The Yogi Zone

Going that 'extra mile'...

2012-02-11T12:44:00.001+05:30

#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...

2012-02-05T21:56:00.000+05:30

#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

2012-01-23T16:15:00.000+05:30

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

2012-01-08T18:05:00.002+05:30

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

2011-12-31T17:48:00.003+05:30

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?

2011-12-04T08:59:00.001+05:30

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 :)

Of lungis, mustaches, coconut trees and more

2011-10-16T12:41:00.001+05:30

So am back from my li'l Kerala vacation and it feels good to be home. Obviously, I am not the traveling-type at all and all you need to do to make me happy is give me a bed and my laptop.

Some highlights:

* One good outcome from the trip is that now my score is 3/3. I have gotten badly tanned.. and I was always Tall and Handsome. *evil smirk*

* In Kerala, there are coconut trees all around you - in fact, the food also reflects the abundance of coconuts in the region. However, what startled me was that in spite of coconuts falling off trees at every second step, nariyal paani was more expensive that Calcutta. I mean, seriously! Calcutta rocks!

* 90% of the men had thick mustaches (remember that old adage - Mooch nahi to kuchh nahi!). I think those who didn't must face some kind of social stigma. Actually, I am dead sure. Like made to do household chores and a being top-notch concern for parents (iski shaadi kaise hogi!)

* We were blessed with a driver who understood neither Hindi nor English. This is after specifically putting in a request for a Hindi-speaking driver with the Travel Operator. But we went along as the guy seemed genuinely nice and decent. As it turned out, it wasn't the best of things to do. He wouldn't understand a word of what I said. He would understand perfectly what my uncle said though (in his broken English mixed with Hindi and Marwari words). We would all look at them in awe as they conversed with each other. I think, in the process, we got a glimpse of how mankind first started using verbal language.

* Another thing that would amaze you from the word go is how lungis are the common man's attire. And these are not the North-Indian ones that are stitched at ends. These split right in the front ensuring maximum exposure of dark legs when the men walk. For the newbies, learn the difference here.

* As should happen with most interesting trips, our car met with an accident on the way to Kanyakumari. Though it was clearly the other car's fault, we were surrounded by a dozen localites - most of them vengeful and drunk. Luckily they didn't jump on us and started fighting only with the driver in the local dialect. When matters reached a head, they all raised their lungis above their knees (some sort of primeval stunt to threaten the opponent I guess). Though they ultimately settled that it was no one's fault, one of the locals who could speak Hindi had come to us, introduced himself as an ex-naval officer and after making few basic inquiries, prompted "I think you should resolve the issue... you have women and kids with you and this would go on for whole night".. when we refused to intervene between the driver and the localites (it was none of our business!), he suddenly started threatening that Keralites hate Bongs and that they would break the car and throw the luggage off. Obviously, looking at our stern faces, he didn't try any stunt. We guessed they were only trying to make some quick money. Phew!

So, now I am expert at planning for vacations. Rest, all izz well.

This time for Calcutta

2011-10-01T20:18:00.000+05:30

A shy bride,
a forgotten princess,
a fairy with its ethereal charm,

With hint of glory, old,
A city will regain life,
Faces mirthful, hearts warm,

Streets will light up,
And stars'll shine the brightest,
With people, alleys aswarm,

For the Goddess is here,
And joy is here,
Blessed will be homes, blessed will be farms.

And then came Chammak Challo

2011-09-18T16:34:00.001+05:30

If you guys remember, I wasn't very happy with Bollywood. I mean, it was going down the alley of no return, just like Manisha Koirala's career. But, of late, I have noticed that Bollywood is trying. Maybe a little too hard. But I am willing to ignore the occasional Phhir and Yeh Dooriyan... and concentrate on the Bodyguards and the Chammak Challos instead.

So, yeah Bodyguard. I was looking forward to the movie (no surprises there). The songs were just super-duper amazing. And the movie was watchable (ok, ok.. I am adding disclaimers, wait on). After the bad initial reviews, I had to literally drag Sonia and my friends to the movie. And then we chose to watch the movie in a multiplex! You can imagine the sheepish grins I was giving throughout. I mean what kind of people wouldn't burst into ceetis and mad applause when the hero jumps out of a moving train onto the roof of another train running in the opposite direction, or when jets of water tear his shirt away to reveal ripped muscles? Bloody snooty tight-asses I tell you! Anyway, I enjoyed the movie. For an earnest Salman. And for a brilliant Kareena. The world can go and get their pants in a twist for all I care.

