She , and who she is to me

So , it’s been 10 months and 14 days since I asked her the question and she said a yes , making me believe in miracles right then . By the way , one calculation mistake about the number of days since such a historical day and the guy is dead , so I hope my maths is right here.

A journey across half the globe. Three half fights between us (Definition – I fought , she listened ). A reinforcement of the belief that my parents get angry when they should contact the shehnai wale instead . Quite a few happy moments , with me giggling at my own jokes, on most occasions. And we are still together , with me admitting that she has contributed most to the fact that the relationship is going as strong as a well fed wrestler , with my contribution being spilling food and driving her around , primarily.

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

I mean , my telephone bills have ‘changed’ by a noticeable margin , to the horror of my mom and to the sheer delight of Airtel. The amount of driving I have been doing around the city has gone up ( The sight of her house as I turn around the corner is sight more beautiful than Taj Mahal’s for me . Sorry , Jahangeer . Or Shahjahan . Whoever. ). I no longer wonder if I would have to change some baby’s diaper someday , confident due to the instruction that I HAVE to change it . And believe it or not , for the first time in my life , I ambled into a Jewellery store at South Ex , looked at the decked up salesgirl as she eyed me suspiciously and mouthed the words “ I want a pair of earrings.” . Ok , the Ripley’s part ends here , because I gave up after looking at seven earrings , wondering how could anyone choose between things which are equally tiny , equally shiny and meant to be completely hidden under hair anyway.

But while the stuff which has changed around me is varied , with an entire chapter justified for how my family took it and almost fed me to dinosaurs , the most felt change for me , has been inside me.

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

You know , this is not the first time someone put her faith in me . Is not the first time someone thought she would have me besides her in every storm . Is not the first time someone put me in a position where I could hurt her , trusting that I would not. Idiot , I am . Guaranteed.

After all that past which would justify a Kameena Sequel to be shot on my life story , it was like god had e-mailed me a letter confirming that I was incapable of taking care of anybody , except my bike maybe .

I had vividly visualized a Dolby surround system installed life where I would live alone , watching HBO and eating pizzas only to die someday with the unpaid credit card guys being the only ones bothered by my death .

When I looked at myself in the mirror , I saw a guy who had run away from every difficult situation of his life . A guy who thought ‘walking away’ is a cool thing to do , yet ashamed in his heart. A guy who had come to believe that life is this meaningless string of moments , and more scaringly for me , had lost the will to find a meaning in this string of moments .

I know it was no holocaust I had faced , and there are people who have seen worse things such as a college hostel’s food , but to my mind , I was a useless failure , who could earn money and mimic Shahrukh , but was worse than a China made plastic bicycle when it came to reliability and trust.

And then she came along. Strong minded . Independent . Graceful . Elegant . A lady who had the sensitivity of a petal to heal life , yet the strength of a tree to face life . A heart which could absorb all pain , yet could shed tears touched by the pain of a stranger. A soul which held an understanding the very wise have , yet cares like the most innocent child ever. In short , my complete , geometrical opposite.

Considering the opinion I had about myself , I believe it would have taken a lot of foolishness or marijuana for me to believe I could be the guy she deserved , and to this day , I believe I am lesser than the guy she deserves.

But yet , since that day , she has been a friend , a guide and an inspiration for me . Without trying to teach me , she has given me something I could never give myself , something no amount of movies could give me , something no amount of hours immersed at work could give me .

She has given me a reason.

She has given me the reason to believe I can be a better man when she says she trusts me in spite of my past.

She has given me the reason to wake up at 4.30 in the morning to ensure she is safely on the bus she is supposed to get on , even though it is hard getting up that early even for a free sandwich.

She has given me the reason to feel special as she sings a birthday song for me while I cut the cake untidily. By the way , she takes over the knife after thirty seconds and cuts out amazingly neat slices. How do women do that?

She has given me the reason to roll down the window and hand over some coins to a boy begging at a signal, knowing she would do the same.

She has given me the reason to call her as I grip the steering wheel with one hand, imagining the smile that would emerge on her face seeing my name on the cell screen. Pretty dangerous , that driving stunt . Don’t tell her.

She has given me the reason to face the people who changed my diapers , safe in the knowledge I am right in not letting them demean someone they should not.

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

She has given me the reason to choose the hard but right path , having learnt from her that a righteous life is better than a convenient life.

She has given me the reason to again believe that goodness and simplicity can exist and thrive in this world inhabited by greed , egos and exorbitant petrol prices.

She has given me the reason to know I am going to be all right , because my definition of being ‘all right’ has changed from not facing problems to solving them.

She has given me the reason to truly wish a smile on the face of someone not even aware of my own presence in that moment.

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

In a way , I think I never cared about the kind of guy I was . A bunch of mistakes , I lacked the reason and the confidence to do anything about every mistake I had committed.

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

You know , I know I will never be the man she deserves to be with . But for the first time in my life , someone has gained that place in my world that I am willing to happily try till my last moment.

Probably everyone else thinks this relationship is following the normal , bollywood inspired storyline , and will end up fizzing out in a few months or years , replaced by the real questions such as who brings the kids from the school or why haven’t I still paid the telephone bill , but I know she will always be the same special one for me.

From that dream about death amongst pizza cartons and a TV remote , I dream about a life which ends with the joy of having lived for people I really loved.

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

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

I don't know if 'you' are reading this , but if you are , I just want you to know that I have made a lot of mistakes , and my grammar is all wrong , and I crack jokes nobody gets , but I love you without expectations . And I will never stop doing that .

