Ordinary Sunday musings

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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