And now this song which has been on my mind for the last few days. It doesn't really matter that Shahrukh Khan is looking like a retard in the song... maybe they will justify the effects of botox-overdose by some element in the plot which requires him to look thus. I like the song, nevertheless. The beats are amazing - Akon has done a good job. And so has the choreographer.. the moves are funny and they give me another reason to laugh at SRK.

Finally, what's with all the girls and women in my house getting all excited about Mausam? I mean there was so much heartache when the movie's release got postponed. I am sure the movie will be terrible. But can someone decipher for me what the hullabaloo is all about?

Who would you rather be?

2011-09-11T19:52:00.002+05:30

The poet, who paints on the canvas of thought,
And hums a forgotten tune as rhymes are wrought?
Beautiful is how the world seems to him,
But not him if surrealism is what you seek not.

The actor, who dons a new skin everyday,
and emotes without effort, as myriad layers peel away?
But to none does he reveal what hides in his heart,
So not him if for you, secrets are not part of the play.

The saint, who chooses that which is pure and austere,
With his heart all empty and mind unnaturally clear?
His desires ended even before the time could begin,
Never him if you think you could care for someone's tear.

The clown, and his dance, and his jokes, and his smile,
Who makes your day, with his simple style?
He is in everyone, and yet, none want this fate,
So why not him, if you haven't made anyone laugh in a while?

As another Birthday goes by...

2011-09-04T15:09:00.001+05:30

Tales that Reflection Tells

2011-08-27T13:31:00.000+05:30

Smug and taut,

His face glowed with triumph.

Sly was his smile,

and confident his trot.

I am the winner,

He looked at himself.

But was it Him that he saw

Or an image pale, unclear.

'Lies', she hissed in his ears,

The smirk faded.

'All of them', she clawed at his heart,

stoking unknown fears.

Then she dissolved, in disdain

And merged with Him.

But now he wouldn't look

Into the mirror, ever again.

How Muggles don't get it

2011-07-17T16:01:00.000+05:30

Too many pathetic SMS jokes, and random Facebook posts on the movies (and by corollary, the books) make me angry. And what makes me angrier is the air of casualness with which the books and the movies are written-off as 'meant for kids' and the complete apathy of ignoring how these have captured the imagination and love of millions of people (not merely children) around the world.

People like me have grown up with Harry Potter. And have lived his terribly amazing life vicariously through these books.

Ms. Rowling, through a rich concoction of thrill and mystery, had taken us into this make-believe world of magic and wizardry like no one else had ever done before. You weren't expected to go to Middle Earth or a different realm. The books made you believe that magic could be hidden right in your cupboard.

And I love the books more than the movies. Not only because of the richness of the plot that doesn't get captured in the movies, but also because I am free to let my imagination run wild. It isn't only about reading the story of our hero defeating the evil villain. It's about being with him (or 'being him'?) in the process of his discovery of the world around him, and his discovery of his own self. It's about learning, glory, failures and bonds.

It is for the kids, all right. The kid in you. Who loves to create and imagine. And laugh and cry.

So, the Muggles out there, this post is not about making you love Harry Potter. It's only to tell you, you may not get it because it is frigging beyond you. So stop acting like sore loser, will you?

Life's Most Important Resolution No. 199

2011-06-26T16:42:00.000+05:30

You know these moments when you do something outrageously stupid and then get these guilt / shame - pangs for the rest of your life? Yes, the ones whose memory itself makes you cringe.

And these moments come in various flavours. You didn't get-up from your seat in the crowded bus and offer it to the old man who was barely able to stand just a few feet away from you. You bitched unecessarily about your best friend to someone who didn't really matter. You messed up that most important client presentation of your life. You got drunk and said amazingly stupid things to people around you. Funnily, the last bit keeps happening over and over again to me.

And that brings me to my new resolve. I am not drinking ever again. No, this time it's for certain. Pucca Promise.

Not only will I save myself the splitting headache and hangover on the day-after, I will also be spared the amusing (to others) stories that people have to tell about what all I did after getting drunk. Woresht thing is that I have these memory lapses and I kind of don't remember the events clearly,coherently and in the right order, and have to rely on the versions being given by my 'friends' - who relish reciting the episodes as much as they would have done while watching it. They, of course, have supporting evidence in the form of photos and videos *gasp*

But this will change. I am never going to be drinking again. No more lost memories. No more weird incidents. No free entertainment to loser friends and colleagues. 100% final. *sigh*

The Review that you don't wanna Read(y)

2011-06-12T12:35:00.000+05:30

Ok, first things first - I am a hardcore Salman Khan fan. So this review is gonna be biased, very biased. You got a problem, you know where to shove it. Secondly, most reviewers have trashed the movie into the garbage can. If you enjoyed reading any of those reviews, please read no further.