PS – Considering my family may read this , please promise me you will contribute money , utensils or old toys to help us escape to Alaska at the opportune time. Ok , just kidding dude .

~~ Added Later

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

Thank you guys ( When I say guys , consider it as a figure of speech . I am equally grateful to the female segment of homo sapiens ) . I mean , I started this blog at the tender age of 23 , and I turned 28 last month ( But if you plan on addressing me as uncle , I have contacts with underworld . So dont risk your life ) . But if you did not flunk in maths , you see that I have spent more than five years talking to you . I have an entire bunch of friends I have never seen , but have helped me more than a 'visible' friend would have . I guess I would tell you about the kind of experiences I have had interacting with people I have never seen someday , but for now , just know that whenever I read a comment , good or bad , I feel grateful because you could have spent that moment scratching yourself , but you invested it in talking to me . And more so now , at a time when things are not very easy in terms of support from the people around ( notice the diplomatic use of language ) , your wishes mean a lot to her and me . I really don't consider this blog as a story I tell . I consider it as a conversation with each one of you . And thanks for being nice enough and unemployed enough to talk to me . Chalo abhi , let us all go back to work before our bosses catch us . Enjoywa.

Kutto ki Rang Birangee Duniya

Hello Jee , kee haal ? Aap to aajkal ghar aate hee nahi , kabhi bhai sahib ko lekar aiyye na…ab to bacche bhee bade ho gaye honge..bittu kaunsi class mein aa gaya…ok ok sorry , wo Diwali par uncle aunty logo ke beech Hello jee ke baad inti saaree baatein hoti hai ki main emossnal ho gaya tha . So shareef logo jaise , hello jee .

So , October is such a rapchandooos month nahi ? So many holidays , my boss must be singing “wake me up , when October ends..” . I am in another long weekend and while I have been undergoing international level transformations at both professional and personal levels ( Mera kunwarapan apni aakhiri saansein gin raha hai aunty ! ) , I still find enough time to ruminate about deeper issues such as what happens after death , why has my cellphone been smelling like a masala dosa lately , and the spelling of czekoslovacia…czhekoslovakkia…checho..watever !

But my ears perked up when I read about an article which said they are capturing stray dogs in Malaysia and deporting them to an island where the environment is harsher than the inside of Himesh Reshammiya’s bathroom . ( Accha , agar uska bathroom scary nahi lagta to imagine a naked Himesh singing “Aye Huzoooor” in a shower . Ab laga darr ? ) So coming back to the biting topic , I think it is pretty bad that stray dogs are being put through this .

I mean , come on yar , they are itchy , lie around in drains , bark at insane hours setting off the car alarm and do susu on the front tyre of your pink scooty , but phir bhee yaar , stray dogs form a part of our society , just like that tiny beggar kid who sells plastic goggles at a traffic signal or a lazy cow which chooses to dump in the middle of the street a never seen before version of the aloo ke paranthe she ate. I , for one , think it is a kuttapanti to hate stray dogs like this and given a chance , I would bite such people in the leg ( Shit man , I hope I don’t start wagging my behind when I am happy ! ) .

In fact , if I float down in the world of stray dogs , I think there are various kinds of stray dogs . I mean , no offence to any dog , each dog has a personality and a favorite color and a favorite film star of his own ( Which, I feel , is never a Dharmendra ) , but still , in my opinion , there are some variety of stray dogs :


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

These are the ones which were born ( By the way , would a dog mind if you call him a SOB ? ) to sleep . Ye paida hote hain and the first thing they do is to crawl under a white maruti swift parked nearby and sleep. I seriously envy these guys man . I mean , these guys can sleep like angels in the drawing room of the Deol household , which as per research carried out by Brainy Kuttas association of the world has been ranked as the most dangerous place for kuttas in the world . Kyun ? Abbe baap kutto ka khoon peeta hai pineapple juice ki maafik , ek puttar ka dhai kilo ka haath hai aur doosre puttar ke to baal dekh kar hee kutte darr jaate hai .

I mean , If there were beds made for dogs , this bunch would be the gold card customers for the doggy carpenters . I can imagine what these guys would yell at a loudly talking human being who disturbs their sleep as they sleep on a pavement – “Sone de na , kutte !” . The only thing which can make them crawl from under that shady charpai is hunger , which brings us to the next market segment of kuttas.

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

I mean , a typical specimen of this market segment can be visualized like this – Dirty brown , with a tongue hanging out like an extra large bedsheet hanging out from the side of a bed , and eyes that scream “Khaaana!!!” . These guys are found in trash bins of all the eating places. Nirulas , Mcdonalds , KFCs , TGIFs , they are like print outs of google maps to all the eating joints in the town . You can ask any one of them “Bhai Saab , yahan se McD ke liye kaise jaana hai” and they will tell you all you need to know !

But the kuttapanti of the situation is that while these gentlemen eat all the time , they are also the most skinny . Most of these dogs look like imports from Somalia and weigh almost equal to a polythene bag.


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

Think Prem chopra in a silk gown Combined with Ranjeet in a tight baniyan topped off with a little bit of Amrish Puri . Now think all of this in the form of a dog.
They don’t care much about sleep or food or running after every car they see ( Waise dogs don’t chase Tata Nanos . Kutte confuse ho jaate hai ki yeh car hai ya two wheeler ? ). All they care about is the pushpas and Kamlas of their neighbourhood.

