my dayz with myself

Marital Tactics Vol.1: How not to be killed by your wife

2011-10-01T19:40:00.005+05:30

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. )

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 ?).

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.

Guideline 1: Don't Ignore the Bathroom Ki Tubelight

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.

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.

Guideline 2: Know her Kaamwali's Schedule

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.'

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.'

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.

Guideline 3: Just go where she says the better Tamatars are

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.'

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.)

Bass karo yeh Babaji ki dawa ke ads !

2010-09-30T09:58:00.003+05:30

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.

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.

Next Post: Weekend.

Thakur, Life se Panga ho gaya.

2010-05-02T01:24:00.006+05:30

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.

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'.

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…”

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.

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.

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. )

Scene 1
Venue: My boss’s cabin.

Boss: "You want to think again?"
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."
Boss : "I would say, give it a thought."
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."
Boss : "Ok."

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.

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.

Scene 2
Venue : Home.

Dad : " If you walk out of that door, make your own stay arrangements"
Me : ( thought to myself – He would never mean that. ) : Heh ! Ok !
Dad : "I mean that !."
Me : ( thought to myself - Shit . He means that .) : Gulp ! Ok !

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 !!).

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.
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 !)

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 ).

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.

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.

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.

****

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 ).

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 abhinav.jain@brandsofdesire.com.

She Speaks...

2010-01-12T12:36:00.006+05:30

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.

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 !

~~~

Dear Abhi

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.

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.

Dream of love may not necessarily align with the dream of the special one.

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.

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.

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?

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.

I am happy that my imagination died and feelings started....know why?....Because love had to happen....

Love,

ME
~~~ Added later

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.

She , and who she is to me

2009-11-08T18:40:00.007+05:30

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.

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.

This experience has changed , and continues to change quite a few things around me .

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.

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.

I mean , not that my kidneys have changed color , I am talking about internal transformation .

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.

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 .

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 .

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 .

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.

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.

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.

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 .

She has given me a reason.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

She has given me the reason to stand up to accusations and screams , determined not to step aside , but to go through them.

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.

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.

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.

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.

She has given me the reason to feel accepted , not because I am perfect , but because someone does not expect perfection.

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.

She gave me the reason to want to be a man better than who I am.

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.

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.

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.

Because while a boy finds a girl who keeps him happy , this boy has found a girl he wants to keep happy .

While a boy finds a girl to live happily with , this boy has found a reason to live happily for.

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 .

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 .

~~ Added Later

@ This is for each and everyone who chose to comment here

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.

Kutto ki Rang Birangee Duniya

2009-10-19T14:56:00.004+05:30

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 .

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 !

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 .

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 ! ) .

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 :

1.The lazy ones – “Sone de na , kutte !”

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 .

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.

2.The bhookha ones – “Main to haddi ka pujareee..mujhe haddi chahiye”

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 !

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.

3.The Vaasna ke Pujari Kutte – “Aao rani!”

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.
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.

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?”.

I mean , just these guys are reasons enough for institutionalization of dog police.

4.The cute “Ui ma , look at him” types !

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.

5.The “Gaadi chalaunga!” ones

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.

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 ?”.

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 !

Of death , movies and other regular stuff

2009-10-02T23:58:00.007+05:30

So , 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.

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.

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.

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 .

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 .

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 ?

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 .

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 !

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.

~~~~

Brands of Desire is proud to launch India's first ever
"Brand Management Course for Designers".

Mera dil kehta tha tum zaroor wapis aaoge..

2009-07-19T11:00:00.003+05:30

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.

~ Background mein se ghabraya hua sawaal : “Abbe saale Abhi , tu phir aa gaya ?? Abbe aadmi hai ya Dev Anand , kab retire hoga ? ~

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 .

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. ).

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 .

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 .

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 !”.

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 !

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.”

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…

Haseena Chamkeeli ka Phone Number

2009-04-13T14:46:00.005+05:30

** H.E.L.P M.E. **

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 abhinavj8008@gmail.com . 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 .

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 .

** EXIT H.E.L.P REQUEST **

So , I made the leap . I have quit my job .

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 .

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 )

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 .

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 .

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 ?”.

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 .

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 . )

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 .

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.

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 .”

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 .

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

A forgotten page from that brown little notebook

2009-03-22T15:58:00.008+05:30

I will respect my elders.
I will help others.
I will say the truth.
I will be a good human being.

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.

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.

I will be a good human beeng.

A simple sentence. A sentence that is made up of simple thoughts. Respect elders. Help others. Be kind. Say the truth.

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 .

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 .

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 .

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 ?”

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 .

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 .

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 .

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.

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.

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 .

~ To my many unseen , and some seen , friends here :

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 !

Aap Kahin Sune Sune Lagte Hai..

2009-03-04T01:38:00.003+05:30

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 ?

So , shuru karein bakar , lekar Kaamdev ka Naam ( Abbe ! Kaamdev is a type of Prabhu , maine internet par pada hai !)

1. “Main tumhare Bacche ki Ma Banne wali hoon”

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.

At that age , I had no idea what that meant , and I instinctively thought , “Tumhara Baccha ? But babies to God ke hotein hai na?”.

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.

2. “Tumhari Ma aur Behan Mere Kabze mein hai”

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 ?”

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.

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 !!.”

3. “You are under arrest”

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 .

4. “Main Teri Asli Ma Nahi hoon , Beta”

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 .

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”

The hero sits stunned , not knowing what to say , except maybe “Shit ! Does that mean I don’t get all that property you have ?”

Ok , you know the hero doesn’t say that yaar . Movie hai . Hero Accha Banda hai .

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 ? )

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 ! )

Title nahi hai Baba . Aage Bado .

2009-02-23T01:14:00.001+05:30

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 ).

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.)

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.

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.

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 .

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 .

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.

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.

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 .

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.

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.

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.

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 .

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 ? :P

Rashmi F 26 . Tussi Yaad aoge .

2009-01-16T09:27:00.003+05:30

My finger slided down and rested on the name . Rashmi F 26 . Seat 44 .

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 ) .

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 ).

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 .

Talking of music , I recently chanced upon this from Billu Barber –

Love Mera Hit Hit
Tu fir kaisi Khit Pit
Tu Baby Badi Fit Fit
Fir Kyun aisi Khit Pit

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 .

I mean , I can imagine ..

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 .

Song Writer ( Jo Chaadar lapete charpai par leta hai ) : Offo , tum bhee na bhaagwan….accha chalo ek paper aur pen de do

Song Writers wife : Arre maine kaha na , 15 minute mein paani garam ho jayega . Abhi likhne kyun baith rahe ho ?

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 .

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 .

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” .)

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 .

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 .

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 ?

When the sun goes down on me

2008-11-12T07:19:00.002+05:30

So I don't talk about you anymore
And they say things will be better than before
So I live another day , hoping they are right
But now , I lie awake , in this cold November night

I think about you and I believe
that when it's time for me to leave
And the sounds of life are defeated by a silent grace
I , my friend , will want to see your face

You trusted me without a why
And I said I am your shade when the sun is high
You just smiled and did not doubt
My false promises kept the reality out

But when the wolves arrived , you saw me depart
And now , the shards of those promises bleed my heart
and When the lady called life loosens her embrace
I , my friend , will want to see your face

Do you hate me now , I do not know
Do you regret knowing a man so shallow
Does it disgust you to remember my voice
Will you live it again , if given a choice

I think you wont , And I see the reason
But I still wish , though guilty of treason
And when the glow of a setting sun fills the space
I , my friend , will want to see your face

You dont let go of your dreams
For a whisper of love can drown all the screams
I know that to talk of love , I have no right
But sometimes you see something only when it is out of sight

So wherever you are , give love another chance
Let it fill your heart , do it's divine dance
As for me ..when the angels of death carry me to a darker place
I , my friend , will want to see your face

* Added Later , after seven people mailed me saying Suicide is not a great thing to attempt *

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 .

Somebodyz Back.

2008-09-08T06:28:00.004+05:30

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 .

But I realized this had happened when my mother called me up three days ago and this happened –

Me: “Hi Ma.”

Ma: “Accha sun, surgery theek ho gayi.”

Me: “Surgery? What Surgery?”

Ma: Pause. I told you.

Me: No, you must have dreamt about telling me. It happens at your age.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

We will talk again , soon.

Punjab Di Khabran ( Hope thats good punjabi ?)

2008-07-01T02:51:00.003+05:30

~ 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.

~ 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.

~ 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.

~ 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.

~ 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.

~ 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.

~ 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 ??”.

~ 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’.

~ 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 .

Aiwen Hee Bakwaas Hai

2008-05-18T16:08:00.004+05:30

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 .

Me - "Oye , kaun out hua ?"

Buddy - "Oh shit , Sehwag gaya !"

Me - Sehwaag ? Wo to non striker end pe khada hai yaar . Wo dekh , usee ke jaisa lag raha hai.

Sardaarji on adjecent seat - Oh jee Rohit Sharma gaya hai . Kameena hai , ullu da phatta out ho jaata hai .

Me - Rohit Sharma ? Wo Delhi ki Team mein hai ?

Buddy - O Sardaarji Rohit to kissi aur team mein hai ..wo kaunsee team hai laal kapdo waali ?

Me - Ruk Yaar , ghar pe fone karta hoon , wo TV par dekh kar bata denge .

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 .

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 .

I have been posted to Chandigarh for the next one year . Reactions to the news :

Mummy : "Offo , wahan Maggi mat khaata rahio "

Papa : " Sirf ek saal ?"

Sister : " Yaayy !"

Mausi : "Ab isko shaadi kar do."

Guy friends : "Chandigarh kee bandiyan mast hoti hai ."

Friends who are girls : "Udhar kee bandiyon se bach kar rahiyo ."

Boss : "Jaan chootee"

Would Be Boss : "Why me ??"

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.
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.
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.
Jackass guy : "So , you sell stuff in my anus "

Lady : "Yeah , I do"

Jackass guy : "Ok , so what is it like in my anus"

Lady : " Well , it is sleepy little place

The entrance is surrounded by fences and.."

Jackass guy : "The entrance to My anus is surrounded by fences ?"

Lady : "Yeah"

Jackass guy : "What else ?"

Lady : "Ah , a lot of wealthy people have houses here . Mel Sibson has a house here ."

Jackass guy : "Wow , Mel Gibson got a house in my anus ! And do you live in my anus ?"

Lady : "No . But I commute every day ."

Jackass guy : " Ok , right , you commute every day to my anus. Good for you ."

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 .

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 !
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.
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 !!"
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 .

Post Title coming up in Ten Minutes

2008-04-12T17:46:00.006+05:30

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 .

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.

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.

"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"

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’ .

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 ..

Mrs Malhotra : So Miss Taneja , ab to Bittoo 4 saal ka ho gaya hoga ?

Mrs Taneja : Haan abhi March mein 4 saal ka hua hai , ab serious hone laga hai life mein..

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 ?

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…

Mrs Malhotra : Haan jee , All the best keh dena Bittoo ko !!

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 !

Coming Back to Life , minus Office

2008-03-03T11:58:00.002+05:30

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.

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 .

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 .

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.

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 .

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.

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.

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.

Seedhi Baat.All Bakwaas.

2008-02-17T23:47:00.003+05:30

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 .
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 .
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 .
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.
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 .
I have stopped using my iPod . I like the radio more . More unpredictable . More talkative. And cheaper than an iPod .
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 .
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 ?
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 .
Nineteen months of corporate world . And I am almost into the habit of thinking in bullets . I think you have an idea of that.

Who needs a title .

2008-01-21T16:16:00.001+05:30

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.

Anyways , a lot of water has flown under the bridge since I last wrote ( I know , my usage of English idioms is exemplary . Zabardast. ).

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 ! ”

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 .

*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 .

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 .

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 .

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.

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.

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.

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.

Hurry om Hurry !

2007-12-02T13:51:00.000+05:30

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 .

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 .

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)

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 ?

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.

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 .

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..

When I was in school , people told me happiness is getting 90% in board exams. We know that , kid .

When I got those 90% , they told me happiness was getting into a top engineering college. ( Note kiya , kitna intelligent hoon main ?)

When I got that , they told me that happiness is definitely getting into IIM. Pakka . Sachi . Muchi. Confirmed.

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.

Now When I have done that , happiness is ? Hello ! What is it nowwww ? Bol do kaka . Kidhar jaana hai ab ?

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 ?

Like , for me , happiness is..

On a lazy Sunday , I watch a jim carrey flick on TV , eat a full lunch , and watch another jim carrey movie.

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."

When I say stupid things to someone who would not think "Huh? Isko problem kya hai?."

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 .

Talking to someone who understands me , and accepts me even when I am all boring .

Playing chess with Papa , and beating him at it too . ( We dont do that anymore , he is tired of
losing)

Caring for someone I want to care for.

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.

Happiness is just , being me .

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.

@Shalu - If you reading this , my best wishes for your wedding ! :)

Diwali Notes

2007-11-11T10:41:00.000+05:30

There are few times when life gives you a breather, when you can look back at your life as you walk and drop quietly into an uncovered manhole in the process. For me, these three days away from office have been just that – A time to break away from the shampoo sales, reflect on the direction my life is heading in (Which, I discovered, may be heading right into a smelly pile of cow dung), and in a rather unusual moment, grab a ‘pooja ki thali’ so hot, my fingers still smolder like the venue of a fresh nuclear test.

And , of course , celebrate Diwali , the biggest festival of North India . It may leave the street dogs terrified. It may make people blow up crackers which cost half the entire GDP of Botswana . It may have burned down Mrs Chopra’s garden , as it did the year before last . But then, an year without Diwali is like a three feet deep bungee jump . Safe but no fun.

You know Diwali is around the corner when all the ladies in the colony arrange themselves in pairs and start discussing how to please the ‘kaamwali’ this year.

A typical conversation between ma and Mrs Kapoor , our neighbour , a day before Diwali..

Ma : Aapne soch liya ?
Kapoor : Main to soch rahee hoon aadhi kilo milkcake aur ek saaree theek rehegi . Kyun ?
Ma : Cotton ?
Kapoor : Haan .
Ma : Ab , aap dekh lo . Pichle saal Mrs Malhotra ne cotton saree dee thee shobha ko ..agle din hee bhaag gayi thee unka bone china collection chori kar ke..
Kapoor : Accha ? ! Chalo theek hai , silk kee le deti hoon ….milkcake to theek rahega na ?
Ma : Haan Haan , fresh hoga na ?
Kapoor : Bilkul ! Rohit ke papa personally jaakar laayenge..in maamlo mein I can not take a risk na !
Ma : Bass fir chinta kee baat nahi . Chalo abhi main jaati hoon , pata chale ki Mrs Chopra ne kya diya hai to batana ..

*************

The exchanging of sweets with friends and relatives is another domain which calls upon the recycling resources only a woman can possess- Chopra Ji gets the ‘burfi’ given by Gupta saab. The kurkure gift pack from Chopras finds a place in Kumar Uncle’s house. Junejas are the lucky recipients of ‘something’ we got from the Sharmas – did not open up the pack , so don’t know what. But a logical thinking mechanism is indispensable here.If possible , a diagrammatic representation should be used here. Because one little lapse of concentration can be very hard to accept for the Kapoors who ended up getting a ten pack set of Real Juices from us , which they had gifted to the Kumars .

***

Also , firecrackers are an integral part of Diwali . It’s all good , unless your Chachaji’s daughter burns the corner of her skirt during Diwali 2005 and your mother takes it too seriously.

Not withstanding my mother’s views on the world destroying capability of fire crackers , and in a stance very much in conflict with my age ( I was referred to as ‘Abhi Uncle’ by the seven year old kid of the Yadavs when they visited us two days back . Saale Yadav , apni aulaad ko control kar !) , I decided to get firecrackers this diwali.

A day before diwali , I walked upto my mother as she stood in the kitchen , and in a tone generally reserved for declaration of independence and such historical moments , declared – “Ma , Iss baar patakhe laaunga.”

Ma- "Chup Reh ! Yaad nahi do saal pehle Chinky ke saath kyun hua tha ! Bechari jal hee gayi thee almost ! Chup Reh !"

Me- "Ma ! Uski skirt ka corner jala tha !"

Ma- "Chup Reh !"

Two words which kill off any scope for negotiations, pleading or begging. Especially if they come from a lady who has three types of kitchen knives within her reach. The permission was gained only when I promised to wear one of those inflatable dresses members of bomb defusing squads wear, keep at least four buckets of water placed next to the site , not fire a single rocket which is not perpendicular to the ground and to get married to a girl of her choice.

Note - I have no idea why the second rocket I fired this Diwali changed direction as soon as it left the bottle and zoomed downwards to end it’s eventful journey with a sharp thwack on the windshield on Mr Khosla’s car.. I think Khosla should look at it with a positive outlook – I mean , it could have hit his seventy three year old father . Ask Mr Sharma. Unke papa ne mere fourth rocket ka kya bigaada thaa..

****

The ‘Aarti’ is a rather noisy affair at our home , with the collective prayer singing led by my father , who considers himself just a shade higher than Mohammed Rafi during his crooning of ‘om jai jagdish’ . My mother , who sits besides him , tries to keep out his booming call to the gods out of her ears and my sister keeps busy trying to keep the prasad out of my reach till the aarti ends. This year too , everything was regular , until I decided to pick up the ‘aarti ki thali’ placed neatly before the idols , shimmering diyas and all . Not realising that it is slightly hotter than sun , I reached for the plate and grabbed its edge with my right hand . My sister is having trouble hearing since then . It is her fault she was sitting so close when I yelled ‘Aaowww’.

****
Gambhir just rammed hard into Afridi and there are some sharp words flying out there !! Gotta go watch this . Pakistan ki @%# !

Life.Questions.

2007-10-21T20:35:00.001+05:30

Steal my laptop. No seriously, I will leave the thing outside the front door tonight, power cord and bag included. Just hop in over the garden hedge and pick it up. I will sponsor your trips to the malls all my life. And for all you single engineering students out there, videos are in F: drive.

If you think I am not serious about this way to get rid of work, you need a little newsbreak on my life.

Last eleven days, I have been on six flights. I have been getting out at 8.30 in the morning and the earliest I came back one day was 8.45 pm , when my sister asked “Half Day today?” as I stepped in through the main door. Today is a sunday, and I have spent five hours since morning on an excel sheet with bright red and yellow colored rows and columns and a whole lot of numbers which was interrupted only once , when my mother asked me if I was actually nuts , or only looked like one.

And if all this is a chocolate cake, the cherry on its creamy head is that I still get calls from Head Office which start with “I am still waiting for that data” instead of a hello.

And while I was doing this stuff, nature nudged me a bit more towards the gates of “Um, do you have pond’s anti ageing miracle cream?” club. And there is something strange about turning 26. One moment, you are 25 and before you can finish a garlic bread, you are 26 and thinking “Huh, so by the next world cup, I will be almost 30.”

You know, it changes something in the way you think. You realize that marriage and kids and a life when people depend on you for their expensive earrings and indecent beauty parlor bills and maths homework may be closer than you think.

People think being a teen is confusing, but I think the questions one faces at 26 makes being a teen look as simple as peeling an orange.

For one, there is work, which isn’t getting any lighter. And being from IIM, people expect you to sell a shampoo bottle to Anupam Kher. Not that I worry about that, but the mentally convoluted types who need an excuse to run you down are like “Oh, the sales are up only 18 percent? And the money we spend on you IIM types, eh.” Since I am talking work here, tell me how it is if you have used Fiama Di Wills on your hair. It’s the shampoo I am helping launch in North India these days. If you haven’t heard of it, it says that either you live under a rock or I need to spike up my marketing noise.

Also, and this is more complicated than a psycho’s mind, is the human relations part. You realize that unless you clear up your mind and drop that “Uhm-err-I-I-don’t-know” phrase, two years down the line you may find yourself eating dinner with a girl who is thinking “Shit.Why did I marry a guy with such terrible table manners?.”

So I need to wake up to the fact that choosing a life partner is a decision as huge as Jupiter. And I need to find a girl who is happily excited to see goofy table manners.

I have had the coffee-movie-pizza thing with friends who are girls, but in some years, I will need to find a girl whom I understand and who understands me and decides much more than which pizza to order. And finding her is not easy, considering that I think girls are indirect, complicated, get angry too fast and ask questions only to hear the answers they want.

So all this, and add to that a jerky internet connection which takes slightly longer than a test match to load blogger, thick Gurgaon traffic and a cellphone which keeps ringing, and life gets a little jumpy for me at 26.

In a childish sort of manner, I want to ring up god and ask him “Hey, can we rewind my age by four years, I am not exactly ready for this!”, but I think he will just bang down the receiver.

But the good part is that this time my parents actually bought a cake for me. And even though I think they did it because they wanted to eat cake, blowing candles with three people singing the birthday song around me was something out of a childhood album.

But if I look at the overall stuff, I need to bring back some balance in my life .I need to ask myself some questions. I need to find some answers .How do I do that? I will figure it out right after I finish working on that excel file with red and yellow rows.

By the way, if you are emotionally moved by the questions I face, here is one you can help me get off my mind –

I need to get a laptop for my dad. He needs to develop no satellites communication software using that. So we can use a laptop which is good enough to handle the routine stuff . Any suggestions?

Signal

2007-09-23T18:20:00.000+05:30

Like other select young, successful and rich men around the world , I drive to work every day.Windows rolled up.AC cooled.FM playing.Laptap bag on the back seat.The normal setting.

It takes me half hour to get to my office in Gurgaon, time which I judiciously invest in planning how to avoid the boss during the day,how many coffee breaks to take that day,and what songs to download in office.Ah yes , and I spend time standing still in the middle of a sea of cars,bikes,tractors and trucks at the third most common thing on indian roads after potholes and lazy cows- the traffic signals.

Now , when the light is red ,it is a strangely empty phase of your life. Like those phases in the elevator,Loo or a bad date,when you need to just wait till it gets over.You can do a number of equally useless things.You can stare at the "Horn Please Ok"/"Road kee Rani"/"Keep Distance" painted in dirty yellow colors on the posterior of the truck ahead of you.You can check your hair in the rear view mirror ,though its a rather girly thing to do. Or , like the typical irritating and nosey indian male, you can stare at other people waiting in their cars around you.Which is what I do.

Strangers.Young men.Families.Women in their 30s.Headed to office.Tapping fingers on the steering wheel.Impatiently.Few relaxed.Most hurried.Their lives forcibly paused for those few moments till the light flickers to yellow .And then green , to signal the resumption of life as they know it.

Now, maybe I am one of those people who sterotype people.You know , the kind of guy who thinks every bengali wants to participate in a strike atleast once a week and every north eastern guy is born with a black belt holding up his diaper and every Indian living south of Madhya Pradesh worships Rajnikanth.Because whenever I look around at people in their cars at the traffic signal ,there are some typical kinds I find:

The Corporate Honcho

40ish year old.Balding head.Smart black business suit.He reads a Business Newspaper through his gold rimmed glasses as the powerful AC whirrs silently in his Honda Accord.A uniformed driver holds the steering wheel.Even the driver looks well fed and bathed.He belongs to the upper strata of drivers.Not like the shabby and wiry auto drivers who dig noses and smell like Harbhajan's vest after his ten overs.Class drips from the car and everything in it.But for a man so rich ,the guy reading the newspaper looks as uncomfortably stiff as an electricity pole (To be honest,my first thought was to compare the stiffness to that of something else.I know you know.)

He looks a bit grumpy.Like a guy who had too many mooli ke paranthe last night and woke up this morning to find the flush was broken.Maybe his son doesnt listen to him.Maybe he is worried about closing that all important deal with the Japanese.I dont know.But I dont want to be this guy when I get old.I know this much.

The Brat

Meet the College guy, who has been described as the "Ameer baap ki bigdi aulaad" by Bollywood since stone age.The kind which bullies bespectatcled nerds and ogles at Giggly girls at college.The car won't be very big here , unless Daddy is too lenient.Generally a Santro/Swift/Esteem.The back windshield plastered with stickers which say 'Speed Demon'/ 'Extreme Speed'/'No Fear' and other phrases with similar philosophy.Infectious Punjabi/Hip Hop music blaring from the speakers.And , a lot of dents and craters on the car body as if the car substituted for a Pakistani , when an angry ,Handpump toting Sunny Deol could not find one.

Finding him at the signal on my way to office is not easy due to two reasons-

A.He does not get up this early in the morning.

B.Even if he gets up and gets ready ,you need a tank or a Haryana Police Hawaldar to make him stop at a traffic signal.

Women

I think all the female drivers - Young,old,trendy,homely,fat,slim,etc etc should be grouped in one category, as I have done. Because in spite of their diversity in appearences and lifestyles ,they share that one common binding force in the matters of driving a car - They are all life threatening to the rest of the people on the road.Specially if they are on their way to a Discount Sale.

Don't get excited and organise a morcha yet.I know Sunita Williams went to space and did things like floating upside down there.I know Chak De India is a hit and we loved when the girls won.But pardon me , for I speak from personal experience.For one,women are extreme drivers.Either they drive very slow.So slow , Manmohan Singh in a frog race would overtake that car.Or , they will go fast like they got a pregnant friend on the back seat who is seven minutes away from delivering.

They would utilise the waiting time at the signal in pouting their lips at the rear view mirror.Checking if slight wrinkles at the eye corners are still there.Young girls who have a boyfriend ( Who doesn't,these days? Contact me.) may manage to send a cheesy sms before the light goes green and they are let loose on the society again.

If you love life , stay away from them.

Call Centre Cabs

I don't know how things are in other parts of the world.But in Gurgaon,the sight is as common as thumkas in a Bhojpuri movie.White Qualis or Innova.Young men and women cramped inside.Office cards hanging around their necks.Tired eyes.Crumpled clothes.These are the Sams & Jims and Marks of India who work in the Call Centres of Gurgaon , which outnumber the entire population of Alaska and Ibizza put together.Tired after a night of explaining how to switch on that washing machine to super dumb people in the USA ,these youngsters just lie slumped at the signal,unable to move because of lack of energry and space in the cramped vehicle.The drivers in this case,though mildly dangerous , are still angels when compared to women.

Though in very few professions you to get to spend the night with each other ,this car looks more like a sleeping lounge than anything else.

Young,sophisticated,rich,mannered and elegant men

These are men in their twenties who cheated in their exams and got into good Business schools and are now young managers in Big Companies.They dont look tense like the corporate honchos in the Accords since they havent got all those heavy duty tasks yet.They dont look tired like the call center guys since they got back early from the office last night claiming tummy pain and enjoyed a prolonged and refreshing sleep after the India Australia match.These are the perfect,most balanced and most wonderful men anyone can expect to see at a traffic signal,or on the planet , for that matter. Incidentally, I belong to this group.You could have guessed that from the adjectives ,anyway.

You see,trying to notice the different people waiting with you for those few moments at a signal is like trying to stuff Mayawati in a butterfly net.Different people.Different lives.Different emotions.Stuff above is as inadequate as my answers to the class X chemistry question paper.But I need to shift the gears and go now.The light just turned green.

Chartbusters Unlimited - Volume 1

2007-09-04T12:41:00.000+05:30

In spite of a cricket team which plays like a bunch of arthritic grandmothers, I really like being an Indian at times. I mean, what other country would give me a day off for celebrating the birthday of a guy who may have never existed? I wonder how many of us really strap up cardboard conical caps to our heads and shout ‘Happy Birthday Krishna’ on Janmasthmi, but I am sure a lot of us get a day off to lie unbathed , download songs and type grammatically horrendous blog entries. Perfect country for a guy like me, I tell you.

Anyway, earlier today, I decided to renew the songs on my system. So I delved into my hard disk, into folders that had been long forgotten, lying untouched since ages like your old bicycle which lies dumped in the attic once you grow up. Folders that had been lying embedded deep in the disk like abandoned Umrao Jaans. Folders that contained songs which once made my heart dance like a drunken monkey who just gained entry into a hostel housing young female monkeys. So I rediscovered some old classic songs which were once played at every tea shop in this country.

Songs which define the times I grew up in. Songs which contained the gut wrenching grief of a lost love , the cute joy of a blossoming love, the mischievous naughtiness of a lover’s wink. Songs which embodied the emotions which fill the developing heart of every Indian boy when he is growing up. Songs which shaped my thinking when my mind was still impressionable. Songs which have made me the man I am. So ladies , gentlemen and Bobby Darlings , not wishing that these gems ,which have played such an important role in the making of this sophisticated , refined and tasteful young man go unrecorded on this blog , I give to you , a few of these life changing creations -
~~

“Kahan Gir Gaya Dhoondho Sajan

Button meri kurti ka”

English translation, for the benefit of my overseas readers ( Yes , I have one from Bhutan . A girl from Uganda visits sometimes,too.)

(Where has it fallen , please search Darling ,

The button of my shirt )

This extremely naughty and imaginative song sensitively captured the anxiety and terror of a young girl who, due to a unskilled tailor who used a cheap thread, has lost a very crucially located button on her shirt. To make matter more intense, she is dancing dangerously close to the young hero of the film, the purpose of whose existence is to tease the young girl and belt out bone bending pelvic movements at the same time.

It doesn't take much to notice the anguish on Mamta'a face

.You gotta be anguished when you got Mithun with you and your shirt button is missing.

Hey Saala ! Teri Jaat ka paida maaru ! Mamta meri hai , kya !

The song was picturised on a well fed Mamta Kulkarni along with a clearly uncontrolled Mithun Chakraborty ,who looked as dapper as ever in his wet swept back hair. Now you know why Mamta was so terrified. On a personal note, the song left a huge dent on the contents of my skull , and taught me a lot about what to do when life presents you with a lady who has lost a button on her shirt.

Hero-

Angana mein Baba , dware pe Ma

Kaise aau gori , main tohre ghar maa

Heroine-

Khet gaye baba , bazaar gayi ma

Akeli hu ghar maa , tu aaja saajna

(

Hero-

Your dad is in the courtyard ,

your mom is at the door

How do I enter your house , oh fair one ?

Heroine-

Dad is (defecating?) in the fields ,

mom is in the market

I am Home alone , come in Darling .)

If the previous song carefully brought out the menace of cheap buttons and improper tailoring , this song points its finger at the age old problem faced by every young couple – Parents. The song starts off on a touching note where a troubled Govinda is itching to enter the residence of a rather conservative Shilpa Shirodkar.

But at the same time , Govinda is concerned about his physical safety as he believes Shilpa’s parents are at home too . As the song progresses and tightly captures the longing of Govinda , the mood is relieved when Shilpa coyly informs him that her father is in the fields and her mother has gone to the market to avail the 60% discount on Ajay Kunwar Sarees.

In a shocking display of modernity , she not only informs but invites Govinda inside her home . What followed after his entrance his beyond the scope of this post , though of deep interest to the author of this blog. On a parallel note , I strongly believe that Shilpa’s father went to the fields to defecate . Being a resident of a (Gur)Gaon myself , I have been a traumatically close witness to the happenings in a field , and I can confidently claim the purpose of Shilpa’s father’s visit to the fields.

On how the song affected me , it was a clear indicator that if I ever love a woman , I will make sure there is a saree discount sale on around her home and her home does not have a toilet.

How do I enter Silpa'a House ?

Shilpa , the girl whose father went to the fields.

