gratitude in the comments section of your blog itself but I wanted this blog to know how overwhelming I feel this moment after reading what you think. I know it well that your readers know you in a different manner. And I don't intend to affect their views. I just want to share what I feel about you with them.<br /></p><p align="justify">I thought that love is a strange feeling. I believed the most difficult feeling to understand is love. One dreams about his/her special one all the life and suddenly they start loving someone they never imagined to be with. I was always so sure of myself that I will never fall in love at all and even if I do, he would be the kind I had in my dream. Before you stepped into my life, I knew he had to be very calm, serious and quiet person. I had already imagined my life with him. My days & nights would be full of talks about work, life, aspirations and other serious issues I have talked about with others. But love doesn't happen such a regular and ordinary way. It has to tread on the path we never imagine to walk on and with the person we never can imagine to love. Every girl has a frame in her dream of the man she would want to be with for her whole life. And when the man arrives, the frame vanishes...doesn't matter how different the man from the frame is. </p><p align="justify">Dream of love may not necessarily align with the dream of the special one.<br /></p><p align="justify">Now with you, the dream is indeed fulfilled. But when I look at the dream I used to have once and when I look at you, I feel you brought more than what I dreamed. More than perfection, the picture looks complete. And I say this still knowing I am not with the serious kind of guy I imagined my life with. Sometimes, imaginations exist only till the extent you don't feel. When you begin feeling, imagination ends at its very beginning. Thats what happened to me in love. I spent more time of life with silence and words have always been your favourite. So different and away we were, yet so closer we ended being. You asked me the question few months earlier, and I said a three lettered word "YES" only then. My dream had started evaporating and the frame vanished. Because then I had only you in my dream.<br /></p><p align="justify">I remember the day when my roommate asked me if I was in love. And I wanted to run away from the question. She knew it well that I was more of a calm and silent person and may be I would never share this feeling with people around. So she asked me to close my eyes and then answer her question. When I closed my eyes and felt, I saw you...only you. I still can't forget it was just your name and your presence in that moment. And when I opened my eyes I knew it had to be only in my dreams as I would never be able to tell you in words. But love creates miracles also. I had heard about it....I believed it the day you asked me the very question I never expected I would ever be asked.<br /></p><p align="justify">My friends used to say that only a quiet person can ever bear me for his life, a person who has plenty of words will leave me in two days. You remember, you also shared this with me that only a bubbly & funny girl can stay happily with you. How easy it is to think and imagine along those lines...and we two also imagined the same. But fate had something else in store for us. I think fate always has something else in store for everyone, at least not what they imagine about relationships. A funny girl would have given you a perfect environment of laughters and jokes. A day with a quiet girl won't have its complete share. Remember I told you this once?<br /></p><p align="justify">At first, I used to feel that your fun-loving, talking-always-nonsense nature can only survive for little time. I laughed with you, I smiled with you....unknown with the factthat the laughter won't last for long. But in your absence, I remembered those and laughed again alone...just like a crazy person. I believe this...when you do something in isolation, it reflects your true feelings. I saw you making people around you laugh, make them feel happy in what they are doing, make them believe in their capabilities and dreams, make them feel good about life. At least, I felt all whatever I stated above. And then I realized, it doesn't matter what kind of person you imagine would bethe best for your life...only thing matters is your completion with the one. We may be poles apart from each other...but you make me believe in myself and love, you make me feel good about life, you make it worth living and not just spending days, and you make me....ME.<br /></p><p align="justify">I am happy that my imagination died and feelings started....know why?....Because love had to happen....<br /></p><p align="justify">Love,</p><p align="justify">ME<br />~~~ Added later</p><p align="justify">Thanks for sharing in our happiness and putting down all the nice words . But just wanted to share a feeling with you. There have been some comparisons between her and my writing styles. I wont even want to share my opinion on who writes better, because ye question hee out of syllabus hain yaar ! How can I compare myself with someone who is a part of me ? To compare x and y ( oye teri ! aa gayi algebra ki yaad ? ) , x and y need to be seperate . But here , she and me are not .Either of us would not want to leave each other behind in some race , because our joy is not in winning that race , but in sharing a journey with each other. So chill maaro , a comparison between her and me is as meaningless as my C++ coding ! Ye World cup ka final nahi hain , sirf uski aur meri kahani hain. </p>Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com126tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-48392681715673996142009-11-08T18:40:00.007+05:302009-11-11T13:12:29.100+05:30She , and who she is to me<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;">So , it’s been 10 months and 14 days since I asked her the question and she said a yes , making me believe in miracles right then . By the way , one calculation mistake about the number of days since such a historical day and the guy is dead , so I hope my maths is right here.<br /><br />A journey across half the globe. Three half fights between us (Definition – I fought , she listened ). A reinforcement of the belief that my parents get angry when they should contact the shehnai wale instead . Quite a few happy moments , with me giggling at my own jokes, on most occasions. And we are still together , with me admitting that she has contributed most to the fact that the relationship is going as strong as a well fed wrestler , with my contribution being spilling food and driving her around , primarily.<br /><br />This experience has changed , and continues to change quite a few things around me .<br /><br />I mean , my telephone bills have ‘changed’ by a noticeable margin , to the horror of my mom and to the sheer delight of Airtel. The amount of driving I have been doing around the city has gone up ( The sight of her house as I turn around the corner is sight more beautiful than Taj Mahal’s for me . Sorry , Jahangeer . Or Shahjahan . Whoever. ). I no longer wonder if I would have to change some baby’s diaper someday , confident due to the instruction that I HAVE to change it . And believe it or not , for the first time in my life , I ambled into a Jewellery store at South Ex , looked at the decked up salesgirl as she eyed me suspiciously and mouthed the words “ I want a pair of earrings.” . Ok , the Ripley’s part ends here , because I gave up after looking at seven earrings , wondering how could anyone choose between things which are equally tiny , equally shiny and meant to be completely hidden under hair anyway.<br /><br />But while the stuff which has changed around me is varied , with an entire chapter justified for how my family took it and almost fed me to dinosaurs , the most felt change for me , has been inside me.<br /><br />I mean , not that my kidneys have changed color , I am talking about internal transformation .<br /><br />You know , this is not the first time someone put her faith in me . Is not the first time someone thought she would have me besides her in every storm . Is not the first time someone put me in a position where I could hurt her , trusting that I would not. Idiot , I am . Guaranteed.<br /><br />After all that past which would justify a Kameena Sequel to be shot on my life story , it was like god had e-mailed me a letter confirming that I was incapable of taking care of anybody , except my bike maybe .<br /><br />I had vividly visualized a Dolby surround system installed life where I would live alone , watching HBO and eating pizzas only to die someday with the unpaid credit card guys being the only ones bothered by my death .<br /><br />When I looked at myself in the mirror , I saw a guy who had run away from every difficult situation of his life . A guy who thought ‘walking away’ is a cool thing to do , yet ashamed in his heart. A guy who had come to believe that life is this meaningless string of moments , and more scaringly for me , had lost the will to find a meaning in this string of moments .<br /><br />I know it was no holocaust I had faced , and there are people who have seen worse things such as a college hostel’s food , but to my mind , I was a useless failure , who could earn money and mimic Shahrukh , but was worse than a China made plastic bicycle when it came to reliability and trust.<br /><br />And then she came along. Strong minded . Independent . Graceful . Elegant . A lady who had the sensitivity of a petal to heal life , yet the strength of a tree to face life . A heart which could absorb all pain , yet could shed tears touched by the pain of a stranger. A soul which held an understanding the very wise have , yet cares like the most innocent child ever. In short , my complete , geometrical opposite.<br /><br />Considering the opinion I had about myself , I believe it would have taken a lot of foolishness or marijuana for me to believe I could be the guy she deserved , and to this day , I believe I am lesser than the guy she deserves.<br /><br />But yet , since that day , she has been a friend , a guide and an inspiration for me . Without trying to teach me , she has given me something I could never give myself , something no amount of movies could give me , something no amount of hours immersed at work could give me .<br /><br />She has given me a reason.<br /><br />She has given me the reason to believe I can be a better man when she says she trusts me in spite of my past.<br /><br />She has given me the reason to wake up at 4.30 in the morning to ensure she is safely on the bus she is supposed to get on , even though it is hard getting up that early even for a free sandwich.<br /><br />She has given me the reason to feel special as she sings a birthday song for me while I cut the cake untidily. By the way , she takes over the knife after thirty seconds and cuts out amazingly neat slices. How do women do that?<br /><br />She has given me the reason to roll down the window and hand over some coins to a boy begging at a signal, knowing she would do the same.<br /><br />She has given me the reason to call her as I grip the steering wheel with one hand, imagining the smile that would emerge on her face seeing my name on the cell screen. Pretty dangerous , that driving stunt . Don’t tell her.<br /><br />She has given me the reason to face the people who changed my diapers , safe in the knowledge I am right in not letting them demean someone they should not.<br /><br />She has given me the reason to stand up to accusations and screams , determined not to step aside , but to go through them.<br /><br />She has given me the reason to choose the hard but right path , having learnt from her that a righteous life is better than a convenient life.<br /><br />She has given me the reason to again believe that goodness and simplicity can exist and thrive in this world inhabited by greed , egos and exorbitant petrol prices.<br /><br />She has given me the reason to know I am going to be all right , because my definition of being ‘all right’ has changed from not facing problems to solving them.<br /><br />She has given me the reason to truly wish a smile on the face of someone not even aware of my own presence in that moment.<br /><br />She has given me the reason to feel accepted , not because I am perfect , but because someone does not expect perfection.<br /><br />In a way , I think I never cared about the kind of guy I was . A bunch of mistakes , I lacked the reason and the confidence to do anything about every mistake I had committed.<br /><br />She gave me the reason to want to be a man better than who I am.<br /><br />You know , I know I will never be the man she deserves to be with . But for the first time in my life , someone has gained that place in my world that I am willing to happily try till my last moment.<br /><br />Probably everyone else thinks this relationship is following the normal , bollywood inspired storyline , and will end up fizzing out in a few months or years , replaced by the real questions such as who brings the kids from the school or why haven’t I still paid the telephone bill , but I know she will always be the same special one for me.<br /><br />From that dream about death amongst pizza cartons and a TV remote , I dream about a life which ends with the joy of having lived for people I really loved.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;">Because while a boy finds a girl who keeps him happy , this boy has found a girl he wants to keep happy .