They smell them , chase them and create the most disturbing scenes in the middle of public places which are questioned by kids using innocent questions “Bhaiiya , yeh doggies aise ajeeb style mein kyun khel rahe hai?”.

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

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

Technically, these guys should be on the back seat of a silver Corolla , in a little green sweaters and sunglasses perched on their pink noses . But galat community mein paida ho Gaye . So even they are cute and little girls want to bring them home and keep them in shoe boxes, they end up scratching themselves in places they should be wearing nylon jockeys. Although they form a very little percentage of the total stray kuttas market , they are like the only dogs who look like they have ever used cosmetics in a world which is populated by dogs who look like they have only been to a drain. The Ranbeer Kapoors and Imran Khans of doggies.

5.The “Gaadi chalaunga!” ones

Sacchi Sacchi batana , how many times have you raced your bike against that dog who chases you everytime you cross that street ? Mujhe to bada maza aata hai. I turn that corner around that pastry shop , and as I shift down to third gear , I see him . Eyes focused , teeth showing , with his body taut and ready to chase me down.

I put the bike back into fourth and create a distance between the bike and him as I pass him . As if jolted by a gunshot , he sprints off like a cheetah and comes after me . He generally gives up by the time I cross the the flower shop further down that street. But then , if this bunch of dogs could talk , I guess most of us would want to ask them “Peecha karta kyun hai be ? Aur agar pakad leta to karta kya ? Bike chalata ?”.

So uncle Charlie , kutte to aur bhee tarah tarah ke hain . Lekin iss Rang Birangi Kutto ki duniya ko aur nahi soonghte abhi . Kuch kaam shaam kar lete hain . Weekend khatm hone ko hai , phir kaam ayo re . Sigh , yeh office kyun jaana padta hai yaar ? Yeh life bhee badi “kutti” cheez hai re pushpaa…take care, and don’t bite anyone !

Of death , movies and other regular stuff

So , the last time I wrote something here , was a time when Kapil Dev was in polka dotted diapers and dinosaurs used to prance around the earth with gay abandon . Ok , that’s a slight exaggeration about the extent of my absence , but you get the drift.

Absenteeism reasons , though I assume you care more about the dirt stuck under the nail on your left little finger than my absenteeism reasons , range from being busy with a domesticised and less grandiose version of that part of Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Ghum where Bacchan Saab tells SRK that he must not marry Kajol ( Oh yeah , now this is the part which makes my female friends go "oh wow ! Bata na Bata na ") , to , settling in a job where the best part of my day remains hitting the coffee button on the sputtering machine or discovering the OS on my laptop has crashed.

But this being a late weekend night when I rest with a un-full tummy ( you know , with the advent of better preservation gadgets , my mom has really minimised cooking now ) and nothing much on the TV , I think I will talk about something , which is totally unaligned with the kind of person I am . I mean , considering the kind of person I am , the deepest conversation I should be having should be about some elephant with a real bad digestion , but I say with the unflinching honesty of a Vinod Kambli on Sach ka Saamna , I am not trying to seem like the next Aristotle here . All I am trying to do is talk rather pointlessly about something which has been hovering in the back alleys of my mind since this morning with the feeble yet significant buzz of a mosquito trapped in your ear canal – Death.

Death , you know . That part of life which ends it . Considering that I have not yet not died though many sensible people have tried to eradicate me , I don’t know how it must be after death , but I do imagine it to be very quiet , relaxed , solitary and chill after death . I am not sure if there is a heaven for the good guys and a hell for the bad guys , and as a result , I am not very concerned about the old woman I pushed off the stairs last week . I mean , you understand how annoying it is to be not be able to rush down the stairs because a 67 year old ahead of you moves slower than a sofa , don’t you ? But the fact remains that I am going to die someday , wether it happens when I am digging into a hotdog ( I hope I have finished the most of it by that time , mommy says food should not be wasted ) or it happens when I am wedged between the rubber tyres of a DTC bus , whether I am going to be regaled by Arabian dancers in some heaven , or be served as supper to hungry devils in a green tubelight-ed hell .

And you know , what I am thinking about is that moment , that moment which is sitting delicately at the end of the road called life as it ends , yet opens up into the unknown chasm called death . That moment , when I will be on the verge of being lifted by death , and I will know in my heart “Shit yaar , yeh end hai , ab picchar baaki nahi hai mere dost” . Now no “Dawa ya Dua” can save me ! No people , no movies , no cars , no boss , no relationships , no money , no smiles , no Himesh Reshammiya , no fights , no competitions , no career , no TV , nothing , after the event called Death .

That moment , when I will know in my heart , that irrespective of my willingness to go or not , I would be gone next moment . In that moment , I imagine myself to feel guilty about the heart I broke , happy about the smile I brought on a face , sad about the moment I should have told my mother I loved her but did not , proud of the moment I believed in someone and stood by her , happy about the times I spent laughing with my friends , grateful for the moments somebody knew me as I am and accepted me , heartbroken about being a son lesser than a son I should have been . And just experiencing a little of that moment by writing about it , I am shocked by how easily do I forget what really matters . Kitni choti choti baton par senti ho jaata hoon main ! I mean , how easily do I forget that I am going to die and a lot of stuff doesn’t really matter . How easily do I forget that however blind I may try to be to my reality , that moment will thrust the sum of deeds in my face without leaving me with an escape route . How easily do I allow myself to lose perspective and be drowned in the useless ego fights , pointlessly hurting the very people I love , choosing not to express my love just because I am too proud to do so , not taking that stupid seeming but heartfelt leap because I never have . How easily I forget the impending arrival of that last moment , and as a result , how easily I forget what really matters during the moments I have between now and that moment . How easily do I let myself be scared by the insecurities of a life unknown and continue to suffer a situation I don’t enjoy when that moment will snatch away whatever fake securities I build around myself . How easily I shut up my heart and listen to all the voices around me , when in the end , the only voice I will have to hear is the voice of my heart . How easily I forget death , and thus , how easily I forget how to live . I mean , sometimes I really need this perspective check and get out of the holed up thinking and view life in a more cool manner . Saala khul ke jeena bhool jaata hoon yaar . I mean , I act like I have a lot to lose and get all scared and calculated , when hai kya mere paas khone ke liye ?

