Path, known and forgotten

Unknown fear, little known desire,

Never has the path been clear

A jump here, a hop there,

Those who passed, come back to sneer

There were hints, that deceived,

And foes, held dear

Self-made rules broken without mercy,

Sought smile, found leer

It was never meant to be simple,

And never, has the path been clear.

Facebook for dummies!

Life is unfair as it is. On top of that, what if none of your Facebook friends ever 'like' any of your pictures or status updates? Scary.

Do you feel lost while checking random status messages / pictures from your friends, telling everyone about their latest exotic vacation, while you have nothing at all to post? Do you just end up staring blankly at the Facebook home page, wondering what should you type, to attract that much coveted 'like' from your friends, or even better, that elusive 'comment'?

Worry not, you aspiring facebook celebrities, because Yogi Baba has come to your rescue now. I will tell you, the step-by-step process, for taking popularity on cyber-space to the next level.

1. Choosing the right DP (display picture)

You can take a few days off from work before you decide on this. For females, it is easier: you can post a picture of some pet, or some cute kid (preferably with a love quote), or Katrina Kaif. And the guys will hound you, assuming you are hawt. Should you want to put up a pic of yourself, make sure it is mysterious looking, like half-side-face or only your eyes (with deep kajal). And the guys would hound you, assuming the rest of you looks slightly better. For guys, something like a broken guitar or torn jeans works. If you want to put up your own pic, you should have a fancy beard or goatee or funny hair, or at least wear goggles. Plain pics are just not cool. Sissy boys can put up pics of Shahrukh Khan.

2. Choosing the right friends, Hell yeah

Ok, get this straight. Send friend request to every goddamn profile you come across. Be shameless about this. You need not know them. And you need not even introduce yourself. Just send the requests. For every snooty tight-ass who rejects your request, there are at least a dozen other losers who will accept it. Remember, you need to have friends first, and only then they can 'like' what you post. If someone ever asks, 'do I know you?', you can give any silly reason, like this one I got from a guy who had sent me a request - 'we have 12 common friends, we must friend each other' !

3. Beg. Borrow. Steal

Now, coming to what you should post. Don't rack your brains, use Google instead. Young girls can post random love quotes, or about sufferings of love, or the agonizing wait for prince charming or how some Bollywood star-couple looks so cute together. If you can't think of anything, just post - I am sad or I need a hug. That always works. Since women refuse to believe that they don't fall in the category of 'young girls', they can do the same. Guys can post about cricket, the eternal favorite. Or alcohol.
You can always 'share' nice stuff someone else has posted, without giving due credits of course (you are not here to do charity, always remember!).

4. A picture is worth a thousand comments

Post as many pictures as you can. Eating at McDonald's with your friends? Click pics and upload. Movie with colleagues? Click pics and upload. Mom forced you to go to mandir with her? Click pics and upload. Vacation? Ooooh.. the bestest opportunity. Click pics and upload. And many of them. And tag all your friends, even if they are not in the pic. If you live an absolutely boring life, just upload 'Happy new year' wallpaper and tag all your friends.

5. Live commentary is fun

Cricket match? Soccer? Tennis? Parliament proceedings? It is your solemn duty to provide live commentary to fellow Facebook addicts who may not be able to watch the TV themselves. Or maybe they are watching, but you don't know. And often, these updates can lead to cyber war of words, which will help your cyber popularity like anything.

6. Stalk others. And they will stalk you in return

We are all parasites after all. Make your own gang of back-scratchers. And you are good to go!

Now, if you have found any of the above dope useful, please do 'like' this blog. And if you want to absolutely make sure that I know of your gratitude, please do leave a comment. And only should you want, you may share the link to this blog on your Facebook page. And, yeah, do tell your friends about it. *sheepish grin*

Will trade forks for sanity (a little?)

B-school is a funny place. And the students who get selected into the top ones are, without an iota of doubt, a weird lot. So, when we at IIMB got to know that IIMC students were being tutored in 'table manners', there were some of us who madly giggled, and then some of us wanted a similar course to be floated in IIMB as well. Thankfully, that never happened.

