Karate that Racist Dog !

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

“Saar..TV..speak..go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Main aisa hee hoon

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

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

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

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

Main noodle ka stall kholna chahta hoon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Help kar do uncle

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

Tanhayeeeeeeee Tanhayeeeeeeeee

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of wedding plans and head banging music

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Old woman : lot of luggage..eh ?

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

Old woman : Really ?

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

Old woman : What's in that cardboard box ?

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

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

Me : Blush . Blush .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First Abhishek , now me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tension de Basanti

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1. "Kis se baat kar raha tha ?"

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

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

2." Wo kutta pack kar deejiye"

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

3. Sniff . Sniff .

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

Me : "hello ?"

Basanti : "Sniff . Sniff."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4. "Mouth close karke kha !"

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

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


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

" Table manners gaye bihar , pizza khane de yaar"

Basanti : " Sheesh. You are disgusting".

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

5. Abhi dinner ka jugaad karna hain.

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

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

Guy in the Mirror

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.

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

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 ?