I know you are either confused , or bored , or both and would label the drivel above as some cheap regurgitation of some pocket book sized Geeta I recently read . But you know , I am just talking to myself , like those bollywood-ish village crackheads who roam around the village mumbling to themselves with their overgrown and uncombed hairstyles and are taunted and stoned by the half naked village urchins .

So chill , don’t walk out of this blog feeling all suicidal and kill yourself by smelling your own feet . Aise hee baat kar raha tha kakke . And the movie season kicks in pretty soon now , with Wake up Sid and Do Knot Disturb released today , and I really need to spike up my movie watch counter this weekend . If any of you stays around Palam Vihar and needs company over a movie , I am totally in , though don’t think I am running some shady “frandship club” with those heart shaped ads in hindi newspapers. By the way , watched "What’s your Rashee” today , and even though the end is a bit “Hain??” types , the movie did seem pretty delightful and 'feel good' to me . Moral of the story - Harman Baweja is not that bad an actor . I mean , he is a bit wooden , but not exactly teak . Second moral of the story - Just because I noticed Harman does not mean I am not straight !

And before I go back and cook some maggi for me ( Oh yes , it’s 11.48 in the night and I am really hungry , courtesy the fact that mommy offered me “kal ke raajma and parso ke chawal” for dinner) , please see the stuff posted below , which is about a Brand Management course for Designers being offered by ‘Brands of Desire’ , a Strategic Brand Consultancy and Design Company based out of New Delhi . I can vouch for it that if you are a student of design or a working designer , the course can help you learn some pretty useful things about further upgrading your skill sets . Mail uboweja@brandsofdesire.com to know more.

~~~~

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

Mera dil kehta tha tum zaroor wapis aaoge..

Now, I really would like to provide a set of fully furnished apartments to homeless animals someday, but for now, I request Mr. Spider and his family to vacate the cobwebs threading through this blog, for I am clearing them.

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

Yeah , though three fourths of my soul was recently destroyed by a screening of ‘Kambaqth Ishq’ , I am technically alive . And by the way , as I walked , nah , staggered out of the multiplex after being subjected to “Kambaqth Ishq” , I could believe if somebody told me that Kumar Sanu has been crowned Miss Universe , but I would have smirked and said “Abbe Hata saawan ki ghata , baawala hai kay?” if somebody had predicted that Kambaqth Ishq would be a hit . But hey bhagwaan , yeh tera kaisa insaaf hai , THAT movie is actually doing well ! I mean , seriously bhai , that movie was cheaper than an Center Fresh . Kuch bhee ho raha hai world mein .

And even though a mole on your back would interest you more than my life would, please believe me when I say I was busy quitting my job , pretending to understand every word my new boss says , and moving closer to a married life ( recently I read on the internet that ‘married life’ is an abbreviation for “ life with more diapers and lesser credit cards” ? Internet can be a scary place sometimes. ).

About my new job , with every job I am exposed to , I am more convinced that the most meaningful thing in the day of a working woman is finding out a 35% discount is on at Willls Lifestyle . Haan yeh to hai , that now that I am at this job is at Gurgaon , they are a little more ‘hi society’ to gossip about Wills Lifestyle or Satya Paul . Back at my job in Punjab , they used to gossip about Harpreet Fashions or Gurwinder Style Palace , but concept wahi hai – Ladiej will be Ladiej .

But the eerie part is , that like my previous job which I quit , after stuffing all their mousepads and staplers in my bag on my last day , my new job has also been taking me to Punjab pretty regularly . I mean , I love Punjab with all its yellow fields , paranthas with little planets of butter sitting on them and music videos of Chamkeela . ( No really , they have a singer called Chamkeela . Because of his name , Initially , I was a bit confused if he was a man or a patch of aluminum foil .) But come on yaar , with all my time in Punjab , it creates some issues when I come back to Gurgaon. I mean , a Punjabi Dhaba serves pickles larger than the paranthas my mom makes , and I am starting to say ‘I am fine , thank you , balle balle shavaa shaava Harippa Oye Hoye Chak De Aahun Aahun ’ when people enquire about my well being .

And , one movie which I am looking forward to is ‘Love AajKal’ . With all its colorful promos and catchy music , I am all geared up with my popcorn bag. Meri to body automatic hilne lagti hai ‘Twist’ mein naagin tune sunkar while mummy screams “Arre koi chappal Sunghao isse ! Kaat lega yeh manhoos kisi ko !”.

Although there is no denying that the “Dhan Tanaaaaaa” track from Kaminey has completely captured my heart . Although as per my colleagues , carrying it as my ring tone is not a very helpful tool to climb the corporate ladder . I am told that ki bhaiyya , corporate world mein , you need to have more distinguished ringtones . You know , something more smooth and definitely English . And if the lyrics are along the lines of ‘My boss looks like a cross between Leo Di Caprio and Brad Pitt’ , he would surely be happier during your appraisal. I mean , I knew that booking my boss’s mother’s flight tickets and saying ‘You look pretty beautiful , madam’ everytime I see his wife were pretty crucial to the long term well being of my professional career , par ab ringtone bhee uske hisaab se !

But seriously man , I missed talking to you guys . Kya din the na wo bhee….oye hoye , sentimental na ho Kakke , what I mean is that it is so comforting talking to people who can not reply. It’s like tickling the nose of a taped Thakur Saab , when Ramu Kaka is on annual leave. You can have all the fun touching his nose in all the sensitive places while he mumbles “Ramu kaka ko chutti se wapis aane de , fir tujhe thappad marwaunga.”