During my summer internship, I would have lunch with all the other interns from various B-schools. And I noticed with interest that, while the rest of us ate like barbarians with our hands (licking fingers, gravy dripping from our chins, food spilled all over the table), the guy from IIMC would neatly fold his rotis into small cones, take some sabzi in a spoon, fill the cone with the sabzi, and gracefully eat it like a true Banker. That was when I started having doubts about my career in banking. That was also when I realized how too much education can kill all the fun in your life.

But then, if you have been following my blog (get the hint!), you would know that I am not exactly on God's favorite list. So, yeah, it had to all come back to me eventually. So, I was having lunch with my lady boss, and we ordered pizza. Pizza came. I was hungry. I took a slice. Picked it up. Took a bite. My teeth wouldn't cut through the cheese layer. I use my hand to tear the cheese away. So, am kind of trying to tear a bite.. struggling with both my hands.. but enjoying my meal. My eyes dart towards my boss. She had used a knife and a fork to neatly cut a small piece from her slice of the pizza, and was looking at me in horror. I give sheepish grin and pretend that I am not hungry anymore. And hope that the earth would just swallow me up. Imagine! I mean, come on, who uses a knife and a fork to eat a pizza!

I have seen worse.

I have seen people eat dosa with a fork, garlic bread similarly, and a sandwich like it was a small baby being operated upon. A normal person would get into depression, I am telling you, and would seriously start doubting his own existence. But I am stubborn as hell. And I don't even know how to use chopsticks. Die.

So, when a colleague recently chided me on picking the wrong plate for dessert, in another colleague's wedding, I gave him a dirty why-the-fuck-do-you-care look. And later smiled to myself.

I hate you and why

As my wife constantly reminds me, I spend more than half of my day in office, and the other half mostly sleeping. For the time being let's ignore why she painstakingly points this out to me so often - that can be fodder for another blog. Here, I shall talk about the time I spend in office, and the items people I meet there everyday.

In office, I am this sweet little hardworking soul, whose only aim in life is to spread happiness all around. But that is not how others think and behave. This is what they think and do:

You want me to work as well? - He is plain lazy. And he gets away with it too. If you are looking to dodge work, you can learn a trick or two from him, like staring thoughtfully at the computer screen for minutes altogether (doesn't matter what you are staring at), running around the floor talking on the mobile in urgent whispers, give a disgusting look to anyone who offers you work (this one actually works!), tell everyone how you are doing everyone else's work etc.

I am God's gift to himself. Bow to me already - He is always full of stories, about himself and his spectacular achievements. He would tell you how his boss adores him, how his clients drool all over him, how he won the national golf tournament and how he manages to have affairs with all the hot women in office without his wife knowing.

At home I dress like Lady Gaga. At office, I am just myself - She would shove her cleavage in your face at the slightest opportunity. Many mighty men have fallen for her sense of clothing. And things just get better with time.

My hair fall is not the only problem I have in life - She is the cry baby in office. Give her work and she would tell you about how her husband threatened to divorce her because she returned home late. Point out mistakes in her work, and she would tell you how her son doesn't even remember her face because she is always at work. She would make you look like the monster, for all the problems in her life.

I like to Bully. Deal with it - He marks your boss on all emails, and all of them are nasty to begin with. He would give you work that's not yours and then make you do it by throwing hazaar tantrums. He is a man on a mission: to show the world that he can fuck everyone's happiness. Everyone's. And his constipation-induced actions would irritate you to no end.

Do this for me. Don't tell anyone. I am not stealing your thunder, no I'm not - The quintessential credit-snatcher. And without doing any work at all. This variety lurks in the corner, quietly taking in all that you are doing. And the moment something shout-worthy comes up - zing tang bang - it's his before you can blink. He would also come to you often, seeking 'help'. And then conveniently forget to tell people that you did the work and not him.

Everyone (apart me from me, of course) deserves to be sacked - He would keep on cribbing about how everyone in office doesn't work and they should be sacked. For people who work, he would tell you that they don't work enough and don't do it right.

