Suno jee , mujhse shaadi karogi ?

I feel like an Adnan Sami forced to pack myself in Priyanka Chopra's jeans. I feel like a Julia Roberts forced to watch 'Main prem ki deewani hoon' from the front row of Ashok Cinema hall. Kitne examples sunega bhai , samajh ja na ki I feel uncomfortable . I have been tagged by Sanyukta and Binu who want me to put down eight things I desire in my life partner. I seriously think the hindustaani sarkaar is goofing up by not awarding a paramveer chakra to my mother whohas managed to tolerate me for 24 years , so expecting someone to be with me for life scores a perfect ten on the optimism meter. But Mungeri Laal doesn't hold the exclusive copyright to dream. So here goes .

1. The sharmeeli salwaar suit girl

'Bholi si soorat , aankhon mein masti , duur khadi sharmaye'

I first heard these lines from 'Dil to pagal hai' on my school bus. Since then , whenever I imagine my dream girl , these lines start playing in the background of my bheja . Plain face. Minimum make up. Ek choti se bindiya . naazuk . Hair tied a choti. Pink salwaar suit. A few kaanch ki green bangles . Quiet girl . Elegant . Shy. Soft laughter. Hai main marr jaawa butter naan kha ke .The multiplex chaap girl who wears a three year old's bathing suit to parties , drinks , smokes , uses foul words and calls herself independent is a wonderful thing to happen to the cosmetic and tobacco industry , but for me , the bhartiya simple ladki remains incredibly cute . But oye sohniye , not too much shy .

Me ( Back from office ) - Knock . Knock . Oye laajwanti , darwaza khol yar , I am back .
She ( softly ) - Suno jee , mujhe aapke saamne aate hue shy shy feel hota hain jee .
Me ( Trying to keep my voice low while the neighbours look at me curiously ) - Ahem . haha. Arre darwaza khol sweetie , it's been 13 years since our marriage now. Abb kya sharmana .
She ( softly giggling now ) - umm..nahi jee , mujhse nahi kiya jayega . Aapke saamne aate hi sharma jati hu main.
Me ( hitting the briefcase against the door ) - Teri ma ki..

I mean , I love shyness , but I don't want to use my briefcase to enter my home everyday.

2. What's common between ego and dinosaurs ?

Both are dead now. That's right , her ego should be as dead as a thief in Mike tyson's home . I don't like people who have big blue whale sized egos . She should be like "You remember the time I burped loudly when we were having dinner with your boss's family ? HaHa. I am such a goof!". Maybe that's why I have never been attracted to any IIM girl , many of whom can't laugh at themselves . Oye kake , cat clear karrke IIM C ayi hain hema malini , to ego ekdum eiffel tower size ka ho jata hai kaafi ladkiyon ka .

3 . Kuch to log kahenge , logon ka kaam hai kehna .Tu bheje ka kofta mat bana .

Now that she would be married and assumingly exposed to a healthy dose of fat padosans and frustrated colleagues like most Indian women , a lot of junta soundbytes like 'How do you stay with this half crazed nut ?' and 'I know a pretty good divorce lawyer.You deserve a better life' and 'What ?? He comes back late these days ? You should talk to 'Husband-secretary-pol khol detective agency'. I don't want her to kill these padosans and colleagues and dump their bodies under our bed , but she should have a mind of her own to prioritise people and what they say. What most people think about me doesn't move a fingernail on me , and I hope she is kinda chilled too.

4. Tunnu munnu ke papa , chalo aaj 'Haseena maan jayegi' dekhte hain

Kasam Madhubala's smile ki , the girl who actually laughs at Govinda or Akshay Kumar's brand of exaggerated comedy is my kudi , because it shows she actually enjoys brain-less , 'bheja-bhool-ja' variety of antics , which gives her a clean ten extra points in my 'Kaun Banegi Meri patni' contest . Infact , I intend to ask her about this during the 'ladka ladki ek doosre ko jaan le , samajh le' stage .

Me - Hi . Have you seen 'Haseena maan jayegi' ?
She - Oh I love that one !
Me - Oh yeah . How about 'Jodi no.1' ?
She - Uee ma . Seen that 14 times.
Me - That's so touching . Mujhse Shaadi karogi ?
She - Wow , Akshay kumar was so funny in that one .
Me - Oye Basanti , not the movie , this is a real life question. Mujhse Shaadi karogi ?

5. Oh , bhaago Judge sahiba ayi !

I write nonsense . I am not asking you , I am telling you a fact I know . But I write whatever I want to write , rather than what you want me to write . Now a girl reads the stuff at this blog , thinks 'What an idiot he is' , leaves a 'This is crap . And now you are in trouble' comment , reports me to blogger for being a burden on the cyber dharti and calls up her connection in Dubai to get me killed by some Truck during my morning walk. I will marry a lamp post rather than this girl . I mean , the girl should not consider herself the 'I am perfect' , 'I will clean the system' , 'How dare someone be silly' headmistress type character . Chill maar yaar . I am having my fun the way I want to , just leave me to my stupid life , sweetheart .

6. Thoda hain , thode ki zaroorat hain

Her life ka basic funda of happiness should match with mine . I too enjoy my work , but I need to keep the big picture in place . If the purpose of her life is to be on the cover of a business magazine , I am cool. If she is willing to neglect her ( and hopefully , mine too ) kids for that , I am boiling . My priorities - my family , my kids , a happy environment at home. Money is a pen I need to script happiness and comfort for my family. If she loves the pen more than the script , she better marry some 'aag-in-the-belly' , high flying , busy business man whose kids have trouble remembering his face , mere pyare pyare gol mol baccho ko baksh de mrs CEO.

I have to put down two more points about the girl who shall marry me and get to say 'See that guy with the stupid face over there ? He is my husband' . But I don't really think I want pouty red lips or a rich dad in law or 'jheel see aankhein' , because life is not a movie where I can happily drown in her eyes and feel happy forever . Zindagi mein things have to be worked out and when I need her to understand and share my life , pouty lips or pink cheeks won't exactly be a very useful thing . So abhi bass itna hee mangta hoon hanuman ji. If you think you have it in you to be the first ever Miss.Hitler's soul , pick up your cellphone and sms D-I-V-O-R-C-E to 123 rightnow. Sms karne se kya hoga ? Kuch nahi . Aise hee paise waste karwa raha hun yaar.

Aye saala

Gabbar : Arro oh Samba ! Wo bijli ka khamba Amitabh kabb ayega is saale ko bachane ? Mujhe shooting ke alawa aur bhi kaam hain .Saala , teen ghante se pose banaye khada hun .