So now that the cobwebs have cleared up a bit and the spider family has gone to court , ( man , I am reminded of those hindi fillum scenes where the builder comes in to “Basti Khaali Karane ke liye” ) , I think I will try to utilize my Sunday by doing something which helps my country and takes it to glorious heights our ancestors dreamed about . For a start ….check karta hoon HBO par kya aa raha hai…

Haseena Chamkeeli ka Phone Number

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

There is this company called "Foster Wheeler" with its offices at Chennai and Calcutta . If you work here , or know anybody who does , please drop me a mail at abhinavj8008@gmail.com . I will be your slave . You say sit , I sit , you say run , I run , you say kill me , I will kill you . Please help me out guys .

PS - if your aunt knows a guy who works in an office a couple of blocks away from Foster Wheeler , thats not exactly a contact .

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

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

Last week , I walked into my boss’s room and said the words . I had actually practiced the entire thing , that fiddling with the mobile as I walked in , saying it with the right emphasis on words and tones , that pregnant moment of silence , when our eyes locked and none of us knew what to say ( why do I feel this sounds romantic ? ) , the entire setting you know , including the last part where I duck to avoid the chair hurled at me by him .

So , anyway , now that I am out of it , I have decided to follow my heart . In another month , I will be on my way to Kenya where I intend to be a part of a team and research if Gorillas can be trained to play cricket . Ok , don’t believe the last part . ( Waise topic interesting hai , I think they can , I mean , symonds does play cricket . Haha , kitna racist hoon main )

I will soon be joining a fresh job which does not involve any animals , and I know I will love it . Remind me to steal all the mousapads and paper weights before I move out. Delhi , I am back . Wait a minute , I must pick up the coffee machine on the second floor too .

But the thing which excites me to the most right now , along with the prospect of eating Chinese tonight ( I mean Chinese food , eating Chinese sounds like I am about to sink my fork into Mr Ching Loo Ming who lies prostrate on my dining table ) , is the phenomenon which has a strong hold on every young manly heart in this country , after the hold exerted by Music Videos of Haseena Chamkeeli ( seriously yaar , Bhojpuri Diva hai ) , that is – Indian Premier League .

Yes , the prospect of not having it before the Indian audience is a little damp . I mean , what’s more intriguing than the sight of a dark , wiry Indian man who , as soon as he senses the camera turning in his direction , invests all his energies into pulling out his kid from his lap and throwing him away , jumping up and down , and waving at the camera without any interest in what’s happening on the field , or the fact that his wife is probably looking at him on TV and asking herself “Is this the man I married ?”.

But I am very excited for the matches to begin . I wanted to support The Punjab team , but then , things between me and Preity just haven’t been the same since I saw Videsh .

About my life , you know what happened if you read the last part of the last post . ( And if you did read that , I will know that you have zero interest in your work . You know , the sort of worker who spends unnecessary time at the water cooler and in extreme moments of boredom , tries counting the number of keys in the keyboard . I mean , kitna blog padta hai yaar ? Itni padayi school mein kee hoti to aaj NDTV profit par aa raha hota tu suit pehankar . )

So , about what “happened” , I have never been so sure of anyone else before this . I thank you all for your wishes and I will return the favor by inviting you whenever I get married . You know , you can all dance in the baraat and freak the brains out of the ghodi. Waise that reminds me , these ghodies who carry the dude in the baraats must have so many dinner table stories to tell their families . I mean , imagine a horse family sitting around a dinner table with the papa ghoda , mummy ghodi and the little ghoda and ghodi and the ghodi regaling them with tales of the Red Turbaned Mr Ahluwalia in that Silver Jacket she saw enacting the naagin dance in the Joshi Family’s Baraat earlier that night . Hinhina hinhina kar hansteee hogi poori family .

And some time ago , I saw Govinda in an Amritsar Hotel .I mean , my idol ! Mere sapno ka raajkumar ! Now , if I was a celebrity being interviewed and the sugary host tilts her head to one side , looks at me admiringly and say “So aapko aisa banne ki prerna kahan se mili ?” , my answer would be “Prerna kahan mili ? Mana kar diya tha usne” . Ok , chilling kar , my answer would be “Govinda.” I mean , mast banda hai yaar . You know , to make people laugh sounds like easy , but if one decided to do it consciously , it is like being brave enough to climb a stage without your pants on . I know all these serious types log who think funny people are not really ready for the "kaam dhaam" of the world . I say the day you understand the mind of a funny guy , you will know how much of guts and stealing from Joke Books that needs.

And I hear there is a naya reality show on TV called “Rakhi ka swayamvar” . There will be a number of men ( what ? are they suicidal ) who will try to woo Rakhi and winner will actually marry Rakhi . Oh Jejus ! I mean , real shaadi man . Pandit and varmaalas and kids running around aloo chaat stalls and everything . One question for all the participants – “Kyun Bhaiyon ? Iss duniya mein suicide karne ke aur bhee tareeke the na ? apni socks doon ? soongh lo .”

Anyway , aaj to Baisakhi ki chutti hai ( Background mein “Harippa” ki ek dumdaar shout ) . So I am lazing in my room since morning . Now I must get up and do something more than write on a screen . Kulfi khaane ka mann kar raha hai , jaakar kulfi khaata hoon . Tu bhee kuch kaam kar le . Chal ja na , abhi bhee dekh kya raha hai screen mein . Bye .