~~~~

"Tera kale kale lambe lambe naagin se baal ,

Dekho Ankhiyon se goli mare ladki kamaal"

(Your hair is dark dark , long long and like a cobra

Look , The fantastic girl shoot bullets from her eyes)

A trend setting number of its times, this track was the first of its kind which made a girl sound like a weapon of mass destruction .Govinda , who sported a dress which was strikingly similar to an art gallery , first compares Raveena Tandon’s hair to a serpent of deadly virtues – The Cobra .

As the audience lies stunned and little babies in the hall start wailing, he proceeds to bravely declare that Raveena has the ability to fire bullets using her eyes . A totally novel and unique concept , this became a talking point across the nation and the Indian Military ranks .

A few days after the song swept across the country , cheap tabloids reported that some very excited Officers from the Indian Military had invited Raveena at their Weapon Research Laboratory .What happened in the dark confines of the Lab remains a mystery , but Raveena was never the same chirpy girl again. Reports pour in to this day , with recent news being Raveena has been posted at the military base at Leh border with a bulletproof vest and no guns , except her two eyes.

Govinda sings about Raveena's shooting abilities joyfully , just before the Military picked up Raveena.

So , my fellow music conoisseurs, these were just three of the gems which have offered so much to our lives , to my life . I have laughed , cried , chuckled , sobbed and done a lot of strange things listening to these songs . I hope to showcase more songs soon . But for now , I just have to sway to “Jab tak samose mein rahega aaloo..”.

Chak De !

2007-08-12T22:15:00.000+05:30

Stepping out of the hall, I casually asked my mother , “Kaisee lagee , ma?”.

Usually, asking my mother this question after a movie tells me how it is going to end up doing at the box office. She says ‘Theek Thaak’ and the movie is an average grosser. She says ‘Tu hamesha bekaar picchur hee dikhaata hai’ and the movie is a flop.She says ‘Chal iski ticket ka refund maangte hai’ and the movie is a mega flop with a high probability of the director's wife leaving him soon.

Getting back to the question posed earlier this day. “Acchi lagi. Sacchi mein dil kar raha tha ki humari team jeet jaye!” , she exclaimed, almost as excitedly as a teenaged tamil girl in the middle of a dinner date with Rajnikanth.

That was the moment when I knew this movie is going to be a hit. I mean, when a movie can make a 52 year old woman, with a spirit burdened by the strains of bringing up a son like me, say something like that, it sure can cause a young India to pump out adrenaline enough to fill up all the overhead water tanks in my colony.

It was only after my sister explained to me that I was turning into one of those work junkies who spend their lives changing column sizes on excel sheets and are finally found dead slumped on the keyboard by the office boy one morning, that I decided to take my mother and sister to ‘Chak De India’ at Metropolitan Mall in Gurgaon. Of course, my sister predicted other details like how no girl would agree to marry me if I continue to neglect human relations, but then , let us skip the gory part.

I attribute it to my innocence and ignorance of the female mind that I expected shopping would not be a part of the outing. When two Indian ladies step into a mall, evading shopping is like a cyclist trying to avoid being hit when caught in a race involving blueline buses. My consolation remains that in spite of a season ending sale on at most stores in the mall, there was enough space in the car for all of us and the shopping bags on our way back.

But coming back to the movie, I think King Khan underlines the fact that he can deliver a powerful performance with an unshaven face and without the overexcited romantic antics. It was refreshing to find a bollywood movie sans the girls-rotating-on-steel poles and muscular- guys-with-guns routine .It could have been a shade better if the guy sitting to my left could have used a more society friendly deodorant instead of the one he was wearing which smelt like the underpants of a pizza delivery boy on a hot sticky day. But notwithstanding that, I enjoyed the movie.

The story is as much a secret as Paris Hilton’s night life, so you don’t spend the movie all twitching in your seat and biting your nails till they cease to exist. But the pace of the movie, the normality of the team characters and the sheer spirit of an underdog taking the pants off their disapprovers carries it through.

No wonder that when our girls hit the winning stroke, many in the hall leapt to their feet, whooping in joy like schoolboys who find out the next class is not happening because the teacher has been diagnosed with chicken pox*(See Note).I suspect some of the overweight middle aged Punjabi aunties threw up their flabby arms too. Even the strange smelling guy next to me let out a gritty ‘Yesss’ , though that does not enhance my respect for his tastes in deodorants in any way.

*Note-Talking of unavailability of teachers, my fondest experience remains when our standard VII chemistry teacher got pregnant and the school could not find a replacement for us. For three happy months, we guys spent chemistry classes talking about girls and playing trump cards when we should have been memorizing the periodic table. Seldom has the birth of a child marked the death of happiness for so many children.

I particularly liked the part when the girls beat up a bunch of eve teasers. Due to some unexplained reason, I feel good when I find a girl beating up a guy. Though not that good that I would not walk up to a girl and say “Hey, please punch me. I have not felt good since morning!”.

Also, It must be particularly tough on the guys playing those eve teasers, even if it means starring in a Shahrukh movie. I mean, I can imagine the guy’s proud father watching the movie and pointing out to the people around him ‘See!See! That’s my son there! No, not the one being kicked by that bunch of Manipuri ladies. My son is the one in the yellow shirt, who was just thrown across the table by that Punjabi girl!’.

So even though I doubt the movie will spark off some kind of revolution and seven year old kids all over Punjab will start selling off their toys to buy hockey sticks, it is a decent experience. Dhoni posters will still sell like hot cakes and kids will still believe a hairstyle like Dhanraj Pillay’s is a punishment . Wishing three hours would revive a sport is as ambitious as wishing I would act in Dhoom 3. So nothing great in here,but maybe you will like it. My mother did.

Happy Belated(Ouch!) Birthday!

2007-08-06T08:23:00.000+05:30

There are some moments in life when your mind feels like the inside of a salwar kameez store full of Punjabi ladies during the annual discount store . There are some moments in life when you wish your leg was flexible enough to curve back and land a sunny deol-ish kick on your own behind bad enough to render your morning rituals ineffective for three months . There are some moments in life when you wish you could rewind life and clean up all the mistakes you did.

It hit me when she sent me a very comforting “I will kill you” on gtalk some time back and I blurted out a ‘Shit!’ so loud , all the babies in the neighborhood soiled their chaddis.

I know I sound like I have done something as bad as becoming an unwed daddy of twins , but what I have done is worse than that – I forgot Sunshine’s birthday.

For those of you ‘jinhone apne TV set derr se khole ho’, Sunshine is a friend so close, we get any closer and the Shiv Sainiks will go berserk. I mean , the word ‘friend’ seems as weak as an A K hangal when it comes to what she is to me . Along with my family , she is one of those very few people who I know will be around all life. And even as I type this , I can’t believe I forgot her birthday. And even though I can write her a mail about this , I want this blog to know how special she is.

Sunshine , I know I have been as insensitive as a paralyzed cucumber at times , but you are one person with whom I share too many fond memories. Meeting up at the Rabindra Sadan metro station. The aimless chatter over pizzaz (Kitna khaati hai tu..) .Your mock proposal which still makes me blush. The day we spent in the science park watching a 3 D underwater movie and huge clay dinosaurs . The CD selling plan we chalked out in that park .Your insistence of not taking a cab and my insistence on not taking an auto ( You gareeb..) .The ‘NDTV’ office on campus. Nandan cinema ( Wasn’t bad..) .And obviously , the timeless classic “shey jey…!”. I guess they can make a seventy episode soap opera about our time together.

So now to make it up to you , I will get the date of your birthday tattooed on my arm in permanent ink even if it makes my arm look like a reminder pad . I will go around telling everyone you are a Miss India finalist even if you put on weight . I will buy you a huge exotica pizza and that disgustingly fatty ebony and ivory ice cream you like when you come to India even if you don’t want to eat . I will be there on every special day of your life from your next birthday to the birthdays of your grandkids even if I have seven meetings lined up on the day . I will tell my wife your smile is dazzling enough to light up all the metro stations in Calcutta even if she goes green and calls up her lawyer. I won’t regret writing all this even if G rearranges all the bones in my body.

And I am so sorry for being so stupid even if you say you are not angry.

Happy Belated Birthday !!

Sawaal Apke , Jawaab humare

2007-06-30T23:16:00.000+05:30

So , a blogger called Aparna tagged me . And you know me , I am the sort of 18th century quixotic chivalrous gabru jawan types guy who would challenge the entire deol family to "do-do haath" if a lady asks me to do that .And completing a tag is much simpler than protecting my physical well being against Dharam 'Garam' Paaji , Bobby 'Soldier' Paaji and Sunny 'Dhai killo ka haath' Paaji , so here I go.

1. Pick out a scar you have , and explain how you got it .

Mar jaawa mirchi kha ke , these guys are talking about painful memories right away . I have a strong belief that any decent young man without a history of police encounters or public beatings should not have any scars on his 'jism' ( Waise compared to the word 'body' , the word 'jism' sounds as cheap as the fromt row ticket of Sonia Cinema Hall na ? ) . So after a prolonged examination of the wonderland that my body is , I proclaim I have no scars on my body . I know the question demands I find a scar and even talk about how I got it as if it's the world cup trophy , but then what do I do if I have no scars ? Ab blog post ke liye I won't go around asking people "Bhai saab , please stab me thoda sa , I need to write about the scar in my blog ."

2. What does your phone look like ?

Whoever designed this tag must have been a girl . And when I say girl , I mean the 100% girly girl , who screams 'Cho chweeeeeeet' everytime looks at a baby ( Itni excite ka 'cho chweeet' bolti hai ki baby diaper mein susu kar deta hain) . I mean , no male , unless he is under the influence of alcohol , would ask a question like "What does your phone look like?". But anyway , my phone looks like..umm..surprise...a phone ! . If you are still amazed , it has a keypad and a screen too ! . And it is as black as Janet Jackson. Chalo ho gaya. Ab phone ke baare mein aur kya documentary banau ? Phone hai ustaad , global warming nahi hain.

3.What is on the walls of your bedroom ?

Yaar yeh sting operation paltan tho bedroom tak chale gaye . Arre miyan , shareefo ka mohalla hain yeh , ek jawan ladke ke bedroom ke baare mein poochna kahan ki sharafat hain ?
Aaj bata detein hai bass , dobara mat poochna ( Oye yeh tho chlormint ka ad ho gaya.) - I have on the walls of my bedroom the face of an AC sticking out , a plastic mickey mouse smiling stupidly , and framed photographs of Pooja , Naina , Tara , Tina , Julie and Rita . A sensitive lad like me would always keep the pictures of his ex-girlfriends . Yaadein . Meethi meethi yaadein.

4. What is your current desktop picture ?

Arre ab kahan wo zamaana . If you had asked me this question when I was at hostel , then you would have got a rangeen reply . You know what kinda desktop pictures we keep when at home - sunsets , palaces , gardens , monuments , waterfalls etc etc . Waise right now I see my dad smiling at me on the desktop . Hi Papa .

5. Do you believe in gay marriage ?

Huh ? Oye gay marriage hain , koi UFO thode hee hain jo pooch rahe ho "Do you believe ?". I believe a marriage is a union of two minds , who then commit to tread the path of life together , facing all adversity and celebrating all joys together , and helping each other grow in the process . Gay or otherwise , the essence of a marriage is unaffected by such trivial issues . Subhan allah , ekdum miss world waala answer diya na !

6. What do you want more than anything right now ?

Watch Die Hard 4 . Looks like all my friends are either married or committed to find time to go out with me . All boys outings ka tho zamaana hee nahi raha . I am planning to take my mom to the movie after convincing her it's a comedy movie starring Akshay Kumar and Salman Khan . ( Yeah , my mom loved 'Mujhse Shaadi karogi' ).

7 . What time were you born ?

On a mildly cool afternoon that fateful day in October , 1981 , I was delivered into this world , with no indication of the fact that I was to grow up to become the wonderful and charming young man I am today . Within seconds of my being born , a pretty nurse with big eyes wrapped me into a soft white blanket . As she was turning back to get something else , I suddenly gripped her finger with my tiny palm , pulled her towards me and squeaked in my newly discovered voice - "Aunty , time kya hua hain ?."

You actually think all this happened ? Nahi na . So how am I expected to know what time it was when I was born ?

8. Are your parents still together ?

Oye ! Abbe western culture ke poster , humare India mein parents remain together . They are very much together and have no dangerous plans . Shaadi mein fevicol khaayi thi mummy papa ne , mazboot jod hain , tootega nahi.

9. Last person who made you cry ?

Me . I believe no one else can make me cry . Tears arise out of what I do with the thoughts in my head . ( Kaafi profound hain yeh jawaab , samajh na aye tho koi nahi )

10. What is your favorite perfume / cologne ?

Yaar main koi Page 3-socialite-fashion designer types hoon jo itna perfume conscious hunga ? Apna 100 rupye mein axe deo lekar use karta aa raha hoon saalo se .Ladkiyan tho ad mein hee attract hoti hain . Real life mein tho 'Namaste Bhaiyya' hee kehti hain.

11. What kind of hair/eye color do you like in the opposite sex ?

Am a very adjusting and easy going person . You ask about the colors , even a lack of hair and eyes is totally cool with me ( Jyada bol gaya emotional hokar , maybe I won't be totally cool with a girl who looks like a blind Anupam Kher )

12. What are you listening to ?

'Bol na Halke Halke' from 'Jhoom Barabar Jhoom'. The first time someone told me there is a song which goes "Bol na Halke Halke" , I thought it was about a couple of engineering students whispering answers to each other during an exam.

13. Do you get scared of the dark ?

Not if there is Amrita Rao in the same room .

14. Do you like pain killers ?

Like ? What's there to like or dislike in a pain killer ? If there is pain , I take the pill . You don't expect me to 'like' pain killers and yell "Mummy ! Aaaj lunch mein aloo ke paranthe aur pain killers bana do ! Bott din ho gaye accha khaana khaye hue !."

15. Are you too shy to ask someone out ?

I am as 'besharam' as a C grade tamil movie . Aati kya Die Hard dekhne ? Ab bolna tho "aati kya khandaala' chahta tha , but abhi khandaala jaane ka mood nahi hain.

16 . If you could eat anything right now , what would it be ?

The guy who put so many questions in this tag . With some tomato ketchup.

17. Who was the last person you made mad ?

Mummy. I do that with alarming frequency.

18. Is anyone in love with you ?

Ladies , this question is for you. Aaju baaju mat dekh , baat dil ki bol daal.

Chalo abhi I need some help . If you are involved with any Pharmaceutical / Biotechnology company in or around Delhi , please let me know. Mail me at abhinavj8008@gmail.com . Thanks !

Title ka kya achaar dalega ?

2007-06-23T23:23:00.000+05:30

Idhar ruka tha main rajasthan mein , standard note karo ladke ka.
I found this on my disk . I clicked this some seven months back in Kerala.Creativity note karo ladke ki.

Abhi bheje ke engine ko garam mat kar , iss dard bhari tasveer ka logic baad mein samajh ayega lollipop singh.

Last week when I reached office , a brown envelope was placed on my desk . Ab aajkal tho it is the zamana of e-mail , and passing around paper letters qualifies you for a place in the stone age , so I was like "Yaar yeh kya akbar ke zamane ka item rakha hain". Scared that they might have found out I have been stealing mousepads from the office and hence were firing me while asking for the mousapads back , I tore open the envelope along an edge and pulled out a neatly folded letter. It said that I had completed one year in the company and congratulated me for that.Abbe ek saal hee tho complete kiya hai , congratulate tho aise kar rahe hain jaise main kunwara baap ban gaya hoon. But anyway , the letter sure made me go like - "Uee ma , ek saal ho gaya mujhe office mein free ki coffee down karte hue?." It sure doesnt feel like one year since I walked out of the gates of IIM as a confused guy and walked into the corporate world to confuse everybody in there. But an year it has been , so all you funky people out there , raise a toast . Waise ab toast kahan se laoge , so raise a pakoda , burger , samosa , parantha , jo bhee fridge mein available ho.

And I got my dad a Nokia 6300. Now my dad is the kind of guy who would keep a cellphone till its keypad falls off , its screen disintegrates and the Archeological society of India takes it away and places it next to the pottery found in Mohanjodaro , so I just decided to get a new cellphone for him . I think the model looks pretty good , and slim bhee aisa hain jaise teen mahine se kuch na khaya ho. When I gave it to my dad , I expected him to turn to my mom and say "Dekh humara beta kitna mature ho gaya hain , ab is kee shaadi kar deni chahiye." , but he said something which was on the lines of "Humare bete ko money spend karne ki sense nahi hain , is kee shaadi abhi nahi kar sakte."

And talking of shaadi , my family recently took me to this purana filmy temple . The type of temple which is talked about by ghoonghat clad women in villages , you know the "Tumne suna nahi bahin ? Uss mandir jaakar jo maango mil jaata hain." types wala temple. So while coming out of it , they saw this Pandit Maharaj who sat outside with some books and a sign that said something like "Shri Guru Maharaj Astrology Centre." And cutting short all the gory and kaali details that followed , he announced that any attempts to marry me off within next three years would be as dangerous as Mika at his birthday party. So looks like panditjee has destroyed any immediate plans of "hum do humare do" for me , and I will continue to be the most eligble bachelor in my colony.

And recently I went to Rajasthan in 'kaam ke silsile mein' ( Kitna manager type lagta hai na sunne mein ) . I stayed in this hotel which was a palace Maharaja Ummed Singh had leased out . In fact , I was told the royal family still stayed in the part of the palace which had not been leased out . So this place had corridors adorned with black and white photos of the Raja Sahib and his gang of underweight and ever grinning chamchas . The Raja dude had snaps with a foot on the deadbody of almost every animal I have ever seen at the zoo - Lion , tiger , cheetah , wild boar , crocodile..photographer ke paas thoda aur time hota tho earthworm ke upar bhee joota rakh ke foto khinchwa letein Raja uncle.But the one thing which had the most bura asar on my masoom dimaag was the washbasin in my room . I mean , now you know what that gadget in the picture at the top of this post was .

For half a day , I did not wash my hands thinking this thing would blow up if I ventured within three feet around it . Apparently , this was some ancient style faucet which had been carried over from Raja's time to add that heritage touch to the room.But jo bhee ho Raja Sahib , aapka plumber kaafi over-excited ho gaya washbasin ke faucets design karte hue...

Chal yaar michael , it's 1.30 in the night and mommy always says 'Soja nahi tho Richard Gere aa jayega' , so I must sleep to avoid any kisses now.And haan , yeh tho sun lo , I am going to Kashmir very soon ! I hope udhar aise washbasin na ho.

Some more help needed ( Yeh blog hai ya help desk..)

2007-06-09T17:25:00.000+05:30

I will sure try to get the recording from the station so those who have not yet fallen in love with my voice can do so . Thanks for the appreciation and saying things like "Your voice is so cool". My mom listened to the show and she still asks me "Why did they call you on a station for girls? ". I guess that's one insecurity every mother of a rich ,cute and modest guy faces.