Samba : Sardaar , suna hai Amitabh uss hands-free thakur aur Basanti ke saath PVR Ramgarh mein Rang De Basanti dekh raha hain .


Dharam praaji : Kutte ! Kameene ! Main uss Amitabh ka khooon pee jaunga !

Hey champak , winamp ka volume low karr and ekdum phull concentration se sunn. Hum dus bande kal Rang De Basanti dekh kar aye hain. And It's heard Aamir was at the same multiplex just till a few hours before we got there . Anyway , abb main tujhe climax batata hun . Accha accha , gusse ki missile matt launch karr rambo , nahi bata raha yaar .

But watch Rang De Basanti .Even if you are the Hollywood ka paseena , angrezo ka choota hua samaan types person who goes "Hind-ee movies ? Eeeks . So stupeed nooo ? All that dancing around trees and bushes and heavy sareees and threee hour long .I nayver waatch hind-eee movies .Hindi moviess are roobish."

Watch Rang De Basanti . Even if you have no paisa in teri pocket . Girlfriend se maang , Dad ke fake sign karr , dost ki bike dhokar kamaa , kidney bhech de , intestines bhech de , pancreas bhech de , saale eyes ke alaawa sab kuch bhech de .Eyes matt bhech diyo. Nahi to saari movie mein yehi poochta rahega saath wale se - "Bhai saab , Aamir ki entry ho gayi kya movie mein ?"

Watch Rang De Basanti .Even if tujhe Hindi itni hee samajh mein ati hain jitni Tom Hanks ko bhojpuri . Saath mein Hindi - Tamil dictionary leja , kisi hindi speaking uncle ko saath le ja , na mile to hall mein saath wale se poochta rahiyo "Umm.Excuse me Da .I can see Aamir . But what is he saying Da ?". Abbe teri , but agar tujhe hindi hee nahi ati , to tu yeh jo main type karr raha hun yeh bhee to nahi palle pad raha hoga charlie chaplin ! Kisi aas paas wale ko yeh pada and pooch main kya bol raha hoon .

Watch Rang De Basanti . Even if you think I am out of my mind . Main jaanta hu main bakwaas likh raha hun but I don't care .Yaar main kya karu , mujhe ek problem hain , mein jyada sochta nahin kuch likhne se pehle . Main abhi aadhe ghante pehle apni angelic neend se jaaga and class miss karr dee so mujhe koi kaam nahi hain . Main hindi mein likh raha hoon kyunki main basically Hindi mein sochta hun .Mere parents toffee ko toffee kehte hain , candy nahi . My mom still looks at me watching Star Movies and says 'hai munnu , tujhe samajh aa jata hain yeh angrez itni tez tez kya bolte hain ?' . So mere bheje ka primary channel hindi mein hee chalta hain . Abbe main off track kyun ja raha hun . Aye saala , tu Rang De Basanti dekh .

Too mooch trouble

With all due respect to Saurav Ganguly fans , exploited software engineers and other troubled souls of the nation , I am living a content life these days . Infact , I have always enjoyed my circumstances . But things are easy these days . The classes have the frequency of commercial breaks in a repeat telecast of a Kuchipudi dance program on doordarshan . Except the company pre placement talks I attend and a some time I devote to studying , I am as busy as a sales manager at the Antarctica Branch of Carrier Air conditioners . And tickets to Rang De Basanti’s first show have been procured .

And to make things better , N’s parents visited him at the hostel with a lot of of Gajar ka Halwa . It was like kissing your beloved after spending 51 years locked in a Tibetan monastery with a transistor and Rabri Devi for company . Gulping all that halwa was as pleasant as watching Kareena Kapoor retire from movies . After eating what must have taken three acres of carrot fields to make , I plopped down on N’s bed and flashed a content smile at the rickety ceiling fan , sending up a burpy thanks to N’s parents and carrot farmers for the halwa.

Now being true IIM tigers about to hit the corporate jungle soon , me and N tried to strike up a leisurely post-halwa discussion on the rising gold prices and its effect on the jute underwear industry of Indonesia . We tried to move ahead for around three minutes and then unanimously shifted to 'moustaches' as the topic of further discussion .

Moustache . Or ‘mooch’ in hindi . Not the unshaven Abhishek bacchan stubble type thing , but the proper Anil Kapoor type thing . The stuff which is found stuffed in the space between the lips and the nose of some guys , and some girls who were fed some extra testesterone samosas by mothers worried about eve teasing .

I was subjected to the great Chinese moustache torture early in my life . Not that my ma used the wrong oil on me and I grew one at the age of three months , but my dad has one mooch since the time I wiggled open my little eyes . Now my Dad expressed love by saving on expensive lollipops and chocolates and planting free kisses instead . On my cheek . Nothing to do with Michael Jackson or his variety of affection for kids .

So when I was a kid , dad picked me up , smiled , said ‘Mera pyaara beta’ ( My lovely sonny boy ) and kissed me while the hair of his moustache dug into my baby skin . If you have ever been kissed by a mooch-ed object , you will know the weird feeling it produces . While the lips plant a soft kiss on the cheek , the mooch scrapes the skin over the kiss point and the feeling is rather tingly and unwanted . I always followed up this mentally damaging experience by snatching away my cheek from dad and yelling “ Uee ma , aapki mooch ke baal chubhte hain” ( Uee ma , your moustache hairs prick me ). Dad said “Hatt natkhat , Dad ki mooch ke baal baccho ko nahi chubte” .( Hatt naughty boy , Daddy’s moustache never pricks the kid ) . Fearing another kiss , I stayed quiet . When I could bear it no longer , I crept upto my sleeping Dad with his shaving razor in my hand . He woke up just as I grazed his moustache with the razor . At my next birthday party , he made all my moustached uncles and aunties kiss me as a punishment .

Thankfully , I grew up and the threat from Dad’s kissing subsided with his moustache hair softening with his increasing age and his love for me decreasing with my plunging school grades .

Infact I still cannot understand why any self respecting man will carry a toothbrush of hair under his nose . I have scientific evidence it blocks the free flow of air into the nostrils . It’s like holding a mini sugarcane field to your nose while the air struggles and huffs to move past this field of hair to enter the nostril caves . I have heard about cases of moustaches causing suffocation , more so at higher altitudes and in gas chambers . Then managing a moustache requires a lot of time and energy which can be judiciously spent by me going out with girls who enjoy going out with an ugly but 'clean-slate-above-lips' guy. Salman Khan could have wooed , thrashed and re-wooed Aishwarya nineteen times over in the time my Dad spent on trimming and shaping his moustache each day. And a girl needs to have the IQ of a masala dosa to actually prefer a guy with moustaches over a guy without one .