PS – Subject Line ka koi sense nahi hai . logic mat doondh . Main jaanta tha aisa subject line dekh kar tu padega zaroor . Sudhar ja yar . Umar ka to lihaaz kar apni . :p

A forgotten page from that brown little notebook

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

Sometime in the late eighties. A school classroom. Charts with drawings in crayons hang around its walls. A stocky lady teacher with thick plastic rimmed glasses perched on her nose stands facing a class of six year olds , who sit on little wooden chairs and write the above lines in their brown little notebooks.

There is a child .The first bench. She makes the short children sit in the front so that she can see when they are not listening. The child writes down the lines too. Hesitant , unsure handwriting. Maybe a word or two is spelt wrongly. I think that child used to spell a being as beeng at that time. But he did write the lines.

I will be a good human beeng.

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

Six year olds are innocent people. They believe everything their teachers tell them. That child too believed what she told him. That he was to be a good human being when he grows up. That child wanted to be a good human being when he grew up .

Twenty One years later , that child sits on the carpetted floor of this living room typing words you read now. He has grown up now . He studied his books well . Went on to become an engineer , then went to a good management school . Now works at a big company .

Over the years , he was faced with a lot of choices . And he made many choices . I don't know if he evolved , but he changed .

Amongst the trigonometry lessons , the thick books of software engineering and the prolonged lectures on service marketing , he forgot that sentence he wrote in that little , brown covered notebook that day. No , wait . Maybe he did not forget . But he did not care much about it . The world did not care much about it , either . Nobody , including himself , asked “Are you a good human being , as you promised once ?”

They applauded when he proved himself better than others . Faster than others . Sharper than others . He went faster when others went ahead . That is what matters . Better than others . . Being a good man did not matter much to anybody , and he believed it did not matter to him . He was no longer that child .

I have not been good so far . I have hurt people , I have said things which have tore apart hearts of good souls , I have been indifferent , not caring about who I really am now , who that child was , and not caring if me and the child would ever meet again , talk again , be one again .

But today , the dusty clouds have parted a little , and a long forgotten , once familiar sound of a child has managed to flow in like the first rays of a winter dawn. And the voice says “I wanted be a good human beeng . Why have you become this ? Don’t you remember me ? ” And today , the grown up man wants to listen to that child , and believe in that child , and be that child . Because after a long time , he has found a friend who believes in being good more than being better . Who wants to help a million hands rather than control a million people . A friend , who looks at the world from the selfless eyes of that child I once was , without the layers of selfishness this life wraps around us adults . A friend , who gives me a strength and direction , not by loving me , but by being who she is . A friend , who gives me the confidence that I can find myself , because I see a part of me in her . A friend , who more than being loved , is worthy of being respected .

The white cloud of simplicity I have found gives me the strength to try to be that child again , to realize who I really am , and to be good again.

I know people will read this . Some people who think I am not a good man . Some people who think I am not practical enough . Some people who think I will change , and probably would forget these words soon enough . Some people who think I do not have the courage to be who I say I want to be . Some people who think I do not know what I really want to be . Some people who would not understand , and will think I do not understand.

All I can say is , I know what this means to me . And I do not expect many to understand what this means to me . Thanks to you , friend , I am talking to that child again . I had some good people with me always , but before you came along , I had given up on trying to be who I really wanted to be . Even though I do not have that brown little notebook today , that page has not been clearer to me before today . And I will be a good human “beeng” . Maybe not faster . Maybe not sharper . Maybe not a winner for the world . But definitely a good human being .

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

I know I have found the one I want to share my life with . I assure you she won't manage to make my posts any less stupid , but I know I will be happier . Since I have shared so much with you since I started this blog when I was 22 , I thought yeh to bata do !

Aap Kahin Sune Sune Lagte Hai..

The other day, I was talking to this friend, who by the way, is the only girl on this planet who can mimic a dog bark to a scaring level of perfection. I am told she once bit her Office cafeteria manager because he refused to include Doggy Bones in the Office Lunch Menu, so I really don’t know to what extent she carries the canine tendencies. But that’s not the point. The point is that we veered off to discussing the Filmy Dialogues we have grown up listening to. Incidentally , me and her , both grew up during the era of movies when Kimi Kaatkar was identified as the epitome of Feminine Elegance , and seven out of ten movies involved kids who watched their ‘ImaanDaar’ parents murdered from behind Huge Flower Pots and grew up to murder the killers after several years of scouting Bus Stops and Dance Bars for them . I mean , you get the idea of the era , yeah ?

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

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