Now for some help I need . I have worked out a thing with Pizza Hut where Bingo shall be delivered free with every home delivery Pizza Hut makes in Delhi NCR . Should run for around a week more. If you order a Pizza , and don't get a Bingo , just shoot me a mail so that I can fix up things . We will together sue the Pizza people and end up making a couple of millions ok ? Ok , no suing but do let me know so that I that I know the thing is running all over the place.

Also , if you are involved with any kinda college fest , mela , haat or any public event in Northern India where you need sponsorship ,we can work it out . I am involved with ITC brands like Sunfeast , Bingo , Ashirwaad , Candyman , MintoFresh and all in North India , so keep this in mind . I know it sounds kinda depressing to talk about work on the blog , but then , I love my job . Chal yaar , abhi nikal leta hoon . I will make sure I get that recording . Else the way I am going , I guess I will be in movies soon eh ? wow , my modesty is dead.

I am on air !

2007-06-06T10:57:00.000+05:30

Whoever said life is not fair was damn right . In spite of me being totally uncool , some people think otherwise and have asked me to be on a radio show.

So Delhi kee junta , catch me on Radio Meow (104.8 Mhz) today , between 5 to 6 pm.

Totally Random

2007-06-03T13:18:00.001+05:30

The needle on the speedometer flirts with the 90 mark. The car cruises down the broad road which spreads out before me like a neatly ironed silk ribbon .Mustard fields dotted by yellow specks of flowers sway gently on either side. And I , going back to Delhi after spending five days in Ludhiana, sprawl on the back seat , watch the fields glide by , and wonder – why do senior guys in the corporate world wear suits all the time ? Though technically I should not care, because I am not one of the senior guys yet, and can attend office covered by Banana leaves ( Waise in that case , what will the people at office say on a day I look good ? Nice leaves ? ) . But I find all this suit-wearing as ridiculous as Upen Patel. All these VPs and CEOs must have ponds of sweat formed in their underwears by the time they get back to their homes.

And when I checked into the hotel I was staying in , the receptionist smiled and asked me “Would a room overlooking the swimming pool be fine , Sir ?”. I had instant visions of ladies looking strikingly similar to the Miss India contestants splashing in the water on a 24/7 basis and blurted out “Yeah sure ! I love water so much , people mistake me for a submarine !”.But all through my stay , the only things waddling around in the water were overweight uncles so hairy , three sweaters could be made out of just the chest hair of the cleanest uncle. No wonder our nation has not been able to produce any good female swimmers. No girls seem to be practicing.

And if you thought god exists, here is proof that even if he exists , he is not guiding the Indian Music Industry . One fine day, Shekhar Suman woke up , switched on the TV to catch a promo of Aap ka Suroor , and thought – “Here is a short , unshaven guy who is respected only by the member of Indian Cap Manufacturers Association and sings with a very wrong part of his body . And by god , he is a movie star now ! Given my personality , I should be playing the lead role in Spiderman 4 , but I will start with a music video for now !.” So if you haven’t caught the spectacle by now , watch out for a music video with Shekhar swaggering down a beach with a guitar , sunglasses and a girl who should be addressing him as Shekhar Chacha .

And someone should launch ‘Indian Idol chaap tissues’ urgently. You would think someone of national importance has died if you happen to watch an Indian Idol show. The hosts , ( Mini Mathur in a sleeveless dress , and some guy I don’t care about ) , would thrust a microphone in the face of a girl who has just been told her singing sounds like a noisy table fan , and Mini would ask – “Kaisa mehsoos ho raha hain ? Dukh ho raha hain ? Mummy ko kaafi ummeed thee kya ? Unhe takleef hogi ?.” I mean , what is the girl expected to say – “Bott mast mehsoos ho raha hain ! My heart is dancing like a peacock ! A million flowers bloom in my heart ! And mommy ? She is already buying carrots , she is preparing gajar ka halwa to celebrate my being kicked out ! Yay !”. If the show would have been a little more permissive , Mini would have been grabbing even the judges and shouting “Ro saale ! Warna kal se full sleeved dress pehan ke aaungi !”.

And have you ever been informed by your mother that the comments on your last post include two ‘I love you’ statements and one ‘mmuuaah’ ? My family knows about this blog , and it is their belief in charity that they are letting me stay at home after such comments . ‘I love your blog’ and ‘I love you’ are statements as different as Bappi Lahiri and Rajpal Yadav , and while one with a terrible reading taste can love my blog after reading it, one needs to know me in my entirety to love me . Nobody hates attention , but every emotion of yours is priceless , you should invest them in a deserving guy you know , not in a unknown guy who writes a blog once in fifteen days . And writes it using terrible grammar .

And I really appreciate your giving some feedback on Bingo . We marketing managers are used to being blasted . So tell me your neighbour choked on Bingo , your dog attacked a cow after being fed Bingo , your girlfriend left you after you fed her Bingo , tell me anything as long as it is honest . Because consumer feedback is an intergral component of the Iterative loop of Product improvement . I learnt the last phrase at IIM.

Chalo yaar , now I shall get back to watching the fields glide by as I cruise on this road which spread out before me like a neatly ironed silk ribbon , flanked by yellow fields on either side . The ipod plays some song called ‘Beete Lamhein’ ( From Train ? ) which sounds good. Though any other song would sound like a grammy winner once you listen to Shekhar Suman sing.

Truck Truck Truck !

2007-05-27T12:33:00.000+05:30

choI feel John Denver must be in a very brave mood when he crooned “Country Roads, take me home” . Because in around twenty days since I moved back to home after three years , I notice that adjusting to home is not exactly as easy as singing a song . Though with a voice like mine , singing a song is not easy either.

Of course, I need to be a politician to deny the good things with coming at home .Round the clock food , a car to drive, and a TV remote which can be procured after a briefly violent argument with sister are the perks which come with it. But in this entire exercise , there is one entity which considers me stupid , careless and in urgent need of a attitude restructuring – Mum.

If all the things mum tells me could be written in a book , these days she is writing a big chapter called ‘Abhi-The worst and most rash driver in the world’. Whenever I slip in the driving seat with mum buckled in the seat next to me , I know I am in for a lecture on how to drive , from a lady who incidentally , doesn’t know driving herself . I would be cruising down the road as smooth as a Katrina’s leg , when she would suddenly pip up “Munnu ! Truck Truck Truck !”. I would hit the brakes instantly , the car behind me would swerve and the driver would give me the ‘I-will-eat-your-kids-next-time-you-do-that’ as he passes me by , and then I would turn to my mom and ask “Where is the killer truck !”. “Did not you see such a monster , it just zoomed away !” , she would say pointing to the road on the other side of the divider .And so my mom would keep imagining all the truck drivers in Delhi are paid to fly over the dividers and crush us to a road painting and since I could not imagine that , I am a the agent of death when it come to driving. I mean , while we are watching the TV together , she would suddenly start shaking her head and say “I still can’t believe how you almost killed that cyclist this morning” , and I would silently wonder ‘Cyclist ? Who cyclist?”.

And she has warned me that if I eat any more maggi , she would tell Dad how I once burned his tie as a kid . Now , when a single guy stays away from home for three years , you can be sure he is deriving half of his nutrition from Maggi , the other half coming from booze and dope. And suddenly mom wants me to give maggi up and get back to the world of aloo mutter and chapattis . I can almost visualise the strands of maggi crying out "Nahi munnu ,after all that we have been through ,tum aise nahi jaa sakte!" , reaching out to me valiantly as my mum pulls me away from them mercilessly.

And of course , then there is the precious question most mothers start to consider once their sons start bringing home boxes of peanuts known as salaries – When should I get him married ? In my case , to add to the colors , I have already been through a marriage which almost happened before things got wrong , so she has some added side-questions to consider .

Anyway , I will leave my mum to the noble task of turning me into a safe driving , aloo mutter eating husband and get back to striking things off my To-Do list for today . On a personal note , life has been a collage of to-do lists , planning how to boost sales for Bingo , managing things at home in absence of Dad , and trying to watch Star Movies when Mom wants to watch Star Plus and sister wants to watch Sony .

So I am off to the market for some work now .And mom , do not worry , I am not taking out the car , I will just walk down.

Help me fool god

2007-05-01T05:36:00.000+05:30

I am such a wicked guy , they should lock me in a cage with Mike Tyson and Altaf Raja , with Altaf making sure I die a slow and painful death in case Tyson spares me , high on some Gandhian theory he read on the internet . I mean , I once pushed an old lady off an elevator just to see if she lands head first or feet first . I regularly plug chewing gums on car doors and recently , I dumped my neighbour’s little dog in a trash bin because it did not stand up on his hind legs when I told him to.

So now , just to fool god into thinking I am not such a bad guy , I need your help.This is serious now.

I want to sponsor a girl child , but -

-> Given the nature of my work , I cannot make regular visits , hence I intend to extend help , financially and otherwise, through correspondence .

-> I do not want it to be a mechanical cheque writing exercise , I want to know about the child , her progress , her life on a regular basis . I want to know her as a child , not as an address I send some money to.

-> There are many such programs on the internet . But I want the kid to be actually helped , hence it would help if any of you has been involved with any such work or can guide me to a program which achieves what it promises .

My experience with any such thing is zero , to be precise . But I definitely want to make a start now , and I do not know anyone who can guide me . If you can , please do mail me at abhinavj8008@gmail.com. I would be grateful.

Ordinary Sunday musings

2007-04-30T02:35:00.000+05:30

It’s amusing to watch TV on the day next to a world cup final. Apparently, all men who had ever been near a cricket bat had been shaken out of their beds , shipped to the studio , offered free coffee and salted biscuits and told by the director “Ok guys , now just talk , but do not pick your noses .You are on TV.”

So there was a man with a cumulative experience of seven minutes (Including a drinks break) in being on field in international cricket , clearing his throat , scratching his left ear and saying “Well..ahem..based on my experience as a player , I would say Australia is the best team right now .”

Not to be outdone , and with a burning desire to impress all the ladies from his colony watching this show , the other guy on the panel who could not tell a cricket stump from an electric pole to save his wife , commented ‘Yeah , and trust me when I say this , Gilchrist’s 149 played a huge role in this victory .”

So while these men who think a leg cutter is some ancient chinese torture mechanism spent the day discussing things my three year old nephew could tell , I spent the day reading a book , cleaning my apartment , doing dishes and watching MTV on the telly . I know the part about cleaning my apartment and doing the dishes would have appealed massively to the ladies reading this blog, so yes, I am pretty much husband material.

In another incident , recently a friend told me only ‘Creeps’ go to a movie alone . In fact , she being a girl , did not say ‘Creep’ , she said ‘Creeeeeeep’ , reaffirming my faith in girly pronunciation .

So , if her definition is to be believed , I have been a creep , and a double creep . For the second time in a week , I went to a movie alone . But blame it on a disturbed childhood or too much FTV , I actually enjoy being alone . Just to wait in the café outside the hall with the ipod and a cold coffee for company , it is like watching a range of different lives . There would be young couples who come only to sit on the corner seats , whisper things , giggle and say things like Hehehe,Sshhh,Abhi nahi , chodo bhee , haath mat pakdo . There would be fully loaded families which are a dream for Suraj Badjatya and a nightmare for family planning commission with the Dad asking loudly “Sabke paas ticket hai na ?” , the ladies trying to count the kids while the kids appear all happy and say “Mummy ! sabse aage wali seat lena !.” There would be the college boys who laugh loudly , check out anything that moves and resembles a girl and laugh again .

Not wanting to detail it too much , watching so many different people , with their different lives , needs , attitudes as they walk into that hall is interesting to me , maybe , in a strange way .

Coming to the movie – TaraRumPum , I went pretty numb by the intermission due to a storyline which seemed like a desi remix of The Cinderella Man . To make sure I walk out with no faith in humanity , the guy sitting next to me decided it was perfectly legal to stick out his elbows till I was sitting in a space a coke bottle wont fit into. And I won’t even mention I could not find a single auto after the show and had to walk 4 kilometers with unshaven , scratchy men commenting on my curvy legs.

Anyway , no self respecting young man blogs at 2 in the morning , so will I wrap this up now . I admit I need to reply to comments , and I shall not rest till I do that . Starting from this post , I shall reply to all the comments . I knew I said the same thing when the last post went up , and I myself say my photo should be included in the official definition of procrastination.

And one last thing . Earlier this day , while browsing the net for something young single men generally browse in their free time , I read that Mandira Bedi has apologized for wearing a saree with the Indian flag featuring below her waist . For those who were not too busy drooling at Katrina Kaif in Namastey London , in a scene from the movie , the wind blows away Rishi Kapoor’s lungi revealing his underpants made out of the Union Jack , the national flag of UK . If the British shared even half of the nationalist fervour we Indians exhibit , by now the British army would have cleaned up Rishi Kapoor ( with emphasized damage to what was underneath the union jack ) , Akshay Kumar , Katrina Kaif ( Or maybe , they would have taken her to Charles ) , and the rest of the movie unit , down to the last spot boy . I mean , we Indians really need to find something to do , or we will just keep harassing girls who are brave enough to host a cricket show without knowing anything about cricket .

Naya , naya, naya , teeveeeeeeeeeeeeee.....

2007-04-25T22:43:00.001+05:30

If you read the last post here , and more importantly , since then did not undergo some ‘bada hee bhari sadma’ which took away your ‘yaddasht hamesha hamesha ke liye ’ , you would remember that there was something wrong with the sound of my TV at my apartment . I mean , the sound of the TV had gone poof . Star movies dekhne mein tho problem nahi thee , because I did not understand what they were saying anyway , and the himesh videos actually felt better without the voice , but I was missing out on all the hindi movies .

So the owner of my apartment took away the telly to get it repaired. It had been three long days and three long nights without a TV for me when I unlocked the door and walked in after office today. And there it was , a gleaming Philips 52 inch flat TV sitting proudly on the trolley in my living room.( 52 inch hee lag raha hain , kaafi bada hai , Adnan Sami and Arjuna Ranatunga dono saath saath iske andar reh sakte hain ). So it was like , a Bunty who entertained himself by playing saanp seedi had been given a Xbox. It was like a nerd who had last talked to a girl in 1984 had suddenly found a Sridevi sitting on his bed , complete with the ‘haldi wala doodh’ ka glass on the side stool . So all those reading this , please pause for a moment , close your eyes , look up at the stars ( Oye , eyes close karne ke baad stars ko look kaise karoge ?) , and send a little thanks to the owner of my apartment .

And after a long time , something went perfectly fine in my life . After spending almost an year in Kerala , where I ate so much dosa sambar that during the last blood test they found sambar in my veins and the nurses saved it for some flavor during dinner , I have been transferred to Delhi . So all you Delhi guys , lock your girlfriends in refridgerators , for the hottest guy in the country is coming to your town . ( Abbe sacchi , you should have met me when I caught that 103 degree fever in 2003 , I was so , so , hot .) And as I type this , I see the South African team is struggling like a Mahima Chaudhary surrounded by the izzat looting trio of Amrish Puri , Gulshan Grover and Shakti Kapoor . At 98-7 , these guys need to be Shaktiman clones to beat the aussies from here . So considering a Aussie-Lankan final this time around , I will be rooting the Lankans . Australia tho itna door hain , Sri Lanka tho ekdum India ke bajoo mein hain . So I will be hoping our friendly neighbourhood Lankans take away the cup. Apne paas biwi nahi tho kya hua , padosi kee biwi dekh kar hee khush ho lenge na.

Ayyyyyyyyyyyyye Huzoor , pehchana mujhe ? Nahi ? Arre , samjho na , kuch tho samjho na . This is me , Himesh , before I threw away my shaving razor , put on a topi , and decided to show the bilady kuttas of my colony that they are not the only ones who can howl . Ab main bhee aise howl karta hoon ki mohalle ki sabse pyari bitch bhee attract hokar ghar ke saamne aa jati hain .

And one thing I am awaiting as desperately as Engineering students await the kissing scene in a Emran Hashmi movie , is the biggest blockbuster of the year , which is going to blow away the ‘cap’ from the dark and brooding ‘mohabbat ke zakhm’ his heart carries , is Himesh Bhai’s - “Aap Ka Suroor”.

( Abhi ticket book kara le bhai , early bird prize hain ek shaandaar leather topi autographed by Himesh bhai himself )

The country may laugh at him , there are endless jokes about his topi , people imagine everything from a tattoo saying “mera sar takla hain’ to a size 10 footprint under his cap , and his voice sends the colony dogs into a frenzy who fear a new entrant into their territory , but in spite of all this , I am sure a lot of people will go and watch his upcoming movie , even if just to have fun at his cost .And that brings in the moolah . Thus , underneath that tattered white cap which says Banana Republic on the front , I see a very astute and smart brain .

And last week , for the first time in my life , I watched a movie alone – The Namesake .(Haan Haan I know that sounds creepy , but Kerala mein akela rehta hoon tho movie saath jaane ke liye kya Priyanka Chopra kee wax statue lekar jaun ?) . The good part about watching a movie alone is that nobody bothers you.When the heroine and the hero are looking into each others eyes searching for eye infection and slowly moving their lips closer , there is no friend on the next seat who pokes his elbow crushing three of your ribs and whispers “Abbe kasam banana wale kee , kissi aane waleee hain !” and you say "accha ? Mujhe laga badminton khelne wale hain". So when alone , you can watch the ‘kissi’ in silence and wonder why the hero needs to be paid for doing such scenes .

Abbe gudgudi singh , MTV pe Himessss Bhai is crooning “Tere binn dil naiyyo lagda” with so much pain in his eyes , I feel like pushing a couple of pain killer tablets under his eyelids .So bhaiyon aur behanon , abhi main bhee apna dard apne dil mein samet kar log off kar leta hoon .And as a friend told me , I think I will resume replying to comments from this post onwards .But now , it’s time I enjoy the extreme machine my new TV is. Bhagwan mere apartment owner ko Himesh ki movie ki do tickets dilaye.

Karate that Racist Dog !

2007-04-19T23:40:00.000+05:30

What would you do if after a tiring day of minimizing solitaire windows and installing yahoo messenger at office , you get back home at 8.30 in the night , ring the doorbell of your apartment , and the apartment caretaker ( who , by the way , is a mallu . Racist me.) answers the door with an expression which is on the lines of ‘hai-mai-lut-gayi-barbaad-ho-gai’ and says..

“Saar..TV..speak..go.”

If you are a 6’3” broad shouldered north Indian ‘tired-after-office’ guy , you yell “What the duck are you trying to say?” , and without waiting for the answer , smash his nose with your laptop case just like Sunny Deol , and walk in as he lies on the floor clutching his nose and screaming ‘aiyyoo’.

However , since I am almost as tall as a sitting Rani Mukherjee , I chose to murmur a “Eh..ok..that’s wonderful” and walked in without any bloodshed when I faced this situation this evening . Soon I discovered that what my profoundly verbose caretaker was trying to say was that the sound in my TV had conked off. Now I am real good at lip reading , but just could not do it as well as I would have liked when I tried to watch what the judges on American idol were trying to say during the four minutes I tried watching the TV without its voice , so I decided to get back to good ol’ racist blogging tonight.

Now , lately , a lot of people have been pretty angry with me on this blog , accusing me of being racist . People have quoted clippets from Indian Penal codes supposed to make me go “Mommy!I don’t wanna go to jail” . Comment after comment has labeled me a jerk as insensitive as a paralysed elbow . Little pink Kids all over North East are being trained in Judo to grow up and take revenge from the racist and wicked blogger Abhi. ( See , with such sarcastic statements , I still can’t stop being wicked ).

Now , initially , I was amused . I was mesmerized by the innate ability of people to dig out a national issue out of a blog post .I mean , I was like “Wow. When were these guys born ? During some riots ?”.I was like “These dudes are really concerned about this country , such passioned emotions about four lines on a web page ?”.And to be honest , I still am . I mean , honestly , it takes a huge amount of passion , vocabulary and free time to write such focused comments , dissecting me , my sexuality , my sense of belonging to this nation , and my significant contribution to the scum of this country .But somewhere , a little bit of irritation took me over too . I mean , it’s not everyday work for me to be blasted apart on a public forum.And then , sometimes I don’t think clearly ,like when faced with such disparaging remarks after a hard day at office. So during one such moment , I allowed myself to get irritated over this .

But now , after eating a full dinner of a steaming bowl of Maggi ( and watching four minutes of soundless American Idol ) ,as I sit on my bed , with the ipod crooning a dreamy lucky ali’s voice in my ears , I know it was my fault . It was my fault because I expected people would not judge me .I expected perfect strangers to see the world the way I see it. I expected some unknown guy I would never meet to keep aside his self-importance for a little while , for over the three years I have been writing this blog , I have laughed at the cost of myself , my as-high-as-a-side-stool height , my as-low-as-Amrita-Rao’s-neckline grades , my as-outdated-as-a-fossil cellphone , my as-crashed-as-a-MIG 27 relationships , my as-twisted-as-a-roller coaster life. And in writing this blog over the last three years ,from a lazy engineering student to a more lazy manager , I learnt to laugh at myself , but perhaps , I forgot that people still judge me here . I forgot that people judge my words, they judge me . Now I can’t change the attitude of anyone who reads my blog , hell , I have trouble changing my socks ( I have been wearing the same pair to office over the last three days ) , forget a person . But still , all I ask you , is to lighten up . Life is too important to be taken so seriously.

Now before anyone screams “He is still so racist , bring out that Indian Penal code book please ! ” , let me log off now , wait for “She hates me” ( Kinda situational , isn’t it ?) on the ipod to finish off , and then watch reruns of Friends on the laptop . Much better trying to lip read what that black judge on American Idol was saying . Oh shucks , did I say ‘black guy’ ? Am I into apartheid now ?

Ps - Anyone working with TOI/HT/NDTV/any of media houses ? Need some help for a friend .Please mail me. Do not worry , mailing a racist isn't a legal offence.

Main aisa hee hoon

2007-04-10T17:53:00.000+05:30

A couple of days ago , as I stood before the mirror trying to decide if I look like George Clooney or Matt Damon , my cellphone rang . I glanced on the number as it ran across the screen . It was a friend , and a female friend at that . Never the one to turn down a girl's call , I picked it up , flipped open the phone and said a seductive 'Hi' . Now she is not the kind who would wake up , clean the mandir , water the tulsi plant and then proceed to sing Anoop Jalota's bhajans all day . So I wasnt expecting her to recite anything too religious from her , but as soon as I said a 'Hi' , she exhaled loudly and said -

'Munnu , tune apne last blog pe comments dekhe ? Duniya walo ne teri le li !.'

Now , for all engineering students and other spoilt people , I dont need to explain what 'duniya walo ne teri le li' means. As for the beautiful minded people of this nation , it means , well , that the people did not like what they read , and I am very polite when I explain it that way.

Now , I need to be somewhere in about an hour , so cannot explain much , nor do I need to , but sach , I am beyond the stage when the admiration or abuses affect me . So bhookh hartaal karo , buses jala do , tamaatar maaro , jo karna hai kar lo yaar , good or bad , this is me .

Main noodle ka stall kholna chahta hoon

2007-04-05T17:22:00.000+05:30

I have trouble speaking english . At school , my english teacher used to taunt me regularly . In a moment of seclusion in a lonely corridor , she even tried to suffocate me while screaming "Itti gandi english bolne wale to jeena ka koi hakk naheeee." I still keep a pocket sized edition of Rapidex English Speaking Course in my backpack for emergency situations like interacting with english speaking pretty girls.Hence when I share such an uncomfortable relation with a universal language such as english , it is downright unfair on the part of blogger to expect me to work with dutch.

When I logged into my blogger account some eleven minutes back , I discovered that due to some reason , my blog language settings have been changed to dutch . As I type this , I see two buttons below the tying area . One says - Als Entwurf Speichern. The other says -Veroffentlichen.Ab this is like my mummy saying to me "Munnu Beta , aaj tinda khaoge ya gheeya ?." Ab I dont know which means 'Publish Post' out of the two , but if you are reading this , veroffentlichen means "Publish Post". Dekha , baithe baithe dutch seekh gaye na. Ab holland jao tho seena thok kar bolna veroffentlichen.

And why are there so many north eastern people in Bangalore.Yesterday , as me and a friend roamed brigade road and wondered why every pretty girl has a nasty looking boyfriend who looks like a cross between Crime Master GoGo and the african striped Owl , it suddenly struck me -

Me : " Oye , yahan noodle ka stall khol lete hain."

Friend : "Kyun be , tujhe sapne mein hanuman jee ne yeh aadesh dia hain ?"

Me : "Abbe mamta kulkarni ki kasam , dekh kitne saare bruce lee jaise log hain yahan , meri bijness sense cheekh cheekh ke kehtee hain ki a north eastern food stall is the next big thing on this road."

Friend : "Haan yaar , yeh tho sach hain . Aisa lagta hain china ne attack karke brigade road ko india se cheen lia hain."

Me : "Sacchi . Tho abhi 'Bruce Lee memorial noodle corner' kholne ka business plan develop karte hain.Baad mein ek 'jackie chan memorial karate coaching center' khol kar aur paisa kamayenge."