Imagine DDLJ with Raj ( Shahrukh ‘Bath Tub’ Khan ) sporting a hairy bushy Mangal Pandey category mooch dashing through a yellow field singing “Tujhe dekha to yeh jaana sanam” while a scared Simran yells in her cellphone “Hello ! Papa ! Bachao , something hairy is coming towards me !!! Papa !” . Raj Kapoor had a pencil mooch , but then his whole USP thing was in looking stupid . Yeah , Anil Kapoor sports one , but that’s because he has a three inch wide fluorescent yellow mole under his nose he needs to cover up . Infact , the fact that most south Indian heroes sport a mooch befuddles me like the IIT JEE question paper did .

And I had no choice when my dad kissed me . But today’s empowered , liberated and muscular woman may rise in a revolt when a boyfriend/husband approaches her 'dove washed- beautician maintained-lakme moisturised' skin with a sharp and smelly pile of hair just over his pouted lips . The consequences may range from a lost kissing opportunity to divorce . So me and N concluded that a mooch is a facial liability which obstructs respiratory process , eats up valuable time , serves to bring down the beauty quotient of our ugly faces and may prove to be detrimental to any kissing attempts we may undertake in the future , forced or otherwise .

Just then P walked into the room . P is a sikh guy , a sardaar . He has a moustache.

And a beard.

Our eyes checked out his moustache , mentally calculating the number of hours wasted and the number of potential girlfriends missed by P due to his mooch. I even had a sudden vision of P choking in a dinky dark room murmuring "Cough Cough..help..help..can't breathe...my mooch is killing me...oxygen..". Me and N exchanged knowing looks , nodded and smiled in the warm satisfaction of a meaningful discusion completed . Then our eyes slid down to his beard in unison , quietly starting to analyze a beard’s utility . We had zoomed down on the topic for our next leisurely post-halwa discussion. I am not even starting on that .

Touching memories

Blogging is like making an STD call . Both the things are easier to do at night. While lower calling rates bag it for the STD calls , a more silent and peaceful boys hostel makes blogging better at night.

Anyways , I am back from watching a show of "Zinda" at the INOX . If there are two things good for my heart , they are saffola cooking oil and hindi movies . These movies don't trouble my heart with unsuspected twists and unexpected endings. The rape scenes are invariably interrupted by the hero who comes crashing in through some expensive glass door. Honest school teachers are usually killed by the bad guy while the teacher's kid hides behind a flower pot and takes a colored mental photograph of the killer for future revenge . The good guy grabs decent airtime between being shot and being dead , which he utilises well by stopping people from calling the ambulance and telling everyone around to take care of each other after he is dead .

Of course , I have seen some movies challenge the norms , a notable example being "Saiyan Magan Pahelwani Mein" ( My guy is busy wrestling ) , which is in fact a bhojpuri movie , which I was made to watch on gunpoint by masked men who remain unidentified till date. So when I saw Lara Dutta as a Cab Driver in the flick "Zinda" , it was another 'awe and wonder' kodak moment for me . The rest of the movie was kinda drab , with Sunjay Dutt looking like in urgent need of a barber , clean bath and fresh collection of santa banta jokes to change his 'depressed-cant smile-wont comb my hair' mood in the movie . But a slim and pretty Lara Dutta as a cab driver was something unexpected for me , which made me view my hairy and creepy cab driver on the way back with a deep sense of dissatisfaction.

Speaking of the taxi ride , we were six IIM students and one non IIM driver stuffed in a cab , and as is the rule within Indian jurisdiction , I was making around 93% of the noise . 3% is attributed to a running car engine and occasional honking . 4% was coming from guys threatening me with touching statements like and "Do you always giggle without reason?" and "Move away man , give me some space."

In an twist of fate completely unrelated to the unfounded allegations about cramped space leading to inappropriate touching , our topic of conversation veered onto gays . Ok , confession time. Unintentionally , I drove the conversation right into it . In most situations , one of my primary aims is to have harmless , export quality fun . The guy sitting next to me in the cab was a bengali lad who is more interested in the stock market than a fire extinguisher even when his pants are on fire , keeps steel and sugar prices pasted on his desktop , and rebukes me with a nice little 'dhatt' when I ask him about girls . Smirking gleefully at his being trapped in a running car with me , I grabbed his shoulder , squeezed it softly and asked in a delicious throaty voice "Hey buddy , have you ever seen a gay , before me that is... " and squeezed his shoulder again followed with a crooked smirk. I expected him to shriek and lunge towards the nearest car window . And it was like I had found a beady eyed frog floating in my steaming bowl of tomato soup when he looked at me , lowered his eyes and utterred 'yeah , once'. He went on to tell us about some gay guy who had made a pass to him on a late night in bangalore. Which sent me sliding back to the flashback when I met a gay man.

I was in my engineering college then and was walking down a street after getting off a bus . A 40 something man , riding a green scooter passed me , slowed down and asked if I wanted a lift . Feeling glad that such people still exist in the northern hemisphere , I happily nodded and jumped onto the pillion. I had heard about hitchhikers being robbed or molested , but that stuff happened in cars with tinted glasses . I dint really see him robbing a college bag with a battered notebook and a leaking pen inside , and dint really see that happening on a green old scooter which had no windows , tinted or otherwise .

He started off with some sweet talk , asking me about my college and engineering , which made me a little uncomfortable as I feared he may ask about my marks next , which were so low that I needed a submarine too find them . But my "How uncomfortable are you?" measurement device blew up when he actually took a hand off the handle and placed it on my thigh in such a way , I knew this was "When Harry met Harry" happening with me . I immediately asked him to stop and got off . The freak threw a 'please come again' smirk at me as I hurried away.

If you think I am making it up for some reason, it's fine , I don't think a certificate saying anything like "It is hereby certified that Mr.Abhinav has been molested according to prescribed techniques by Mr.Freak on a green scooter" , will add much value to my CV.

Coming back to the safer cab ride , for next half an hour , it was a soulful confession class for six IIM guys who went about telling about the gay men some of them had come upon . It was discovered that three of us had actually felt a gay thing being done to us . One of us used it to claim that he was actually a cute guy and hence considered suitable enough for this noble attempt by some creep . Defying my penchant for stupidity , I was not the one to claim this . Fearing he may feel left out and hike up the fare meter in anger , I almost asked the driver if he wanted to share any victimised memories about gay guys , but my pals had this sudden flash of an angry driver thrashing me on a crowded calcutta street and suggested otherwise .