I first heard this statement during one of the movies , when I was six . I vaguely remember some demure Gaon Ki Gori saying this to Pran , who , obviously , had this roving eye and tried to grab anything which showed any movement.

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

As I grew up , I think I have heard this statement being said to men such as Ranjeet , Sadashiv Amrapurkar , Amrish Puri ( On more than three occasions ) , and Shakti Kapoor . Obviously , everytime , the reply is “Gira Do” , but notwithstanding if the lady chooses to say ‘Nahi ! Main isse paaloongi , you Pig’ or a more compromising ‘Ok , that’s cool.’ , this remains one of the most overused statements.

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

Now , I really think all the mothers and sisters of that era , went around tapping all the bad guys on their shoulders , smiling coyly , and whispering “Hey Handsome , wanna kidnap me , eh ?”

How else can I explain that towards the end of almost every movie , the bad guy called up the Hero on his landline ( It’s the pre 1991 era dude , don’t expect a cellphone ) , and informs him that his White Clad Mother and Young College Going Sister have been kidnapped and have been comfortably chained between thick pillars at some abandoned remains of some Haveli.

I mean , Yeh Ma aur Behan hamesha Kidnapping ke liye available kaise rehti thi ?? I mean , if I was Hero in that time of the century , and the villain called me up to inform about their kidnappings , I would have said “Abbe Shit ! Fir kidnap ho gayi !! Ab ki baar tu hee rakh le , main nahi aunga !! Tang aa gaya hoon !!.”

3. “You are under arrest”

This used to the director’s signal , ki bhaiyya , the movie is about to end , please plan to gather your water bottles , chip bags , kids , and move out the cinema hall before the exit gets too crowded . In short , Inspector saab and his gang of Brown Shorts wale Hawaldaars have barged into the final fight scene , have pointed their cheap , Holi Wali pistols at the baddies , and the Inspector Saab has quipped the line which is the dream statement of every policeman who has ever walked this planet – “You are under arrest”. The only scene which could possibly follow this statement was a shot of the Hero and Heroine kissing under an Overgrown Pink Flower with “Happily ever after….” Written at the bottom of the screen .

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

If there was ever a phase when non-biological mothers flourished , this was it . Kids swapped at the local hospitals , kids left crying on the stairs to the century old Shiv Mandir , little babies found squealing in trash bins , you name the way to find a kid who is not yours , and it was in there .

The mother raised the kid , made her do his homework , combed his hair , taught him how to ride the tricycle , and then watch him grow into a fine young man . But then , as she gets older and older , and as she finally reaches her deathbed , she calls the young man , looks at him lovingly , and with the heart breaking mix of love and guilt , murmurs , “Main Teri Asli Ma Nahi hoon , Beta”

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

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


To be Continued …( Abbe , TV Serial mein ‘To be continued’ nahi dekhta ? Come on , you expect a guy to spend all day play solitaire at his office , and then come back home and write all that in one go ? )

Baad mein aur likhunga Bhai . And haan , you contribute whatever you can think of . I love interactive blogging ! Sabse mast dialogue report karne wale ko meri left kidney ! Muft ! Wo bhee polythene mein packed ! )

Title nahi hai Baba . Aage Bado .

Today being a Sunday , I spent 76.32% of my day in bed . ( Notice we MBA types , har cheez ko 2 decimal places tak specify karte hai . Meri kaamwali ki age hai 23.48 years hai ).

So during one of the innumerable “karwats” I katofyed during the day , I suddenly stumbled upon this beautiful sight on the other half of my bed . ( Don’t ask me why I have a double bed in spite of being a bachelor . Long Term Planning has been my hallmark since childhood.)





Now , I swear Geeta par haath rakh kar ( Waise Geeta par haath rakhunga to Geeta ko koi objection nahi hoga ? ) , I did not change / arrange / manipulate anything in the visually appealing stting captured in the photograph above.

PS – That round black shiny thing in the back is my helmet , and one of the very few non edible things in the picture . I tried chewing on it once , though . Things a hungry man can do.

And for the first time in a long time , I just paused , captivated by the abstract beauty of the scene , mesmerized by the way the light bounced off the torn Kurkure Bag , and I realized , that I need to clean my room today .

So Ladies , Gentlemen and Karan Johars , I hereby wish to inform you , with great pride , and a jhadoo in my hand , that I have cleaned out my room today , and it looks sparkling now .

In fact , as my landlord spotted me sweeping the floor of my room during the said event , he actually commented something about the sun rising in the west today , or something equally impossible . Very smart . I think I need to molest his younger son to teach him a lesson now.

In other news , the probability of me getting engaged is at its raging mad peak now . Mai kisi bhee waqt paraya credit card ban sakta hoon . So I once again appeal to all the ladies who have been secretly admiring me from behind pillars , ghoonghats , bushes , trees and other places of hiding , to please step out and declare your undying love towards my bank balance , C grade and misunderstood brand of humor , and now , newly developed husband-ish skill of cleaning rooms. I personally believe that I am one of the last remaining specimen of Men who have that finely balanced personality mix of Akshay Kumar , George Clooney and Guddu Rangeela . What , Guddu Rangeela who ? Arre bhai , Guddu . Apna Guddu ! The famous Bhojpuri Actor who just demonstrated his skills in the smash hit bhojpuri flick , Daroga Babu Bade Kadak . I think I dance exactly like him.

Anyway , coming back to the appeal , you need to act now , ladies . Guys , if you are adequately rich , you can push in an application too .