<br /><br />While a boy finds a girl to live happily with , this boy has found a reason to live happily for. </span></div><p><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;">I don't know if 'you' are reading this , but if you are , I just want you to know that I have made a lot of mistakes , and my grammar is all wrong , and I crack jokes nobody gets , but I love you without expectations . And I will never stop doing that . </span></p><p><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;">PS – Considering my family may read this , please promise me you will contribute money , utensils or old toys to help us escape to Alaska at the opportune time. Ok , just kidding dude . </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">~~ Added Later </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">@ <strong>This is for each and everyone who chose to comment here</strong> </span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><em>Thank you guys ( When I say guys , consider it as a figure of speech . I am equally grateful to the female segment of homo sapiens ) . I mean , I started this blog at the tender age of 23 , and I turned 28 last month ( But if you plan on addressing me as uncle , I have contacts with underworld . So dont risk your life ) . But if you did not flunk in maths , you see that I have spent more than five years talking to you . I have an entire bunch of friends I have never seen , but have helped me more than a 'visible' friend would have . I guess I would tell you about the kind of experiences I have had interacting with people I have never seen someday , but for now , just know that whenever I read a comment , good or bad , I feel grateful because you could have spent that moment scratching yourself , but you invested it in talking to me . And more so now , at a time when things are not very easy in terms of support from the people around ( notice the diplomatic use of language ) , your wishes mean a lot to her and me . I really don't consider this blog as a story I tell . I consider it as a conversation with each one of you . And thanks for being nice enough and unemployed enough to talk to me . Chalo abhi , let us all go back to work before our bosses catch us . Enjoywa.</em></span></p>Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com204tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-41379096020286353552009-10-19T14:56:00.004+05:302009-10-19T16:06:34.734+05:30Kutto ki Rang Birangee Duniya<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV5PfGcMdJbQcGUOFo9CbJU3XH28mOe4QdX3fb0Fe2SSUvonBhhoVYihM6fdGXeggrzq4F5rCDDARJY6mcFEaN5vm0FpPpuX3IBro39A42zUjnPoahSEBjYkCUHqKvVeLMkZzVIw/s1600-h/funny-dog-cartoon-lost-puppy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 242px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV5PfGcMdJbQcGUOFo9CbJU3XH28mOe4QdX3fb0Fe2SSUvonBhhoVYihM6fdGXeggrzq4F5rCDDARJY6mcFEaN5vm0FpPpuX3IBro39A42zUjnPoahSEBjYkCUHqKvVeLMkZzVIw/s320/funny-dog-cartoon-lost-puppy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394249961496627458" /></a><br />Hello Jee , kee haal ? Aap to aajkal ghar aate hee nahi , kabhi bhai sahib ko lekar aiyye na…ab to bacche bhee bade ho gaye honge..bittu kaunsi class mein aa gaya…ok ok sorry , wo Diwali par uncle aunty logo ke beech Hello jee ke baad inti saaree baatein hoti hai ki main emossnal ho gaya tha . So shareef logo jaise , hello jee . <br /><br />So , October is such a rapchandooos month nahi ? So many holidays , my boss must be singing “wake me up , when October ends..” . I am in another long weekend and while I have been undergoing international level transformations at both professional and personal levels ( Mera kunwarapan apni aakhiri saansein gin raha hai aunty ! ) , I still find enough time to ruminate about deeper issues such as what happens after death , why has my cellphone been smelling like a masala dosa lately , and the spelling of czekoslovacia…czhekoslovakkia…checho..watever ! <br /><br />But my ears perked up when I read about an article which said they are capturing stray dogs in Malaysia and deporting them to an island where the environment is harsher than the inside of Himesh Reshammiya’s bathroom . ( Accha , agar uska bathroom scary nahi lagta to imagine a naked Himesh singing “Aye Huzoooor” in a shower . Ab laga darr ? ) So coming back to the biting topic , I think it is pretty bad that stray dogs are being put through this .<br /><br />I mean , come on yar , they are itchy , lie around in drains , bark at insane hours setting off the car alarm and do susu on the front tyre of your pink scooty , but phir bhee yaar , stray dogs form a part of our society , just like that tiny beggar kid who sells plastic goggles at a traffic signal or a lazy cow which chooses to dump in the middle of the street a never seen before version of the aloo ke paranthe she ate. I , for one , think it is a kuttapanti to hate stray dogs like this and given a chance , I would bite such people in the leg ( Shit man , I hope I don’t start wagging my behind when I am happy ! ) .<br /><br />In fact , if I float down in the world of stray dogs , I think there are various kinds of stray dogs . I mean , no offence to any dog , each dog has a personality and a favorite color and a favorite film star of his own ( Which, I feel , is never a Dharmendra ) , but still , in my opinion , there are some variety of stray dogs :<br /><br /><br />1.The lazy ones – “Sone de na , kutte !”<br /><br />These are the ones which were born ( By the way , would a dog mind if you call him a SOB ? ) to sleep . Ye paida hote hain and the first thing they do is to crawl under a white maruti swift parked nearby and sleep. I seriously envy these guys man . I mean , these guys can sleep like angels in the drawing room of the Deol household , which as per research carried out by Brainy Kuttas association of the world has been ranked as the most dangerous place for kuttas in the world . Kyun ? Abbe baap kutto ka khoon peeta hai pineapple juice ki maafik , ek puttar ka dhai kilo ka haath hai aur doosre puttar ke to baal dekh kar hee kutte darr jaate hai .<br /><br />I mean , If there were beds made for dogs , this bunch would be the gold card customers for the doggy carpenters . I can imagine what these guys would yell at a loudly talking human being who disturbs their sleep as they sleep on a pavement – “Sone de na , kutte !” . The only thing which can make them crawl from under that shady charpai is hunger , which brings us to the next market segment of kuttas. <br /><br />2.The bhookha ones – “Main to haddi ka pujareee..mujhe haddi chahiye”<br /><br />I mean , a typical specimen of this market segment can be visualized like this – Dirty brown , with a tongue hanging out like an extra large bedsheet hanging out from the side of a bed , and eyes that scream “Khaaana!!!” . These guys are found in trash bins of all the eating places. Nirulas , Mcdonalds , KFCs , TGIFs , they are like print outs of google maps to all the eating joints in the town . You can ask any one of them “Bhai Saab , yahan se McD ke liye kaise jaana hai” and they will tell you all you need to know !<br /><br />But the kuttapanti of the situation is that while these gentlemen eat all the time , they are also the most skinny . Most of these dogs look like imports from Somalia and weigh almost equal to a polythene bag.<br /><br /><br />3.The Vaasna ke Pujari Kutte – “Aao rani!”<br /><br />Think Prem chopra in a silk gown Combined with Ranjeet in a tight baniyan topped off with a little bit of Amrish Puri . Now think all of this in the form of a dog. <br />They don’t care much about sleep or food or running after every car they see ( Waise dogs don’t chase Tata Nanos . Kutte confuse ho jaate hai ki yeh car hai ya two wheeler ? ). All they care about is the pushpas and Kamlas of their neighbourhood. <br /><br />They smell them , chase them and create the most disturbing scenes in the middle of public places which are questioned by kids using innocent questions “Bhaiiya , yeh doggies aise ajeeb style mein kyun khel rahe hai?”.<br /><br />I mean , just these guys are reasons enough for institutionalization of dog police. <br /><br />4.The cute “Ui ma , look at him” types !<br /><br />Technically, these guys should be on the back seat of a silver Corolla , in a little green sweaters and sunglasses perched on their pink noses . But galat community mein paida ho Gaye . So even they are cute and little girls want to bring them home and keep them in shoe boxes, they end up scratching themselves in places they should be wearing nylon jockeys. Although they form a very little percentage of the total stray kuttas market , they are like the only dogs who look like they have ever used cosmetics in a world which is populated by dogs who look like they have only been to a drain. The Ranbeer Kapoors and Imran Khans of doggies.<br /><br />5.The “Gaadi chalaunga!” ones<br /><br />Sacchi Sacchi batana , how many times have you raced your bike against that dog who chases you everytime you cross that street ? Mujhe to bada maza aata hai. I turn that corner around that pastry shop , and as I shift down to third gear , I see him . Eyes focused , teeth showing , with his body taut and ready to chase me down. <br /><br />I put the bike back into fourth and create a distance between the bike and him as I pass him . As if jolted by a gunshot , he sprints off like a cheetah and comes after me . He generally gives up by the time I cross the the flower shop further down that street. But then , if this bunch of dogs could talk , I guess most of us would want to ask them “Peecha karta kyun hai be ? Aur agar pakad leta to karta kya ? Bike chalata ?”.<br /><br />So uncle Charlie , kutte to aur bhee tarah tarah ke hain . Lekin iss Rang Birangi Kutto ki duniya ko aur nahi soonghte abhi . Kuch kaam shaam kar lete hain . Weekend khatm hone ko hai , phir kaam ayo re . Sigh , yeh office kyun jaana padta hai yaar ? Yeh life bhee badi “kutti” cheez hai re pushpaa…take care, and don’t bite anyone !Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-37763048940864007012009-10-02T23:58:00.007+05:302009-10-04T08:47:12.485+05:30Of death , movies and other regular stuffSo , the last time I wrote something here , was a time when Kapil Dev was in polka dotted diapers and dinosaurs used to prance around the earth with gay abandon . Ok , that’s a slight exaggeration about the extent of my absence , but you get the drift. <br /><br />Absenteeism reasons , though I assume you care more about the dirt stuck under the nail on your left little finger than my absenteeism reasons , range from being busy with a domesticised and less grandiose version of that part of Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Ghum where Bacchan Saab tells SRK that he must not marry Kajol ( Oh yeah , now this is the part which makes my female friends go "oh wow ! Bata na Bata na ") , to , settling in a job where the best part of my day remains hitting the coffee button on the sputtering machine or discovering the OS on my laptop has crashed.<br /><br />But this being a late weekend night when I rest with a un-full tummy ( you know , with the advent of better preservation gadgets , my mom has really minimised cooking now ) and nothing much on the TV , I think I will talk about something , which is totally unaligned with the kind of person I am . I mean , considering the kind of person I am , the deepest conversation I should be having should be about some elephant with a real bad digestion , but I say with the unflinching honesty of a Vinod Kambli on Sach ka Saamna , I am not trying to seem like the next Aristotle here . All I am trying to do is talk rather pointlessly about something which has been hovering in the back alleys of my mind since this morning with the feeble yet significant buzz of a mosquito trapped in your ear canal – Death.<br /><br />Death , you know . That part of life which ends it . Considering that I have not yet not died though many sensible people have tried to eradicate me , I don’t know how it must be after death , but I do imagine it to be very quiet , relaxed , solitary and chill after death . I am not sure if there is a heaven for the good guys and a hell for the bad guys , and as a result , I am not very concerned about the old woman I pushed off the stairs last week . I mean , you understand how annoying it is to be not be able to rush down the stairs because a 67 year old ahead of you moves slower than a sofa , don’t you ? But the fact remains that I am going to die someday , wether it happens when I am digging into a hotdog ( I hope I have finished the most of it by that time , mommy says food should not be wasted ) or it happens when I am wedged between the rubber tyres of a DTC bus , whether I am going to be regaled by Arabian dancers in some heaven , or be served as supper to hungry devils in a green tubelight-ed hell . <br /><br />And you know , what I am thinking about is that moment , that moment which is sitting delicately at the end of the road called life as it ends , yet opens up into the unknown chasm called death . That moment , when I will be on the verge of being lifted by death , and I will know in my heart “Shit yaar , yeh end hai , ab picchar baaki nahi hai mere dost” . Now no “Dawa ya Dua” can save me ! No people , no movies , no cars , no boss , no relationships , no money , no smiles , no Himesh Reshammiya , no fights , no competitions , no career , no TV , nothing , after the event called Death .<br /><br />That moment , when I will know in my heart , that irrespective of my willingness to go or not , I would be gone next moment . In that moment , I imagine myself to feel guilty about the heart I broke , happy about the smile I brought on a face , sad about the moment I should have told my mother I loved her but did not , proud of the moment I believed in someone and stood by her , happy about the times I spent laughing with my friends , grateful for the moments somebody knew me as I am and accepted me , heartbroken about being a son lesser than a son I should have been . And just experiencing a little of that moment by writing about it , I am shocked by how easily do I forget what really matters . Kitni choti choti baton par senti ho jaata hoon main ! I mean , how easily do I forget that I am going to die and a lot of stuff doesn’t really matter . How easily do I forget that however blind I may try to be to my reality , that moment will thrust the sum of deeds in my face without leaving me with an escape route . How easily do I allow myself to lose perspective and be drowned in the useless ego fights , pointlessly hurting the very people I love , choosing not to express my love just because I am too proud to do so , not taking that stupid seeming but heartfelt leap because I never have . How easily I forget the impending arrival of that last moment , and as a result , how easily I forget what really matters during the moments I have between now and that moment . How easily do I let myself be scared by the insecurities of a life unknown and continue to suffer a situation I don’t enjoy when that moment will snatch away whatever fake securities I build around myself . How easily I shut up my heart and listen to all the voices around me , when in the end , the only voice I will have to hear is the voice of my heart . How easily I forget death , and thus , how easily I forget how to live . I mean , sometimes I really need this perspective check and get out of the holed up thinking and view life in a more cool manner . Saala khul ke jeena bhool jaata hoon yaar . I mean , I act like I have a lot to lose and get all scared and calculated , when hai kya mere paas khone ke liye ?