Anyways , it's almost six in the morning now and I got classes in six hours from now , so I need to hit the scooter..err , sack now . I don't wake up in a cold sweat yelling "stop the scooter" and I don't turn into a "green scooter owner" killer at 2 am every night , but it did scare me . And it makes me feel how tough it must be for girls with eve teasers as common as stray dogs . I really feel I should have kicked that scooter guy that day , instead of sneaking away . But I hope to find him someday. So if you got a green scooter , you better paint it some other color.

Kabhi hum apne fone ko , kabhi uss ad ko dekhte hain

Waise to noone is chillaying "abhi , kahan gayab ho gaya tu !! Maloom tere bin roti nahi khayi jaatee thee mujhse !! " , but main ultra deluxe besharmo jaise bata deta hun , I had been busy with the dramatics club play we staged last night . Anyway , forget that , abhi tu apna bajaj scooter utha , go to the nearest magazine stall , buy the new year edition of 'Business today'. Turn around the cover page .You will see my color fotu with my right arm around Priyanka Chopra and left arm around Esha Deol and Mallika Sherawat holding up a table fan to my face and Lara dutta dangling Black Grapes over my head and Amisha Patel standing some feet away with a "Swami jee , mujhe bhee apni seva karnne dijiye na please" expression on her tiny face . Hai allah , me and my rangeen dreams.

Anyway ,if you turn the page , You will come upon an advertisement for a cellphone.

I mean , bhaiyya , the ad says that it is a cellphone . Though it looks like a 4 inch mercedes. I thought the "uee ma , main gayab ho gaya !" wala gadget Anil Kapoor found in Mr.India would be the most complex gadget to be invented. Now I do not. The cellphone in the advertisement has these features - Direct to TV output 2 mega pixel flash camera , 262K color QVGA TFT-LCD , expandable memory slot ,Dual speaker 3D sound , music player ( MP3 , AAC ,AAC+), camcorder and video messaging ( mpeg , h.263 ), piscel document viewer , bluetooth wireless , pictbridge printing and GPRS quadband. Hey raam , yeh fone hai ya mini satellite. Thinking of phones , mujhe flashback yaad aa raha hai bott zoro se.

When I was a little kid , I thought my dad was a photographer. When my nursery teacher asked the kids to name their dad's occupation , I said "mere pappa camera chalate hain". It was only when he pumped a 3 feet lamba vaccine into my mulayam kiddy bottoms that I surely knew that he was a doctor. But to my little brain , he remained a photographer because of his amar prem for photography. Vaccine stabbings and bright red capsules and savlon dabbings happened occasionally. What happened regularly was my dad cropping up with his japanese camera and clicking me and my sister .

My dad has clicked a three year old me splashing happily in a little orange plastic bathtub where I have this "I am nanga !! But who cares !!" expression on my face. He has clicked my two year old sister clutching an empty plastic bag and going 'shopping' on a five year old horse ( me ) , where she has this "jaldi karr ! Chintu sarees pe 50% sale lagee huee hain !" expression on her face. He has clicked a six year old me holding the receiver of our phone to my left ear with a "hey sonali , what are you doing this evening ? Let us meet over a couple of lollipops" expression on my stupid face. I remember the phone in our home at that time. It was black. It had that coiled wire connecting a big banana like receiver to a base heavy enough to outweight Riya Sen .It rang sometimes , with a simple 'Trrring Trrring'. Mostly , it was my mausi who used to chat with ma about Indore wali aunty's new jewellery set or some recipe for a 'never-seen-before' variety of halwa. In spite of these culinary disaster plots , those were telephonically peaceful times.


I got my first cellphone in the second year of my engineering. I still remember that kaali amaavas ki raat , when my dad called me to his room and opened the corner wali puraani almirah to bring it out. I saw it and yelled "uee ma!!" and ran away to hide behind the curtains. It was as big as a extra juicy bumper sized hotdog. The antennae on its top could have been used for pole vaulting over the college gate. When I sat down in the classroom ,with the cellphone in my trouser's pocket , the antennae found its way towards the front part and stuck out. When they noticed that , the boys whispered "idiot. Put that Delhi Police type walkie talkie on the table. The thing is sticking out ". When the girls saw that , they turned red and started turning the pages of their books in disgust . I hated that cellphone. In the final year,I got a new cellphone. This was much smaller and had no antennae. But the damage had already been done by the previous one . Some of the girls in my class still believe it was not the antennae.

*CoMmerciaL BreAk*

I have been looking for the track "Welcome to wherever you are - Bon Jovi". So if you could mail it to me at abhi844@yahoo.com , I shall gift you a colorful mobile cover and a lot of other useless goodies ! Hurry ! Mauka Nikal na jaye !. Sacchi , I want that number badly.

*Back to the damn stupid post*

Since then , a lot of contaminated paani has flown under the bridge. Kai Mausam guzar gaye , kai sardiyan guzar gayi , kai garmiyan guzar gayi, kai patjhad guzar gayi , kai spring guzar gaye , meri colony ke mr.taneja guzar gaye , and mere jeevan se kai cellphone guzar gaye . But I still got a very normal cellphone with no inbuilt megapixel cameras or inbuilt juicer-cum-mixers or inbuilt water dispensers or inbuilt flat screen televisions or inbuilt AK 47s. I dont even recall what is the model number of my handset for sure. For the 'features' part in my masoom gareeb cellphone , it has got a phone book , sms facility ( jispe airtel guys tell me that i can be the next indian idol or have lunch with shahrukh khan by sending L U N C H to 123 ) , and FM radio . I plug in the headphones when I feel the professor is too boring or when I want to look a "subhan allah , what a music diggin cool dude ! Yo maaan ! " types guy. And the phone can make and receive calls too.

I look at it and then at this advertisement before me. It seems I am some stone age animal , born in some stony cave with dinosaurs roaming around in the backyard , and me wearing deer skins as chaddis in routine and tiger skins as party wear chaddis , and using a normal cellphone when the world is moving onto this bhayankar gadget which they call a cellphone. But I think I will survive with this one. Atleast , When I sit down with it in my trouser pockets , it has no 'Bijli ka Khamba' sized antennae to visit awkward places .

Zooming into 2006 . With the FOMH.

