Guy in the Mirror

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

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.

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 ?

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

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

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

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

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.

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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

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 ?

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

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 ?

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.

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 !

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

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

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 ?

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 !

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

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 .