I have suddenly noticed a north eastern guy sitting on the next computer.He has long hair and a tattoo on his biceps says "Born to Kill" with dragons on both sides. And I dont enjoy the vision of me being karataed into seven pieces by him , so I will save further details for a later date.

But saugandh ganga maiyya kee , I will have to hand it over to Bangalore when it comes to the 'Dude and Dudette' quotient of the city . Pata nahi , maybe it is because I have been in Kerala over the last nine months or maybe because I am as much as a dude as Rabri Devi is a Dudette , I look around in this city and say "Mar jaawa khatta kha ke ,inn sab ka janam beauty parlor ke waiting room mein hua tha?". I mean , guys have bulging biceps , long hair , tattoos all over.The same "duniya mere baap ki hain" expression on their faces. Girls look like shrunk versions of Bollywood extras .Their clothes are so tight . I mean , I can visit Vaishno Devi and get back and I bet a girl would still be struggling to get into that oh-so-tight low waist jeans.I mean , theek hain bhaiyya , 21st century hain , cable TV generation hain , india shining hain , but phir bhee , are we out of girls who have a mind of their own and are self confident enough to wear a salwar suit because they want to , even if the girls around her go around looking like vamps in their haltar tops and mid riff exposing jeans?

Now all you dont jump around screaming "Bloody shiv sainik" and write me death threats . It is just my opinion , and I said it. I somehow admire a girl more for her strength to be herself.I mean , chill yar , mujhe kya farak padta hain .Mujhe thode hee chote kapde pehnkar aur baal khol kar bhangra karna hain , I am cool anyway.

And yeah , I deleted the last post because half my relatives and friends read it and concluded I was seven minutes away from a suicide and just needed a strong nylon cord to facilitate the process.I agree , the post came out thoda dark dark and all , but when my sister called me with a "Munnu ! Kya hua tujhe ? Dekh , sambhaal apne aap ko" and my ludhaina wale mamaji called me with a "Dekho beta , aatmahatya karna paap hain" , I thought "Abbe hatao iss post ko , warna meri condolence meeting ka card bhee chap jaega".So all you who wrote to me, thanks , and chill , I am the kind of guy who can run over three guys with my car and then brake to see if my car has a scratch.So I was sad , but now , I am all fine and ready to make others sad .

Help kar do uncle

2007-02-27T14:04:00.000+05:30

Gaon walo , I need a little help . I need to get a little , rajpal yadav sized questionnaire filled . Only 5 questions , no personal questions concerning your sly nose picking habits .If you have ever been near a keyboard , it wont take you more than three minutes and seventeen seconds to get over with it . So if you got three minutes and seventeen seconds , please mail me right now at abhinavj8008@gmail.com and I shall send it across . Harr help karne wale ko dee jayegi ..umm..abb I can't offer you a three days and two nights all paid trip to Mauritius ( Lunch included ) , so I will just offer you my thanks.

Tanhayeeeeeeee Tanhayeeeeeeeee

2007-02-20T11:15:00.000+05:30

Abhi iss foto ko dekh kar life mein tension mat lo , aage padne pe samajh ayega aapko ki iss foto ka iss post se kitna gehra taal-lukk hain melordddd

Abhi kuch der pehle , as I was practicing my moves to "Crazy Kiya Re" ( Arre shaadi aa rahee hai bhai , piraktice naahi karenge tho thumka kaise maarenge ) , one of my old friends buzzed me on Gtalk . Now , when I say old , it does not mean that he was born before the steam engine was invented , but I had not talked to him over the last atleast two years. So overcome by jazbaat and emotions , we talked about old school days , the teachers , the lady teachers , the kashmir mudda , undergarment industry of Japaaan and other such heart warming issues ( A lot of issues and topics have been beeped out . Bahu betiyan bhee padti hai na yeh blog.).

We talked for about forty minutes . I could have talked more but then his dad is not yet into smuggling charas/brown sugar/garam masala and he very clearly said "Chal saale.Ab fone rakhne de.Isse jyada baat kari tho pappa meri khaal utaar ke dubai mein bech denge." Not very pleased with the thought of my friend's skin being sold in some flea market in Dubai with a stallwaala yelling "Indian khaal Indian Khaal , sirf teen rupye per square metre , le jao le jao", I agreed .

But long after I kept down the phone , one question which he casually posed to me during the conversation kept goonjing in my ears -

" Yaar Abhi , tera jaisa banda akela reh kaise sakta hain ? Tujhe dekh kar tho lagta hai jaise tune paida hote hee nurse se gappe maarna shuru kar dia tha..tu akela rehta kaise hai kerala mein ?"

Now , the guy does have a point . Aaj main mika ke baalon ki kasam khaake admit karta hoon that it has not been an easy time for me in Kerala over the last nine months ( Ek tho yeh nine months bada hee khatarnaak time frame hota hain , sunte hee mind mein bacche ke rone ki awaaz aane lagtee hain ). The boy who landed in Kerala on the 20th of June 2006 was possesed of nothing more than seven minutes of cumulative experince in the kitchen , had ironed a total of three shirts , seven chaddis and one handkerchief in the 24 years 8 months of his life , had no sense of a biological clock and did not know how a man in a lungi looks like.

And today , on the kaali amaavas ki raat of 21st Farvareee 2007 , I can proudly smirk and claim to be a man who can prepare maggi , sandwiches , neembu paani and an occasional thick brown liquid which I call coffee . Mujhe pata hain aap mein se kuch kaafi shakki mizaaz ke hain , unke liye maggi ki foto bhee chipka bhee dee hain .bilaady disbelievers.And I have ironed enough baniyans , shirts ,trousers , chaddis and other chote chote kapde to get a wildcard entry into the All India Dhobi Association of Kerala . And now I know how a dark wiry malayali man looks wearing a lungi which is threateningly high and revealing . And trust me , that is one sight you don't want to know about .

I have been staying in all alone in an ajnabee shehar , in a land where I am thousands of miles away from a single soul who actually cares , in a place where I am no more than a north indian novelty who speaks gibberish . And if all this has taught me one thing , it is this - Do not take the 'saath' of your family for granted . Yeh jo aapke ma , daddy , bhai , behan hai na , inn logo ka saath ek saaye ki tarah hota hain , jiska ehsaas tabhi hota hai jab aap dhoop mein nikalte hain .For many of you , it would be so normal to hear your mother calling for you with a "Aao beta , khaana kha lo" . It would be so normal to watch a cricket game on the telly with your dad sitting besides you . It would be so normal to find your sister eating the last bar of chocolate in the fridge and attack her with a "drop that bar and put your hands in the air you vahshee bhooki !!! wo main khaaunga !!!".

But all this seems as precious as RBI locker ka password once you move away from home. Beta door yahan lungiyon aur sambar ke desh mein jab office se wapas ek 'kabristaan sa sunsaan' kamre mein aaoge , when no one will be around to care if you are seven minutes away from dying a maut due to starvation , when you have to watch every cricket game alone and when Dhoni hits a six , even do the little bhangra alone , then you realise what a family means .So while you are with your family , relish every moment , walk into the kitchen and try to pick up a hot aloo ka pakoda while your mommy scolds "Uff ! Thanda tho hone de ! Yeh ladka bhee na bass !" . Watch every match with your dad and argue if sachin should have left that ball outside off stump alone . Fight with your sister over every chocolate she eats . Because kya pata , kal ho na ho .( Uee ma , karan johar mujhe sue karne aa raha hain , bachao ).

But some good things have also popped out of this tanhayi tanhayi ki mp3 which has been playing in my life over the last nine months . Umm..like I have read more books than I ever had . The most intelligent piece of literature I had read before coming to Kerala was "Super Commando Dhruv aur Pratishod ki Jwala" . ( It was the one where "Grandmaster Robo" kills Dhruv's mom and dad when they strayed in Robo's garden playing chupan chupai , which in turn , forced Dhruv to turn into a "Super Commando" from a nanha munna boy who used to watch Pogo all day ).But now I have read books which involve more than parental murders and revengeful kids . Also , I have learnt to be comfortable with myself . I can spend 120 years in a dark dungeon locked up all alone now , although the company of Sushmita Sen would not be a problem . And I have learnt to eat stuff which is called "Mutter Paneer" but looks more like Fried Ostrich balls ( Eyeballs , you insensitive animal hater ) floating in the blood of Jackie Shroff . ( You dont believe me ? Theek hai , iss mutter paneer ki bhi foto chipkaaunga agle blog mein ).

Anyway , chalo mere gol matol desh wasiyon , main ab apna pallu tuck in karke wapas "Crazy Kiya Re" ki dance moves practice karta hoon . Yeh blog tho maine apne personal "Nach Baliye" ke commerical break mein hee likh diya . So all righttttt..3..2..1....Crazy kiya re aha aha..:p

Of wedding plans and head banging music

2007-02-17T23:03:00.000+05:30

This little girl was in the train I took last week ( Haan Haan IIM ke ladke train mein bhee ghoomte hain . Gareeb hoon main.). Due to some reason , she kept looking at my face and laughing at pretty regular intervals . Abb bacche bhee mera mazzak udaane lage .

Last week , as I sat at my desk , tapping away on the keyboard and trying to look as involved as if I was three keystrokes away from finding the cure to Limfusarcoma of the intestine , a colleague walked by.

Noticing me , he exclaimed in a rather cheerful tone generally reserved for pretty secretaries..

"Hey Abhi , I hear you are getting married !"

Now as people with inadequate exposure to this blog would have noticed , I am a very shy boy , steeped in tradition and "samaajik maryada". Hence I merely let out a coy smile , lowered my eyes till my eyelashes brushed the keyboard and nodded a delicate yes .

At this point of time , I was expecting a little congratulatory pat or something . But the colleague shook his pumpkin head sideways , murmured a "Yakeen nahi hota" and walked on.

Now , people would believe it if I said I ordered a tomato soup last night and found Himesh's cap floating in it , but nobody has been ready to believe the fact that I am getting married . My underdeveloped brain , which has helped me flunk many maths exams , offers possible reasons:

1.I look too young to be a married man . I just ambled past 25 , and to make things rosier , I have been told by perfectly sane people that I still retain a bit of the boyish charm which deserts a normal indian male in the early twenties . Some have mentioned that I am a male version of the santoor girl , who captured our imaginations with "meri twacha se meri umra ka pata nahi chalta".

2. The second , and a very real reason , is this .It defies all common sense and laws of intellect that some girl has actually agreed to marry a guy like me. Deviod of any "dude"-ish qualities , and as boring as a wooden chair , sometimes even I find it hard to digest that I got someone to say a yes. But then , to err is human , and she has erred big time.

My canine instincts warn me a lot of readers would like to raise their left eyebrows , smile a slanted smile and pose the "Who is She" question to me now . But I would like to refer to the second paragraph where I mentioned me being immersed in the bucket of "saamajik maryada" and hence would like to save the story for a later date. All I can say is , that to know the person with whom I am going to grow old , to know the person who is gonna be a witness to my life , to know the person who forms one of the reasons for my existence now , is humbling and satisfying and pleasing in a very calm and fulfilling way.And pampered she will be .

Infact , if you have a memory which is anything better than simply unbelievably pathetic , you will recall that at the top of this post , there is a picture of a little girl who giggled at me all through out a train journey as if I was wearing a red nose and singing Baa Baa Black Sheep . So during the journey , a 'hi-society-well-dressed-confident' types old lady with a head full of white hair and numerous questions was sitting besides me . She had noticed me boarding the train with a lot of luggage ( A travel bag , a backpack , and a cardboard carton carrying the V day gifts I had bought for the lady who is going to tolerate me in this life ) .So some fifteen minutes into the journey , the old woman asks me ..

Old woman : lot of luggage..eh ?

Me : Uh..yeah..a lot of stuff stolen from the hotels..he he..

Old woman : Really ?

Me : gasp..oh no..I was trying to be a little amusing..never mind

Old woman : What's in that cardboard box ?

Me : Oh that ? Well..actually it contains all the gifts I bought for my fiancee..

Old woman : I see..that's sweet..

Me : Blush . Blush .

Old woman : So , you are going to buy her things next valentines day too ?

Me ( proud as a soldier ): Of course ! I am quite a handful when it comes to out-of-the-box surprises for the people I love !

Old woman : Trust me , son . Next V day , you wont do it .

Me ( with a simmering rage in my eyes ) : Oh no maam , I wont change !

Old woman : No . Its not about you . Next V day , after an year of taking her out for shopping and eating out and movies , you wont have any money with you to buy all this.

It was then when I realised that she was in the process of doing great damage to the confidence of a dreamy to-be-married young guy. I did not encourage any conversation with her for the rest of the journey and quietly watched that little girl in the picture laugh at me.

Moving on to other issues ailing the society , I have been as busy as mother of nine lately . I keep my cell in the bathroom when I take the shower , I exchange around 35 official mails everyday and after office , I tune the telly to MTV and work on office stuff well after midnight .Sometimes , I wish I was back to college , when I had the time to watch three movies in a day (Sometimes four.Dont tell mommy), the time to sleep till my tummy growled for lunch , the time to reply to all the comments you leave on this blog.

And as a direct result of watching MTV after office , I am particularly concerned by the behaviour of Asha Bhonsle . I mean , problem kya hai inn aunty ko ? It seems like she is on a spree of making music videos with anyone who is free after lunch and can sing slightly better than a monkey with a penguin stuck in his throat . If her videos with Sunjay Dutt and Brett Lee made me feel like banging my head on the nearest wall just once , her latest video with Urmila Taang-tod-kar makes me feel like banging my head on the nearest wall till I lose all memory of the video , Asha Bhonsle , Urmila and the entire production unit of any movie with Urmila in it . Now Asha Ji is coming up with a video of something she did with Robbie Williams ( I mean a music video , you sicko ) , and watching Asha butt in on Rock DJ is going to leave me with suicidal tendencies , I am afraid.

But one song I got playing all day is "Sun re Sajaniya" by a pakistani guy called Ali Zafar . A light , peppy song , it leaves me feeling like "Yeah.life is good.in spite of Asha Bhonsle , that old woman in the train , and kids who laugh at me."

This reminds me , if someone out there can mail me INXS's Afterglow with a scaringly big eyed Indian singer called Sona in it , I would be grateful and would promptly courier him/her a copy of Asha Bhonsle's album as a mark of gratitude. Also , I need "You are beautiful" by James Blunt and "bad day" by daniel powter . In fact any good music is always welcome .So there. No , seriously , send me the songs at abhinavj8008@gmail.com if you can , I wont send you anything as dangerous as the Asha thing.

Anyway , now that it is out there in the open under the blue sky , I believe you guys will have stories of more challenge and pain to hear . The adventures of a guy with limited social ettiquettes , rudimentary dance moves , and a whacky attitude when faced with the giant called the Great North Indian Wedding and the seven ( or were they eight ?) ceremonies before it , sure sounds as full as a Yash Chopra movie .

In fact , the first symptoms have already started to show , with me gradually limiting my presence on orkut ( Note - I just found Yaari.com , which has been started by a friend . Much neater .) , learning to use a spoon and fork and planning to brush up my dance moves . And no , I dont want "afterglow" for that reason .

Oops , I got to jump off this bed urgently , leap across the table and bang my head on the wall opposite me now . MTV is again playing the Asha Bhonsle - Urmila thing .

Be good . Work hard . And believe me when I say I am getting married .

First Abhishek , now me

2007-02-01T00:18:00.000+05:30

A wall painting of MohanLaal in Kottayam which growled "Meri foto mat kheench"

So finally , I decide to switch off the telly and spend some time tapping down on the blog . Star movies is anyways playing ‘The Waterboy' , and I have watched the movie thrice already , so I watch it again , and I can tell you the names of all the extras which worked in it . Also , now that I have a laptop with internet access with me all the time , I think it’s the cry of the hour to pull this blog out of the elite “guy-got-internet-still-no-post-for-23-days” blog club . Coming back to the sleepy little life of mine , over the last two months work took me on a traveling spree which has reportedly doubled the revenues of Kingfisher Airlines . Air hostesses recognize me and some of them give me the disgruntled “Aap ? Fir se ?” look when I amble into a plane these days . It is also heard that to honour me for this contribution , these guys are planning to name one of the aeroplane toilets after me ( Shri Abhinav memorial Hawai Shauchalaya .Pisses me off. ) . Anyway ,after zippings bags , unzipping bags , stealing hotel towels and shaving kits through Bangalore , Ooty , Bombay and Calcutta , I find myself back in the land of semi naked white tourists and moustached film heroes – Kerala.

It was almost seven months ago that I first landed in Kerala to start my first job . As you might have known if you watch TV (I am told I feature pretty regularly on Animal Planet ) , I grew up in Delhi and Haryana , so it was like a Rocket Launcher had been shoved in the bony hands of Mahatma Gandhi . However, since then a lot of water and sewage has flown under the bridge.( For hamare Hindustani Bhai who are wondering “yeh bridge kahan hai bhai?” , English mein figure of speech hain ). I have learnt to iron shirts , cook maggi and my malayalam vocabulary has grown to a healthy four words now ( One of them is an abusive word . Self defence ke liye collection mein rakha hain ) . So things are not so bad now , I can actually hold a conversation with a mallu for a minimum of seven seconds using my highly developed sign language skills and leg movements .

But it is only two more months in Kerala for me now , so I better soak in all the beauty this place has to offer before I get posted to some city which is as pretty as L K Advani’s legs . As a part of the same “Kerala-dekh-lo-bhai” philosophy , I also went to some backwaters a couple of weeks back .

I hired a wooden canoe type boat which looked like it was ten minutes away from doing a titanic and set out in the waters with a skinny mallu oarsman who seemed to ooze the ‘no fear’ school of thought . To make things more interesting , it was soon noticed that his knowledge of Hindi or English was as developed as a gorilla’s knowledge of the vedas . Effectively , what it meant for me was that even if I was down in the water till my ears , throwing my hands like a penguin on fire and shouting “Bachao” , he would not understand what I was screaming and just stand there wondering what this gibberish speaking north Indian guy is fussing about .

Mar jaawa Khatta kha ke , I just remembered I need to submit a report at work tomorrow . Considering that the guy I need to submit this report is as not exactly a believer in the power of forgiveness , I better end this and start that now . I know this post is ending as soon as it started , and I have done the proverbial "Bachpan mein hee gala ghot diya" to this post , but then , work is worship .

Oh , and before I go . I want to say this , I think this blog which has seen me on my journey from a lazy and casual student at an engineering college to a lazier and casual-er ( angrezi mein problem hain yar ) manager at a big marketing company deserves to be a party to one of the biggest and prettiest things that has happened to me . But my lips are sealed , my fingers are tied , and all I can say is what the title to this post says – Sorry ladies , first Abhishek , now me . And for me , she is way better than Aishwarya .

Tension de Basanti

2007-01-07T16:30:00.000+05:30

I am no social scientist. I am no 'intellectual-awakened-liberated' youth specimen who holds an opinion on everything from the tattoo on Rakhi Sawant's shoulder to Mongolia's nuclear policy.I am not the kind of driven youth who would lie awake at nights , look at the stars and think of ways to double India's GDP.I am a guy with views as superficial as John Abraham's acting skills and my understanding of social trends runs as deep as the neck line of a nun's gown. But lately , I am beginning to notice the subtle extermination of a rather happy social species - The Single male .

When I was a kid , having a girlfriend meant two things about the guy :

1. The guy ranks somewhere between Matt Damon and George Clooney on the looks index.He walks by a women's college and the girls trample the professor in their hurry to run out and catch a glimpse .

2. The guy ranks somewhere between Mukesh Ambani and Richard Branson on the financial standing index. He frequently uses a hundred rupee note to wipe his nose and his bank needed to hire an extra floor to stack his cash deposits.

But now , not having a girlfriend says two things about the guy :

1. He is gay.
2. He is definitely gay.

I mean , I look around and see even convicts serving life sentences in Tihar going around in the jail premises with the female convicts from the ladies ward. Guys who aren't even close to respecting a woman have girlfriends . Even Mika has girlfriends - two of them. To be as short as Ayesha Takia's skirt , I guess most of the Indian guys in the age group of 16-30 have a girlfriend.('Tell-me-why' query - Can someone explain to me why having a girlfriend is termed "going around" ? Does it originate from the hindi films wherein Rishi Kapoor and Neetu Singh spent countless hours running in circles around trees , bushes and water fountains ?).

And this social development confuses me and poses an intriguing question - When everyone around me is "going around" , and I am single , and not gay , why do I feel a girlfriend is a pretty ( or not-so-pretty) friend who eats up personal independence and hikes up phone bills ? To make things more rational , let me imagine I have a girlfriend , whom I shall call Basanti as a mark of respect to the evergreen Hema Ji. Now let me see how 'going around' with Basanti can dent my life.

1. "Kis se baat kar raha tha ?"

Basanti calls me up and finds my number to be busy .And even though the pre recorded Airtel voice says "The number you are trying to call is currently busy . Please try after some time" , Basanti hears " The guy you are trying to call up is highly cheap . He is talking to Shruti right now and is expressing is undying love to her . He may claim he was talking to his mother. Dont trust him . "

Soon after I disconnect the call to ma , Basanti calls me up and before I can say a hello , yells a "Go to Hell ! And take Shruti along with you !" shattering my eardrum. The insecurity of Basanti . Sigh.

2." Wo kutta pack kar deejiye"

So it is second anniversary of the day me and Basanti first had Pav Bhaji together and she expects a gift . It's not just a gift , but a sweet 'nishani' which carries the perfumed memories of that lovely day , she says . So I go over to the Archies gallery and look at stuffed dogs and overweight teddy bears , while in my single days , I would have spent the same time watching 'I see you' at pvr. After a couple of hours , I finally buy a pink and hairy dog which costs me more than the price of an island in the maldives. All the gifts a Basanti demands/requests/expects.Sigh.

3. Sniff . Sniff .

A fine lazy Sunday afternoon . I lie on the couch flipping between espn and hbo. The phone rings .

Me : "hello ?"

Basanti : "Sniff . Sniff."

Me : "Abbe kaun hai ? agle saal bolega kya ?".

Basanti : " Sniff . It's me , Basanti.Sniff.".

Me : " Oh ok . You have a cold ?"

Basanti : "I am....crying..sob.sob."

Me : "Oh . It sounded just like a running nose though.And I saw Bhagam Bhag yesterday.The movie got so boring towards the end , even the chairs wanted to leave the hall."

Basanti : " You will never understand...sniff...sniff..."

The emotional intelligence and "understanding" a Basanti needs from me . Sigh.

4. "Mouth close karke kha !"

Me and Basanti are digging into a pizza at the Pizza Hut . While trying to balance a pizza slice on its journey from the tray to my mouth , a particularly big onion piece slides off its surface and lands on the table with a plop .

Basanti :" Chee.Theek se kha na.Table manners !".

I scoop up the onion piece from the table with my finger , put it in my mouth and say cheerfully :

" Table manners gaye bihar , pizza khane de yaar"

Basanti : " Sheesh. You are disgusting".

While in my single days I could ravage a pizza splashing ketchup all over my shirt and chew as noisily as a tractor engine , now I need to take care I don't embarass the great manners ki dukaan , Basanti . The silly changes a Basanti demands from me . Sigh.

5. Abhi dinner ka jugaad karna hain.

Sorry for the abrupt speed breaker , but chal wapas real world mein aa ja .This has nothing to do with Basanti. Now I gotta go and find dinner . I cooked the maggi I had at the apartment for lunch so I need to buy some food now . So abhi main Aishwarya jee ka "barso re megha megha" over hotein hee iss R world se kat leta hoon.

About Basanti , I have around 236 more points I can write against her . But still , saara zamaana , girlfriends ka deewana , so there must be something good about Basanti. Just that I don't see it.

Guy in the Mirror

2006-12-27T00:29:00.000+05:30

Earlier this day , I was having a conversation with a friend.Since I was a part of the conversation , it was of shameful intellectual standards .I was talking about the haircut I got yesterday . ( I think I look cute after the haircut. A little girl looked at my head and pointed at it and said 'Chee' . I guess that means she found it cute ).

Suddenly , in an awful display of veering of conversation , the talk moved onto a rather philosophical plane. Within a matter of minutes , the haircut talk developed into an animated discussion and my friend asked me this

" Have you ever thought what kind of person are you?".

I promptly coughed , murmered something about durban test , and then started talking about the weather in Calcutta .The conversation ended soon after. ( Itne heavy questions poochega to end karni hee padegi na ) . But then I got back to my room , jumped in my bed , drew my bedsheet over the eyes , stared into the darkness and thought

"What kind of person am I?"

Now I am as confident as a Shane Warne bowling to Sonu Nigam when I say that around 4 people on this planet would be interested in knowing about the person I am , assuming my family would be interested in that . But I guess thinking about oneself once in a while clears up things , and then why should only celebrities get to talk about themselves and their favorite colors and favorite dishes ? ( Tanushree Dutta says her favorite is Rajma Chawal . I am learning to cook rajma chawal now . Things I do for Tanu.). So now , the winces and yawns and death threats notwithstanding , I talk about what I think of myself as a person .