Date - Dec 31 , 2005 .

Scene 1 - My room
Time - Around 6 pm.

The Fly over my head ( FOMH ) - *sniff sniff* What's this smell ?

Me - Call it fragrance , idiot. Smell is this ! *forcing my smelly socks on FOMH face*

FOMH - Whatever ! your so called 'fragrance' seems like that of a dead dog pizza cooked in some armpit sweat ! yucks !

Me - You won't understand. It's Axe . I am going out with my pals . The Axe affect is supposed to attract girls . Some pretty big eyed bengali lass is gonna sniff my deo and yell 'marry me' tonight .

FOMH - I have been seeing that deo spray in your room for a month now . But I have never seen you with anything resembling a girl .

Me - Ahem..Sorry . I can't hear you .

Scene 2 - A taxi
Time - Around 7 pm

FOMH - Why did you just yell !! Is the driver next to you trying to touch your thighs while changing gears ? I know that happens. You can tell me .We can get you justice !

Me - Damn you fly ! We are singing ! We guys are in a fun mood . So we are singing along "Deedaar De" playing on the cab radio .

FOMH - Damn you human ! This sounds like the howling of itchy stray dogs who are being carried away in the municipal dog control van .

Me ( yelling at the top of my voice ) - aa saamne aur tham le teri aamanat yaar main deedar de deedar de deedar de deedar le * sticking out my tongue at FOMH *

Scene 3 - INOX multiplex , Kolkata
Time - Around 9 pm

FOMH - Man , this place is good . Look at the crowd ! I wish I was a human.

Me *smirk* - You are not .So you gotta hang out with some tentacled little hairy housefly.HaHa.

FOMH - Looks like distilled water was in that AXE spray of yours. The girls aint exactly falling in your arms , eh ?

Me - You see that curly haired girl in yellow standing there ? She just talked to me.

FMOH - She asked you the time .

Me - So ? That is a start .

Scene 4 - Food Court , INOX multiplex, Kolkata
Time - Around 9.30 pm

FMOH - Hey loser , order a veg pizza for me .A coke maybe. That will be all. Make it fast.

Me - Oh Oh Oh , you see that orange trashbin near the pillar ? It's got the goodies for you .Go treat yourself over the leftovers ! Haha.

FMOH *gasps* - What is that thing next to you ??

Do I look hungry ?

Me - Well , ahem...thats my friend , Manish.He eats at the mess , new boys hostel , IIM C .So he may look a little excited about getting worm-less and hair-less and tasty food. *nudging manish* Abbe stop panting , act like a human . Stop panting over the food and eat it. We need to get back to campus before the party begins .


Scene 5 - Old Hostel compound , IIM C
Time - Around 1 am

FMOH - Eeeeeks !! Someone help this little guy under me !! Quick !

Me - *drenched in sweat* Huh ? What ? I am fine !

FMOH - But you are shaking violently ! NO NO NO , just lie down ! I will get help ! Don't worry ! I won't leave you here ! I will be back honey ! You are not gonna die !

Me - Bah ! Are you the miss.idiot of your fly-land ? I am just dancing ! Rock it !! Don't you listen to the blaring music here .Feel the angrezi music take you over , kid !

FOMH - Angrezi music ? But if your physical movements are to be classified under a dance form , it will be some violent version of bhangra .

Me - Who cares ! Oye Hoye ! Harrippaa !! * charges towards a fellow dancer , accompanied by radically dangerous pelvic movements *

Scene 6 - Old Hostel compound , IIM C
Time - Around 3 am

FMOH - Come on , enough of your stupidity . Now stop dancing vulgarly with your pals here and get back to the room . Be a good boy. Let's go back now. I need some sleep. Am going on a date with 'Joe-the-moth' , my new boyfriend tommorrow. I am so glad I found Joe after that 'son of a butterfly' Jimmy dumped me .

Me * rolling eyes* - Man ! Now that some desi punjabi tracks are coming on , you want to go back because of some 2 inch moth . That is why I hate this girlfriend-boyfriend thing !

scene 7 - My room.
Time - Now . Jan 1 , 2006 .

I feel as tired as a mother of seven hyperactive kids after all that dancing.( yeah that was dancing , FMOH is just too stupid to appreciate good moves). So I think I will sleep now . The food and the party was a great way to start my year. Hope you have a real classy 2006. FMOH is asleep now. Must be dreaming of her date with Joe tomorrow. Women !

Khiladi number (N)one

The campus placement season is coming towards me like a drunk and unbathed Gulshan Grover staggering towards a cowering and trembling girl who took refuge from the rain in one of his luxurious bedrooms. In the movies , the girl generally pulls out a seven inch knife from the apple basket lying on the side table , positions it right over her tummy and yells "Kutte , ek kadam bhee aage badaya to main khud ko khatm karr dungi". But I do not feel any amount of artillery positioned over any part of my anatomy can halt the oncoming placements . So I better gear up unless I want to go jobless and then end up as an anti social element , stealing eggs and bread to feed my kids and wife and girlfriends.


As a part of this "naukri pakdo" preparation , I sat down to work on my resume yesterday. I looked at a blank word document and typed down each and every achievement of mine , including being a class monitor in the fifth standard . But even after that , page space enough to fit in the entire voters list of Gurgaon remained. I felt so small at my extra minimised set of achievemnts and suddenly had a very 'sharminda karne wali' realisation - I do not have even a bacteria -sized achievement to show in the world of sports. Not even a third prize in one of those junior school frog races where they give Pencilboxes and Crayons as prizes .


When I was born , I was a baby with baby fat enough to make butter naans for half the colony. And that is all right , I guess babies are like pay cheques - they look good when they are fat. But hanuman jee kee leela dekho , I was born into a family with a grandmom who fed grains to sparrows in the morning and oily food to her grandson for the rest of the day. So at a tender age , when I had no nails or teeth to scratch and bite in self defence and could just murmer "nana..mamama...umm" ( No I am not hungry ) , she made me eat and eat to make sure I retained a major part of my precious baby fat even when I entered school .


So that made me as much "suitable-for-sports" as Nana Patekar is for the role of Leo Caprio in Titanic. Like any 'deshbhakt' little fat indian kid , cricket was my first love , with Sridevi coming a close second ( yeah , those were the 80s , when sridevi pranced around in frilly tops and danced violently ).