Abe Bh**ch** - He likes to abuse. In every sentence. You got a problem, sissy boi?

PS: Please feel free to replace 'He' or 'She' with each other wherever you like. And don't be disappointed if I have missed out 'You'. I am planning a sequel. Yay!

Going that 'extra mile'...

#This is part two of a multi-part blog post. Read part one here

Delhi airport - I had to take a cab to reach the hotel in Gurgaon where I was gonna be staying. I called the hotel up and they told me that I should take about 20-30 minutes to reach the place from the airport as it is right after entering Gurgaon in Sector (some number). I diligently noted it down and headed outside the terminal.

I hired a Mega cab from the taxi bay and told the driver where I needed to go. I asked him if he knew the way or should I call the hotel up to give him directions. He told me he knows the sector and then we can maybe call up the hotel once we are in that area. I agreed.

Now my road-sense is also out-of-this-world, so I just sat peacefully working on my blackberry. I noticed when we entered Gurgaon and asked him, 'are we near?' to which he replied 'o jee 10 aur minute'. I sat back quietly and started fiddling with my blackberry again. After a good 20 minutes, I asked him again. He told me that we would reach in next 5 minutes. I was getting worried and I called up the hotel to tell them where we were and asked for directions. I told the cabbie the route the hotel guy had told me.. to which he said he knows the way.. and 'bas aage se hum IFFCO chowk pahunchenge aur wahan se sector..'.  I was shocked. 'IFFCO chowk toh Gurgaon mein ghuste hi hai!'... 'Sir, idhar se bhi hai'... 'Do-do IFFCO chowk hai kya yahan?'... 'Nahi Sir udhar se raasta band hai'... 'dude, hum IFFCO chowk se hokar hi aaye hain!'....

I asked him to stop the cab, called the hotel and then gave him specific directions. The meter fare came to INR 650 whereas it should have been somewhere close to INR 300 had he brought me the correct way. I could have understood had it been a normal taxi guy because they are infamous for taking people for a ride. But even Mega Cab? I could have lodged a formal complaint but didn't have the energy. I just went into the hotel and crashed, silently promising myself never to hire a Mega cab again!

"Consumer is the King" and other old jokes...

#This is part one of a multi-part blog post

I never really wanted to vent personal angst on my blog. I mean I have written sarcastic stuff before on here, but have never really made it personal. But I am mighty pissed with what's been happening around me. And I want to call thieves 'thieves' now, and in public.

Work makes me travel to Delhi / Bombay at times. This time, I was flying to Delhi by Jet Lite. Normally I reach the airport way before the customary '45 minutes before flight departure time' and check-in and stuff. This time too, I reached a safe one hour before and stood in the baggage screening queue (yes, they still have these in Calcutta!). The queue was unusually long and it took me a good 10 minutes to get my baggage scanned and tagged. I headed for check-in and the lady at the counter coolly told me that the check-in has been closed for the flight. I didn't really get what she meant and I asked for a clarification. She told me that check-in closes 45 minutes before flight departure time. I looked at both my mobiles - one showed that there were 46 minutes left before flight's scheduled departure and the other showed 47 minutes! I told her so. She said it was 45 minutes as per her watch. I countered that, even by that time, I was bang 45 minutes before departure and she couldn't refuse me. Hearing the commotion, the person standing behind me asked where was I flying to. I told him. He was flying to Delhi too and he too came forward and asked the lady for an explanation. The lady told us that they had been repeatedly announcing closure of check-in for the past half an hour. Both of us told her we had not heard a single announcement and usually in such cases the airline staff is out there helping passengers come forward in the baggage screening and check-in queues. None of that happened. Seeing that we were not to be laid off that easily, she called her supervisor. The fat lady arrived and after hearing us out, she gave an expression of utmost disinterest as if this was a regular affair. She wandered off to another counter and wasted a good 10 minutes looking around stupidly. I shouted across to her - 'now you are wasting time, we were here on time.. !' She came back, made a call to check if two passengers can be accommodated, got a confirmation in 2 minutes.. and asked us to head for security check-in.
We literally ran all our way to the boarding gate. I found that the boarding gate was locked and, for a second, I thought that the boarding was actually over. I spotted a Jet official and rushed to him. He asked me to sit in the waiting area. I thought he didn't really understand and told him that I was flying to Delhi and had to board the flight. He told me that the flight hasn't yet arrived so I need to wait in the waiting area. It then sunk in that the flight was actually delayed because it hadn't arrived yet! I lost my temper and told the guy about the drama at the check-in counter. He coolly told me that it was my fault and that it was for all passengers' convenience ... and walked off, leaving me seething with anger.
It was later that my colleagues told me that airlines often overbook flights and have to resort to such tactics to accommodate the extra passengers they have booked, or that they want to sell tickets at the last minute to make more money by cancelling tickets of passengers who arrive late. But in what manner? In the name of service and customers' convenience, can someone harass so easily and get away?