<br /><br />I know you are either confused , or bored , or both and would label the drivel above as some cheap regurgitation of some pocket book sized Geeta I recently read . But you know , I am just talking to myself , like those bollywood-ish village crackheads who roam around the village mumbling to themselves with their overgrown and uncombed hairstyles and are taunted and stoned by the half naked village urchins . <br /><br />So chill , don’t walk out of this blog feeling all suicidal and kill yourself by smelling your own feet . Aise hee baat kar raha tha kakke . And the movie season kicks in pretty soon now , with Wake up Sid and Do Knot Disturb released today , and I really need to spike up my movie watch counter this weekend . If any of you stays around Palam Vihar and needs company over a movie , I am totally in , though don’t think I am running some shady “frandship club” with those heart shaped ads in hindi newspapers. By the way , watched "What’s your Rashee” today , and even though the end is a bit “Hain??” types , the movie did seem pretty delightful and 'feel good' to me . Moral of the story - Harman Baweja is not that bad an actor . I mean , he is a bit wooden , but not exactly teak . Second moral of the story - Just because I noticed Harman does not mean I am not straight !<br /><br />And before I go back and cook some maggi for me ( Oh yes , it’s 11.48 in the night and I am really hungry , courtesy the fact that mommy offered me “kal ke raajma and parso ke chawal” for dinner) , please see the stuff posted below , which is about a Brand Management course for Designers being offered by ‘Brands of Desire’ , a Strategic Brand Consultancy and Design Company based out of New Delhi . I can vouch for it that if you are a student of design or a working designer , the course can help you learn some pretty useful things about further upgrading your skill sets . Mail uboweja@brandsofdesire.com to know more.<br /><br />~~~~<br /><br /> <strong>Brands of Desire is proud to launch India's first ever <br /> "Brand Management Course for Designers".</strong><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9n_WXuwc8srXdUrZevqyvUgVoecvPpxc3QJz1nyI-rSKgwqMFJg_NayKjWCJsfLGJubNigqi0EfHHUtruezBXI-Y-XLXU5x9GBeHzIgGnOon06HhEfbgh7UYWo9khYrUHo7N5LQ/s1600-h/BDMC+flyer.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 279px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9n_WXuwc8srXdUrZevqyvUgVoecvPpxc3QJz1nyI-rSKgwqMFJg_NayKjWCJsfLGJubNigqi0EfHHUtruezBXI-Y-XLXU5x9GBeHzIgGnOon06HhEfbgh7UYWo9khYrUHo7N5LQ/s400/BDMC+flyer.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388578206295115906" /></a>Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-79776649392542194382009-07-19T11:00:00.003+05:302009-07-19T11:07:40.329+05:30Mera dil kehta tha tum zaroor wapis aaoge..Now, I really would like to provide a set of fully furnished apartments to homeless animals someday, but for now, I request Mr. Spider and his family to vacate the cobwebs threading through this blog, for I am clearing them. <br /><br />~ Background mein se ghabraya hua sawaal : “Abbe saale Abhi , tu phir aa gaya ?? Abbe aadmi hai ya Dev Anand , kab retire hoga ? ~<br /><br />Yeah , though three fourths of my soul was recently destroyed by a screening of ‘Kambaqth Ishq’ , I am technically alive . And by the way , as I walked , nah , staggered out of the multiplex after being subjected to “Kambaqth Ishq” , I could believe if somebody told me that Kumar Sanu has been crowned Miss Universe , but I would have smirked and said “Abbe Hata saawan ki ghata , baawala hai kay?” if somebody had predicted that Kambaqth Ishq would be a hit . But hey bhagwaan , yeh tera kaisa insaaf hai , THAT movie is actually doing well ! I mean , seriously bhai , that movie was cheaper than an Center Fresh . Kuch bhee ho raha hai world mein .<br /><br />And even though a mole on your back would interest you more than my life would, please believe me when I say I was busy quitting my job , pretending to understand every word my new boss says , and moving closer to a married life ( recently I read on the internet that ‘married life’ is an abbreviation for “ life with more diapers and lesser credit cards” ? Internet can be a scary place sometimes. ).<br /><br />About my new job , with every job I am exposed to , I am more convinced that the most meaningful thing in the day of a working woman is finding out a 35% discount is on at Willls Lifestyle . Haan yeh to hai , that now that I am at this job is at Gurgaon , they are a little more ‘hi society’ to gossip about Wills Lifestyle or Satya Paul . Back at my job in Punjab , they used to gossip about Harpreet Fashions or Gurwinder Style Palace , but concept wahi hai – Ladiej will be Ladiej . <br /><br />But the eerie part is , that like my previous job which I quit , after stuffing all their mousepads and staplers in my bag on my last day , my new job has also been taking me to Punjab pretty regularly . I mean , I love Punjab with all its yellow fields , paranthas with little planets of butter sitting on them and music videos of Chamkeela . ( No really , they have a singer called Chamkeela . Because of his name , Initially , I was a bit confused if he was a man or a patch of aluminum foil .) But come on yaar , with all my time in Punjab , it creates some issues when I come back to Gurgaon. I mean , a Punjabi Dhaba serves pickles larger than the paranthas my mom makes , and I am starting to say ‘I am fine , thank you , balle balle shavaa shaava Harippa Oye Hoye Chak De Aahun Aahun ’ when people enquire about my well being . <br /><br />And , one movie which I am looking forward to is ‘Love AajKal’ . With all its colorful promos and catchy music , I am all geared up with my popcorn bag. Meri to body automatic hilne lagti hai ‘Twist’ mein naagin tune sunkar while mummy screams “Arre koi chappal Sunghao isse ! Kaat lega yeh manhoos kisi ko !”. <br /><br />Although there is no denying that the “Dhan Tanaaaaaa” track from Kaminey has completely captured my heart . Although as per my colleagues , carrying it as my ring tone is not a very helpful tool to climb the corporate ladder . I am told that ki bhaiyya , corporate world mein , you need to have more distinguished ringtones . You know , something more smooth and definitely English . And if the lyrics are along the lines of ‘My boss looks like a cross between Leo Di Caprio and Brad Pitt’ , he would surely be happier during your appraisal. I mean , I knew that booking my boss’s mother’s flight tickets and saying ‘You look pretty beautiful , madam’ everytime I see his wife were pretty crucial to the long term well being of my professional career , par ab ringtone bhee uske hisaab se !<br /><br />But seriously man , I missed talking to you guys . Kya din the na wo bhee….oye hoye , sentimental na ho Kakke , what I mean is that it is so comforting talking to people who can not reply. It’s like tickling the nose of a taped Thakur Saab , when Ramu Kaka is on annual leave. You can have all the fun touching his nose in all the sensitive places while he mumbles “Ramu kaka ko chutti se wapis aane de , fir tujhe thappad marwaunga.” <br /><br />So now that the cobwebs have cleared up a bit and the spider family has gone to court , ( man , I am reminded of those hindi fillum scenes where the builder comes in to “Basti Khaali Karane ke liye” ) , I think I will try to utilize my Sunday by doing something which helps my country and takes it to glorious heights our ancestors dreamed about . For a start ….check karta hoon HBO par kya aa raha hai…Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com245tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-28700150152408306592009-04-13T14:46:00.005+05:302009-04-13T23:32:56.910+05:30Haseena Chamkeeli ka Phone Number<p align="justify">** H.E.L.P M.E. **</p><p align="justify">There is this company called "Foster Wheeler" with its offices at Chennai and Calcutta . If you work here , or know anybody who does , please drop me a mail at <a href="mailto:abhinavj8008@gmail.com">abhinavj8008@gmail.com</a> . I will be your slave . You say sit , I sit , you say run , I run , you say kill me , I will kill you . Please help me out guys . </p><p align="justify">PS - if your aunt knows a guy who works in an office a couple of blocks away from Foster Wheeler , thats not exactly a contact .</p><p align="justify">** EXIT H.E.L.P REQUEST **</p><p align="justify"></p><p align="justify"></p><p align="justify"></p><p align="justify"></p><p align="justify"></p><p align="justify">So , I made the leap . I have quit my job .<br /><br />Last week , I walked into my boss’s room and said the words . I had actually practiced the entire thing , that fiddling with the mobile as I walked in , saying it with the right emphasis on words and tones , that pregnant moment of silence , when our eyes locked and none of us knew what to say ( why do I feel this sounds romantic ? ) , the entire setting you know , including the last part where I duck to avoid the chair hurled at me by him .<br /><br />So , anyway , now that I am out of it , I have decided to follow my heart . In another month , I will be on my way to Kenya where I intend to be a part of a team and research if Gorillas can be trained to play cricket . Ok , don’t believe the last part . ( Waise topic interesting hai , I think they can , I mean , symonds does play cricket . Haha , kitna racist hoon main )<br /><br />I will soon be joining a fresh job which does not involve any animals , and I know I will love it . Remind me to steal all the mousapads and paper weights before I move out. Delhi , I am back . Wait a minute , I must pick up the coffee machine on the second floor too .<br /><br />But the thing which excites me to the most right now , along with the prospect of eating Chinese tonight ( I mean Chinese food , eating Chinese sounds like I am about to sink my fork into Mr Ching Loo Ming who lies prostrate on my dining table ) , is the phenomenon which has a strong hold on every young manly heart in this country , after the hold exerted by Music Videos of Haseena Chamkeeli ( seriously yaar , Bhojpuri Diva hai ) , that is – Indian Premier League .<br /><br />Yes , the prospect of not having it before the Indian audience is a little damp . I mean , what’s more intriguing than the sight of a dark , wiry Indian man who , as soon as he senses the camera turning in his direction , invests all his energies into pulling out his kid from his lap and throwing him away , jumping up and down , and waving at the camera without any interest in what’s happening on the field , or the fact that his wife is probably looking at him on TV and asking herself “Is this the man I married ?”.<br /><br />But I am very excited for the matches to begin . I wanted to support The Punjab team , but then , things between me and Preity just haven’t been the same since I saw Videsh .<br /><br />About my life , you know what happened if you read the last part of the last post . ( And if you did read that , I will know that you have zero interest in your work . You know , the sort of worker who spends unnecessary time at the water cooler and in extreme moments of boredom , tries counting the number of keys in the keyboard . I mean , kitna blog padta hai yaar ? Itni padayi school mein kee hoti to aaj NDTV profit par aa raha hota tu suit pehankar . )<br /><br />So , about what “happened” , I have never been so sure of anyone else before this . I thank you all for your wishes and I will return the favor by inviting you whenever I get married . You know , you can all dance in the baraat and freak the brains out of the ghodi. Waise that reminds me , these ghodies who carry the dude in the baraats must have so many dinner table stories to tell their families . I mean , imagine a horse family sitting around a dinner table with the papa ghoda , mummy ghodi and the little ghoda and ghodi and the ghodi regaling them with tales of the Red Turbaned Mr Ahluwalia in that Silver Jacket she saw enacting the naagin dance in the Joshi Family’s Baraat earlier that night . Hinhina hinhina kar hansteee hogi poori family .<br /><br />And some time ago , I saw Govinda in an Amritsar Hotel .I mean , my idol ! Mere sapno ka raajkumar ! Now , if I was a celebrity being interviewed and the sugary host tilts her head to one side , looks at me admiringly and say “So aapko aisa banne ki prerna kahan se mili ?” , my answer would be “Prerna kahan mili ? Mana kar diya tha usne” . Ok , chilling kar , my answer would be “Govinda.” I mean , mast banda hai yaar . You know , to make people laugh sounds like easy , but if one decided to do it consciously , it is like being brave enough to climb a stage without your pants on . I know all these serious types log who think funny people are not really ready for the "kaam dhaam" of the world . I say the day you understand the mind of a funny guy , you will know how much of guts and stealing from Joke Books that needs.