And cricket was fun , as long as I was watching it on TV. When I went out to play , tall and lean boys gave me that "Go play Ludo" look . My cricketing memories are majorly composed of standing near the little green row of plants which served as the boundary of our park-cum-field. Sacchi bolta hoon , batting and bowling ka to naam-o-nishaan nahi . I just had to retrieve the ball when it crossed the boundary . I felt like a golden retreiver without a tail . I was always the curly haired little kid who was pleading- "Ayye bunty , bat de na , mujhe batting karne de na" , "Ayye rahul , ball de na , mujhe spin balling aati hai acchi wali " , "Ayye Vikky , mere andar ke cricketer ka gala matt ghott. mujh par taras khaa zaalim. Mujhe batting open karrne de ".


But no bunty or Rahul or Vikky ever ate any taras on the budding and well hidden cricketer in me . So one day I decided ki bhaiyya , bott ho gaya public mein humiliation , boundary ke side mein fielding karte karte budaapa aa jayega .And I hung my bat and walked away into the sunset , never to return to cricket again .


Since then , I have had myself humiliated , laughed at , beaten and thrown away out of a lot of sporting careers. Kasam Michael Jackson ki , there seems to be something which makes me a loser at every sport I have played . I have run miles zigzagging the field without getting to place the fraction of a foot on the football . On the tennis court , my opponent's serves were always far enough from me , enough to drive a yellow sardarji driven school bus through the space between me and the tennis ball . The only hockey swipe I have taken led to the stick flying off my hands and hitting the instructor in his groin , almost ending his family plans and definitely ending my hockey plans .

Ok , it is six in the morning and I think I will go for a little jog around the campus now. No no no , do not get me wrong , athletics is not my next sporting passion .

Before I go , a very very Happy New year to you buddy .You be the good person you have always wanted to be , and if you see a little fat kid pleading before big and lean guys and saying "Mujhe batting karne do please" , walk over , slap the big kids unke respective kaan ke neeche and hand over the bat to the little fat kid with a smile , and lastly , maintain peace in the new year .

Maybe my son will grow up to be some star soccer player who is signed up by a fancy cclub and makes girls scream at super sonic levels when he steps out of his red sports car , or some champion boxer who chomps on ears and strips topless and beats dark and bald muscular men on TV. But you wont see me on ESPN or any sports channel in this lifetime of mine , unless I am picked up by some channel to dress into a noodle straps blouse and replace Mandira Bedi , which , I somehow feel , is slightly improbable .Have Fun.

Boyfriend /Girlfriend = Faltoo tension ?

A popular and slick and busy eating joint .Well lit. Big flat screen television playing in a corner. Round little shining tables with nice angular chairs around it . A guy and a girl seated around a table.

The guy reaches into a paper bag and pulls out a box of chocolates.

Scenario 1 -

Guy ( handing over the box to the girl ) – Hey , I got this for you , I guess you like chocolates.

Girl – Oh, Thank you ! I love them.

*Girl thinks – Ueee ma , it would be fun eating all of these chocolates .Ek ek ko chaba daalungi.Calorie consciousness gayi tel lene*

Scenario 2 -

Guy ( handing over the box to the girl ) – Hey , I got this for you , I guess you like chocolates.

Girl – Oh, Thank you ! I love them.

*Girl thinks – Ueee ma , I am again accepting gifts from him , but over the last three weeks , he has been a little cold . Since the time that new girl with the colored hair has joined our classes , he has not been his normal self .See , even the chocolates he has gifted are Cadburys , why could not he gift me those Swiss ones….maybe he hates me now that I have put on weight . Hell , I am so scared and anxious now , these chocolates look as tasty as a Dettol soap to me.*

And it makes me appreciate how much more delightful a simple guy-gal friendship , rather than a “coochie coochie –more than friendship-ishq vishq” , is .

I mean , kasam Bhawani ki , the “expectations/possession” ka funda that creeps when a girl is your girlfriend and not just a friend is one wierd issue , atleast with a ‘tension-nahi’ types insaan like me. I mean , I gifted her chocolates because she is a friend , and I wanted her to have fun gobbling them up , and that is that. And this kind of relation is so simple , natural and free of muddled feelings and assumed expectations.

But the moment a ‘proposal and acceptance’ takes place between a guy and a girl , things are transformed. Suddenly the girl, who was a friend till yesterday is a girlfriend . Till last Sunday , Rahul and Shruti were classmates in college . Rahul called Shruti his friend. Then Rahul proposed and Shruti accepted. Now Rahul calls Shruti “My girl”. I mean , yeh “My girl” kya hota hai Rahul Kaka , yeh koi cycle hai , ki “my cycle” ?

Then if Shruti decides goes out on a lunch with her ‘barso ka dost’ vineet , Rahul narrows his eyes and asks her “Tera koi chakkar hai kya uske saath?” and promises to throw export quality acid on her if the answer is in the affirmative.

If Rahul does not send Shruti a bunch of fresh roses on the anniversary of the day they first met in the physics lab , Shruti calls him up in the evening , says Hello , then coughs , sobs and breaks into a long wail which ends in “You are not the same , Rahul” or something to that effect followed by a violent slamming down of the phone.

And Hanuman Jee na kare , if Shruti goes out to shop and spots Rahul riding his bike with a pretty girl on the backseat , she will throw dangerously heavy things at Rahul till he shows her the birth certificate of that girl to prove that it was his sister he was going to drop at her maths tution classes.

I mean , dekho jee , I have minimal experience of having a girlfriend , and considering my state of existence , I don’t think I will have too much experience in this and the next few lifetimes. But to my underdeveloped dimaag , a simple friendship is a very direct , expressed and delightful relationship to have . Maybe all these complications between Rahul and Shruti would not happen , and they will trust each other come what may , and that is very comforting and kaleje ko thanda karne wali thought . But I guess it is cool to let feelings grow naturally without the thing of “having to do it” because he/she is your girlfriend/boyfriend. A true feeling needs no promise , and no promise can make an untrue feeling survive , so why promise and build expectations and lead to unfulfilled ones ?

You can yell “sour grapes , sour grapes” for me now. Infact , I am such a girlfriend-less guy , that even a forest of sour grapes may seem to be the reason behind my thinking . Maybe I am just too immature to handle all the responsibility and promises a commitment demands . But in my opinion , one can be more easy , be a lot more frank , and a lot more natural with a girl who is just happy to see a box of chocolates instead of worried over some new girl with the colored hair.