For Abs and Glory

What's happening to the world? Where have all the happy men with paunches and hairs peeping out of their nostrils & ears gone? What's this craze about being fit? And clean? And since when has being handsome become synonymous with having washboard abs, and waxing your body-hair, and getting facials done? Since when have diets become fashionable for men and guys have started memorizing words like 'decaf', 'calorie' and 'oily food'?

Scarily, I think I know the reason.

Switch on the TV and every actor in every goddamn TV serial has six-pack abs to flaunt. Even the wannabe kids who come for these reality show auditions have a toned body. You look at these kal ke aaye Heroes - and all of them have a well-maintained physique, all of them shave their body-hair, and all of them frequent the parlors for getting their eyebrows done. When I travel, all the young teens and tweens on the road can be seen wearing body-hugging tees that show off rippling muscles. So can you really blame the girls for expecting their boyfriends / husbands to get rid of their paunches too?

What I fail to understand is what has changed between then and now? Did Rajesh Khanna or Amitabh Bacchan ever have six-packs? Was Anil Kapoor expected to shave off his chest hair? Then why now?

I think we should start a movement to stop all this nonsense. Let's encourage men to flaunt their chest-hair instead of showing off shaved ass-cracks. And there should be contests like the "world's sexiest paunch" to restore some sense of balance in this fitness-crazy world.

I know what you did in 2011

I had been watching you, Bollywood. And I have always known what you are up to.

In 2011, you succumbed to new lows - and that hurts me. And I must tell you that this is not done. You have to work as much on our relationship as I have been doing. And you will also have to explain to me - why this Kolaveri Di?

1. Setting: A song-sequence inside a classroom of a school - First Standard, or maybe, Second, if you stretch your imagination a little.
Teacher: A plump Vidya Balan.
Plot: A wardrobe malfunction.
As Bappi Da's supersonic voice booms in the background ~ Giraake apna pallu, Baar baar... Kar deti ho humko, Bekarar ~ Vidya's pallu actually drops, revealing ample bosom. Wait, I am not mad about this bit. What happens next is the earth-shatteringly dumb part. All the kids (yes, kids!) in the class, get super-excited at the serendipitous mistake by their teacher and throw their books all around to celebrate.
I get that this was supposed to be funny. But maybe, Bollywood, you are trying too hard.


2. Setting: A video-game turned real
Characters: The Good Guy..err.. no, Robot...err.. no, Clone.. err, no, some Holographic Image of a video-game Hero... erm.. ok, let's just call him G.One. Similarly, the other guy, let's just call him Ra.One.
Plot: Making the world a little more gay-friendly.
Ra.One is about to kill G.One. And G.One needs to survive, so that he can kill Ra.One later. Simple. And the only way he can save himself is by grabbing Ra.One's crotch. So, he does that. And then, both of them blankly look into each others' eyes uttering inane dialogues like "Yeh kya kar rahe ho G.One? ... I don't know".. till the level ends in the supposed game they are playing, saving G.One and thereby, humanity.
Bollywood, listen to me and not SRK, you will do well. Trust me on this one.