<br /><br />And I hear there is a naya reality show on TV called “Rakhi ka swayamvar” . There will be a number of men ( what ? are they suicidal ) who will try to woo Rakhi and winner will actually marry Rakhi . Oh Jejus ! I mean , real shaadi man . Pandit and varmaalas and kids running around aloo chaat stalls and everything . One question for all the participants – “Kyun Bhaiyon ? Iss duniya mein suicide karne ke aur bhee tareeke the na ? apni socks doon ? soongh lo .”<br /><br />Anyway , aaj to Baisakhi ki chutti hai ( Background mein “Harippa” ki ek dumdaar shout ) . So I am lazing in my room since morning . Now I must get up and do something more than write on a screen . Kulfi khaane ka mann kar raha hai , jaakar kulfi khaata hoon . Tu bhee kuch kaam kar le . Chal ja na , abhi bhee dekh kya raha hai screen mein . Bye .<br /><br />PS – Subject Line ka koi sense nahi hai . logic mat doondh . Main jaanta tha aisa subject line dekh kar tu padega zaroor . Sudhar ja yar . Umar ka to lihaaz kar apni . :p<br /></p>Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com111tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-41885660168160581792009-03-22T15:58:00.008+05:302009-03-22T21:01:24.826+05:30A forgotten page from that brown little notebook<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">I will respect my elders.<br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">I will help others.<br />I will say the truth.<br />I will be a good human being.<br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"></div></span><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Sometime in the late eighties. A school classroom. Charts with drawings in crayons hang around its walls. A stocky lady teacher with thick plastic rimmed glasses perched on her nose stands facing a class of six year olds , who sit on little wooden chairs and write the above lines in their brown little notebooks.<br /><br />There is a child .The first bench. She makes the short children sit in the front so that she can see when they are not listening. The child writes down the lines too. Hesitant , unsure handwriting. Maybe a word or two is spelt wrongly. I think that child used to spell a being as beeng at that time. But he did write the lines.<br /><br />I will be a good human beeng.<br /><br />A simple sentence. A sentence that is made up of simple thoughts. Respect elders. Help others. Be kind. Say the truth.<br /><br />Six year olds are innocent people. They believe everything their teachers tell them. That child too believed what she told him. That he was to be a good human being when he grows up. That child wanted to be a good human being when he grew up . </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"><br /></div></span><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Twenty One years later , that child sits on the carpetted floor of this living room typing words you read now. He has grown up now . He studied his books well . Went on to become an engineer , then went to a good management school . Now works at a big company .<br /><br />Over the years , he was faced with a lot of choices . And he made many choices . I don't know if he evolved , but he changed .<br /><br />Amongst the trigonometry lessons , the thick books of software engineering and the prolonged lectures on service marketing , he forgot that sentence he wrote in that little , brown covered notebook that day. No , wait . Maybe he did not forget . But he did not care much about it . The world did not care much about it , either . Nobody , including himself , asked “Are you a good human being , as you promised once ?”<br /><br />They applauded when he proved himself better than others . Faster than others . Sharper than others . He went faster when others went ahead . That is what matters . Better than others . . Being a good man did not matter much to anybody , and he believed it did not matter to him . He was no longer that child .<br /><br />I have not been good so far . I have hurt people , I have said things which have tore apart hearts of good souls , I have been indifferent , not caring about who I really am now , who that child was , and not caring if me and the child would ever meet again , talk again , be one again .<br /><br />But today , the dusty clouds have parted a little , and a long forgotten , once familiar sound of a child has managed to flow in like the first rays of a winter dawn. And the voice says “I wanted be a good human beeng . Why have you become this ? Don’t you remember me ? ” And today , the grown up man wants to listen to that child , and believe in that child , and be that child . Because after a long time , he has found a friend who believes in being good more than being better . Who wants to help a million hands rather than control a million people . A friend , who looks at the world from the selfless eyes of that child I once was , without the layers of selfishness this life wraps around us adults . A friend , who gives me a strength and direction , not by loving me , but by being who she is . A friend , who gives me the confidence that I can find myself , because I see a part of me in her . A friend , who more than being loved , is worthy of being respected .<br /><br />The white cloud of simplicity I have found gives me the strength to try to be that child again , to realize who I really am , and to be good again.<br /><br />I know people will read this . Some people who think I am not a good man . Some people who think I am not practical enough . Some people who think I will change , and probably would forget these words soon enough . Some people who think I do not have the courage to be who I say I want to be . Some people who think I do not know what I really want to be . Some people who would not understand , and will think I do not understand.<br /><br />All I can say is , I know what this means to me . And I do not expect many to understand what this means to me . Thanks to you , friend , I am talking to that child again . I had some good people with me always , but before you came along , I had given up on trying to be who I really wanted to be . Even though I do not have that brown little notebook today , that page has not been clearer to me before today . And I will be a good human “beeng” . Maybe not faster . Maybe not sharper . Maybe not a winner for the world . But definitely a good human being . </span></div><p><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">~ To my many unseen , and some seen , friends here :</span></p><p><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">I know I have found the one I want to share my life with . I assure you she won't manage to make my posts any less stupid , but I know I will be happier . Since I have shared so much with you since I started this blog when I was 22 , I thought yeh to bata do !</span></p>Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com129tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-57252512448257514592009-03-04T01:38:00.003+05:302009-03-04T02:17:03.135+05:30Aap Kahin Sune Sune Lagte Hai..The other day, I was talking to this friend, who by the way, is the only girl on this planet who can mimic a dog bark to a scaring level of perfection. I am told she once bit her Office cafeteria manager because he refused to include Doggy Bones in the Office Lunch Menu, so I really don’t know to what extent she carries the canine tendencies. But that’s not the point. The point is that we veered off to discussing the Filmy Dialogues we have grown up listening to. Incidentally , me and her , both grew up during the era of movies when Kimi Kaatkar was identified as the epitome of Feminine Elegance , and seven out of ten movies involved kids who watched their ‘ImaanDaar’ parents murdered from behind Huge Flower Pots and grew up to murder the killers after several years of scouting Bus Stops and Dance Bars for them . I mean , you get the idea of the era , yeah ?<br /><br />So , shuru karein bakar , lekar Kaamdev ka Naam ( Abbe ! Kaamdev is a type of Prabhu , maine internet par pada hai !)<br /><br />1. “Main tumhare Bacche ki Ma Banne wali hoon”<br /><br />I first heard this statement during one of the movies , when I was six . I vaguely remember some demure Gaon Ki Gori saying this to Pran , who , obviously , had this roving eye and tried to grab anything which showed any movement.<br /><br />At that age , I had no idea what that meant , and I instinctively thought , “Tumhara Baccha ? But babies to God ke hotein hai na?”.<br /><br />As I grew up , I think I have heard this statement being said to men such as Ranjeet , Sadashiv Amrapurkar , Amrish Puri ( On more than three occasions ) , and Shakti Kapoor . Obviously , everytime , the reply is “Gira Do” , but notwithstanding if the lady chooses to say ‘Nahi ! Main isse paaloongi , you Pig’ or a more compromising ‘Ok , that’s cool.’ , this remains one of the most overused statements.<br /><br />2. “Tumhari Ma aur Behan Mere Kabze mein hai”<br /><br />Now , I really think all the mothers and sisters of that era , went around tapping all the bad guys on their shoulders , smiling coyly , and whispering “Hey Handsome , wanna kidnap me , eh ?”<br /><br />How else can I explain that towards the end of almost every movie , the bad guy called up the Hero on his landline ( It’s the pre 1991 era dude , don’t expect a cellphone ) , and informs him that his White Clad Mother and Young College Going Sister have been kidnapped and have been comfortably chained between thick pillars at some abandoned remains of some Haveli.<br /><br />I mean , Yeh Ma aur Behan hamesha Kidnapping ke liye available kaise rehti thi ?? I mean , if I was Hero in that time of the century , and the villain called me up to inform about their kidnappings , I would have said “Abbe Shit ! Fir kidnap ho gayi !! Ab ki baar tu hee rakh le , main nahi aunga !! Tang aa gaya hoon !!.”<br /><br />3. “You are under arrest”<br /><br />This used to the director’s signal , ki bhaiyya , the movie is about to end , please plan to gather your water bottles , chip bags , kids , and move out the cinema hall before the exit gets too crowded . In short , Inspector saab and his gang of Brown Shorts wale Hawaldaars have barged into the final fight scene , have pointed their cheap , Holi Wali pistols at the baddies , and the Inspector Saab has quipped the line which is the dream statement of every policeman who has ever walked this planet – “You are under arrest”. The only scene which could possibly follow this statement was a shot of the Hero and Heroine kissing under an Overgrown Pink Flower with “Happily ever after….” Written at the bottom of the screen .<br /><br />4. “Main Teri Asli Ma Nahi hoon , Beta”<br /><br />If there was ever a phase when non-biological mothers flourished , this was it . Kids swapped at the local hospitals , kids left crying on the stairs to the century old Shiv Mandir , little babies found squealing in trash bins , you name the way to find a kid who is not yours , and it was in there .<br /><br />The mother raised the kid , made her do his homework , combed his hair , taught him how to ride the tricycle , and then watch him grow into a fine young man . But then , as she gets older and older , and as she finally reaches her deathbed , she calls the young man , looks at him lovingly , and with the heart breaking mix of love and guilt , murmurs , “Main Teri Asli Ma Nahi hoon , Beta”<br /><br />The hero sits stunned , not knowing what to say , except maybe “Shit ! Does that mean I don’t get all that property you have ?”<br /><br />Ok , you know the hero doesn’t say that yaar . Movie hai . Hero Accha Banda hai .<br /><br /><br />To be Continued …( Abbe , TV Serial mein ‘To be continued’ nahi dekhta ? Come on , you expect a guy to spend all day play solitaire at his office , and then come back home and write all that in one go ? )<br /><br />Baad mein aur likhunga Bhai . And haan , you contribute whatever you can think of . I love interactive blogging ! Sabse mast dialogue report karne wale ko meri left kidney ! Muft ! Wo bhee polythene mein packed ! )Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com70tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-91830707420528410452009-02-23T01:14:00.001+05:302009-02-23T03:00:34.926+05:30Title nahi hai Baba . Aage Bado .Today being a Sunday , I spent 76.32% of my day in bed . ( Notice we MBA types , har cheez ko 2 decimal places tak specify karte hai . Meri kaamwali ki age hai 23.48 years hai ).<br /><br />So during one of the innumerable “karwats” I katofyed during the day , I suddenly stumbled upon this beautiful sight on the other half of my bed . ( Don’t ask me why I have a double bed in spite of being a bachelor . Long Term Planning has been my hallmark since childhood.)<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj08PoFNHTq_lfEjx5jO1Qq7CRfckbvI_33NCa_g40vy5BZCYO8cNVxjlD54T_e_AhxThPbpHiSMcHoZ4xDn-1srUm9zeJAzgVVcXFJvnH8QGk87gcK_cKd2naelHBD4Nr_Le4xmA/s1600-h/Bed+dump.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj08PoFNHTq_lfEjx5jO1Qq7CRfckbvI_33NCa_g40vy5BZCYO8cNVxjlD54T_e_AhxThPbpHiSMcHoZ4xDn-1srUm9zeJAzgVVcXFJvnH8QGk87gcK_cKd2naelHBD4Nr_Le4xmA/s320/Bed+dump.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305736818157287234" /></a><br /><br /><br />Now , I swear Geeta par haath rakh kar ( Waise Geeta par haath rakhunga to Geeta ko koi objection nahi hoga ? ) , I did not change / arrange / manipulate anything in the visually appealing stting captured in the photograph above.<br /><br />PS – That round black shiny thing in the back is my helmet , and one of the very few non edible things in the picture . I tried chewing on it once , though . Things a hungry man can do.<br /><br />And for the first time in a long time , I just paused , captivated by the abstract beauty of the scene , mesmerized by the way the light bounced off the torn Kurkure Bag , and I realized , that I need to clean my room today . <br /><br />So Ladies , Gentlemen and Karan Johars , I hereby wish to inform you , with great pride , and a jhadoo in my hand , that I have cleaned out my room today , and it looks sparkling now .