Gurgaon ke cafe se

Haan jee , so 15 minutes of my time at this cyber cafe remain.I am done with the mailing .I am done with checking the IIM C online board which says nothing to show that I have been kicked out of the Institute over the holidays.The classes have already started but then mommy said "Matt jaa beta ! Tu wapas Calcutta chala jayega to roz subah Mother Dairy se sabji kaun layega?".So I have extended my stay at home and would be getting back to Kolkata this weekend.I got carrots , potatoes and some fresh Dhaniya from the Mother dairy this morning.

In other news , Delhi is chilling when compared to Kolkata.The moment I stepped out the airplane when I came here , I shrieked "Ueee maaa , itni thandi" and almost ran back straight into the aircraft.

Also , I got a Hair cut after a long time.I went to Classic Hair Saloon.The guy there got hold of some young and innocent barbers from the neighbouring villages such as Jharsa and Kapashera and dressed them into white lab coats and now they ply their trade at Classic Hair Saloon.They even got little name tags pinned to their chest pockets.My barber was named Ram Narayan.As soon as I settled down in the chair , I told him "Bhaiyya , medium rakhna , jyada chote chote matt karr dena , meri shaadi hai agle hafte."

But he was so interested in "Chamatkaar" playing on the TV placed in the corner of the saloon that now my hair looks like those of some West Indian bowler of the 1980s.I just wish I had decided to follow my urge to stab him with one of the scissors he used on my hair.

And I have watched so many of these real life contest shows on the TV lately - Indian Idol , Agla Kaun , Nach Baliye , etc etc .I half expect to switch on the TV and catch my "Ludhiane wale Mamaji ka beta Bunty" on some TV show , excitedly yelling "Do me a favor , lets play Holi" while wierd judges hold up signboards declaring scores after every performance.

Ruk ja ...

Call from home , I am to buy a half bread and half a kg of Tomatoes on my way back and be at home in 15 minutes.The tomatoes have to be red , I got pretty sad greenish ones last time.I am going now.Bye.Classic Hair Saloon is on the way back too.Just hope no one is killed.

Home.Not Alone.

I think this picture captures the emotions my family must be going through right now.


Right guy - "Oh no.He is coming back.Did you hear ? He is coming back.Oh no.I knew this day will come."

Left guy - "Come on , it will be fine.I have got the aspirins ready.And we can always lock him in the bathroom.Keep the faith.Maybe he will miss the flight."

I am going home. To be honest , I plan to be a little more sane on this visit to home and not tease my sister too much and not irritate my dad too much and not trouble my mom too much .In short , not cause too many aspirin requiring antics .

After a term of submissions , assignments , movies , mess food and Bengali speaking shopkeepers , I am going home.Calcutta to Gurgaon.Where we say "Bhai , time kya hua hain" and not "Dada , time?". Where you can ridicule Ganguly without getting lynched. Where you can not be supporting any football club and still considered human.

Home.

Where no one judges me. No one judges if I am trying to woo/seduce/kidnap/eat girls by expressing things on my blog. No one judges if my exam scores would put a pack of drunk donkeys to shame . No one judges if I am shorter than his sister who is still in school. No one judges if my IQ matches that of an american supermodel . Where suddenly , on catching a glimpse of family at the airport's arrival lounge , I break into a grin and say to myself "Yeah , I am home".

One night @ My room

9.53 p.m.

Tommorrow , I have my "Retail Management" exam.When I opted for this course , I wanted to learn about retail chains , franchise system , merchandise management ,retail communication mix and other such terms which are complex names for things which are common sense.I took this course so that I can pick up these complex terms and throw them around when I start working. That should make me look learned even if the number of meaningful suggestions I give are comparable to the number of Gandhi Peace awards in Osama Bin Laden's collection.

So tomorrow is my exam.I plan to jot down general observations as the night progresses. My hostel stay shall end in four months from now. So I want to record random moments from my hostel life. I have downloaded the course presentations and chapter slides our professor uploaded on the Institute online board.So now I am going to minimise this notepad window and study.Wish me luck.

Between , isn't this "wish me luck" a stupid thing to ask ? I do not think you will fold your fingers into a fist , pump the air thrice , clench your teeth and mutter "Go blast the exams.Best of luck". It is strange why people say such things .Now I am going to study.

11.27 p.m.

Imagine an Ambassador car.1985 model. Red colored. Dusty. Old. Imagine a fat and dark guy with a grumpy face in the driver's seat. Imagine a fat lady with bright red lipstick on her pouty lips and her hair tied in a big bun , sitting in the seat besides him. Imagine their three kids quarelling in the back seat. Imagine yourself pushing this car for the length of a football field. Imagine how tired you will feel after doing that.Right now , I feel that tired.

Because I spent the last half trying to let out a baby bat that had found its way into my room.The dense vegetation and all the lakes in the campus makes it an attractive place for fish , ducks , snakes , bats and criminals looking to dump deadbodies. So at around 10.50 , I noticed a little baby bat flying in vicious circles just below the roof of my room. I got up and opened the door and the windows. But the little bat had learnt no other shape except the circle in his geometry class.

I folded a copy of businessworld in a makeshift baton and waved it at him. I yelled "Hoosh Hoosh" ,"Bhaag ja" ,"get lost" , "its my exam" ,"please leave" , "wo dekh window" and "saale kutte" at it . I played 'Dholna extended -Ila Arun remixed' , a song I find disturbing enough to make a lion vacate his cage , but the little bat kept at showing me his circular flying skills. Five minutes ago , he realised that I was not going to give him any Air Force medal or even a 'nice flying' remark , so he shot out of the window. Between , studies are ok.

1.05 am

Just found the album "aadat" on the LAN. It is by the pakistani group "Jal". My tastes suck. I choose maroon trousers at a clothes store and always pick the cheapest flavor at an ice cream parlor. But trust me on this , the track "Aadat si hain" , "Dil Haray" , "Panchhi" ,"Woh Lamhey" , infact all the tracks in this album are beautiful. Their numbers evoke a sense of nostalgia and dig up all the black and white memories about that pretty girl you could never talk to without stammering , about dried rose petals placed between yellowed pages , about all that sentimental memories which earns big bucks for mushy mushy movie directors and wrecks the 'retail management' exams of business school students.

3.42 am

This is a snapshot of my desktop a couple of minutes back. You see this music video playing , I swear on Sharmila Tagore's dimples , I found it in the folder containing the chapter slides uploaded by our professor. I thought it was the "Trading area analysis" chapter , but it turned out to be this. Do not believe this . Chill, just taking a 15 minute break and watching random music videos.Can you identify the one playing ?