On the movie consumption issue , my last view was Ghajini . I liked the movie so much , I have “Submit Shampoo Sales Report to Boss” on the left part of my chest , “Bike ka pollution Check karwana hai” on my right forearm and my gmail password in a place more inaccessible . Password hai yaar , zyada secret place par hona chahiye na.

About Delhi 6 , I really don’t think this movie will bring a Khushiyon ki Bahaar in my life , but I want to take my mother to this movie , because she spent her childhood in Delhi 6 . She goes “Arre Munnu , yeh to mera area hai” just looking at the promos , and I know she will feel nice looking at all the galis and mohallas in the movie . You know , we humans never forget where we came from . I remember the zoo.

And as I write this , the download of this mp3 ends – ‘Gives You Hell’ by American All Rejects . Listen to it yaar . Very Boyish and Girl Hating . In case you want to disguise the lack of a girl in your life with that “Oh , who needs them , bro” types cool smirk , this song makes for a perfect background song . Try it , it works for me.

And did Abhishek Bacchan had a fake accent since the universe began , or he recently started to believe that he is a new Yorker who was accidentally born to an Indian family . Because I recently watched an interview of him on the TV , and he positively sounded like he had the entire dvd collection of American Pie Series for Breakfast .

Anyway , I need to go now . Raat ke 3 baj rahe hai mere aaka . I know this is not a coherent end . But oye , I am not a writer yaar . I just tell you what’s happening with me . Koi itna honest banda hoga jo apne kamre ka kachra dikahyega tujhe ? :P

Rashmi F 26 . Tussi Yaad aoge .

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

It was like one of those Uday Chopra Fantasies from Dhoom . Me and Rashmi F 26 on a bike with our two golu molu kids stuffed between us Me and Rashmi F 26 running around trees and bushes and ponds . Me and Rashmi F 26 doing a lot of stuff commonly captured in the pages of cheap hindi magazines . ( Have you grabbed the Jan edition of Madhur Kathayein ? For total satisfaction :p ) .

I snapped out of the Chopraish Fantasy , thanked god for granting me the luck to have a young lady next to me on this train , and granting me the wisdom to take a bath earlier this day ( Yup , I read on the internet that hygiene ranks pretty high on the list of attributes women want in a man . I have spent 60% of my waking hours in a bathroom post that article ).

Two hours later , as I sit scruched in Seat 45 of Coach 10 , Shatabadi , I have a newsbreak for you – Rashmi F 26 has been exchanged seats with a Bald-Guy-Who-Snores-and-sleeps-with-open-mouth M 45ish . Abbe saale , yehi seat mili thee tujhe exchange scheme chalane ke liye ?? Rashmi F 26 to seat 49 par settle ho gayi…Oh shucks , he just turned his head towards me and I think the warm gusts of air I feel on the back of my neck are his breaths . Definitely no Uday Chopra fantasies right now . Jhonka Hawa Ka seems an incredibly meaningful song right now .

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

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

Now , I would like to declare my total commitment to this song . I mean , its on my ipod and if Rashmi F 26 would have seated next to me today , I would have looked into her Cheel , err, Jheel See Aankhein and said “Tu baby badi fit fit” . But I really wonder what kinda time is consumed in writing such lyrics .

I mean , I can imagine ..

Song Writers wife : Suno Jee , kya subah se Chaarpai tod rahe ho . Chalo , utho aur naha lo . Maine geyser on kar diya hai , 15 minute mein paani garam ho jayega .

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

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

Song Writer : Offo , behas karna to tumhari aadat hai . Paper Pen do , 15 minute mein main Billu Barber ke liye 6 gaane likh deta hoon . Wo director roz poochta hai .

But at the same time , I am genuinely floored by Dev D songs . I mean , I am sure 90% of the guys , who , by the way , have been cheated / spurned / “Used-for-shopping-Movie-Coffee Bills” by females at some point or another would feel “emotional atyachaar” is their own aatmas singing . The balance 10% of the guys are still not enlightened about the futility of paying for the movie tickets .

And main note kar raha tha , after 5 years of starting this blog , I still get an average of 80-120 comments on a post . Though not quite the one to write for comments ( Hum to wo Selfish Praani hai jo Bhikhai Baba ka Katora Cheen ke Bech de , tumhare liye kya likhenge ) , I am amazed by the fact that some of you are kind enough to actually state that you like reading what I write . Some day I would love to meet some people I know only through their comments . Probably , like they have created an image of me in their minds ,I have their images in my mind , And meeting them before it’s too late would help me leave this earth with more “Chain Se” ( This phrase has been picked up from numerous Hindi Movies where the Ladki ka Baap says “Bass Beti , ab tere haath peele ho jaye to tera yeh booda baap chain se duniya chod payega” .)

Sansani Khabar – Guy on Rashmi F 26’s seat just pushed his elbow in my back . I think I am being victimized under “Inappropriate touching by a sleeping man” act here .

Aur to bass yaar , these days I am under the ‘Main Kabhi Shaadi nahi karunga” mind blanket . Seriously man , if someday I tell you the kind of emotional ups / downs ,/ round and round I have been through starting at age 22 , you will know what I mean . Kasam Banane wale ki , you will wet my sofa with your tears and cry out “Ab bass bhee kar , aur kitna rulayega” by the time I reach what happened to me in the college canteen at Age 24 .

Chalo yaaro , abhi Kat Leta Hoon . ( Is that a Delhi Thing to say “Kat Leta Hoon” ? My colleagues in Punjab just cant get this ) . Laptop Battery is near death , and more importantly , I need to get up from this before this guy on Rashmi F 26 ki seat leaves me brain damaged with his snoring . Abhi yahan Rashmi F 26 hoti to humne to apne baccho ke naam bhee rakh liye hotein . Kyun Bhagwaan , aakhir kyun ?