<br /><br />In fact , as my landlord spotted me sweeping the floor of my room during the said event , he actually commented something about the sun rising in the west today , or something equally impossible . Very smart . I think I need to molest his younger son to teach him a lesson now.<br /><br />In other news , the probability of me getting engaged is at its raging mad peak now . Mai kisi bhee waqt paraya credit card ban sakta hoon . So I once again appeal to all the ladies who have been secretly admiring me from behind pillars , ghoonghats , bushes , trees and other places of hiding , to please step out and declare your undying love towards my bank balance , C grade and misunderstood brand of humor , and now , newly developed husband-ish skill of cleaning rooms. I personally believe that I am one of the last remaining specimen of Men who have that finely balanced personality mix of Akshay Kumar , George Clooney and Guddu Rangeela . What , Guddu Rangeela who ? Arre bhai , Guddu . Apna Guddu ! The famous Bhojpuri Actor who just demonstrated his skills in the smash hit bhojpuri flick , Daroga Babu Bade Kadak . I think I dance exactly like him.<br /><br />Anyway , coming back to the appeal , you need to act now , ladies . Guys , if you are adequately rich , you can push in an application too . <br /><br />On the movie consumption issue , my last view was Ghajini . I liked the movie so much , I have “Submit Shampoo Sales Report to Boss” on the left part of my chest , “Bike ka pollution Check karwana hai” on my right forearm and my gmail password in a place more inaccessible . Password hai yaar , zyada secret place par hona chahiye na.<br /><br />About Delhi 6 , I really don’t think this movie will bring a Khushiyon ki Bahaar in my life , but I want to take my mother to this movie , because she spent her childhood in Delhi 6 . She goes “Arre Munnu , yeh to mera area hai” just looking at the promos , and I know she will feel nice looking at all the galis and mohallas in the movie . You know , we humans never forget where we came from . I remember the zoo.<br /><br />And as I write this , the download of this mp3 ends – ‘Gives You Hell’ by American All Rejects . Listen to it yaar . Very Boyish and Girl Hating . In case you want to disguise the lack of a girl in your life with that “Oh , who needs them , bro” types cool smirk , this song makes for a perfect background song . Try it , it works for me. <br /><br />And did Abhishek Bacchan had a fake accent since the universe began , or he recently started to believe that he is a new Yorker who was accidentally born to an Indian family . Because I recently watched an interview of him on the TV , and he positively sounded like he had the entire dvd collection of American Pie Series for Breakfast . <br /><br />Anyway , I need to go now . Raat ke 3 baj rahe hai mere aaka . I know this is not a coherent end . But oye , I am not a writer yaar . I just tell you what’s happening with me . Koi itna honest banda hoga jo apne kamre ka kachra dikahyega tujhe ? :PAbhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com61tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-31826755019021553252009-01-16T09:27:00.003+05:302009-01-16T09:34:46.512+05:30Rashmi F 26 . Tussi Yaad aoge .My finger slided down and rested on the name . Rashmi F 26 . Seat 44 . <br /><br />It was like one of those Uday Chopra Fantasies from Dhoom . Me and Rashmi F 26 on a bike with our two golu molu kids stuffed between us Me and Rashmi F 26 running around trees and bushes and ponds . Me and Rashmi F 26 doing a lot of stuff commonly captured in the pages of cheap hindi magazines . ( Have you grabbed the Jan edition of Madhur Kathayein ? For total satisfaction :p ) .<br /><br />I snapped out of the Chopraish Fantasy , thanked god for granting me the luck to have a young lady next to me on this train , and granting me the wisdom to take a bath earlier this day ( Yup , I read on the internet that hygiene ranks pretty high on the list of attributes women want in a man . I have spent 60% of my waking hours in a bathroom post that article ).<br /><br />Two hours later , as I sit scruched in Seat 45 of Coach 10 , Shatabadi , I have a newsbreak for you – Rashmi F 26 has been exchanged seats with a Bald-Guy-Who-Snores-and-sleeps-with-open-mouth M 45ish . Abbe saale , yehi seat mili thee tujhe exchange scheme chalane ke liye ?? Rashmi F 26 to seat 49 par settle ho gayi…Oh shucks , he just turned his head towards me and I think the warm gusts of air I feel on the back of my neck are his breaths . Definitely no Uday Chopra fantasies right now . Jhonka Hawa Ka seems an incredibly meaningful song right now .<br /><br />Talking of music , I recently chanced upon this from Billu Barber –<br /><br />Love Mera Hit Hit <br />Tu fir kaisi Khit Pit<br />Tu Baby Badi Fit Fit<br />Fir Kyun aisi Khit Pit<br /><br />Now , I would like to declare my total commitment to this song . I mean , its on my ipod and if Rashmi F 26 would have seated next to me today , I would have looked into her Cheel , err, Jheel See Aankhein and said “Tu baby badi fit fit” . But I really wonder what kinda time is consumed in writing such lyrics .<br /><br />I mean , I can imagine ..<br /><br />Song Writers wife : Suno Jee , kya subah se Chaarpai tod rahe ho . Chalo , utho aur naha lo . Maine geyser on kar diya hai , 15 minute mein paani garam ho jayega .<br /><br />Song Writer ( Jo Chaadar lapete charpai par leta hai ) : Offo , tum bhee na bhaagwan….accha chalo ek paper aur pen de do <br /><br />Song Writers wife : Arre maine kaha na , 15 minute mein paani garam ho jayega . Abhi likhne kyun baith rahe ho ?<br /><br />Song Writer : Offo , behas karna to tumhari aadat hai . Paper Pen do , 15 minute mein main Billu Barber ke liye 6 gaane likh deta hoon . Wo director roz poochta hai .<br /><br />But at the same time , I am genuinely floored by Dev D songs . I mean , I am sure 90% of the guys , who , by the way , have been cheated / spurned / “Used-for-shopping-Movie-Coffee Bills” by females at some point or another would feel “emotional atyachaar” is their own aatmas singing . The balance 10% of the guys are still not enlightened about the futility of paying for the movie tickets .<br /><br />And main note kar raha tha , after 5 years of starting this blog , I still get an average of 80-120 comments on a post . Though not quite the one to write for comments ( Hum to wo Selfish Praani hai jo Bhikhai Baba ka Katora Cheen ke Bech de , tumhare liye kya likhenge ) , I am amazed by the fact that some of you are kind enough to actually state that you like reading what I write . Some day I would love to meet some people I know only through their comments . Probably , like they have created an image of me in their minds ,I have their images in my mind , And meeting them before it’s too late would help me leave this earth with more “Chain Se” ( This phrase has been picked up from numerous Hindi Movies where the Ladki ka Baap says “Bass Beti , ab tere haath peele ho jaye to tera yeh booda baap chain se duniya chod payega” .)<br /><br />Sansani Khabar – Guy on Rashmi F 26’s seat just pushed his elbow in my back . I think I am being victimized under “Inappropriate touching by a sleeping man” act here .<br /><br />Aur to bass yaar , these days I am under the ‘Main Kabhi Shaadi nahi karunga” mind blanket . Seriously man , if someday I tell you the kind of emotional ups / downs ,/ round and round I have been through starting at age 22 , you will know what I mean . Kasam Banane wale ki , you will wet my sofa with your tears and cry out “Ab bass bhee kar , aur kitna rulayega” by the time I reach what happened to me in the college canteen at Age 24 .<br /><br />Chalo yaaro , abhi Kat Leta Hoon . ( Is that a Delhi Thing to say “Kat Leta Hoon” ? My colleagues in Punjab just cant get this ) . Laptop Battery is near death , and more importantly , I need to get up from this before this guy on Rashmi F 26 ki seat leaves me brain damaged with his snoring . Abhi yahan Rashmi F 26 hoti to humne to apne baccho ke naam bhee rakh liye hotein . Kyun Bhagwaan , aakhir kyun ?Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com82tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-44261898998636868522008-11-12T07:19:00.002+05:302008-11-14T01:09:49.495+05:30When the sun goes down on meSo I don't talk about you anymore<br />And they say things will be better than before<br />So I live another day , hoping they are right<br />But now , I lie awake , in this cold November night<br /><br />I think about you and I believe<br />that when it's time for me to leave<br />And the sounds of life are defeated by a silent grace<br />I , my friend , will want to see your face<br /><br />You trusted me without a why<br />And I said I am your shade when the sun is high<br />You just smiled and did not doubt<br />My false promises kept the reality out<br /><br /><br />But when the wolves arrived , you saw me depart<br />And now , the shards of those promises bleed my heart<br />and When the lady called life loosens her embrace<br />I , my friend , will want to see your face<br /><br />Do you hate me now , I do not know<br />Do you regret knowing a man so shallow <br />Does it disgust you to remember my voice<br />Will you live it again , if given a choice <br /><br />I think you wont , And I see the reason<br />But I still wish , though guilty of treason<br />And when the glow of a setting sun fills the space<br />I , my friend , will want to see your face<br /><br />You dont let go of your dreams<br />For a whisper of love can drown all the screams<br />I know that to talk of love , I have no right<br />But sometimes you see something only when it is out of sight<br /><br />So wherever you are , give love another chance<br />Let it fill your heart , do it's divine dance<br />As for me ..when the angels of death carry me to a darker place<br />I , my friend , will want to see your face<br /><br />* Added Later , after seven people mailed me saying Suicide is not a great thing to attempt *<br /><br />Whoa ! Chill Yaaro . There was a bunch of really verbal Punjabi dogs right outside my window at 4.30 in the morning , and since they wont let me sleep , decided to see if I can rhyme words . So chill . It takes something as grave as back to back screenings of Karz and Phoonk to depress me . Dissociations with the female variety of Homo Sapiens aint that bad for me . And all the angry guys commenting here , You are always fun to have around .Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com117tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-28086960424367716842008-09-08T06:28:00.004+05:302008-09-08T07:41:19.807+05:30Somebodyz Back.<div align="justify"></div><p align="justify">So this has been my longest stay away from the blog . And over the last two months , my personal life has dipped to an all time low. I never thought I would transform into this work zombie whose highest point of the day is a 46 year old housewife from Bhatinda telling him she liked the fragrance of the shampoo he sells . </p><p align="justify">But I realized this had happened when my mother called me up three days ago and this happened – </p><p align="justify">Me: “Hi Ma.” </p><p align="justify">Ma: “Accha sun, surgery theek ho gayi.” </p><p align="justify">Me: “Surgery? What Surgery?” </p><p align="justify">Ma: Pause. I told you. </p><p align="justify">Me: No, you must have dreamt about telling me. It happens at your age. </p><p align="justify">Ma: “Chup reh. Your dad had this thing at the dentist today. He is fine now. No pain as yet, though he is on anesthesia.” </p><p align="justify">I understand it was no big surgery with the little red bulb above the room’s door and restless relatives sitting on benches outside and the filmy “Hum poori koshish kar rahe hai” from the doctor. But still, there were blades and there was blood and there was a pretty heavy bill. My mother told me about it. And it was just wiped off my memory. I remembered that I had to mail my boss that report which was already a couple of days late , but I did not remember about my dad. </p><p align="justify">So it’s time I remember the phrase from Spiderman 3 – “You always have a choice”, and start making the right choices instead of being the guy who talks about soap ingredients* on a date**. (*I sell Soaps and Shampoos for a living, hence the soap ingredients part.** Being very optimistic , I assume I get a date .) And it’s not only about the family. I have been losing friends faster than you would lose your cool if there was a porcupine inside your pants. Most of my friends don’t call me anymore, and those who do, call me a jerk. I mean, I have been compared to a wooden chair in context of my sensitivity levels, and the wooden chair has won invariably . And to be honest, which I have seldom been, not in the college exams at least, I do not blame any of my friends, or ex-friends. I am not proud of the guy I have been lately. Those who have still stuck to me in spite of me should be brand ambassadors for Fevicol. </p><p align="justify">But while I have been busy killing my personal life and discovering the pathway to a life of lonely existence and talking to the pet dog , my parents have been busy trying to bring it back to life. Last month, they ran an ad in a newspaper matrimonial ( I know , what kinda guy participates in an arranged wedding in an age when fourteen year olds have their own sports bikes and eight year old girls want to dress up like Kareena Kapoor ? Well , a guy who is no more enamored by the external beauty and just wants a rich lady now . my kinda guy ) . My sister had serious reservations against the act, because she thought the ad was incomplete without the adjectives ‘Uncaring, Unshaven, and can kill for the TV remote” in it. Now, the problem with trying to find a wife through this route is , that unless you meet the girl , you think she is extremely beautiful , can be in the Limca Book of Records with her talents , and is a total delight to be with . I mean , I expect no one to tell me that she looks beautiful unless the make up washes off , hates guys with their mothers alive , and is totally delighted once she grabs holds of someone else’s credit card. Not that I want a girl with or without any particular attribute , but the net problem with an arranged marriage is that people are not themselves till it may be too late to do anything about it . I mean, she may be smiling at me and thinking “I think I want to stab him with a pencil immediately.” And the same for the girl .I am sure she will have her apprehensions, which will be aggravated when she watches me laugh at cheap jokes and eat with my hands. So, the way things are going, things should get fun .At least for you. </p><p align="justify">In fact, talking of marriage, the more I learn, the more I believe that a marriage needs to be lived through before we know it’s good or bad. It’s a profound statement, so I think I will shut up and just let you admire the pearls of wisdom that I shower upon you. By the way , you remember me promising to start making the right choices about twenty lines above ? Well , as a start , I have come home this Sunday and am going out with family to a show of Rock On now . The last movie I happened to watch , nah , subject myself to , was ‘Ugly and Pagli’ ( No , don’t even ask what made me did it . And don’t even ask what that movie did to me. ), and I definitely need something good to restore my faith in the movie making capabilities of bollywood directors. </p><p align="justify">And my parents definitely need something good to start believing that their boy can still appreciate a day without a laptop, sales projections and pink slip warnings in it.