3.52 am

I feel very tired now.I think I will go downstairs with P and have a cup of tea.P usually makes me pay for his tea too.But that is all right , much better than asking a baby bat to leave my room. Between , studies are on track. I learnt a few things.Picked up some retail jargon . And it makes me feel good. Imagine this :

*Six months from now*

Me in a business meeting.Polished Round table.Me and other team members sitting around it.

Lily ( my imagined boss ) - I am so confused . I am so troubled. I do not know how to boost profits for our product ! Someone help me !

John ( my imagined colleague ) - Err..ummm...

Michael (my other imagined colleague ) - Cough Cough Cough..ahem..cough cough..ahem...

Julie ( my another imagined colleague ) - Err..I think...I think...

Me :

*flashes a superior smirk* *flicks back a lock of hair falling over the forehead*

Piece of cake guys.We just need to implement dollar control which involves planning and monitoring a retailer’s financial investment in merchandise over a stated period .I could have suggested unit control , which relates to the quantities of merchandise a retailer handles during a stated period , but then according to the George Keller framework of analysis ,valuation errors are reduced when conducting a physical inventory since merchandise value is recorded at retail and costs do not have to be decoded.So it is clear , L Hospital rule is the way to boosted profits .

*again flicks back a lock of hair falling over the forehead and flashes the smirk*

John ( with his mouth open so wide so as to allow a Tata Sumo in it )- Holy cow !!!

Michael ( cowering in shame ) - Someone flush me down some toilet.I dont want to live when we have such genius people roaming the planet.

Julie - Man !! You are a genius !!! Will you marry me ?!

Lily - Guruji !!! You are promoted to the CEO position !!!

8.48 am

Shucks.I slept off.Just got up five minutes back.Exam in few hours.I must forget all about toothbrush , newspaper , breakfast and other morning activities and just study now. Over and out. And now if I flunk , you know you have to blame a baby bat , a dream about an office meeting ,and a pakistani music band.

Random Insights

I feel very disorganised right now.So expecting me to put down something organised would be like expecting Udham Singh from District Jharsa , Haryana to win the International Crossword Championship held at Los Angeles .So it is tough to expect something sensible from me , more so right now .But I just want to blabber.I can chat with some of my friends here.But they are in the class and I am the only one on my hostel floor to bunk the class.So I am alone.So I will just put down random things in my head -

~~I have exams in three days.And I do not care.The grades for the first four terms matter for the placements.This is term 5. So I do not care about these exams.I will study a little .But at a broad level , the only thing I am taking to the exam hall is myself , and a pen.Or maybe I will borrow the latter in the hall itself.

~~I feel tired of all these submissions and deadlines and reports.Here in IIM , a deadline is never like 12 am.It is 11:59:59 pm.And over the last week , I have submitted papers on Co-branding , launch strategy for a hair oil , a analysis of the Indian Film Industry , a case about some gujarat gas company , a 'detailed look' at the Indian pharmaceutical industry , and a lot of other perfectly uselss and yet graded assignments I do not even want to remember.But yeah , FMS , Delhi organised a contest where we had to design a strategy for selling a "mosquito attractor".I submitted that a couple of days ago and that was fun.Even if we do not win , me and my pals had a great time laughing our intestines out working over this one.Meanwhile , you got any ideas on how to sell it ? As a snippet , our proposed strategy included launching the Mosquito attractor in three variants - Dengue Deluxe , Malaria Masti and A No-Frills variant.

~~I am changing the look of this blog and my blog identity because I feel bored of the black color of this blog and I feel bored of same old name I have had for 24 years .And I get to pick the name of my most favorite character , who is almost an idol - Jughead.I love and respect Jughead.When I was a kid , I forced my mom to stitch a 'Jughead Hat' , if you know what it is.I even wore it to school a couple of times .All the kids pointed at my head and laughed.But I love Jughead.

~~My movie watching frequency is dipping .It scares me.A movie is to me what a bone is to a doggie and what google is to an engineering student - indispensable.I was an engineering student too , and I used google for all the C codes.In my opinion , a major part of the education system is supported by Google. Anyway , I want to get my movie watching ways back to their vintage and glorious standards.Two nights back , I watched "The Terminal".With Tom Hanks in it and the entire movie shot in an airport terminal , I found it delightful. Finding Nemo and Crash lined up for tonight. I just hope no deadlines come up tonight.

~~I talked to my sister a couple of days ago.I asked her how she was.She said she was feeling a little upset.I told her not to feel that way , and told her that I would be coming home soon.She said that she felt very very upset on knowing that.

~~The european students who studied here for some months as part of a exchange program , are about to go back to their universities in a few days.I have become friends with a french guy .I taught him a little hindi over his stay here .When he came out of the hall after a class test , he is reported to have uttered "Man , this test was Ullu ka Pattha".I am proud of him.The Indian heritage of its foul words shall travel to France soon.

~~There is some problem with my Yahoo Messenger .So I am chatting to this friend at 2 in the morning.He is telling me about some girl who rejected his proposal and almost slapped him in a crowded mall.He is upset and down and heart broken.My YM gets stuck.The friend thinks I have went away without even telling him.I go to sleep and wake up and login to YM to find these offliners from him-

"Bastard."
"Do you IIM snobs want a fat salary for saying a simple goodbye too?"
"Bastard."

Perfect start to my day , I think.

~~I think I should study now.After all , I have these Ullu ka Pattha tests in three days.

Linkin Park

I want to share a couple of links.

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

http://www.saigon.com/~anson/ebud/ebdha063.htm

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

http://manjunathshanmugam.blogspot.com

I am disabling comments on this thing , because I am just serving as a medium here.But in case you really need to let me know about something , mail me at abhi844@yahoo.com.Even if you hate me , do not send any virus.

Broke Bloke

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

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

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

Washer woman – “ Aaj aap paise denge kya ?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dad – “Haan bete”

Me – “Haan papa”

Dad – “Everything fine ? ”

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

Dad – “Perfect , bete.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Store guy – "12 rupya"

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

Store guy – "15 rupya"

Me – “Ok.cool.Ek Parle G de do.”

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

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

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

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

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

Hi,

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

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

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

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

Nattu bann gaya CD

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

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

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

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

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

*****
hi ,

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

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

Cool_dude231@aao_chat_kare.com
*****

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

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

****
Blah Blah Blah.

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

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

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

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

Cool_dude231@aao_chat_kare.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then , it happened.

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

Messenger. Chat rooms. Orkut. Blogs.

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

( Arre Baba Sehgal jee , aap orkut par ? )

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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