Once when I was thirteen , I was sitting at the school library . During a particularly intense browsing of Femina ( Or was it Cosmopolitan ? Cant remember now..was something equally nice ) , I chanced upon this quote by some old Moroccan vegtable seller -

"The most uncomfortable person in this world is a person who is not himself."

I tore away the page carrying this quote and stuffed it in my back pocktet . I went home , and pasted this sheet on the wall of my room . Later that day , mom complained to dad about me putting up photographs of white girls in my room at the tender age of thirteen . Some people just cant ignore a scantily dressed girl in the page background and focus on the quote .

But over the years , I have tried to practise what this quote said . So I have learnt to listen to myself . I have learnt to develop a sense of self security so I dont need to do things which make me 'cool' or 'happening'or 'smart'. So I don't drink or smoke , even though guys around me gulp gallons of alcohol and call me 'sissy' and 'mama's boy' while I sip a lemonade . So I dont stand around the boss during the office party and exclaim 'Excellent Idea' when the boss describes a business idea even a beauty queen wont approve . I wont play a rock number on my winamp just because every cool dude with colored hair says it 'ossssssssummmmm man' . Improvement is something that belongs to my priority list , but pretending to please your senses is not exactly on my things-to-do list. In short , I am uncool , stuck-in-old-times , and strange to a lot of people , but I have learnt to be myself .

Also , I am a bit out of sync with the Ludhiane-wali-aunty who says "Oye , IIM te munde croro kamande hain". ( For the gareeb bhai behan who don't watch Punjab Doordarshan , it means "IIM graduates earn crores") . At a basic level , Ludhiane wali aunty represents the general mentality of society which puts a lot of unnecessary judgements on an IIM graduate . Just because I got to IIM doesn't mean that I am supposed to live a life of working overtime at office till my kids confuse me for an uncle who comes home to sleep with their mommy . I am not very ambitious professionally , and may end up a lot less 'successful' than my peers from IIM . But then , I have my goals , and my aunt doesn't influence much of them.

And a contract killer is more spiritual than me , and I dozed off on the second shloka of Bhagvad Geeta , but as the years pass me by , I am beginning to understand the importance of searching for happiness in the right places . Achievements , salaries , accolades , shallow relations serve as a rocket fuel for the ego , but an ego boost is as different from happiness as an Ostrich from Lara Dutta .

I am learning from life , that things change , people change , and clinging onto anything is selfish and as useless as Mohammad Kaif's batting.

Anyway , talking about oneself in words is like trying to fit in Inzamam Ul Haq and his family in the black catsuit Aishwarya wore in 'Crazy Kiya re' . I have already destroyed every limit of self indulgance tonight by talking about myself so long , so I wll wrap up now.

Have a lovely 2007.

Your fantasies can come true

2006-12-20T21:40:00.000+05:30

I walked over to the reception of the hotel I am staying at , placed my elbow on the counter poetically , and asked

" Hi . Is there any cyber cafe around this place ?"

Generally , the answers travels along the same lines , telling me that I need to swim across seven oceans , hop across a couple of cheetah infested mountain ranges and fight some dragons on the way to get to the nearest cafe . So when the lady at the reception looked up and said " Oh yes Sir , in fact we have a business center right here in this hotel with round the clock internet access" , I had a genuine urge to fling myself across the counter , hug her and shout "You are an angel ! Where are your wings !" till she passes out from the smell of my cheap china made cologne .

And I spent the last week at Bombay . And in an event rated to be as big as Adnan Sami's thighs , I saw Sunjay Dutt at the Siddhi Vinayak Temple there . And not the type of "seeing" where people stick out their head's from each other's armpits and find something moving in distance and mistake a lampost for Abhishek Bachchan . Sanjay Dutt was barely 5 feet away from me while shouts of 'Munnabhai' rang across the temple .

But on a more Sushma Swaraj-ish note , Marine Drive shocked me in the same way a rusty old room cooler did when I tried to fil it up with water when I was eight . I mean , I am no Pandit Gangadhar Panduraam Shastri whose delicate sensibilities will be offended by an exposed ankle . But the way young couples choose to do 'things' not exactly in alignment with All India Mummy Papa Association over there was a little 'not-so-relaxing' for me to watch .Arre bhai , video dekhna hain to ghar mein dekho na , multiplex mein public screening kyun kar rahe ho ?

And the good part about being out of Kerala is that instead of asking "Kaunsi movie lagee hain ? Hindi ya Malayalam ya English ?" , I can ask "Kaunsi movie lagi hain ? Hindi ya English ?" ( Yeah . I have almost forgotten how Mammooty looks like . Mohanlaal is still fresh in my memory , but I am sure I will get over him too ). So over the last couple of weeks , I have watched "Kabul Express" and "The Covenant" . KE ( MBA hoon . Abbreviation banana accha lagta hain bachpan se .) was good enough. But when me and a couple of friends walked out of the "The Covenant" , we had definite plans of kidnapping the director's daughter , wife and mother ( In case any of these were unavailable , we planned to pick up his sister-in-law . After all , saali hain.) and asking for the ticket's refunds as ransom.Without saying more , there were nine people in the hall when the movie started . Including the projector guy . And five walked out during the intermission . One kept sleeping in his chair.

And in keeping with my entrepreneuring ( Angrezo ko pagal dinosaur kee poonch se baandh kar ghaseetna chahiye . itne mushkil words banate kyun hain yeh log ? ) spirit , and long tortured due to the lack of height , me and some other guys at my workplace have launched a club called SPOIL . It stands for 'Small People Of ITC Limited' . All the 'vertically challenged people' ( notice how I play with words to avoid the words "Short/dwarf/midget") have come together and have decided to stand up for each other whenever one of us is threatened by a bigger guy . A couple of days ago , one of the SPOIL members even climbed on another member's shoulders and punched a taller bully in the face . SPOIL has decided to handle the medical bills for both of them .

Chalo yaar , mere bheje ki dukaan se to aise kuch kuch rockets niklate rahenge and I will keep typing it . So abhi main chalta hoon . As for the post title , it was just to keep you perverted minds reading till the end .

Chow . ( MTV pe VJ ne bola tha . Tabse main bhee bolta hoon . )

Have to leave the cyber cafe . No time for title.

2006-11-24T18:55:00.000+05:30

The frequency of me spewing my venomous thoughts on this blog has gone down with the speed of a female cheetah being chased by a very excited and clearly , not well intentioned , Gulshan Grover. I wish I could say things like "Oh , I was busy . You know how these multi million business deals eat up the time , don't you ?" or "Come on , I was so occupied watching movies and coochie - cooing with my girlfriend , who incidentally , looks like someone from hollywood and has a dad who looks like a millionaire and has a brother who looks like a victim of malnourishment. " But as luck ( Luck . I thank nature for teaching me this word . It's so nice to blame luck for everything . So now you know whom to blame for getting you to such a disgusting blog ) would have it , I was busy with things which are significantly less glamourous. And then of course , a series of developments culminated in my company taking away my internet enabled laptop . Let's avoid the details here , but the series of developments was composed of events which made my company realise that internet in the hands of a 25 year old guy is not such a good idea after all .

And I have been travelling a lot . And it's not the poverty stricken train travel where I spend time looking out of the window and hoping the driver brakes so hard that the girl sitting three seats behind me flies through the air and falls in my muscular arms . It was the glamorous , perfumed and 'Oh-so-IIM-ish' air travel where I spent time looking out of the window and hoping the forty seven guy sitting next to me is not gay , and even if he is , he finds me as attractive as a Mulayam Singh Yadav in a sleeveless night gown.

Infact my 'Reebok'* ( See Note ) travel bag looks like it's been beaten up by Sanjay Dutt and Suneil Shetty combined . It's bandaged with tags and stickers from all the airlines flying around in India . As a friend told me yesterday , such information makes me look a 'show off' as big as the leaning tower of Pisa . But mere bhai , ab jab sacchi mein aellopilane mein travel kiya to kya kahun , kee 1984 made rickshaw mein ghoom raha hoon ?

Note- I thought it was original Reebok till some ten days back . Then I had to carry the red coloured bag through pouring rain . Now I have a bag which is red coloured , and has passed on its redness to three shirts , one pair of trousers and numerous items belonging to the unmentionable category . (You know , the one with the little , chote-chote kapde ).

And as someone brought to my notice recently , some guy has copied stuff from this blog and posted it on his own blog as his own . First of all , I thank the guy / gal who brought this to my notice . ( Uee ma , not that the person does not have a defined sexuality , but the person just left a comment on the last post , and it is kinda hard to guess sex looking at the font size and type ) . Also , I am impressed with how people are able to identify and zoom down on such things on the internet . Ask me , I have been searching for some pictures of some well known and well endowed female over the last fifteen minutes .Have managed to find pictures as exciting as the software engineering textbook I had in college .

But coming to the issue of people copying stuff from this blog , I am confused . I mean , why would I run out in the garden and pick up an ugly dead squirrel , run back in , and keep it in my refridgerator ? ( Waise some very hungry and sadist type of guys can even do this , but let's not get into my past activities )

But seriously , arre bhai , copy karne ke liye we have a zillion guys , from Shakespeare to Munshi Premchand . Copying stuff from this blog is like stealing '101 fresh and exciting ways to get healthy hair' written by Anupam Kher . ( For those angrezi type bhai log who don't know who anupam kher is , he is bald . That's all you need to know , bloody leftovers from 1947 ). So in a nutshell , I would have never copied stuff as mundane as this , so don't know why anyone would . But karna hai to karlo bhai , I don't write anything anyways . I carry myself to little shady cybercafes , balance myself on rickety cheap chairs , and I just talk . So what you see here is just me talking , like I would to anyone unfortunate enough to be around me in the physical world .

That reminds me . At a distance of two feet from me in the physical world , there is a friend of mine who can get very physical with me ( and in the dangerous sense of the term ) if I don't leave now . So till next time , chill maaro , and kuch copy karna hai to kar lo , but seriously , copy this crap ?

I rise like a phoenix...or is it the porcupine ?

2006-11-06T00:28:00.000+05:30

It’s been some time since I typed on this blog . 5% of my friends who still don’t know me well enough to hate me were concerned and thinking “Abhi ko kya hua ? Cancer ? AIDS ? Limfusircoma of the intestine ?” , while the rest 95% were running to their neighbours with laddoos and shouting “It’s over ! He is gone !”. But like a phoenix , I rise again ….phoenix hee hota hai na ... the creature that comes back again and again …or is it the unicorn…or porcupine maybe….pata nahi yaar …kitne saare jaanwar hai…..

Things over the last month have been as fast as a Shoaib Akhtar riding a sports bike . I have traveled between cities , made some never-seen-before changes to my life and my self ( Nothing involving preferences and surgeries on strategic parts of the body , you dirty mind ) , been through some personally challenging times , did things which altered my opinion about myself ( I am more handsome than I thought I am ) , and even downloaded Bappi Lahiri songs during a particularly intense moment of emotion . And I need to talk about all that as much as a scared girl needs a nightgown clad Shakti ‘auuu’ kapoor , so I won’t . But still , I need to let out something .

I made a promise to someone. And then I shattered it .As simple as that. I need to write about it because good or bad , I need to face myself .I need to accept what happened , I need to accept what I did . I don’t analyse what I did , I don’t analyse why I did it , but I need to accept and face myself.

Anyway , it was a Sunday today and I spent time at office ( Kya mast social life hai na ?). Work is going to explode from tomorrow as we are launching a new biscuit .So there will be a lot of stocks going out into the market and promotional activities and fighting competition and all the jazz. But office feels good on Sunday. I can sit with my shoes off and search for Dilbert on the internet while K plays quake .

K is another guy from IIM who joined work with me. We share an apartment. He prepares breakfast , clears the dishes , finds the remote when I can’t, and makes up all the reasons ranging for accidents to cancer when we are late to work . The male version of a sundar , susheel and tikau bhartiya wife .

It’s been almost five months since I joined the first job of my life. Most of my batch mates from IIM have settled into their jobs , bought swanky gadgets with the new found moolah (I bought a cellphone for dad .21st century ka sabse shareef beta .), and settled cozily in the corporate world with their laptops . As for me, life over the last five months has been composed of seven flights , a lot of train travelling , a few kilograms of lost weight , mallu distributors , eating things I didn't know existed , and a lot of hotels .( I even stayed at a little known hotel called ‘Hillarious Guest House’ . No waiter cracked jokes and the receptionist wont smile even if Osama came down and placed his rocket launcher on her temple and screamed “ Smile , you indeean infidel receptionist !” , and the hotel wasn’t even on any hill. Don’t know why the name was ‘Hillarious’). I feel all this has been much better than a desk job where I sit before a screen all day and pretend to be busy with huge excel sheets while solitaire waits on a minimized window. It’s been rough , and it’s been different , but it’s not been boring .

I look to be handling life pretty ok . I am 25 , earning decently ( And without doing anything which would upset mom or the cops ) , have a doting family , and I can cook maggi . I have made my mistakes , more so in personal life , but then , brooding over things is something I am not very capable of . But if I look beneath the surface , behind all this , I am still walking on a road with no idea of my destination . Not that it troubles me too much . Maybe there is no destination at all , maybe the destination is not important . Maybe it’s only about living each day as you want to live it . But still , it feels like I am still searching for something .Like I am still waiting for a feeling of homecoming .I am told this is not the case . But I can’t deny this feeling . I am still not home. And I don’t know if I ever will be . But then , I live this life .I live whatever it gives me.

So now I log off .To all those who have actually been concerned, do not worry. And those 95% who celebrated my going away , you go to your neighbours and get your laddoos back .

Title nahi de pa raha

2006-10-02T15:50:00.000+05:30

Till 5 pm last saturday , I was convinced the day would go down as the worst day of my life , my personal 'Black saturday' or something . My shoes smelt like ammonium nitrate . The signals on my cell were as weak as an underfed riya sen . And I was wearing the same shirt for the third consecutive day ( I was lucky my co workers thought the smell was from a dead rat in the water cooler ) . So after office , I stopped over at the beach hoping for a time better than the day had been . ( Infact I hoped to end up rolling in the sand with a couple of blondes , but anything less glamorous would have been well received too ). As I stood near the waves watching the sun set and wondering where my next clean shirt would come from , this person walks upto me and asks "Is your name Abhi ?".I nervously shifted on my feet and did a little mental check of the safest direction to run away in , because I thought he was from the last hotel I stayed in .( I stole the towels . Little devil I am. ) But it turned out the man reads this blog and recognised me from my pictures on it . His family was with him too and even they were aware of my existence . We spent quite some time chatting and though it did not involve anyone rolling in the sand , the sheer unexpectedness of the thing and the warmth of the family promptly transformed my black saturday into a sparkling floodlights lit surf excel washed Sweet Saturday .

Infact I am getting into a daily ritual of mine . Everyday after office , I stop over at the beach and spend some time listening to music , reading stuff , looking around and wondering about the purpose of life and Himesh's cap . I see a beaming mother cradling her baby while daddy clicks a picture . I see a young dreamy couple walking on the sand with their fingers intertwined .I see a little girl taking excited little steps towards the water with her little fingers curled around her elder sister's finger .And at times , even though we are rude , wicked , selfish , insensitive and other words associated with an excited Gulshan Grover , such moments remind me that in our hearts we still want to be loving and caring . Chal bott story sun lee , abhi foto dekh .

I love this picture coz of the two sisters in there and the way they have pulled up their dresses . Nature sabko baccha bana deti hain .

Yeh hai mera naya ipod . Nano khareedne ke paise nahi the so shuffle le lia . Gareebi badi buri cheez hai bhai .

Kya mirchi light effects hai yaar . Aisa lag raha hai bhagwan jee torch se dekh rahe hain paani ke andar .

And I watched the live telecast of Miss World 2006 recently . And every lady over there was smiling so much . I had not seen so many teeth in one place before this . And it wasn't like there were a couple of teeth showing between the lips . It was a full fledged smile which left no scope for any improvement . It was like these ladies had just been taken off a dental clinic's wall . And for around 90 minutes , those ladies were constantly smiling , almost giggling , like the presenter was unleashing one sardar joke after another or there was a huge discount sale at the nearby mall . I am still in awe of their prolonged smiling capabilities . Infact Ms Jamaica actually let out a little laugh when she was eliminated . Such happy women they were .

And I have been thinking . Now , I know . I look as misplaced as a mickey mouse tattoo on a 32 inch bicep whenever I try to touch upon sensitive issues , but I think the higher I go in life , the more analytical people I find around me .You know , the types who discuss the psycho analytical dissection of the lead character of 15 park avenue when they should be watching 'sajan chale sasural' , the people who come upto me and ask what I think of Colhelo's Alchemist ( I say "Colhelo wrote that ? Then which one did Bappi Lahiri write ? " ) , people who write things with words as long and complicated as Czeckhoslovakia and to make things scarier , people who even understand such articles . I am not against intelligent , analytical people . After all , all the inventions such as the steam engine , airplanes and toilet paper have been at the hands of intelligent and analytical people . But it's a little tough to have a fun time with such people unless you enjoy talking about the theory of relativity and Thailand's Jute industry . So I kinda miss the backbencher-who cares-I flunked again kinda junta I belonged to in engineering college .

Anyway , I think I will close down now . There is no funda of jalaofying Ravan and associates down here in Kerala , they just shake hands and say "Ok.Ravan died.Congrats" . So I will go back to the hotel and watch animal planet . I love that channel and I am convinced that with a little bit of make up , I can be on it . And I also plan to stop over at the beach on my way . You never know , someone blonde may just agree to roll in the sand with me .

Late night stories

2006-09-13T17:22:00.000+05:30

And last Saturday I had to wait at a bus stop for two hours . Now we IIM pass outs are moulded to act busy . I mean , with problems such as global warming and extinction of the wild panda facing the world , how can we while away two precious hours at the bus stop shooing away dogs and watching people struggle with suitcases . So I decided to act sophisticated by continuing with Richard Branson's autobiography I had stuffed between shirts , tee shirts and other unmentionable things in my travel bag . At a very basic level , the decision taught me four things .One , never fish around in a travel bag without watching where your hand is going . Second , however lazy you are , don't just throw in an uncovered shaving razor in your travel bag . Third , if you grasp the blades of a shaving razor and for some reason it feels like the spine of a book to you , don't trust that feel . And fourth , Gillete Vector plus is a great product when it comes to shaving facial hair , or fingers . If you are the kind of guy who spent forty minutes trying to figure out how the atm machine works and have trouble comprehending things in general , here is what I just said - I cut my finger on an uncovered shaving razor lying around in my travel bag .

And finally , my parents got me a digital camera . Though an owner of a very unphotogenic personality myself ( I have been advised to cover my face with a piece of cloth whenever I go out unless I want to scare kids ) , I think a camera is always a good investment . It helps build memories and prove to your grandkids that you were not born with wrinkles and a bent spine . So here are some things I did with that camera earlier this day . I think I should be working with the national geographic with all this talent .

The skies have been this cloudy here over the last few days . You don't need to be on KBC to be rich now , just start selling umbrellas at Kochi .

This is the beach right opposite the hotel I stay in .Click on the pic to magnify and check out the guys in the white and orange shirt on the left . I am sure they were gays . They were holding hands till they walked behind a big rock .

Farhan Bhai , kya itna mehnga kar diya Don mein Shahrukh ko lekar . Main saste mein kar deta . Ekdum underworld look hain apun ka.( The cam was on auto click here .I think I did an electrifying job with creepy -glasses- darkness thing on myself here . I have never been so scared of myself .)

As I scrawl this lying on my bed , 'Anjani Rahon Mein' comes up on MTv . If there is anything which makes me forget everything , without a hit on the head with a flower vase , it's Lucky Ali's voice . And not just the voice , his songs are so reflective on life too . With whatever I have seen , his music videos usually show him travelling through the countryside and meeting people . Which I think is just like life . In the 24 years of my life , after having experienced whatever I have , from the pain of having cut my finger on a razor to the high of making it to IIM , from the excitement of having given someone a blank call to the terror of her dad finding out my number and calling me back , I have realised a thing . That I am just a traveller , who started this journey with nothing , and one day , will end it with nothing . As I travel , I will come across varied things . Thunderous applause , venomous comments , beautiful faces , luxurious objects , broken promises . But the echo of every applause will die down eventually , every hateful comment will lose its sting after a while , a beautiful face may reveal an ugly soul with time , no object of pleasure can lead to prolonged satisfaction , and it was only my own expectation which hurt me in the guise of a broken promise . So I need to realise the truth that without attaching myself to these mirages , I have to enjoy the journey . Life is not about clinging to these ever changing stations on the way . It's about understanding that it's all just a journey , to end in nothingness one day .Ok . I admit . All this sounds just like Sholay's Thakur trying to talk about arm wrestling techniques , so I will avoid public consumption of my personal ideas about life now .

It's 3:35 in the morning now and I am still awake enough to recite the entire multiplication table of 16 . So I guess I will take out Branson's autobiography and continue reading it . But this time , I better watch my hand when I fish around for the book in my bag . One more cut to the same hand , and I will be within an arm's length of Sholay's thakur's handicap .

Life Nhaat equal tu moobie

2006-09-06T00:16:00.000+05:30

I want to sue every single person who has ever been involved with the movie shooting of homecoming scenes at airports . The charge would be a 'inciting high expectations from family reunion scenes at airports' or something equally sickening . Arre raabert , trusting the cumulative knowledge of all movies I had watched till date , I was convinced my dad would hug me till my ribs turned to dust and mom would come up with a pooja ki thali or something on meeting me at the airport . So I landed at the airport , picked up my bags from the belt , pulled out my phone and called dad , all ready for the tears and hugs to unleash with all its fury.

Dad : Hello ?

Me : Hey ! I have landed ! ( I know that sounded like I am the Eagle , but that's what I said )

Dad : Oh ok .

Me : Where are you ?

Dad : There is a huge traffic jam here . Just sit around the airport and do something . Another half an hour atleast.

I understand this . Traffic jams happen . But then Yash chopra and his ruthless colleagues should be realistic enough to include traffic jams in movies too . In a movie , when shahrukh khan returns home after completing his masters from duke university , there should not be the smiling family with perfectly formed teeth waiting for him as soon as hops down from the plane . Instead , he should hop down from the plane , look around , say a 'kkkkk..kahan hai sab?" to himself , and then receive an sms which goes like "Traffic Jam.Another forty minutes.Wait near the coffee machine at the arrival lounge. And don't drink pepsi." That would help keep down real life expectations and make the world and the airports a better place for sons coming home.

But to much relief , my family has accepted the gifts I have got them without resorting to much physical violence . The 'ghar ka chirag' coming home for the first time since starting the first job of his life had to get something for the family unless he wanted to be given up for adoption , so I got a cellphone for dad , a watch for sister and a saree for ma . The last one was particularly tricky . I find saree shopping excrutiangly boring , just marginally better than watching the kabaddi match between indian railways and ONGC employees . (Yeah . Doordarshan still beams such things .Sacchi .) Add this attitude problem of mine to the fact that my solo shopping experience before this saree buying thing amounted to a total of seven minutes , and I had a huge task at hand . Accepting my limitations , I asked a friend at office to help me out with buying a saree for ma . Now this dude has an equally terrible taste in clothes ( Last monday , he came to office wearing a black jeans and yellow shirt . He complained about people on the streets trying to wave him down and shout 'taxi' as he walked to office) . But then when you need a haircut and a scissors isn't available , you gotta compromise with the axe .

So me and this friend walk into the biggest silk saree store in cochin . As soon as we walked into the store , a salesgirl draped in a light creamish saree approached us politely and asked what we wanted . My friend , who had promised to help me out with every saree related problem over the next couple of hours , rose to the occasion gallantly ...

Friend : We are looking for a saree . Silk saree . ( I have always told him to stop watching reruns of those bond movies every weekend )

She led us to a huge counter with all kinds of sarees gleaming behind it in the yellow light of the showroom. She spread out a couple of sarees on the counter , and my friend started fiddling with the border and let out a very learned "Hmmmmm."

By now , a huge clump of inferiority complex had begun to form someplace between my pancreas and diaphragm and I had to display some saree- knowledge urgently . So I looked up at the salesgirl and said

"What other sizes do you have in sarees ?".

It was like those hushing moments during the founders day when you suddenly clap thinking the school principal's speech is over and it's just a pause . My friend looked at the salesgirl with eyes which said "Please forgive him . He is retarded . We are getting him treated in the US soon." She nodded back at the friend with eyes that said "It's all right.We can call him a special child . Take good care of him."

( Since that day , I have asked a lot of innocent passers-by if sarees come in different sizes . Responses have been varied . If I get a majority saying there are varied sizes , my friend , and that salesgirl , both are in for a major emotional assault by me )

Anyway , the only thing I said during my entire time in the showroom after that was "Cash" when the lady at the billing counter asked "Cash or credit card ?". Ma says the saree is great but I think she is just acting out of motherly love and the entire "Atleast he tried" school of thought.

And in a startling display of anti virus updation , my dad wiped out all data from the disk of the computer I had at home . The news of the demise of all my college photographs , market reports , music collections and certain hidden files wasn't even communicated to me on phone when this happened some one and a half months back . I guess my family has a slightly different concept of a 'pleasant surprise'.