<br /></p><p align="justify">We will talk again , soon. </p>Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com133tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-16858405827647039702008-07-01T02:51:00.003+05:302008-07-01T02:56:01.904+05:30Punjab Di Khabran ( Hope thats good punjabi ?)<p>~ There is a Cinema Hall right next to my office in Chandigarh . I mean , I step out of the office and my foot lands in the balcony . Rickshaw bhee nahi lena yaar . Boss se daant khayi ? Movie dekho ! Laptop crash ho gaya ? Movie Dekho ! Salary mein Income Tax jyada kat kar aya hai ? Movie Dekho ! And I have to watch Singh is Kingg there. Being in Punjab , how can I miss this one ? That would be like being in a Girls Hostel wearing opaque glasses.<br /><br />~ After four long turbulent years , I am getting myself a Bike again . Have been driving a car since then , and my recommendation is that unless you have three screaming kids and a wife who wants you to take her to the annual discount sale , buying a car is like going to the Library with Hansika Motwani ( Hansika Who ? You are lucky you don’t know ) when you can splash on a beach with Priyanka Chopra. Streaming down on a rain washed road riding a bike . Cool wind against the face . And a 6’2” Constable Daljeet Singh from Punjab Police giving you a ticket for over speeding. Bliss.<br /><br />~ The way things look , I will be on the Delhi-Chandigarh Shatabdi almost every week . Last week , I undertook the first one of these trips . Learning – If the question is : What makes more noise : A) A Jet Plane playing Himesh on the CD player and revving its engine behind your ear ? B) Three sardaar kids playing Antakshari on the seat behind yours ? , the answer is B . I guess my faith in the physical capabilities of their father saved them , otherwise I had a clear action plan to fling them out of the window . Atleast the one in the Yellow Turban who was singing that song from Ashok Mastie. Thanks to them , my Ipod is back on the train Journeys.<br /><br />~ I am staying as a Paying Guest in Chandigarh . I hope the landlord’s family has an appreciation for music at late hours . Because unless they think playing Linkin Park at 2 in the morning is a good idea , me and them are going to have some serious opinion differences . And then don’t blame me if their pet dog goes missing.<br /><br /><br />~ I know this is kinda girly , but I have been following a show called ‘Splitsvilla’ on MTV lately . I never knew Indian Girls knew so many Hindi Galis . I never knew Indian Girls could be so mean over a stupid game show . I never knew my faith in the strength and elegance of the women of today would dive lower than my college grades.<br /><br />~ Here in Punjab , show me a Parantha without Butter , and I will show you a Camel which plays Golf . And it’s not butter as we normal Delhi people know it . It’s a huge dollop of Butter melting right on top of a steaming Parantha . I mean , aisa lagta hai makkhan hee serve kar rahe the , galti se neeche ek parantha dab gaya . If my calculations are right , the money worth of Butter being used at Lucky Dhaba on the road connecting Ludhiana and Amritsar is only slightly higher the combined GDP of Botswana and Zimbabwe.<br /><br />~ I recently got a Nokia Business Phone . While I am yet to explore it’s multiple features which , Nokia claim , include everything except a Juice Maker and a Nuclear Missile Launch Button , one of its features is that the phone says out the name of the caller . And that’s a pretty interesting thing . Yesterday , when a friend by the name of Himani called me , I was like “Huh ? He Man found my number ??”.<br /><br />~ These days , a summer trainee has been doing a project with me as her “Mentor” , which by the way , is similar to Salman Khan running Khan School of Driving . Anyway , a couple of days ago , she was seated in my cabin and I was thinking aloud about an aspect of her project , when she suddenly broke into a chuckle and said “You know Sir ! I really like your working style ! Such a non serious attitude towards Work !” . Well , she still claims that was a compliment , but I have told her to be more direct the next she drops me a ‘compliment’.<br /><br />~ It’s 2.45 in the morning. And only a job with a call center can keep me up now. Time to Crash. And if I don’t have a good day at office tomorrow , I think the cinema hall next to it is playing some comedy .<br /> </p>Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com143tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-46955679685534510652008-05-18T16:08:00.004+05:302008-05-18T16:31:43.247+05:30Aiwen Hee Bakwaas Hai<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><ul><li><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I went to see the Delhi Daredevils vs Bangalore Royal Challengers IPL match at Ferozeshah Kotla some time back . And it was very confusing . For one , all the teams are so mixed up these days . Ishant bowls , Kallis Hits , Ponting catches , Ganguly Appeals and Shoaib Akhtar celebrates . Logic ki to hatya hee kar dee hai ! And then the giant screen at the ground was not working . Some eight minutes into the match , the batsman was given out LBW by the umpire .</span></div></li></ul><span style="font-family:verdana;"><p align="justify"><br />Me - "Oye , kaun out hua ?"</p><p align="justify">Buddy - "Oh shit , Sehwag gaya !"</p><p align="justify">Me - Sehwaag ? Wo to non striker end pe khada hai yaar . Wo dekh , usee ke jaisa lag raha hai.</p><p align="justify">Sardaarji on adjecent seat - Oh jee Rohit Sharma gaya hai . Kameena hai , ullu da phatta out ho jaata hai .</p><p align="justify">Me - Rohit Sharma ? Wo Delhi ki Team mein hai ?</p><p align="justify">Buddy - O Sardaarji Rohit to kissi aur team mein hai ..wo kaunsee team hai laal kapdo waali ? </p><p align="justify">Me - Ruk Yaar , ghar pe fone karta hoon , wo TV par dekh kar bata denge .<br /></p><p align="justify">All this while , a bunch of guys behind us are depressed over the dismissal of Gautam Gambhir while the couple of aunties sitting ahead of us are trying to find out which team is batting .</p><p align="justify">Future Plan of action - Kabhi Stadium mein match dekhne jaio , to either borrow that telescope from your uncle who works for NASA , or request the bastmen to take off their helmets so that we can know who is who .<br /></p><ul><li>I have been posted to Chandigarh for the next one year . Reactions to the news :<br /></li></ul><p align="justify">Mummy : "Offo , wahan Maggi mat khaata rahio "</p><p align="justify">Papa : " Sirf ek saal ?"</p><p align="justify">Sister : " Yaayy !"</p><p align="justify">Mausi : "Ab isko shaadi kar do."</p><p align="justify">Guy friends : "Chandigarh kee bandiyan mast hoti hai ."</p><p align="justify">Friends who are girls : "Udhar kee bandiyon se bach kar rahiyo ."</p><p align="justify">Boss : "Jaan chootee"</p><p align="justify">Would Be Boss : "Why me ??"<br /></p><ul><li>Earlier this day , the kaamwali quit the job . So my mother is carrying an expression like she just found a pouch of cocaine in my laptop bag . It's crisis time in homeville.</li><li>Did Salman Khan and Shoaib Akhtar grow up as chaddi buddies in "YouAssAye" ? Their fake accents put Star Movies and HBO to shame. That reminds me , a friend accused me of saying a 'Hello' on fone in a fake accent recently . Just adds one more commonality between Me , Salman and Shoaib . Dekte raiyye Sonee Ennertaynmen Chaaynayl.</li><li>Recently got all the seasons of Jackass , an insane show which ran on MTV some years back . It's ridiculous , it's crazy , it's gross . So it's fun . In one episode , the Jackass guys drive down to a town called 'Mianus' and catch hold of a lady who runs a grocery store there . Now the lady has no idea who this guy is and the guy tells her he wants to find more about 'Mianus' as he may shift in.<br />Jackass guy : "So , you sell stuff in my anus "</li></ul><p>Lady : "Yeah , I do"</p><p>Jackass guy : "Ok , so what is it like in my anus"</p><p>Lady : " Well , it is sleepy little place </p><p>The entrance is surrounded by fences and.."</p><p>Jackass guy : "The entrance to My anus is surrounded by fences ?"</p><p>Lady : "Yeah"</p><p>Jackass guy : "What else ?"</p><p>Lady : "Ah , a lot of wealthy people have houses here . Mel Sibson has a house here ."</p><p>Jackass guy : "Wow , Mel Gibson got a house in my anus ! And do you live in my anus ?"</p><p>Lady : "No . But I commute every day ."</p><p>Jackass guy : " Ok , right , you commute every day to my anus. Good for you ."<br /></p><p>And the Jackass Guy did this with a face as expressionless as teak , so it was huge fun to look at. Gross and distasteful , I know . But fun . </p><ul><li>Have you used Vivel ? That "Kareena wala saabun" , as most of the women tell me . Kaisa laga ? Mast ? Jhakkas ? I wonder is someone has asked ever for some consumer feedback in such a casual manner . Logical question - why do I ask ? Logical answer - I work for that company . Assistant Manager (Personal care) , reporting , Sir !</li><li>There is something wrong with our Office network , and I have been getting spam mails on the Office Email . Last week , got an email with the subject line "This Blue Pill can help you have a long fiesta with your chicks" . I forwarded the mail to a colleague adding "Hey , this is for you" to it. Last heard , he has actually ordered them.</li><li>Why do politicians visit the sites of explosions after some bomb blasts take place ? Do they expect that the terrorists would be still hiding behind bushes over there and the minister would just point out and shout - "Wo dekha , wo raha Mohhamad Al Sami !! Wo dekho amrood ki Jhaadi ke peeche baitha hai bandook pakde !! Pakad lo kambaqth ko !!"</li><li>Without sounding like a very close associate of Baba Ramdev , I am seriously amazed by the number of people who go around living their lives under stress , anger and too much seriousness . Brooding over lost love , worrying about a job , scared by a boss . I mean , too many people believe that what they do or what has happened to them is important and big enough to keep the planet rotating on its axis . And I can not understand if they dont want to live a more cool life , or they dont know how to ? I know life gives out different circumstances to each of us , but too many of us can use the circumstances in a better way than they actually do . So many of us are busy and stressed out chasing that pot of gold which may turn out to be a shit pot , after all .<br /> </span></li></ul>Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com80tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-15052065101639876072008-04-12T17:46:00.006+05:302008-12-12T05:24:30.142+05:30Post Title coming up in Ten Minutes<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">No seriously, I don’t know if this classifies me as a handicapped person , but I can not type stuff about a particular single topic. I mean, people leave comments saying the blog lacks direction , is shallow and contains content stupid enough to make Govinda look like a philosopher . But after twenty minutes of trying to write something sensible , like something which expresses my concern over HIV infected kids in Rwanda , or something which tries to tell the world that we must save the blue whales before they are all dead , I decided that there are enough pillars of the society to do that , and I also decided that I am hungry . </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">So now as I munch on a pack of Hide and Seek, I think I will just talk whatever I want to even if it makes me look as intelligent as Sameera Reddy and leaves you sick in the stomach. </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">For one , what’s wrong with Aaj Tak people ? I mean , I had a feeling they were pretty low on news the day I saw a 30 minute capsule named “Yeh kaisa rishta” which was about a female monkey in Madhya Pradesh which was bringing up half a dozen pups and picking their lice and feeding them her own milk ( As if I have ever seen a monkey buying polypacks from a mother dairy). But if someone was to watch Aaj Tak over the last 15 days , he would be absolutely confident that the only man who is left on the face of this earth is the Great Khali , the mahabali Darinda , ‘Jo apne dushmano ko kuchal deta hai’ , ‘Jiska naam sunte hee uske dushmano ki aatma kaanp jaati hai’ , and , I heard this yesterday , ‘Jo duss babbar shero jitna taakatwar hai’ . Oh , by the way , if you don’t know who Khali is , he is a WWE wrestler of Indian Origin who is 7’3” , weighs 190 kgs and you should be very happy you don’t owe him any money. I guess Khali would discover a lot of information about himself if he starts watching Aaj Tak regularly.