3. Setting: Doesn't matter
Characters: Don't matter
Plot: Doesn't matter
The movie has Mimon Chakravarty / Mahaakksshhaaay / Gobbledygook
End of argument.

4. Murder of Item Numbers: I have earlier professed on this blog my love for item-numbers. That doesn't mean you will start belting out one inane item number after another, differentiating one from the other only by inventing a new name for the item girl: Jalebi Bai, Chameli, Dilli ki Billi and what not. Jeez.

I don't even want to crib any further. I am willing to give you one more chance. Don't disappoint me please.

Sigh. *Turns on music ~ No touching, no kissing......... *

What I want 2012 to be like

1. I don't want the world to end. No, really. All my cribbing on this blog may have given you the impression that I am living a miserable life. But, actually, it's not all that bad. I have decided I can live a few more years easily.

2. Since I wouldn't be dying anytime soon after all, I want my hair-fall to stop. I have done everything humanly possible (tried all those shampoos, visited far-flung salons, consulted dermatologists, bugged Sonia to apply oil on my head every night), even pleaded to God, nothing seems to work. I can't imagine living life as a bald, ageing banker.

[To make matters worse, all my bald colleagues, after taking note of my stressed looks these days, have started advising me to let go of the moh-maya. 'Nothing can be done', they whisper understandingly.]

3. I want more money in my bank account. What I have is not enough. They say that no amount of money can be enough. But I am not that greedy. I am willing to negotiate on the 'more' bit.

4. I want my work to be a breeze. Every client I meet must become a fan of my charisma instantly. They should  accept my proposals with glazed eyes and marvel at the sheer awesomeness of everything about me. They should have mini-orgasms when I present to them how working with me can change their lives and the way their business works. I want my bosses to think I am the best thing to have happened to the bank.

And all this should be done during 10AM to 5PM. I also have a life outside office (you loser with raised eyebrows)!

5. Since I am too lazy to exercise, I should have a near-perfect body (see, I don't want to be 'perfect' without effort.. and am willing to make do with only 'near perfect'). That would stop Sonia from bugging me about my bloating tummy more than anything else.

6. I want all my Facebook status updates to be 'liked' by ALL my friends and every post should have at least a dozen comments. I want my blog to be listed as the 'most popular blog by a middle-aged banker' by TIME Magazine (isn't that the magazine which brings out all such lists?). I want AdSense to offer to place advertisements on my Blog (which I shall reject) unlike last time when I applied for an AdSense account and they rejected my application *holds back tears*.

There are so many more wishes that I have. But then I don't wanna have too many expectations from the year (of doom, as they say) 2012. Signing out (for now).

Happy New Year folks..... have a great one :)

Leap of Faith?

Being the adarsh Maru boy that I am, I got married pretty early in life. Yeah, it's been two years already! I don't even remember what it feels like to be a Khulla-saand anymore (as if I was really making any good use of my 'Khulla-saand' days *sigh*) Anyway, that's not the point.

So, one of the unwanted consequences of getting married early is that most of your friends still are bachelors. And like true friends, they do everything possible to make you realize what you are missing out on. But, now time has caught up with them. Wickets are falling by the hour. All my friends are getting hitched left, right and center. Evil grin.


Even this has an unwanted consequence for me though. Each of my friends, who is being regularly put on display to the parents of any eligible girl passing-by, comes to me seeking advice. Is this the right time? What qualities should I be looking for in her? What if I marry a wrong girl? How can I be sure she is the one? Why do people say all wrong things about marriages - is it really that scary a thing?


And I am as flummoxed as they are. How should I reply? There is no checklist against which you can tick-off qualities in a girl. You just know she is the right one when you see her. Are you always 100% sure.. maybe not. But then every call in life is a leap of faith, else where would the fun be, innit? I have known women to have mandatory criteria in mind when they look for a guy - rich, classy blah blah. But not guys, we go by guts and instincts.

And is the Game Over after marriage? Let's say that the grass looks greener on the other side - but you don't know until you have crossed over :)