Anyway , I will close down now . I have to pack my bags for my trip back to my mallu sasuraal. To chalta hoon bhai . And the next time you expect a waiting family at the airport , just remember , life is not a movie . These movie people sell traffic free dreams . Sue kar dooonga ek ek ko .

Khud hee rakh le

2006-08-28T20:22:00.000+05:30

I have been a very sinful person all my jeevan . Starting with the age of three when I burnt my sister's barbie doll's hair to just fifteen minutes ago when I picked up a coin from a blind beggar's bowl , I have done enough wrong to justify a fully furnished apartment in jahannum. So I do a good deed now and use this blog to let people know about an event a friend of mine is involved with . Pad lo and if you are interested in quizzing , dive in .

Armageddon 2006

Sinister shadows shroud the World,

Death-knell signal doom,

No magic shall shield thee,

Sheer knowledge be thy saviour.

Let the war begin...

Introduced in the year 2001, ARMAGEDDON is a Business Quiz organised by the BMS students of Mulund College of Commerce, Mumbai.

Armageddon-2005 witnessed a congregation of the best business quizzing brains from across the country. The onstage finale saw Amit Pandeya (QuestaSoft) and Kiran K (Qualteam) vanquishing the likes of Mitesh Agarwal and Ajay Kasargod (Sun Microsystems / WYSE Technologies), Rohan Khanna and Gajendra Kothari (Accenture / UTI AMC), Gururaj and Vijay (JWT / JP Morgan), G Sreekanth and Sabyasachi (TCS) and Arvind Khusape and Aniruddh (SBI / SIES) to clinch the coveted title.

The torchbearers of hardcore biz quizzing are back with Armageddon 2006, and promise to unleash a whole new world of knowledge excellence.

The quiz will comprise of a Written Elims from which the Top 6 teams will go through to the Finals.

Following are the details:

Date & Time:10th September at 12 noon

Team Members:Two per team(A Team can comprise of participants from two different institutions / organisations)

Entry Fee:Free for students and Rs. 150 per team for corporates

Venue:Mulund College of CommerceSarojini Naidu Road,Mulund (W), Bombay - 400080

Prizes: First - Rs. 25000 Second - Rs. 15000 Third - Rs. 10000

Spykar gift vouchers worth Rs. 5000 to all teams in the finals.

For further details:

Samruddhi - 09833524561

armareturns@gmail.com or dhanu80@rediffmail.com

Here are a few questions from Armageddon-2005

1. It was unveiled on Oct 12, 1988 in a packed Davis Symphony Hall in San Francisco, by demonstrating its ability to run four stopwatches at once and give a synthetic rendition of Martin Luther King's "I Have A Dream" speech. What?

2. Edward Bellamy, a lawyer and author, in his utopian book "Looking Backward: 2000-1887" described a society where transactions would essentially be conducted between the consumer and the Government and every citizen would have a share of the annual product of the nation. What term did he coin as a result?

3. Its roots can be traced back to 1979 when William Bernbach got the inspiration from banks who were offering toasters and electric blankets to their best customers and to new customers for opening accounts. It was launched on May 1, 1981 under the name 'AAdvantage'. What?

4. Introduced in the 1870s, there are currently four in number and are operated simultaneously. Measuring 18 inches in diameter, they were manufactured by the G S Edwards Company of Connecticut. In the late 1980s, it was decided to refurbish them and add another one as a back-up. However, it was discovered that such of its kind were no longer being made by any company. Hence, G S Edwards Co. agreed to make a special replica and brought employees out of retirement to handle the job. While this was being done, an older one was discovered, which was polished and is now used as a spare one. What am I referring to?

5. A short film titled 'True', directed by Charles Stone III featured his childhood friends Fred Thomas, Paul Williams and Scott Brooks who would sit around using the catch-phrase ‘_______’. It caught the attention of copywriter Vinny Warren who signed Stone to direct television commercials for a brand based on the film. Identify the brand / catch-phrase.

************************************

Since the time I have landed in Kerala , some exciting changes have come upon me . Like I have become a couple of shades darker . Though I would like to express that I think it's more of a mexican salma hayek-ish tan for which firangs lie naked in the sun all day , a more casual observer may think I have been eating coal pieces as dessert .And another thing which startles me is that so many people call me 'sir' at work . I mean , you give a double breasted reid and taylor suit to an ugandan tribal who has always been in his natural state and he roasts and chews up the suit because he is just not used to being covered . On similar lines , when a guy whose last encounter with any kind of 'izzat' belongs to the stone age is suddenly pushed into a life where 42 year old men address him as 'sir' , it leaves him feeling strange .

And tussi believe nahi karoge , my parents have been approached with the first formal proper 'rishta' of my life ( Mar jaawa khatta kha kar . sharma gaya main hai hai ). Though at my age , most police forces around the world will arrest me for child marriage , I have been given ten days to think if I can actually think about marriage yet . So jaago bharat ki naariyo and tell me you have always wanted to be my dulhan , before I become 'paraya dhan' forever.

And as a part of work , train travelling is becoming a hugely regular part of my life . I have got so used to it that yesterday I woke up groggily at my hotel room and straightaway sleepwalked to the window to see which station it was . But with all the revenues I am single handedly generating for the Indian Railways , I think I deserve a superfast express or atleast some railway platform named after me . Kitna heartwarming lagega just to hear the voice boom on the central announcement speakers "Bilaspur se Purulia jaane wali gaadi number teen teen do ek , ab se kuch hee der mein hitler ki aatma memorial platform par aayegi."

But though I started off thinking all this train travelling is the worst thing to happen to me since the time gave a class presentation with my fly open , I am beginning to find it interesting . Now I am not the kind of guy who will sit mum through a four hour journey and keep staring out of the window with a grim expression like he is up for a vasectomy surgery right after he gets off the train. I get on the train , find my seat , push in the bag , sink down my seat , kick off my shoes , pull out a pack of spanish tomato lays from my bag , tear it open , offer the chips to the guy next to me and say "Hi". So unless the guy on the next seat is a real serious and grim guy who speaks as much as a wooden door does , I end up knowing a lot ranging from how his dad met his mom to why his second girlfriend left him . Like I have managed to exchange telephone numbers with a lady doctor , a civil engineer settled in dubai , a school principal and an 'export-import' guy , all people I met in trains over the last month . ( The last guy would only say "export-import' when I asked what he did . I am not sure , but the movies taught me all 'export -import' guys are smugglers . I think he had brown sugar pouches in his bag ).

Anyway , I think I will go find dinner now . I know I have this thing to say "will find dinner" instead of a more humane "will have dinner" . I said the same thing to one of my friends recently and she said "That sounds so much like animal planet.They always say that when the jackal family ventures out to 'find dinner' after dark". And another thing which bothers me when I am moving towards closing down a post is the paanch dollar and teen paisa question - post ka title kya doon ? I guess it's all the more tough for me because what I write is as far from logical sequence as you are from dating sonia gandhi . It's so much easier to put down a title for something coherent ( Like "tears of blood" or "shards of my heart" for a poem about lost love or something ) . Anyway , I guess I will just let you do the honors this time . Assi jaa rahe hain. find dinner karne.

Of saadi confusion , Amit Uncle and Jaya TV

2006-08-14T18:08:00.000+05:30

It's been more than three months since I completed my MBA . April 1 was the date of my convocation . Pretty dangerous date for such a noble thing , I know . My name is announced in the auditorium packed with parents , students and cameramen . I get up , adjust my convocation cap and climb up the stairs to the stage . I walk upto the chief guest , nod , shake hands and accept a folder supposed to be carrying the degree . On my way back to my seat , I open up the folder and in rests a lone piece of paper with "April fool" scribbled on it . Thankfully , the last part turned out to be a lot more easy on the heart and there was a degree inside . Anyway , in these three months , atleast six of my batchmates have announced their wedding dates , and many more must be right in the middle of the 'Tere papa se kab baat karun ?' discussions . Now , I have always been terribly confused by the concept of marriage . Sometimes marriage will look like this wonderful union which ushers in a beautiful life of companionship , sharing sorrows and celebrating life . And before a hungry pup can lick clean a plate of full creamed milk , marriage will appear to be this expensive ticket to an existence featuring soiled diapers , worrying about kids and premature joint pains . So just like inorganic chemistry and ram gopal verma's movies , marriage has always confused me .

And suddenly , kank* seems to be the movie everyone was waiting for since the time you crawled around in diapers and fiat was the most droolable car in India . I switch on MTV and an excited Rani Mukherjee is raving about how Amit Uncle** made her feel so comfortable on the sets of kank , I sigh and switch to NDTV and Karan Johar is telling me how this movie is an entirely new perspective on the issue of human relationships and before I can throw a slipper on the tv screen , the room service guy*** walks in with the coffee I ordered and exclaims "Sir , crown**** par kank lag gayi hain ."

Welcome to the Nandlaal Dayaraam guide to terms in the above passage

kank = Kabhi al0o nahi khaana . HaHa ! Got you . It's nothing to do with the anti-potato movement , it's kabhi alvida na kehna yaar .

Amit Uncle = Amitabh Bacchan . Rani calls him Amit Uncle fondly . I wonder what Dev 'young at heart' Anand would have done had someone called him an Uncle .

*** = The room service guy at my hotel speaks hindi . The guy who was there last week spoke only malayalam. I drew a broom on a tissue and gave that to him when he failed to understand what I wanted . I did not want a broom , I wanted to get my room cleaned .

Crown = This is the only cinema hall in the city I am . I passed by it last week . The entrance sported a huge cut out of an unidentified woman with huge thighs displayed in a very chilling manner . I have never been inside . i am told it's not good for young impressionable minds.

Thanks for using the Nandlaal Dayaraam guide to terms in the above passage ( Revised edition . Was revised when you were reading the term meanings .).

Anyway , coming back to kank ( To be pronounced like Tank , as in "My sister took my comic books without asking , so I drowned her in the septic Tank ) , I am not excited about the movie .

I saw a promo on the television and it contained a Rani with tears streaming down her cheeks , a very emotional breaking down of Abhishek , Shahrukh trying hard to fight back tears and Preity Zinta wailing , and all this in 20 seconds . So I assume the movie is about love , tears and misunderstandings . And this very thing makes it unsuitable for my viewing . You see , 'Love' movies are for people who look good , exchange romantic sms and have an colorful agenda for Feb 14th. A guy like me , whose total duration of exposure to romance is just about equal to the time Mohammad Kaif spent on the crease during his last innings , just can't relate to too much of love .

I mean , if George Clooney is made to sit through a screening of "Basanti Ka Inteqaam" ( Starring Chamkeeli Haseena in a never seen before , and never seen after dynamite role ) , or vice versa , if Udham Singh Gujjar is made to sit in the front row of a show of Forrest Gump , how can they relate to something they don't understand ? On similar lines , I find it a bit challenging to relate to movies involving too much of "I love you"s and pink hearts . I would rather watch Naksha , a soon to be released action flick which promises a lot of hand grenades and crushed bones . Promos include graphic visuals of Sunny Deol jumping off a cliff , smashing pianos on bad men's heads and trying to uproot electric poles off roads .

And personally , this is turning out to be a one of the more lonely times of my life ( Compares well with the time I was locked all alone in the bathroom for flunking in Social Sciences ) . I come back from work and spend the rest of the day roaming the market , checking out lungi clad legs and watching TV . ( And the last part is tricky . A whole bunch of malayalam channels to choose from . Sun TV . Maa TV . K TV . Kairali TV . Jaya TV . More are there , but too difficult to pronounce for a northie tongue ) . But then , I am just trying to make good of whatever life throws my way . ( Have always been this way . I spent the hours locked in the bathroom trying to figure out how faucets work ) . And then , I am going home for a week soon . That is a huge thing I am looking forward to . And then , after all , talking of loneliness , I may get married in couple of years and usher in a wonderful life of companionship , sharing sorrows and celebrating life .Wait a minute..or was it an expensive ticket to an existence featuring soiled diapers , worrying about kids and premature joint pains ?

Where's my purpose , dude ?

2006-07-16T16:51:00.000+05:30

Time : 8:06 am
Place : Seaqueen hotel , calicut
A more precise place : On my bed .
State of mind : Just got up . Any use of words with violent , sexual or abusive connotations is due to a lack of breakfast and a shoulder pain resulting from the awkward position I slept in .

First of all , I am not sad . I have a decent career taking off , a family I love , friends I love, and a security guard I am beginning to love ( Things a lonely existence does to me ) . So it would take a fully loaded nuclear attack and a couple of Himesh Reshammiya's CDs to make me feel sad . On a related note , I just saw the video of "teri yaad na aye" from Himesh on MTV . The guy is crying lakes in the video . I had this urge to actually reach into the screen , wipe his face with a tissue and say "Na munna na , sab theek ho jayega ."

But even though I am not sad , I have a little thought nibbling on me this morning . The more I live , the more I realise two things . First , I still don't have a 'purpose' in my life . And second , now that I have lived some more , I have lesser time to find that purpose .It is like 5 years back I was "Chill yar . I am only 20 . Only Buddha found a purpose in life at that age." But Now I am like "Umm . I am almost 25 . And I think I will find a bigger meaning in life right after a little nap. "

Sure , I have phases of 'being driven' in my life . Like I wake up and say 'Right . Today I will call the Airtel Customer care people and tell them they should be looting banks in ski masks and not calling themselves a telecom service provider for all the scary things they are doing to my connection'.So little purposes about getting my cell connection up , analysing Gold Flake sales in north kerala , ironing my shirt for the next day and such micro sized things dot my day .But there is nothing which connects all these dots and makes me say " Oh right . Now all the things that seemed stupid and mundane to me make sense".I don't have a purpose which unites all the things I do and drives me and makes me say "Oh yeah , so this is what it was all about". In fact , that's the problem bugging me right now . I don't know what's it all about .Maybe there isn't supposed to be a purpose , a bigger meaning in life . Just live , have fun , eat good chinese food , watch movies , and of course , there is the security guard .

Starting a Sunday with such things which would beat a well with their depth is not a great idea . I can almost imagine Lord Buddha sitting up there on a cloud and shaking his head and telling me "Take it easy kid . It's Sunday after all . You know what that means for a working chap ? So gulp some sandwiches and a hot coffee and flip on FTV and everything will make sense ."

And I want to buy a camera . To live through this place without clicking the beach and all the churches and the typical umbrella-newspaper-lungi keralite would be a sin as big as painting a moustache on Thackerey's wife's face . And I don't have a good knowledge of music . I confuse a flute with a baton and you need a gun to make me sit through a classical music recital . But I like this song called 'Mehfuz' by Euphoria . I have lumps in my throat as big as an ostrich's eggs whenever I listen to its lines . And a couple of days back , I got a call .

Me : Hello

The other guy : ~ Something in malayalam~

Me : Sorry , wrong number .

( If I guy calls me and talks in malayalam , he doesn't know me . Or he really trusts my language picking speed )

The other guy : ~ Some more malayalam ~

Me : Ok . That was interesting . Bye .

( 5 minutes later . The same guy calls up )

T.O.G ( Do I tell you what that stands for ? Get yourself a brain surgeon . It's "The Other Guy" ): ~ Some more malayalam ~

Me : See , yeh wrong number hain . This is a wrong number . Galat . Galat . Wrong . ok ?

T.O.G : ~ Malayalam ~ ( Agitated voice . . I really hope he is not a relative of veerappan )

Me : Ok . The guy you want to talk is wearing a pink scarf and sitting in a big garden and eating cherries . Please don't call . WRONG NUMBER . GALAT ! GALAT !

But the mallu caller hasn't understood this since then . He has called me some seven times over the last two days . So now our conversation goes like this

T.O.G : ~ Malayalam ~

Me : Krissh dekh lee bhai ?

T.O.G : ~Malayalam ~

Me : Zidane to pagal hain .

T.O.G : ~ Malayalam ~

Me : Ha Ha ! Well said .

I don't know why this guy still calls me . He will have to wait till I finish my "Learn malayalam in 30 days " book . It's been almost two months I've been reading it .

All the kids please get up and clap because my breakfast is finally here . And nothing gets in between a hungry munnu and a hot breakfast . So now yours truly will step back into his big bad mallu world . Let's pacify the rats in my tummy now . As for the purpose of life ...umm....pehle kha leta hoon !

From a beach

2006-07-13T19:42:00.000+05:30

Time : 5:28 pm
Date : 12th July
Place : A beach in Calicut
Written on : Scrawled on the back of the rate list of ITC cigarette brands. Copied to the blog later .

Till about half an hour back , the most water in one place I had seen was a bathtub maybe .Now an entire sea spreads out before me . The waves rise up , roll towards me while spilling foam and froth , then thin out gradually till begin their retreat some seven feet away from where I sit . The hotel I am staying stands just across the road . The hotel is called 'seaqueen hotel' . It sounds more like some shady dance bar in downtown mumbai , sandwiched between blue moon hotel and dark pleasure hotel .But it's a completely under 18 , sushma swaraj approved hotel .

One thing which makes me stand out as an open fly is the fact that I am alone .Everybody is with someone on this beach . I see a lungi clad grandfather sitting on a big stone and reading a book while his grandkids are trying to put together something using wet sand . I hope they are not trying to make a castle , because what's coming up looks like a sandy version of a headless adnam sami . Basically a big sphere of sand .

A young couple sits some distance away . They fling some kind of 'chana' to a gang of crows . I didn't know there were crows on beach too . I thought they were found only on dead dogs on the highway and open dustbins in Delhi . The expression on the couple's faces is like they are going to the court to sign the divorce papers as soon as the feeding ends .I should have guessed that without the facial expressions too . A couple needs to be ten minutes away from a divorce to find 'feeding crows' the most cool thing they can do on a beach .

I wonder why the guys selling peanuts and ice creams are approaching me with alarming frequency . Maybe some kind of alone-guy-on-beach-must-be-depressed-will-eat-ice cream-to-lift-mood theory is at play in their heads.

It's beginning to rain now . People are opening their umbrellas and beginning to stand up to leave . I think I can sit some more . Atleast something good about not having ma around . She would have yelled "Beemar ho jayega ! Andar aa !" .

A gang of young guys seem to be fresh out a krissh show here . They are too far out in the sea .One big wave and their names are getting longer by a word called late .As it is , it would take sacrificing a huge blob of self dignity to give a mouth to mouth to any of them . Except the one in the electric blue vest maybe . People are looking at me strangely . A young man sitting all alone on beach sand writing on a piece of paper . I don't blame them if they think I am writing a suicide note before I jump head first in the waves .

And of course , how can there be a beach without the young , pink and rosy coochie coochie couples . But they are pretty censored here in Kerala . The movies taught me that at any beach , the couples were either kissing or trying to find a big rock to kiss behind it . But the couples here are just holding hands , looking at the waves , smiling . A very 1970-ish elegant and controlled sense of romance .

I guess I should get up now . Big drops of water fall with a plop on this sheet of paper . And I am not high on Zingaro Beer .I guess it was just a need to talk to someone which got me writing these unbelievably pointless lines . And yeah , in case you know anybody here in calicut and think he/she would want a little company , please mail me . Else I am getting a dog . I would prefer walking a dog on the beach rather than writing such stuff .

Main aisa kyun hoon ?

2006-06-29T16:12:00.000+05:30

I am beginning to crib about the number of coffee machines at office , worry if I am spending too much of my salary on cellphone bills , and loving dilbert strips. So I guess I am a typical indian working guy by now .And when a typical indian working guy is required to take out time from his killer schedule just to complete a tag , you can't blame him for cursing the guy who tagged him . Displaying no trace of humanity , it's Sudipta who has tagged me this time . The tag is called 'weird' tag . I need to write down 5 'weird' things about myself . Now the very concept sounds confusing to me .Like I said earlier, eating with hands is the real happening thing here at Kerala . So I go to this eating joint called 'Unnikrishnan Hotel' and order a veg meal . The waiter comes in and places a big thali before me with a lot of stuff in it . Just as the waiter is turning around to go back to the kitchen , I say 'Chetta* ! Spoon ? ". The waiter almost drops the jug of water he is carrying , his mouth opens enough to let in a couple of mopeds and he looks at me like I just asked for his wife's saree . So while my asking for a spoon is 'not weird' for me , my asking for a spoon gives him serious doubts about me belonging to a species called the homo sapiens. So you see the entire problem about defining 'weird' ? However , I guess I will take a chance and put down things which will make my mom go 'Uffffff !!! This boy needs a wife to take care of him".

* Chetta = Brother . See , now this blog serves as a 'Complete idiot's guide to learning malayalam' too .

1. I am very absent minded . Things are improving though . It was very bad when I was a kid . Once we went to a temple . I was 11 years old maybe . Like any hindu guy with no contacts in bajrang dal , I had to take off my sandals before entering it . Later , I come out of the temple , put on my sandals , walk upto the car , slip off my sandals , get into the car , and dad drives us home . And those were real costly sandals . Our family skipped dinner for a week and my dad worked overtime and mom came close to selling off her mangalsootra to buy me those sandals .Now I wear a pair of reeboks which cost dad seventeen hundred bucks .And my dad sends four well fed men with me whenver I wear them to a temple.

2. Now , my parents are doctors . So I have had a childhood where I was given red and yellow capsules to play with when I cried for toys . I still undergo blood tests and all the stuff with such alarming regularity that every diagnostic lab technician in gurgaon knows me as the 'bloody' guy . At home , our dinner table talk features more of blood transfusions and wound stitches than 'pass the pickle , please' . And defying every expected trait of a doctor's son , I faint at the sight of blood .I see blood and my head starts spinning , building up speed till it gets dark and I go down . And a couple of months back , this thing entered the realm of fake blood . I was watching 'million dollar baby' and as a particularly flowery gash opened up on sandra bullock's* nose , I felt dizzy and had to switch off the movie and lie down . I hope the 'disease' doesnt spill over to other things that look like blood , else you may find me sprawled near the tomato ketchup racks in some supermarket .

* Remembered later , thanks to surrieal - It was Hillary Swank and not Sandra Bullock. The things work does to your filmy memory. Atleast I remember it was Aamir khan in DDLJ.
3. I can't tie shoe laces . Plain and neat . Ask me to marry Himesh Reshammiya , but dont ask me to tie my shoe laces . I guess god gave me real fine fingers which are meant to paint , type , pull a trigger , tap , scratch , point , and do every decent thing a finger can do , but not tie shoe laces . Atleast five times a day , I am told 'Hey your shoe laces are untied , you may want to tie them up' and I say 'I just had a real complex back surgery and am not to bend down . So this is the way my laces stay these days . You can't fight your body , eh ? '. My dream world would have chappals , floaters , sandals , hunter boots , but no shoe laces .

4. I have embarassingly low hair density on my arms . And to make things worse , I am a guy . Actually , I think it's unfair . Girls make their dads take up smuggling to pay for their daughter's waxings while we guys need to have a minimum of hair on our arms and legs . I mean , if a clean arm looks good on a girl , why should a guy's arm look like a porcupine's back ? People throw phrases such as 'chikna' or 'You sold your arm hairs?' or 'You need more testosterone , man' at me because of my arms . I plan to marry a real hairy , bear like , anil kapoor-ish girl someday , so that one day , my son will be able to put up his hair carpeted arms and say ' Anyone needs some extra testosterone ? '.

5. I can mimic quite some people . Shahrukh Khan . Saif Ali Khan . Amitabh Bacchan . Prithiviraaj Kapoor . Sunny Deol . Even a bit of Hema Malini .Not that I can call up Gauri Khan and she will say "aaj shooting se jaldi wapas aana , maine gajar ka halwa banaya hain' . But still , you will know I am trying to mimic Shahrukh when I am trying to do that . I guess I just have a more than average control over my vocal chords .Recently , I have learnt to do this telebrand thing where the naked firangs say things such as 'Pehle mera wazan bahot ziyaada tha' , 'Fir mere dost tony ne mujhe is kamaaaal kee masheeen ke baare mein bataaya' and stuff in a deep hindi drawl . I just need to polish up the Mamooty** voice now , and the kerala girls will be going crazy over this hot delhi dude with the voice of their favorite hero , and on a more honest note , with the looks of their favorite villain.

**Mamooty = You stoopeed northie ! He is one of the top actors of Malayalam movies ! Personally , I think his face looks like a well mixed blend of Kader Khan and the lift operator at my apartment .No offence to his fans , but my heart cries for the heroines he cuddles with in his movies .

I guess this is it . I guess I have to tag 5 people who haven't done this already , but I am not a cruel guy by nature . So now I will sprout my little angel wings , release some white doves towards the horizon , flutter my eyelashes and whisper , 'If you are reading this , have a decent internet connection , fingers in working condition , no nose picking cyber cafe wallah leaning over you , and enough coffee to keep you going , you are passed this tag'. I got Mother Teresa's heart in my chest , eh ?

Shahrukh out . Mohanlaal rules.