</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHnJ6ZwOVDqCzcWA97VwIl3TEwVG_ZaknOoLEEwdCOEp2tCWr0Oy4jX0eCR_Qes9Ut8ZqY5XcnruP16YV-tEseISbEJ7iRQCYq8wUp3D6IxhIJ8pjZhn5T_BbanPOtoIZXomsuhA/s1600-h/khali.jpg"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188333298178642514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHnJ6ZwOVDqCzcWA97VwIl3TEwVG_ZaknOoLEEwdCOEp2tCWr0Oy4jX0eCR_Qes9Ut8ZqY5XcnruP16YV-tEseISbEJ7iRQCYq8wUp3D6IxhIJ8pjZhn5T_BbanPOtoIZXomsuhA/s320/khali.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"> "HeeeHawww , Now this son of a lady dinosaur is standing on my left foot , and I need to be on another floor to reach his ear , so lets just Grin and Bear it"<br /><br /></span><div align="justify"></div><span style="font-family:verdana;">Also , I watched ‘Race’ at a Gurgaon multiplex recently . To cut it short , and to save 175 bucks on the ticket and 85 bucks on the burger + coke , it’s a movie where everybody is evil with a head bubbling with deadly plans , everybody is in bed with somebody , and everybody is driving an exotic car which costs around fifty times my expected lifetime earnings . But the movie left me with a very disturbing message – “You wanna be a winner ? Please kill those morals first” . I mean , if I would have watched that movie when I was six , I would have grown up thinking that being truthful is an insult . Not that I am a Harishchandra-2 , but the people in the flick do not even try. Of course , there is one another image from the movie which will not leave me till I breathe my last – That of a topless Akshaye Khanna standing chest facing towards the camera . At least three XL sized sweaters could have been knitted out of the hair on his chest, I swear. Add Anil Kapoor to that , and you have the raw material for the complete winter collection of Rohit ‘Bal’ . </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">And ever since Arjun Singh has played around with the quotas , my mother has been wandering around the house murmuring “Jaane munnu ke baccho ka admission kaise hoga” . Munnu is me , and that means she is already worried if my kids would be able to go to schools and colleges with the kind of direction this country is headed to . No offences , but over my schooling , engineering and MBA , there have been numerous occasions when students from the reserved categories have made it while far smarter and deserving ones have been left in the cold. It’s all too moving to read about the son of the rickshaw puller who made it to Infosys , but what about the guy from the general category who had double the brains but could not get into a decent engineering college because the rickshaw puller’s son got in through the quota ? I am sure that one day, there will be little kids dropping years to get into nursery class. By the way , coming to think of it , I actually wonder how my kids will make it to a good college anyway , especially if they inherit my IQ. But seriously , I think some day , Mrs Malhotra and Mrs Taneja would be having this conversation over the paneer pakodas at a kitty party .. </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Mrs Malhotra : So Miss Taneja , ab to Bittoo 4 saal ka ho gaya hoga ? </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Mrs Taneja : Haan abhi March mein 4 saal ka hua hai , ab serious hone laga hai life mein.. </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Mrs Malhotra : Haan Jee , abhi to age hai mehnat karne kee….wo Mrs Sharma ki beti Pinky ko nahi dekha , teen saal se nursery entrance exam de rahee hai …determination , nah ? </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Mrs Taneja : Ab dekho kya hota hai , Bittoo bhee 8 saal ki age tak to try karega nursery mein entrance kee , warna fir OBC certificate banwana hoga …Bittoo ke papa keh rahe the tab tak itni savings ho jayegi ki ek certificate aa jaye installments par… </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Mrs Malhotra : Haan jee , All the best keh dena Bittoo ko !!<br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">And before logging off, here is a snap of the ‘entertainment’ page from MetroNow , a newspaper which comes to my home . Abb Aapkee Maut , Humara Manoranjan ! If you plan to die sometime soon , make sure to let the MetroNow people know . They got some space in the comic strip section too ! </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_AfMwHb5vTrNfP6DFgD5WrxluLhSyjIgvcvIVbp2wns8cXvhl5dvZiQad4E1iqfWtQRewJjbf3_P_nTd6rCZsDuQJRBCcioQ6Q-URpoVCJzsGEJYQfxtRuV0XqI0sDpOpFkRzDg/s1600-h/Entertainment.jpg"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188332086997865026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_AfMwHb5vTrNfP6DFgD5WrxluLhSyjIgvcvIVbp2wns8cXvhl5dvZiQad4E1iqfWtQRewJjbf3_P_nTd6rCZsDuQJRBCcioQ6Q-URpoVCJzsGEJYQfxtRuV0XqI0sDpOpFkRzDg/s320/Entertainment.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span>Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com87tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-83194063891579082982008-03-03T11:58:00.002+05:302008-03-03T12:03:21.105+05:30Coming Back to Life , minus Office<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I knew I needed a break from office and an urgent trip to Mauritius with a couple of blonde girls the moment I read my previous post. It looked like it had been typed by a guy aggressive enough to make Andrew Symonds look like a messenger of peace with a couple of white doves perched on his shoulders . So I decided to take a break and am on the second day of a two weeks leave from office. And before you ask , I scrapped that ‘Mauritius with the blonde girls’ plan . Enough of blondes, you see.<br /><br />Anyway, now you visualize me spending the break watching TV, sprawled on a couch, with the left hand lazily swooping popcorns off a big plastic bowl and the right hand gripping the remote, and I think your visualization captures my plans beautifully. But I also intend to make some meaningful acts , which compare well with the discovery of fire , Mallika Sherawat and other such things in terms of their impact on mankind. For example , I need to watch my weight now . I mean , little kids are not exactly pointing fingers at me and yelling ‘Look mama , that ball has legs !” , but a little bit of physical activity never killed anybody , unless that activity resulted in pissing off Mike Tyson . So I have been shooting baskets and just dribbling the ball a little in the porch of my home . I am not sure if I have broken a sweat yet , but I am sure I have broken a couple of flower pots placed around the porch .<br /><br />And I am reading Shahrukh Khan’s biography these days . In a book store setting where the lady standing to my right was browsing through ‘A brief history of time’ by Stephen Hawking and a guy behind me was reaching out for some book on the Indian economy , it is not very elite to pick up a book about bollywood . It’s like picking up the bumper issue of ‘Filmi Kaliyaan’ when the world around you is discussing global warming . But I am liking this book . His obsessive love for Gauri during his younger days as described in the book reminds me of my own feelings for my class III English Grammer teacher . No wonder I could not focus on the Grammer Lessons she taught and the results can being see even today .<br /><br />And coming back to the need for a break , I think I was beginning to lose the clarity of thinking which has been a hallmark of my existence since childhood , besides a need for movies and eating . I was beginning to lose the wisdom to distinguish a thing I can change from what I can not change. For example , I was spending time feeling bad about the fact that I had some irritating people around me at work instead of understanding that it is a thing I can not change , unless I had a gun , which I don’t . So I have made it into a personal objective to further instill this understanding in my daily life over the time to come.<br /><br />And last weekend, I went to Ludhiana with five of my IIM batch mates for a friend’s wedding. Pretty close friend. In fact he is the guy who, during my IIM days, introduced me to Babbu Maan’s music videos and other ways to be unpopular with girls. Just to provide another instance, during one of our hostel parties , me and him forced the DJ to play ‘Kaala Chashma’ four times in a row which firmly established us as totally rustic in the minds of most of the IIM students with their more delicate tastes in music and art .<br /><br />But what unsettled me was that this friend, who had a huge disregard for any kind of societal opinions for himself, looked more flustered than a nine year old boy stuck in the backseat of Michael Jackson’s car during his wedding . Some hours before the wedding, he told me ‘I hope I am doing the right thing.’ I looked up from the glass of orange juice ( Note – Another fluid has been replaced with Orange Juice for the purpose of this post ) , and said “Bhai , I don’t know if you are doing a right thing or a wrong thing , but you are definitely doing it , because now I have spent my money buying you a wedding present , and I am not going back for a refund.” So he went ahead with it and is in Egypt now on his honeymoon .One of the few chaps who went to a ‘mummy’ when most of us would never want our mothers around on our honeymoons.<br /><br />But I really don’t blame the guy for being a bit unsettled about his choices. At the ripe age of 26 , when I have spent the last few years exploring the maze of human relations using the tried and tested method of personal experience with disastrous consequences , I can only say one thing about marriage – You find out if it was a good decision or a bad one only twenty five years after the wedding , if not more . If you think that’s a pretty intelligent thing I have said, don’t, because I read it somewhere .Mark Twain maybe. Appreciate my honesty, now. <br /><br />Chalo yaar , you don’t expect me to spend my vacations typing away on a laptop . And before I go back , I want to ask you a thing . If you look back at all the comments I have received from you over the last almost four years I have been blogging , around ninety percent of them would make my parents feel like they have been blessed with a boy of outstanding qualities . Of course , there have been some who have explained to me in no subtle terms that I should be in cage suspended over the Pacific Ocean . But in my heart , I feel that all of you have been incredibly kind to me over all this time . So this time around , I want you to be more honest and tell me what you don’t like about me . If you feel there is something about me you don’t like , tell me . I don’t promise you that I will attempt to change myself , but I promise you I will attempt to find out where you live and stab you when you are out on your morning walk . Ok chill , seriously , tell me what you hate about me . I won’t kill you . Keep smiling.</span></div>Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com116tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-21067044843957690822008-02-17T23:47:00.003+05:302008-02-18T00:11:27.174+05:30Seedhi Baat.All Bakwaas.<ul><li><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I have ended some 'relations' , if I may use the word in a non scandolous way . I know it's cruel , callous and insensitive in a way , but I need to end what's not working out , atleast for me. It was draining me out and leading down an alley which had an end more dead than Abraham Lincoln is . I know I am being bad by cutting off from it . Makes me a not-so-nice guy . But if you want to save the baby from hepatitis , you need to stick a needle in his bottoms . What other analogy do you expect from a doctor's son. And for the record , I think romantic love is an illusion created by exaggerated hormone play which serves the movie industry and misleads the impressionable youth .<br /></span></div></li><li><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Have become incredibly assertive at work . Am shooting off mails which rattle up people the way a rattlesnake in your soup would rattle you . Got into a sharp debate with a brand manager last week .Took apart an office boy who was taking his time checking if my courier had come in. Diving to a deeper level , I am tired of people walking all over me , and I am letting them know I don't like it . And bad news for them , I am liking letting them know .<br /></span></div></li><li><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I am transforming into a workaholic . The types who have their cars in the office parking lot when all the other ones have left . Have taken a total of four days off since June 2007 . Monday is no more a scary day . I send out office mails almost every Sunday . Two weeks ago , sent a mail to boss at 1.50 am . He stamped into my cabin next morning and insisted that I get a girlfriend. Not that I want to be on the cover of Time . But I like working .<br /></span></div></li><li><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I regret not helping a kid who wanted help with her school farewell speech . I said I will help out , then totally lost track of that . If they had a record for the number of promises broken , my picture would be in the Guiness Book . Front cover . Full color.<br /></span></div></li><li><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I zipped past a biker so close yesterday , I think his shirt still got car paint on it. He was high on DVDs of Dhoom series . Was doing that wavy zig zag thing ahead of my car and not letting me pass . I quit honking , switched the gear and zipped right past him , leaving around half an inch between my car and him . And I did it with a smirk . Music does it . Rock on the car radio . And I am a Salman Khan on the road . You better not sleep on the pavement outside your home .<br /></span></div></li><li><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I have stopped using my iPod . I like the radio more . More unpredictable . More talkative. And cheaper than an iPod .<br /></span></div></li><li><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I love my family more than anything and will stab for them . A female at my office called me a mama's boy when she heard me saying "Will leave office in 10 minutes , ma" on phone . I said "Yeah , I am a mama's boy . I love my mom . And I totally understand it if people from your side of the world eat their mothers , but we dont .We love them all our lives." I actually said that . If you ever needed to understand what a stunned woman looks like , you should have been there .<br /></span></div></li><li><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Why does everybody in the conference room laugh when the big boss cracks an intended joke ? I did not find it funny . A funeral is more funny than his joke was . But the guy on my left slapped the table twice and roared . Another one could not stop giggling for a complete forty seconds . I mean , was it in the terms and agreement when they joined ?<br /></span></div></li><li><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Some time ago , a friend of mine , who seems to be a male from what I know of him , commented that I am a lovable person . I still have not decided if that is to be classified as a compliment or a gayish attempt at molestation . </span></div></li><li><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Nineteen months of corporate world . And I am almost into the habit of thinking in bullets . I think you have an idea of that.</span></div></li></ul>Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com107tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-84142128860966593832008-01-21T16:16:00.001+05:302008-01-21T16:22:17.856+05:30Who needs a title .<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />Well , I know , I know . It’s been almost two months since something breathed on this blog. Struck by an acute case of ‘I miss him’ , around a dozen girls all over the country have killed themselves , another seven are being rushed to hospital as we speak , and I can’t even count the ones who are out on Sunday shopping for nylon ropes and rat poison pills right now . But here I am , so chill , breathe and smile , for I am still single and confused.<br /><br />Anyways , a lot of water has flown under the bridge since I last wrote ( I know , my usage of English idioms is exemplary . Zabardast. ).<br /><br />Things have been happening at work , in personal life , at home . Like right now , there is this domestic problem at my home – Last Friday , my sister’s iPod has been stolen . Now , under normal circumstances , if anything goes missing in my home or in a radius of 20 kilometers around it , my mother just walks up to me and says “Where is it ? Bata kalmoohe ! Tell me if you want to get dinner ! ” <br /><br />But this time around, I am clean, because when the thing went missing, I was busy coloring excel sheets at office. So after re-watching the six CD collection of Byomkesh Bakshi and stung by the prospect of having to live a life without music, my sister declared that it was the ‘kaam wali’* who has stolen the iPod. Not me , not the postman , not the milkman , but the most important person in the history of Indian womankind – The KaamWali .<br /><br /><br />*Kaamwali= The maid . You know , the lady who cleans up your home , washes the dishes and is loved by your mother more than you are .<br /><br /><br />Now, all of you have hopefully grown up in Indian households, and it is an insult to your intelligence if I start telling you how important a peg a ‘kaam wali’ is in the workings of the world and your household , in particular . Just to provide an illustrative example, my mother once threw a five year old me off the balcony because I called the maid a ‘moti’. And she actually was so fat .<br /><br />So coming back to the case of the missing iPod, my mother has taken an immediate offence to my sister accusing the kaamwali, and if my sister was still a child, she would have been flying out of a balcony too. Ma has refused to question the kaamwali and has warned anyone in the household against doing so with drastic consequences including self immolation and totally screwed salt amounts in food. Infact just the next day of the mentioned incident, my sister claimed the kaamwali was humming ‘Summer of 69’ while doing the clothes , which was placed suspiciously on the iPod’s playlist too . But protected fiercely by mom , the kaamwali continues to roam around the house unfettered and my sister continues to hope she will have her revenge some day .<br /><br />On a personal front , I guess things are never supposed to be smooth for a guy who is 26 and is staring at a future which is still as clear as the climax of an art movie (I don’t know about you , but I rarely understand how these art movies end . I mean , when ‘The Namesake’ ended , I was like “What ? Why are they turning on the lights ? Where is the rest of it ?”) . Things have been kinda intense on the personal front , but every time I think I know what I want and what will be good for everybody , I flip out two days later.<br /><br /> I mean, how do you know who is the ‘right’ person to be share a life with , or , as they say , marry ? I know I have already got a ‘Anti-Abhi Women’s Cell’ going all over the nation due to the emotional mess ups I have been through , but nobody understands that my own heart too looks like it was crossing a road and a truck hit it right where it hurts. Knowingly or unknowingly, I know I have hurt people, but it’s an emotional battering for me too. People , including those the closest to me , may dismiss it as a ‘Oh-it-happens-to-everybody’ , but I have had my share of dark clouds and I think I need to move someone to the center of my world (Right now , I got my parents and sister there) and build my life around it , make people happy , create a good life for everybody , you know , rainbows and butterflies . But before that, I need to decide who that person is, and that makes all my college exams look like little walks in a park.<br /><br />About situation at work , after almost two years of corporate world including ‘Another one , and you are fired’ as well as ‘Great work , so unlike you !’ emails , all I can do is offer a big brotherly advice to those who are yet to order their business suits – Love your work .At least try to love it . But remember you are just a guy filling a job profile for them . The day you don’t punch out the right result , they are going to help you pack your stuff and take it home in a cardboard box . So know what is important.<br /><br />Anyway, it’s a Sunday , and it’s time I check out what’s on HBO . I anyway need to move from here because the kaamwali needs to sweep this room, and she just gave me the ‘Move-you-unbathed-jerk-or-I-tell-your-mom-you-called-me-moti’ look. I don’t want to be flying out of a balcony anytime soon.<br /> </span></div>Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com63tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7162325.post-56513404896849084692007-12-02T13:51:00.000+05:302007-12-02T14:43:54.806+05:30Hurry om Hurry !<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">To me , getting off a plane is always interesting . Besides giving me a chance to smuggle out the in flight magazine, It kinda reflects the times we live in . It goes like this . The tyres hit the strip with a slight thud , bouncing off the ground a couple of times and waking up the old women who had dozed off . The pressure of the air against its extended wings soon slows it down . It glides slowly on the strip , making a couple of lazy turns while some lady on the announcement thanks you for flying with them even though they made you wait 4 hours at the airport and tells you the temperature outside is way too low than you hope it is . Now the plane stops down . And then , the interesting part starts . </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">People jump off their seats , brushing their bottoms against each other faces . Uff . Excuse me . Watch it . Will you please pull off your suitcase off my toe ? Pulling open the flaps over their heads . Switching on their cellphones . Someone yells "What ? You havent sent the car ? What the hell! ". Before Anu Malik can steal another tune , most people stand scrunched in the aisle , all forming an untidy queue , looking with tense eyes towards the end of the plane , wondering why the doors aint opened yet . </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I still lie pushed down in my seat , while maroon5 in my ears croons that she will be loved (Nice floating song .Chahiye to bol de. I hate piracy , starting tommorow) </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">And as I lie in my seat , watching people stand on each other's feet , I wonder , jaldi kya hai yaar ? This plane blows up in three minutes ?</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">So many people are in so much hurry . That guy in a silver Swift behind my car who is honking is in a hurry to get to his office ( Yaar overtake karte hue gaali kyun deta hai ? Accha hindi ki gaali to mat de ) . Students are in a hurry to read their chapters before they face the exams . My boss is in a hurry to get that report .That waiter at McDonalds is in a hurry to serve table number 4. People sitting at table number 4 are in a hurry to eat what comes to the table. People at the boarding gate are in a hurry to get onto the plane . When it lands , they are in a hurry to get out of it. Everybody is in a hurry to get somewhere . Few people want to stay in the moment they are in.<br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Now I don't know . Maybe these guys know where they want to get to. They see where they need to get to and they want to get there fast . You see , driven , focussed people. Achievers . Desh ko aage badane wale log. People you see shaking hands with white people on NDTV Profit . Maybe I am just a slow guy who likes to listen to music and type down words which interest nobody while the world around me reaches for the stars . You see , I don't have a problem with the 'wanting to achieve things' thing . Even I want to achieve things , even if they are a vegetable burger with cheese , and a TV remote , and someone who shares all that with me . </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">But what I don't understand is that why hurry ? Jaldi kya hai . Kidhar jaana hai ? I mean , life is not in the future . Life is now . This moment .I mean , it's like..<br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">When I was in school , people told me happiness is getting 90% in board exams. We know that , kid .<br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">When I got those 90% , they told me happiness was getting into a top engineering college. ( Note kiya , kitna intelligent hoon main ?)<br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">When I got that , they told me that happiness is definitely getting into IIM. Pakka . Sachi . Muchi. Confirmed.<br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">When I did that , happiness was defined as getting out of IIM and earning a salary which is in seven figures. Arre 100% happiness yehi hai . USA mein researchers bhee yehi kehte hai.<br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Now When I have done that , happiness is ? Hello ! What is it nowwww ? Bol do kaka . Kidhar jaana hai ab ?<br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">So ladiesh and gentlemans , now that the world has been telling me what to do , this is what I have learnt - all the above stuff is important , but happiness is something they dont need to tell you about . It is something you feel . And only you decide what makes you happy . When others don't know where you want to be , how can they tell you how to get there ?<br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Like , for me , happiness is..</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">On a lazy Sunday , I watch a jim carrey flick on TV , eat a full lunch , and watch another jim carrey movie.<br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">When ma asks me to take a bath and I put my arm around her shoulders and say "Chill , ma.Do dinn hee to hue hai."<br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">When I say stupid things to someone who would not think "Huh? Isko problem kya hai?."<br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Sitting in my balcony on a December morning and eat an orange and squeeze the orange peel in the left eye of my sister. Right eye mein bhee . </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Talking to someone who understands me , and accepts me even when I am all boring .<br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Playing chess with Papa , and beating him at it too . ( We dont do that anymore , he is tired of<br />losing)<br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Caring for someone I want to care for.</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Meeting a bunch of friends over a couple of huge pizzas and crack pathetic jokes about our college professors and why worst guys get the best girls.<br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Happiness is just , being me .<br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">So you see , what makes me happy is stuff I have not achieved , but stuff , which , I already have , had all the way along . So I know I need to achieve things , but hey , there is no hurry .Because I need to achieve things to survive , but to be happy , not much is needed . Some music and a vegetable burger , with cheese , will do just fine for now. </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">@Shalu - If you reading this , my best wishes for your wedding ! :)</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div>Abhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08457991657687854637noreply@blogger.com124