2006-06-23T20:00:00.000+05:30

Life has a mind of its own , and a pretty crazy mind at that . Just when I thought I should pick up a few table manners for the larger good of the society , I find myself at a place where it's the tradition to eat with hands with the sambar dripping off the left elbow . Ernakulam . The name may sound like something founded by a drunk monkey choking on a bone , but the place actually is pretty .The view from the living room balcony is a harbour complete with a big ship which is stationed there over the last three days . And I mean a proper ship . Like the one in Titanic , with the deck and the rooms and the name on its side and a flag and all that . Yeah , the language is a problem , but I bought a 'Learn malayalam in 30 days' pocket book today . That should help me out in real emergencies like trying to shout 'help' while drowning or asking the way to the nearest public toilet . And in here , you may not know daddy's first name , but you cant escape this actor called mohanlaal . The roads and magazines are crazy with his posters and hoardings and photographs . I half expected to find his life sized cut out in the apartment's bathroom .By the way , the apartment I have been given is really cool . Three air conditioners . Washing machine . Microwave oven . All that jazz . In fact , my mind is all muddled up right now with so many things to say that I am like "Do I write about the christian shopkeeper I met yesterday or the gang of schoolgirls who giggled to see me struggling to utter a bit of malayalam ?". So I guess I will get up and fish for dinner now . Basically , this was just to let my friends know that I still remember I used to blog once . I need to go out and find some hotel for my dinner now . And this time , I plan to start eating with my hands .

Pappa ! your car is in the bageecha !

2006-05-20T13:11:00.000+05:30

In 15 days , I will leave home to start my first job . On June 7 , I take the morning flight to Calcutta and land at ganguly-land in two hours , along with the in flight magazine I always smuggle out to my boost my 'Yah I am a baddd boyyy' component of personality. Just received a big parcel from the company . The courier guy was like "What's in this parcel ?? Inzamam ul haq ???". For the first 10 days of my induction , I will be staying at a 5 star deluxe hotel , so I better start knowing a sweet couple called Mr.Fork and Miss.Spoon . Right now , a video involving my table manners can be nominated for the top 10 most disgusting videos of the decade , just below a mms involving Paresh Rawal in a shower scene .

And yesterday was a jet black day in the history of my driving . Early in the day , I was reversing the car out of our house and I barged into the hedge around our garden . Dad was like "Shucks !!! All those scratches !! Looks like a crocodile used my car door for her manicure . " and ma was like "Ullu !!! You killed my jasmine plants !! Their fragrance was so lucky for our home as per vaastu shastra !". Last heard , dad was telling ma something about getting my class VIII wali bicycle cleaned and repaired .

In fact , I have been getting a lot of 'Be responsible' talk from my parents . I swear on Kareena Kapoor , I don't want to increase their problems , but I don't know what to do to come across as 'responsible' ? wear a space suit ? Talk about the war of 1971 with them ? Maybe I should give in to the fact that the atmosphere at home is a pretty no-nonsense types . Like this morning , as dad was getting ready for office , he remarked " My employers may post me to some other city in a few months . If this happens , I will resign ".

And I said " Yeah do that . Then Rohit Bal's son will say 'My dad is a designer' and I will say 'My dad is a resigner' ". I don't even know if 'resigner' is a proper word , and I know , my financial accounting book's index is more amusing than what I said , but I thought it was better than a simple "Yeah , ok". But my dad just blew up and declared I can never be serious in life . I don't know what to say . I guess it takes a lot to understand why a guy slips on a banana skin and gets up and curses every banana in the world with frequent mention of the banana's ma and behan. And why another guy slips on a banana skin and gets up and grins sheepishly . Most of us have the same circumstances , the same mix of 'kabhi khushi kabhi gham' , but it's the attitude which defines our lives .

And I have been hitting orkut lately . One thing I don't get is that why people put up pictures of filmstars as their profile pics . I know my picture can induce bed wetting in kids upto eleven years old , but putting up a Salmaan Khan pic as my profile pic is like saying "Ok . This is me . I know the guy who starred in Hum aapke hain kaun resembles me ."And I sure won't look at some girl's profile pic and say "WoW !!! Laetitia Casta is on orkut !!". I know you guys would be looking at the hitler's passport sized foto staring at you from the sidebar on the right , but hey , that's not me ok ? I need to visit Shehnaz hussain for three years to look that good .

I am listening to 'Aankhon mein tera hee chehra' from the aryans right now . It came out sometime when I was in school , class XII maybe . It was like the 'teenage love anthem' for me at that time , a song which was like the background tune everytime I came across anything resembling a female . Man , I feel as old as a banyan tree remembering all those days , to think that I am turning 25 this year . It's another matter that I still ram cars in garden hedges . Hata saawan ki ghata.

Go regret it

2006-05-16T08:59:00.000+05:30

There is something about the 'Kal ho na ho' title song . It makes me fall into a contemplative mood amazingly fast . It's like :

Me : How can the pepsi people be stupid ? Do they eat stupidity pills in lunch ? how could they create something as intellectually challenged as Pepsi TV ?

* Somebody in next room switches on the TV . After a jumble of sounds resulting from violent channel surfing , such as 'Bharat aaj vessht endeej mein..' , 'Nahi !!!! Kehdo yeh jhooth hain' , 'And datz a sixx' etc etc , the person settles on a channel and the soft sound of kal ho na ho floats in *

Me : Why am I born ? Reincarnation happens ? Do I have spirits watching me right now ?

I mean , you get the idea . Songs like these take my mind off the small things in life . Like Pepsi TV and my maid's family plans and the shining new potato peeler ma just bought . Songs like these make me slow down , pause , step back a little , look at my life , and say "Hmm.Maybe I should have done this ? This could have been better ? Should I do this ? Am I happy ? ". Songs like these make me look at my life as a whole , and not the insignificant and hurried things that clutter life . And whenever I do that , a bunch of little slimy green creatures scratch the inside of my skull with their little pointed claws and say " Hi ! Remember us ? We are the regrets you have " . Now I am not a guy who mulls over my regrets with the devotion of a teenage girl choosing a lipstick shade . I don't take them to heart . I hardly think about the bulky lady I pushed off the elevator because she was putting on a very irritating and fake angrezi accent . But still , there are things I wish I had ( make that a red sports car with three blonde models sitting cramped on the backseat and the frontseats stuffed with smelly wads of dollar notes . Make that four blondes if you are in a real helpful mood .) , things I wish I could do ( Breakfast with Priyanka Chopra , Lunch with Rani Mukherjee , Dinner with Aishwarya Rai , followed by an informal meeting with all three ) , things I wish I did not do ( Ok , maybe , I should not have pushed her off the elevator .Maybe .).

Like I wish I had the good looks which would make me get up every morning , look into the mirror and say "Phew . You should be in a movie , boy ". Right now , I am like "shit ! Which shithead invented mirrors ?". Especially in a place like Delhi , where every second guy roaming in a mall looks like he just slipped off the Lakme Fashion week ramp . I hope the ITC people post me to some remote village where every male looks like an accident victim , so all the 'gaon ki choriyan' go crazy over the shehari babu . My filmy knowledge tells me every rural romance starts with the guy asking the lass for some water from her matka , so I guess I will hang around the village well with all my rugged looks .

And I wish I would not have caused so much hurt to people . To make a promise and then break it comes naturally to me . "I will call you" , " I will send over a gift" , "I will take out your dog for a walk" , I keep saying things only to discover I am watching star world when I should be doing these things . I really have disappointed a lot of people , with rather violent repurcussions . I promise I will get a 'Highly unreliable' tattoo one of these days , so that people know .

And I can't dance . While the rest of the people scare away traffic with their gravity defying dance moves in a 'baraat' , I shuffle around nodding and smiling at relatives I last saw in the stone age . Even my dad would jump in and do some real disturbing jig with kids half his age , but I just don't have the rhythm to pull it off . The only creature around who may come to understand my pain is the horse , what with a well fed groom perched on his back , a thousand watt band blaring in his long ears , and a road full of dancing maniacs facing him .

Anyway , this is just a very superficial skimming of my regret bank , the proverbial 'tip of the tuft of hair on the top of a fly sitting on the top of an iceberg' . I haven't even started about the bigger and whackier skeletons in my cupboard which when let out can make for one big week long round of discussions over cups of coffee and rounds of cheese sandwiches . I am talking about my little teeny weeny mosquito bites when I can talk about the seven bullet shots all over me . And I don't even want to talk about them and plunge you into a 'dukh ka saagar' lest you spend the rest of your lives gulping anti depression pills .It is just that this song makes me go all dreamy and sigh-sigh and I type down stuff which is a disgrace to any trace of logic , grammar and sense . I guess I will just switch over to some raunchy remix number now , and go back to the million dollar and thirty three cent question - How could they create something as stupid as Pepsi TV ....

Hum sach dikhate hain

2006-05-15T12:32:00.000+05:30

Like most mornings , I checked my mail today . Till now , I got the usual 'get bigger' mails .Now , I guess my credit card guys have been selling my email address to diamond dealers in Senegal . There was this mail in my email inbox with a subject line ' I need your help to relocate my diamonds from Miss Chisolu Fodeh' .So , Miss Chisolu Fodeh , agar aap yeh post pad rahee hain to please batao na heere kahan hain . And there was this mail from a particular person :

Hey Abhinav, why didn't you reply to my messages? Its true that you would be a hell lot busy and have no time for losers like me, but then for god's sake don't project yourself as a nice guy with a no ego, who's out to help others as you mentioned in your last post. I looked at your blog, n I'm like so finally heres a nice guy specimen who claims he has no ego and he will talk to me(n others) without being snobbish n all. I wonder if you are after all a hypocrite like all of us and befool others by writing sweet things.(after all ur from IIM, so ur hell lot intelligent and know exactly what people need and thus create a blog that gives it to them and thus earning u comments, popularity n all). I'm sorry to say all this, maybe u really didn't get the time, its none of my business poking my nose into ur matters, but then u turned out like all of us( that includes me).

I am not explaining why I did not reply to this person . This is just so that you know what I may be like . You know , it's like the 'reader feedback column' in magazines where mails like 'Your magazine sucks , your columnists have horrible grammar , and your editor's daughter is ugly' are published . Kinda clears up the heart . Comments disabled . Don't ask why . Miss Chisolu Fodeh se diamonds laata hoon ab .

Tussi IIM se ho ?

2006-05-08T15:46:00.000+05:30

Free time offers a nice opportunity to reflect on life while putting on weight . So ma woke me up at 5 this morning . She says I should go on morning walks with her. She has this neat way of waking me up . She came over , ruffled my hair , and said "Bete , sone ka mann kar raha hain ?". Ma , I need to be undergoing labour pains to not feel sleepy at that hour . Anyway , I don't hate morning walks with ma , but the walking part irks me . But while returning ma stopped at the mother dairy and I made her buy me a Amul Kulfi . It was so pleasant with a cool breeze , ma and the thandi thandi kulfi .Looks like I have found a motivation for my morning walks .

And in view of my driving skills , my parents are getting me some kinda insurance policy . An insurance agent came over to our home yesterday . I will put in some money from my salary every year and will get a big amount when I am forty five . If I am dead by then , my wife will get it. ( To all you girls , I am dropping hints , silly ). The insurance agent made me feel good , without touching me , I mean . He was filling out this form about my details and asked "Bete , padayi kahan tak kari hain " . I was like "Jee , abhi mba poori huee hain" . So he asked "Oho , kahan se" , and I was "Jee , IIM calcutta..umm...calcutta mein hee hain" . For the next three minutes , his entire being was immersed in announcing to anybody in sight that I will be a rich guy and have three cars longer than the Nile river and a microwave oven and all the things rich guys have , illicit kids and all .

You know , that's the good part about coming out of IIM . Over there , I am with a batchmate and I think "ok , I will brag now" and say "Know what ? I got a percentile of 99.74 in CAT ( The entrance exam for IIMs )" and he would say " Oh , bad luck happens . Another answer wrong , and even my percentile would have been that low". But when I get out of IIM and have not many IIM guys around , people look at me and think "Ooh , he is from IIM ? He must know everything about why gold prices are rising." while I try hard to calculate the square root of 1 .

At the same time , we IIM guys have this image that we guys have bricks of extra ego strapped to our heads . It's like I don't call this friend because I was in a coma and then I wake up and call him and he says " Oh yeah , thanks for calling , you inflated ego-know it all-consumer robbing golden owl from IIM."

And once I was to meet this girl . I was like totally out of clothes . I had a choice between wrapping my ashwarya rai poster around my torso or wearing an IIM tee shirt. Considering the ashwarya initiative to a little anti social , I met that girl in a dark blue IIM tee . And she was like "shucks , you know what those waiters are talking?" . And I was "I guess about Govinda's role in saajan chale sasural" and she was " No . I know . They think I am with you because you are from IIM . I know" . I was like "Someone stuff this masala dosa up my nose . I want to die" . The rest of the evening was spent in my trying to scrape off every mention of 'IIM' from my attire . I never did wear anything with as much as an 'I' on it with her after that , and she is a nice friend now . ( Oye , If 'you' are reading this , I din't mind that ok ? It was natural .)

And the social interactions get a lot more predictable coz of this IIM thing .It's like I should have a '9th fail.10th fail.11th fail.12th fail.CAT crack kariye' sticker pasted across my front . I give a lift to this guy and he is "I wants to get to IIM . Tell me how or I will yell you just tried to kiss me". Imagine everyone asking you 'What do you say about Italy's transport minister's nose digging habits ?' . Because answering it is as 'umm..err..ahem' as answering "How did you crack cat?" for me . Frankly , I still get up in the middle of the night and go " man , what was it ? a mix up in the answer sheets ? Did the hundred bucks I placed in the answer sheet did it ? ". It's not that I don't like people asking me this . I am just stating what happens to me , not judging it . People helped me when I was preparing , and I not passing on the knowledge will ensure me a double bedroom apartment in hell . And hey guys , I know some of you have mailed me asking the same . However guesswork it may take , I hope to answer them soon .

Yeah , being from IIM , things look good on the professional front . at 24 , I have a found a job in a field I love and I have got a pay package cool enough so that I can say to my kid " Ok buddy , you can buy another butter scotch and give that to the girl you like , I can afford that for your girl" ( Ladies , this pay package thing is hint no 2 , in case your IQ dint let you notice ) . And you read about IIM guys all over the newspapers and think "All right , for a guy who won't find a place other than the obituary column before IIM , my chances for being in the papers some day look better now".

And the expectations shoot up and go through the roof and then the ozone layer . I have a distant cousion who did his MBA from IIM C some six years ago . And things like "He still doesn't wear Armani ? You sure it was IIM ? Two I's and M , right ?" are said about him .

Anyway , I can be like typing till the 22nd century about this , but then I may look like another of those IIM bastards with their bricks of extra egos strapped to their heads , right ? So I will just stop now and get back to deciding which model of mercedes to buy once I start getting my salary . ( Ok , this is it , miss , this is hint no 3 ) .

Note @ all the ladies : Don't take this seriously . Don't contact me . And don't complain about me to your brothers .

Oh no ! These are tears !

2006-05-04T13:14:00.000+05:30

Has it ever happened to you that you just cry without knowing why ? Infact it's not crying . I mean , not the sort of crying I indulged in as a kid when Dad punched in a banana sized injection in my butter bottoms . Yeah , this injection thing happened a lot . That happens a lot when your mom and dad are doctors . You know , it was like this when I was a kid :

I hear the car horn , fling away the he-man toy I am playing with and run towards the door yelling "pappa aa gaye , pappa aa gaye".

I would run straight into dad , cling onto his pants , look up with expectant eyes .

Dad : " Bolo munna , pappa aaj aapke liye kya laaye ? "
Me : Ummm !! Chocolate ???
Dad : " Nah ! Guess ! "
Me : " Ahaaaa !!! Ice cream ???"
Dad : " Nahi munna !"
Me : " Oho ! Batao na pappa !"
Dad ( Pulling out a fresh smelling pink and green pencil sized packet ) : " See ! Pappa got a state of the art , fresh off the shelf , just launched hepatitis B vaccine for munna dear. "

I got so many vaccine punctures in my body , I can be substituted for the sieve in your kitchen . Anyway , that's not the point , or nariman point . The point is that I am not talking about the crying I did when this injection entered my body . I am talking about a more silent and confusing kind of crying . A couple of nights ago , as I tried to sleep , it happened to me . I was just looking up at the ceiling and tears just started flowing down . I swear on every one of jeetendra's dance steps , I could not fathom the reason . The tears just kept breaking away from the eyes , finding their way across my cheeks and merging silently with the pillow cover . I just lay there as confused as a monkey in a playboy photoshoot . I was like "man ! Am I crying ?? You sure this isnt a optical hydraulic malfunction happening ? ".

And a couple of posts I typed down have got published in Jam again . I am not the kid with a football sized ego who walks around with the 'My dad owns a sports car' tee shirt , but I am telling about this Jam thing because a couple of guys thought I had copied the post from the article in Jam .

And I had this real thick wave of a 'End this blog' emotion last night , and it was only a timely intervention by neetie which stopped me from rolling up this blog , put it in a doggie bag , cut it up into chote chote chote chote tukde , and feed it to my paaltu kuttas in blue blooded filmy style . It was like , I wrote the last post about the mahajan thing , and someone comments "Seriously abhi , you could have done far better". I mean , I have got myself in a position where everything I write is judged . Even if I am choking on a bone , some guy will stand up and say "Naaah , the way you fell on the floor all gasping could have been funnier ". I know I have created things to be this way myself , but chill yar , give me break . I am just a guy who writes a blog like millions out there . Just let me be . As if I haven't had a tough life already . Try counting the injection punctures on my body someday .

Ps : I need to reply to the comments on the last post . Will do that soon . And one of the comments was by a lady who was expecting a child within a week ! I hope a little angel has entered her life by now . Congratulations to her ! :-)

Added later , after a deep introspection of life , three hours of watching pogo , and forgetting all the introspection results :

I realise the above post was written in a dark greyish maroon kinda mood inspired by a terrible breakfast and my cable operator taking star movies off the telly for a day . The breakfast was much better this morning and to make things better , no one commented on my table manners . I feel creepy about the stuff I wrote yesterday and advise you to ignore all of it . And with such nice people commenting here and mailing me , I am amazed you guys dont have the angel wings on your backs . Have fun . And Thanks .

Bhai bana khooni

2006-04-24T11:39:00.000+05:30

I really respect the media people . When I know these guys can to ruin this birth of mine by sending out one bulletin announcing some guy called hitler's soul is allegedly a 'videshi taakat' planning to blow up all the ladies toilets in the capital this independence day , I got to respect them. And lately , I have started to develop a real nice feeling about these guys . I mean , when I get bored of burning my sister's barbie dolls , I just need to flip on some news channel to keep myself busy till the next barbie burning session .

A couple of days ago , a guy called Praveen Mahajan pulled out a pistol and went boom boom boom . When the smoke cleared , we had a Praveen Mahajan thinking 'Shucks , I knew I should not have watched so many violent movies as a kid' , a Pramod Mahajan thinking 'Huh , is this heaven ?' and thousands of journalists , correspondents , TV presenters and newspaper boys around the country thinking ' Wow , now this is some masala for the next ten days '.

Sidenote 1 - For those stuck in some remote tropical forest of Nicargua , with no internet , newspapers , television or even a radio set around , Pramod Mahajan is a big guy in Indian Politics and he was shot at by his younger bro two days ago . On a personal note , he has never interfered in my lazy and dreamy life , and I had almost forgotten of his existence before he was almost wiped out of existence by his brother .

Sidenote 2 - In a dramatic move , Dharmu Jee has graciously accepted to be the first ever President of the yet to be estabished Hitler's soul's blog patrons association . More on that later .

So I was lying on the cool floor of my home and wondering why they put three blades in the ceiling fan over me when my sister came in from the drawing room and announced 'Pramod Mahajan has been shot by his bro' with the solemnity of a pope.

I quickly concluded the presence of three fan blades was a mere coincidence and went over to the TV . There was this young lady , around twenty six , wearing a sharp business suit , light pink lipstick , and the perfect 'Main lut gayi , barbaad ho gayi' expression on her face .

Lady presenter ( excitedly panting ) : 'Abhi abhi praapt soochna ke anusaar pramod mahajan par unke hee chote bhai dwara badi bedardi se teen goliyan chalayin gayi hain . Aaiye taaza samachar ke liye chalte hai hamare samvaaddaata Deepak ke paas , jo ghatnasthal par maujood hain'.

The camera stays on the presenter , instead of moving onto a emotionally shaken Deepak . The lady is visibly uncomfortable because of this . She tries to smile , remembers Pramod has just been shot and quickly recaptures her 'my house is on fire' expression . She focuses on the tip of her nose while secretly hoping that the technical guy will soon come back from the toilet and connect to Deepak , which he does after coming back from the toilet , smoking a ciggarette , and a quick call to his wife .

Deepak is standing with an even more intense 'My house is on fire and even my pants are' expression . A big iron gate can be seen in the background . A few wide eyed people jostle each other in the background and look directly into the camera , trying hard to contain the joy of being on TV.

Voice of lady presenter : Deepak ! Humein batayein wahan kya ho raha hain !

Deepak : Rakhi ! Main iss waqt pramod mahajan ke apartment ke theekh neeche khada hoon . Subah se yahan khade khade taango mein dard ho gaya hain . Teen baar pepsi pee chuka hoon . Andar jaane ki koshish lagaataar chal rahee hain , but baar baar yeh sasura security guard pakad kar danda lagaa deta hain . Main sochta hoon ek baar fir jaakar pepsi pee loon.Rakhi.

Rakhi : Oh . Aur pramod jee ke baare mein kuch ?

Deepak : Umm . Jee . Ahem ...rakhi , Yahan subah kareeban 8 baje goliyan chalayin gayi Pramod jee par . Suna hai kaafi dard hota hai goli lagne par . Goli ki awaaz se yahan ke stray dogs abhi tak dhahshat mein hain .

Rakhi , the lady presenter quicky realises that Deepak is woefully short of anything sensible to say and makes a mental note to send him an abusive sms after the telecast . Meanwhile , Deepak has tried to grab Pramod's neighbours , milkman , plumber , and beautician to express their opinion on the incident , and has successfully grabbed Master Deenanath , who taught Mathematics to Pramod Mahajan in class IV .

Deepak ( Victorious tone , sarcastic smirk directed at Rakhi ) : Aur hamare saath ab hain master deenanaath , jinhone pramod jee ko class fourth mein mathematics padayi thi .

Camera zooms to a frail old man , shaken at being jolted out of his bed abruptly and trying hard to remember who Pramod Mahajan is .

Deepak : Master ji !!! Yeh jo ghatna ghati hai aaj subah , aapko kya kehna hai iss baare mein ?

Master Deenanath : Beta iss umar mein mujh buddhe ko yoon bistar se kheench laana , kaafi sharmnaak aur chintajanak ghatna hai yeh .

Champak : Jee , hume afsos hai masterjee , but leaving that aside , yahan aapka ek poorv chatra , pramod mahajan , zindagi aur maut ke beech jhool raha hain , uske baare mein kya kehna hai aapko ?

Master Deenanath : Beta agar yaad aya ki yeh hain kaun , to zaroor kuch keh sakunga .

And even when Deepak decides to take a break and go to the nearest wine shop , special half n hour bulletins called 'Maut ka taandav' , 'Bhai bana khooni' , 'Khoon ki Holi' and such other names are being beamed across news channels since the day Praveen Mahajan decided to spoil his big bro's breakfast . Now that they have dissected Praveen , his mind , his motives , his childhood bedwetting memories , his dog's eating habits and his driver's family plans , they have been getting all kinds of doctors on television who pull out big human body charts , splotch three big red dots on it and say 'Goliyan yahan , yahan aur yahan lagi hain'. I hear a particularly elaborate telecast about the function of liver in the human body , especially Mr.Mahajan's , is coming up this evening .

Anyway , it's not that I don't want Mr.Mahajan to get well . Like any other human being , he should live a healthy and fine life , and I hope he recovers soon enough . It is just that I am a little amused by the way media is chugging away at this . For all the Mahajan Fan Club activists , I am too relaxed in my life of mindfulness ( Am getting serious about this Vipassana Meditation thing ) , reading ( Am reading 'Many lives , Many masters' , a true story about reincarnation . Fascinating. ) , watching TV ( Am watching particularly educative late night shows ) and avoiding a bath , so don't heat up on me please . And don't talk to the media people about me . Am no videshi taakat . The ladies toilets in Delhi are safe .

Ek bangala bane nyara - club remix

2006-04-21T23:10:00.000+05:30

It is past midnight and this is the time there is no airtel lady or sabjiwallah or mummy to disturb my rangeen thoughts .Since the day I have landed home , everybody has been telling me that I need to be more mature and responsible .Today I was walking down the street with a friend and we see this auto . So as we are passing it , I decide to talk to the auto driver .

Me : "Haan bhaiyya , khaali ho ?"
Driver : " Haan , kahan jaana hain ?"
Me : " Nahi jaana nahi hain , khaali ho to aao milkar ludo khelte hain."

The guy reacted with the seriousness of a lung cancer patient , and remembering it , now I really think I should mature up a little .

Anyway , without my computer connected to a hostel LAN brimming with anything from bhojpuri movies to documentaries on mexican goats , I feel as helpless as a cockroach lying on its back when I have to spend 14 minutes to download a single track.I downloaded 'Ari Ari' by bombay rockers last night and according to ma , it sounds like some haryanvi carpenter calling out for his tools .The song playing on my system right now is 'You are beautiful' by James Blunt.I think songs like this and aadat , which are about heartbreaks and longing tend to do better than others because almost every guy who lacks a red convertible and the looks of a hrithik-abhishek combo pack has some kinda heartache. Next up on winamp is 'Sexy mama' by Bombay rockers again . I have two mamajis and I need to be a rhino with a dozen viagra shots to find any of them remotely attractive , so Bombay rocker's mama ji must be something . Actually these two years in the hostel have made my ears addicted to music . My room there was like a non stop music station with my winamp almost reporting me to the software welfare commitee for overuse. But please , I am not one of those intellectual and artistic souls who would give up their wife's ovaries to support some music band and eat the kids of the guy who won't . I have bumped into guys with egos the size of a camel's hump hanging from their heads who argue and fight over things such their favorite music band being the best in the world or some pop star being a complete disaster born during the halloween . Apna funda to ethanoic acid ke formulae jaisa simple hain , I like the sound of some song , I like that . And if I don't like someone , I don't go around slitting the thyroid glands of those who do .

Like I guess every guy over 60 and some grandkid to get hold of will do so and muse 'Arre hamare zamane mein hote the singers , jaise K L Saigal , unhe sun kar kidneys jhoom uthtee thee" , but I have some emotionally disturbing memories of his singing . When I was a kid , my dad got all excited during a shopping trip and barged into a music store and bought an eight cassette collection of K L Saigal . That night , after dinner , he got together me and my sis .

Dad : "Aao mere nanhe munno baccho , aaj main tumhe asli gaane sunaata hun . K L Saigal !! yeh aajkal ke sonu nigam monu nigam kya hai iske saamne ".

Me and my sis look at each other and think 'Mummy to bach ke nikal gayi'.

Dad puts in the first cassette in our shaky BPL player . After a couple of minutes , a voice sprouting directly from the cold victimised nasal tracts of some guy flow out of the speakers ...

"Ek bangala bane nyara
rahe kumba jis mein saara
Sone ka bangala chandan ka jangalaa"

Me and my sis exchanged looks and suddenly burst out laughing .Saigal mamu jaan , yeh gaana hai ya kisi sharabi architect ka bura sapna. I hear Dad gifted the Saigal collection to the Chaddas on their wedding anniversary after wrapping it in some thick gift paper .

Chal rambo bhai , ab main so jaata hun . I have started to get bored at home and need to arrange for some company and tie up a trip for some movie or something soon . And this time , I better be serious with any auto driver I talk to. Last song of the day before I hit the khatiya - Something Something by Mika !!! How exciting .

Kya gaon mein bijli ayegi ?

2006-04-14T12:56:00.000+05:30

I don't know if it has been on discovery channel , but now I know for sure what occurs within eight minutes of a 24 year old boy landing a job - planets , comets , asteroids and a number of defunct satellites arrange themselves in a mysterious pattern in space which leads to a cosmic energy burst infusing thoughts regarding the boy's marriage in the minds of anyone having a mind remotely aware of his existence .

Now I am just 24 , a very innocent 'kacchi kali' level age where I drool all over in my sleep , think pink frocks look cute , drop half my ketchup on my tee shirt and have this tendency to suck my thumb under acute psycological pressure . But strangely , from the day I have been back at home , thoughts of my marriage are being considered as normal as a sardaar in a joke.

Papa has been sneering me with a 'Beta abhi shaadi hogi to pata chalega world war ke time kaisa feel hota tha' followed by the traditional evil laugh .Sister has been raising her left eyebrow disturbingly high with a sly smile everytime I talk of a female friend . And ma asks a "kaun thee ? " whenver my telephonic conversations with any girl exceeds three seconds . In short , while a month ago I was supposed to jump behind the nearest flowerpot at the sight of a girl, clutch the hanuman locket around my neck and remind myself that I need to study and get a job , these days no one is going to subject me to a round of honor killings if I keep walking and say a hello .After all , ab 2-3 saal mein shaadi to karega hi . Koi khud hee pasand kar le to problem kya hain ?

Now I have never been a guy who does the conventional thing , else I would not have spilled hot coffee over my crotch just to see what happens when I was thirteen ( And never , I mean never ask me what happened .Stirs up too many burning memories). So am not going to marry because every Indian guy is supposed to marry between the age of 24 and 30 .Instead , I need to think and decide if it's a good idea to marry at all.Of course , my parents expect me to marry in the next 2-4 years and show them the thobda of a fat little grandkid in 5-6 years , which , incidentally is a thing completely independent of marrriage in my noble opinion .

I am always imagining things .In class , I used to imagine the professor naked with a string of wriggling lizards around his neck to keep awake . So maybe I should imagine what my life would be like if I marry / I stay a kacchi kali ( or bachelor in more under 18 level terms) .

Scenario 1 :

I marry .

Now , due to an itch behind my left ear and a lack of decent names , let me name my imaginary wife , bijli devi . Like any husband in a hurry , I will address her as Bijli , or maybe Bij if I am in a real hurry . But you think of her as Mrs.Bijli Devi , she is not your wife after all .

I know how attractive I am . Like I was telling a friend recently , when I was eleven , my kaamwali left our work when I proposed to her and I am still viewed with suspicion if the present kaamwali threatens to leave work . So mine would not be the case where bijli first spots me as I kick start my yellow scooter in the parking lot of my office and thinks I look very macho when my foot comes down and falls in love with me and thinks about me everytime she hears a scooter's vroom and proposes to me the next time I am kicking my scooter and sparks fly and end up in our marriage . Even If I like someone , I am the sort of guy who feels all right after ten minutes of reading dilbert , a very "Theek hai yar , wo kaunsa mujhe pasand karti " kinda lad . So it is not very probable that I am going to propose to any prospective bijli either . So bijli shall come and electrify my life through an arranged marriage . Hopefully , bijli will like me as any wife likes her husband . She will ignore my emotionally disturbing table manners , an absolute disregard for 'log kya kahenge' and the seven inch scar across my left cheek . I will also try to keep her happy . Kids will happen and unwarned shit and piss will happen . Me and Bijli will fight sometimes , maybe , but I won't hit her , atleast not on the head . She will also hit me , and that's fine unless she uses the flowervase or the chair .But if she hits me on the head , I don't promise I won't hit her on the head . In short , me and bijli and our kids will be a nice little family . A happy family is more important for me than anything else ( except aishwarya's legs maybe ) , so I will try to keep my family cool . Keywords : Bijli . Kids. Kid Shit on sofa . Kid Piss on keyboard . Love . A little fighting . Smiles . Kid's fees . Bijli's beauty parlor expenses . A taj mahal sized RESPONSIBILITY .

Scenario 2 :

No shaadi . No Bijli.

My parents won't be happy . An emotional moment when I declare they are grandparents to a kid I had from some business trip to bangkok won't make them happy either . In short , my parents won't be happy with me if no bijli flows into my life's lamp . They will blame all the spiritual stuff I read and all the bearded guys in saffron alive . As for me , I don't have much idea about what kinda activities , apart from taking my secretary out , I shall be indulging in . Maybe I will retire from work at 35 , sponsor a kid in the meantime , and spend the rest of my life touring exotic places around the world ( Bangkok being one of them . What a machine I am. ) .I really don't know . I read about the meaning of life and think about it and try to read wisdom stuff , but don't know how I can use that by staying out of relations . Keywords : Freedom . Little responsibility . Unhappy parents . Early retirement . Financial ease .Meaning of life . Bangkok. Visits to buddhist monasteries . A little more of Bangkok.

So these are the options before me . I still have time before I come to the stage when I have to make a decision . Of course , life is like my cooking , I can put in a lot of masalas and flour and sugar but can never be sure of what comes out . Maybe I will move onto a higher level of awareness and life without marriage . Maybe I will feel the need for some bijli when I am 40 and get a '40 but in showroom condition' types matrimonial ad printed in the papers .Maybe I will find bliss in unconditional and unpossesive love I will hold for bijli and our little sparky kids . Maybe bijli will be very angry at the way I giggle when her dad pronounces lion as loin and hit me . And if she hits me on the head , I bet Bijli shall be subjected to an electrifying revenge .

Jaldi se naha lo

2006-04-10T12:23:00.000+05:30

After a delayed air deccan flight with its 'Asuvidha ke liye khed hain , deri ke liye kshama chahte hain' slogan and a delayed bharti televentures guy with his ' Arre bhai kal piroblem mein fans gaya tha , aaj shaam laga dunga na internet' , both me and the internet have reached our home in gurgaon .

People at home have a different perspective of things . At the hostel , a room fire would have been given the imprtance of a stray dog by me . But it was almost a national crisis scenario when ma declared "Aaj paani ki problem hain ! Jaldi se naha lo sab " an hour ago . My transition from espn to the bathroom was swift . There were so many lizards watching me whenever I bathed in the hostel bathroom , I feel strange without any company in the bathroom here . Also , I have been watching a decent amount of cricket on the television . Commentators on channels like espn and ten sports and espn are so correct , they are almost boring . Give me doordarshan's bumbling Maninder Singh who screams 'Sundar stroke !' as the batsman is clean bowled.

Some years ago , when Kapil Dev smacked his big lips and said "Yeh ball kuch jhuki jhuki huee daali hain fleming ne" during the commentary for a one day match , I fell in love with hindi commentary forever. I mean , a Geoff Boycott has to be in real good touch to provide what these hindi commentators do .

Maninder : "Jin darshako ne apne TV set der se khole ho ( TV mechanics ? ) , unko main bata dun ki iss waqt bhaarat aur jimbaabvhe ke beech khela ja raha yeh match kaafi romanchak mod pe khada hain " ( See ! Maninder got my adrenaline pumping now )

Yashpal : "Jee maninder , aur main yeh samajhta hun ki iss waqt bhaarat ke ballebaazo ki koshish yehi rahegi ki kuch run banaye jaye ." ( That is an eye opener . I thought the batsmen are gonna wash clothes with those bats )

Maninder : "Bilkul Yash , lekin mera yeh maanna hain ki agar yahan bowlers 8-9 wicket chatka dete hain to match jimbhabvhe ki mutthi mein aa jayega" ( Maninder overlooks the fact only six wickets remain )

Yashpal : "Jee .Isi beech over ki samaapti , pakistan ka score chaar vikket par ek sau do run."

( During the commercial break , Rajesh , the scorer , informs yashpal that it is not pakistan but India , and the score is not 102 but 201 )

Also , have been reading some spiritual literature . 24 year old . Fresh IIM passout . Starts work in two months . I guess with these conditions I should be reading something like '101 ways to utilise the last sixty days of freedom , with a special pullout on how to propose to the colored hair neighbourhood girl you have always admired ' . But I have been reading a book which has a mist covered tree on its front cover and words like mokhsa , nirvana and enlightenment between its covers .I have just read about the theory of karma . It says my internet connection in this birth of mine is slow because during my last birth , I was a dog and chewed on some optical fibres to deprive an entire colony of internet . My ma checks on me during the night to see if I have bought a kamandal and hopped on the train to the nearest mountain peak . In fact , more than what I know , the way I think is more important to me . I have often been found to be as intelligent as a mosquito repellant machine , and I still get confused between left and right , so I am trying to make up for that by reading stuff which will make me more wise , if not intelligent .

And if ten years from now , the only guy staying back in India is a bazooka toting , pakistan bashing and angry Sunny ' Indian' Deol , I won't be surprised . One part of me has always wanted to wear caps and tee shirts which say 'Mera Bharat Mahan' , but the way politicians in urgent need of rapidex engliss speaking course are messing with insitutes such as IITs and IIMs in this nation , I am not sure if my kids will have the money to wear any kind of tee shirts . The OBC reservation announcement is genuinely the second most super duper export quality stupidity to happen to IIMs , the first being my admission . Being a general category student , I know it takes years of hard work , an incredible romance with lady luck , a lot of cash pumping into coaching institutes , and quintals of 'aashirwad' from our parents for us to get that one seat in an IIM . And then I switch on NDTV and learn that a bunch of politicans who need calculators to find the square root of nine and pronounce shanti as saanti just swooped away hundreds of such seats under their perfumed dhotis . I mean , one fine day in 2030 AD , I imagine a Ipod listening - spiked hair dude coming into my room as I lie on a chaarpai and asking me "Hey dad , I just cleared my engineering after flunking thrice , do I try for the six seats these IIM people got for us general category students ?". But this is not the time to panic , all the general category students affected by this move should remain strong and united and find the nearest OBC certificate printing shop where we can place our orders in bulk . Saste padega yaar .

Blogging from home as its advantages . You get a clean table with no coke glasses and half eaten biscuits lying around and you don't have to climb down three floors to the mess , you can keep sitting and yell 'bhookh lagi hain' and mummy tells you to shut up . But it has its disadvantages too . Like saira , our kaamwali asking me to get up as she has to sweep the floor under my computer table . So I guess this is it for now . Waise bhee , I think ma wants me to fill up some buckets before the water runs out . Paani ki problem hai na yaar .

Looking around while blowing bubbles in a coke

2006-03-31T15:33:00.000+05:30

My dad lands here this evening and I have my convocation tomorrow . You know , I thought I shall write something with a 'puraani jeans aur guitar' ,'nostalgia ho raha hai mamu' theme just before I leave this campus , but I really do not want to dwell on that right now.

Recently , due to some unexplained celestial movements and a friend with no regard for punctuality , I found myself in a pizza hut with nothing to do over the next half an hour . I settled down at a corner table , plugged in my headphones , ordered a little something and casually looked around . Being an MBA , I have to develop this inborn tendency to analyse a sneeze , so I used that half an hour to categorise the type of crowd that visits Pizza hut.

1.The loud and happy "hum saath saath hain" family

With ekta kapoor and her silk pallu - scorpion bindi-saas murdering brigade of women , this breed is soon going to be listed with the "Akhil Bhartiya endangered species protection board" , just below the zimbabwean gold faced owl . Everybody looks happy here . Daddy jee jokes with the kids and makes funny faces at them . Mummy jee is satisfied as pappa jee just convinced her the lipstick marks she found on his shirt was mosquito blood . Kids are happy because they know that in spite of their dad making stupid and outrageous faces at them , he is going to order ice cream after pizzaz and garlic bread . The kids are allowed to push their fingers in their noses and run off to show what they pulled out to the couple seated at the next table . The eating is ruthless and this is one of the more noisy tables of the hut . In case it is a joint family , frequent peals of laughter accompanied by table slapping is evident . In case it is a sardaar joint family , frequent peals of roaring laughter accompanied by table upturning slapping is evident.

2. The coochie coochie "Kuch Kuch hota hain" couple

Now this is the karan johar sponsored couple which is usually a boyfriend-girlfriend combo pack. Just married couple who are yet to fall in the where-is-my-shirt-you-pick-kids-from-school' trap of married life may also qualify.

They prefer to sit in remote corners of the hut , well hidden by flowerpots or pillars , leading to problems for waiters who have trouble finding them . They sit as close as siamese twins , may eat from the same plate ( rather unhygeinic) and the only time their hands are not holding each other's body parts is when they are holding spoons or forks . They don't laugh the typical 'balwant-singh-chappar-faad-ke' brand of loaring laughter. It is more like twittering accompanied by whispering into ears . In short , both of them are in complete bliss . For the girl , bliss ends when daddy finds out his daughter has been visiting pizza hut instead of the maths tutions . For the guy , bliss ends much earlier , when the waiter brings the bill.

3. The "shehar ki ladki" tribe

The table which challenges every sound barrier with its shrieking and excited occupants . High school girls maybe . Even college girls , if they are slightly low on maturity . Usually , there is an occasion , which usually , is the birthday of one of those ladies . Shrill and sharp pizza-toppling cries of 'wowwwwwwwwwwwwww' , 'Howww chweeeeeeeeeeeet', 'Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww' escape from this gang . A lot of ribbons , gifts and greeting cards may also be passed around , leading to delight of the birthday girl and a certain archies gallery owner. Noise levels , boy's interest in pizza hut and daddy's credit card expenses rise dramatically due to this set of young women.

4. The "kya kool hai hum" boys.

This is the symmetrical opposite of category 3 above . But boys being boys , the sounds they emit are much less shrill and much more unrestrained in terms of their colorful vocabulary . 'Abbe ****** , pizza kaunsa mangwaye?' , 'Ganguly to G**** hain' , '**** ***' , 'Check her out' , 'Pooja se baat karun kya?' are some examples suitable for an under 18 audience . Their table manners are in urgent need of upgradation and cleaning these tables is the kind of work responsible for salary hike demands by Pizza Hut Waiters Union . Any delay in getting the food on table may lead to heated reactions by these boys , unless there is enough of category 3 around to keep their minds off food . The payment is the most tense and crucial moment , when frequent references to previous 'saale-tujhe-mere-200-dene-hai-pehle-ke' lendings are made.

5. The "na tum bolo na hum" couple

I am really confused about this variety.I mean , if a man and a woman don't want to talk , what kinda gunpoint threat got them together at pizza hut ? But I have always noticed the table as silent as a graveyard occupied by a couple who look as close as kabul and barbados. These people avoid eye contact with each other , smile with the comfort of a nun in a nightclub and keep looking out of the nearest window with the classical philosphical expression . The most elaborate conversations they strike up are about the temperature of the soup , which last for about thirteen seconds , including the sighs and coughs.

6. The 'tanha tanha yahan pe jeena' organism

Primarily , these are people in wait for their friends/girlfriends/boyfriends/blind dates/dates who can see . The waiters eye them suspiciously , clearly distressed by the person's sipping a single coke over the last forty minutes . The fellow passes his time by sipping the drink with the hurry of a super slow motion vision stump camera , blows bubbles in the glass , spends time by memorising every name in the menu card , or just looking at other people.

Yeah , there are other species too , but right now , I need to catch the India-England match and then I need to pack my bags and I need to burn all the movies and music and pictures on CDs . I fly off to home soon , and this is probably my last post from this untidy , unkempt room at New Hostel , IIM Calcutta .I am gonna miss some people , and they know who they are. But then , every end is a beginning of something new , and nothing lasts , which is one of the fundamental truths of life . I may leave this place and the friends I made here , but the memories shall remain . And I know I have to talk about these people and these experiences , but in my current state of mind , my immediate thoughts are about the CD of 'Tom n Jerry' I need to copy from Nishant .Hata saawan ki ghata and chill maar yaar . Life is good.

Pachycephalous ka naam Pachycephalous kyun hain ?

2006-03-24T12:34:00.000+05:30

Yeh hai IIM C ka Dramatics Cell . I am the guy with the yellow arrow near his chin . I was the light boy ( I called myself Illumination manager ) for English play and played the role of a tomato plant in the Hindi play. Ok , majjaking , I played the role of a normal homo sapien in the hindi play . Completely unrelated bakwaas ahead.

~~~~~~~~

Since the day I got placed , I have been going around Calcutta with the desperation of a postman . That's pretty natural when I have access to time ( MBA over hai pappa !) and money ( job lag gayi na pappa !) . So I thought it would be another day involving hot pizzaz , ice tea , smiling at Pizza Hut girls , metro rides , garlic bread , a movie maybe , a lot of joking and careless talk when I met up with a friend as a part of my "Main-delhi-ja-raha-hun-mil-le" process.

"Abbe oye , let us go to Pizza Hut."

"Nah , we are going to Science City."

Science City ? I had sudden flashes of NCERT books , water cycle diagrams , beakers , a resounding zero in a particular class 7 physics test , and the reproductive system diagrams we used to look at with interest and confusion as young boys . Science City ? I confirmed , half hoping it would be 'signs' city atleast , something more removed from water cycles . Nopey dopey , Science City it was . Mild protests from my side , including a sigh longer than Shoaib Akhtar's run up and a self immolation threat were conveniently ignored and we hopped into a cab to head for Science City .

Now , just the look of the place is enough to send one into bouts of serious introspection over the utility of your being alive if you are not a scientist . A planeterium with a shape so complex an average guy would spend a major part of the year searching for its entrance . Trollies move across hanging from high cables . One of the buildings is in the shape of a Huge Dinosaur where people enter through its mouth and exit from the , well , umm , the opening meant to emit stools I guess ( not the stool you sit on ) , given my rather limited knowledge of dinosaurs and their shitting process .

One of the first things we hit was the mirror maze . It is this hall where we enter a maze made of mirror walls . If I have to compare it to a very filmy concept , its like the proverbial "Jurm ka daldal" , jahan log aate to apne marzi se hain , but wapis nahi jaa paate ( add the wicked laugh yourself ) . We spent quite some time trying to get out of there , but kept running into deadends and walking into mirrors . What with so many mirrors around me , I was surrounded by atleast four specimens of myself at any time , which is real terrible and un-photogenic company to be with . After a lot of yelling "abbe left le yahan se !" , "Uee ma , yeh to wahin aa gaye" , "Bhai sahab , bahar kaunsi sadak jayegi ?" , we managed to find our way out . I have never been so glad to not see me .

Then she took me to the Space Theatre . I took the tickets from the counter and the counter guy said "4 baje ka show hain". I half wanted to ask him "Heroine kaun hai dada ? " followed by a sly wink , but considering the name "space theatre" did not exactly smell of a traditional bollywood movie with its share of skin and blood , I dropped the idea . I don't know what happens to you , but my intestines twisted in a desperate sigh when the big screen burnt bright with a huge "Dr.James Kuch-to-tha presents - SEASONS. " For the next thirty minutes , Dr.James Jo-tha-woh-kyun-tha showered us with gyan on why seasons change and why winter comes after autumn and why polar bears have a lot of fur . Thankfully , my 'science-is-fun' friend tore open a pack of chocolate covered cashews , which was blissfully munched upon by me while extremely disturbingly close pics of grasshoppers and their mating habits were explained in detail by Dr.James Jo-bhi-tha-accha-hua-ab-nahi-hai .

We came out and I was determined to do something more human and routine this time around . I suggested we buy ice creams and enjoy them sitting on one of the benches lining the lawn. "Arre nahi munnu , time nahi hain , 3D show shuru hone wala hain !". Before I could run away and seek solace in the ice cream wallah's arms , I found myself sitting in a dark hall with a blank screen before me . A guy who had the "kya-re-tu-bhee-ban-gaya-murga" smirk came in and handed us big plastic glasses which were supposed to create 3D images out of a flat screen . In five minutes , the hall resembled a blind school classroom , though my personal opinion remains I looked more like a 1970-ish-Rajesh Khanna and Raamdulari did not look like a 1970-ish Dimple Kapadia in those oversized plastic goggles . A lot of skulls and snakes and rats jumped out at us from the screen and the kid sitting a couple of seats to my left screamed every time that happened . Now I really like kids . So much that in spite of my latest plan to never get married , I intend to adopt a boy or maybe go in for a test tube baby where my kid will be born in a laboratory amongst a lot of beakers and apparatus with scientists shouting "eureka" instead of the boring "ladka hua hain". So as the crowd filed out , the chacha Nehru in my woke up and I patted the little kid on his head , raised my eyebrows till they touched the back of my neck and said in the most round mouthed bengali I could imagine "Majo aabo ?" ( My imagined bengali for "Had fun ?") . The kid gave me a look reserved for a guy in immediate need of a plastic surgery and a 15-day bengali speaking course and walked away . I tried to salvage some pride by smuggling out the plastic goggles but even that was thwarted by the alert bengali public.

We also had a ride in a toy train where we had to wave down the train and get on it . We went into that dinosaur shaped building through its mouth lined by yellowed sharp teeth which suggested Mommy Dinosaur did not know of Pepsodent at all . Inside the entire evolution thing was depicted by way of dinosaur models which moved , growled , burped and if that was not a speaker placed at the wrong place , farted . My friend explained why Pachycephalous was called that , which effortlessly lapped up the best 'oh-yeah-yawn-im-listening-yawn' moment of the day' award . Towards the later part of the day , we even walked around the Fish house where we saw a lot of fish. One of the fish was called Tiger Fish . My friend told me it was a cross between a tiger and a fish . The next tank contained Horse Fish and the one next to it had crocodile fish . I extended the "tiger fish=cross between tiger and fish" logic to all of these and gasped at the extent of fish community's loose character suggested by it .

But to be honest , all in all , I look back at the day with a lot of fondness and warmth. I have been to Pizza Hut , Inox , Tangerine , Teej and a lot of other bustling places over the last week , but to have a day at the science city with a close buddy had an unassuming beauty of its own . Even if such places look a little nerdy , I walked away with a feeling of comfort and warmth no multiplex or mall evokes in me . Maybe it's just because when I was a kid , Dad used to take me to the Nehru Planetorium in Delhi and we used to sit in the theatre and he used to point out milky way and the constellations to me while me and my sister fought over less celestial things such as popcorn.Even if there are no bowling alleys and no dolby sound four screen theatres around , sipping a simple ice tea while sitting on a bench on a breezy evening seems a lot more relaxing to me .Even if there were not many eyeliner-gloss-lipstick types girls around , I did learn why Pachycephalous is called that.