As this blog would have given you a hint, I was 'Ready' for Ready. Having booked tickets in the local single-screen theater well in advance (instead of the conventional - and wallet-emptying - multiplexes), I waited with bated breath to experience the onslaught. And the chawanni crowd in the theater lived up to my expectations. Whistles, hoots, cat-calls and thunderous applause drowned half the dialogues in the movie, the junta went into splits every-time Salman Bhai cracked a shady double-meaning joke, the crazy songs made the tapori fans groove in their seats. Interestingly, the entire row behind us was occupied by a bunch of aunties and their 4-5 year olds. The aunties and their kids guffawed together as Salman taunted Asin on the tight fitting of her jeans. And I was taken back in time to an era when I would squirm in my seat if anything remotely sexual would be shown in a movie that I was watching with my parents (I still do!). But a lot has changed since then.

I think what is very different (and delightful) in this movie for a Salman Khan fan is to watch Salman getting increasingly comfortable in the skin of his characters. Though he still wouldn't slap the item-girls on their bums in a song-sequence (and merely pretend to do so), he doesn't flinch anymore while uttering innuendos, the smirk doesn't go away, he doesn't look blank, drunk and lost. He has embraced the comic genre and improvised it like no one ever has. Not everyone can make you laugh while uttering dialogues like 'ghaas sukh gayi hai, geeli kar deta hoon" !!

Watch the movie for an experience that is Salman. For everything else, there will be another movie releasing soon :)

I want to love you once again, Bollywood.

2011-05-29T15:57:00.002+05:30

As a moviegoer I don't ask for much. I am happy with cheap mad comedies full of double entendre. I can also sit through cleverly made emo stuff. And I obviously adore movies made for children. But then, in spite of being so tolerant, there are some things that make me angry. Really really angry. What the f*** are the movie-makers thinking?

*Shahrukh Khan has no work. If he is not busy flashing his undies while trying to play cricket, and inviting useless, work-less co-stars to KKR matches, he makes stupid inane movies where he plays the Superhero. Shahrukh, you are always a Superhero, even when you are effortlessly playing a retard and even when you stammer while (st)uttering your girlfriend's name and even when you have a hole in your heart and even when you shamelessly showcase painted abs. You are the man (Even KJo vouches for it). So when you are actually a superhero in a movie, it would be an overkill, don't you think?

*Pehli galti baap ne aisa beta paida karke ki. Doosri galti producers karte hain inhe hero banakar. But then you have Vikram Bhatt who believes that he should give Mimoh Chakravarty a second chance. I mean, come on? Changing your name and getting a different haircut doesn't change who you are, especially when you are someone who has "I act worse than Viveik Oberoi" written all over his forehead.

*Item numbers form am integral part of my movie experience. So when Munni and Sheila maro their jhatkas and latkas, I forgive the director for some other goof-ups that he would have made in the movie somewhere. But you cannot take my weakness for granted. No Sir, not at all. I mean are you out of your frigging mind?

*They make movies that you can't watch with your wives or girlfriends. I mean the movie was hilarious. But you can't even admit that it's hilarious. I mean dude, give us a warning in the promos, can't you?

Sigh. Now its all upto Salman Khan to redeem Bollywood once again.

Only one more week to go. *Screams*

Busy days are here again

2011-05-15T09:55:00.000+05:30

A lot has been happening around me. And that has kept me busy.

Much of this stuff is pretty interesting. Some tad boring. Some outrageously funny. Some pretty sad-wonly things as well. Bestest thing, however, has been the buying of my new car. Yes, first one for the family. A sedan. Yay!

And I have sworn that I shall not be cribbing about my new job on my blog. Not for a while at least. So that has taken a heavy toll on my cribbing-blogging. The world around has also been seeing a wide gamut of activities which could have been potential fodder for blog-posts. But, I honestly haven't been interested. So even though we have seen Deepika Padukone salaciously inviting you to pull her skirt, rich fathers renting arm-candies for useless sons, dudes stripping naked on TV to boost TRPs, relaunch of Mimoh Chakravarty, the much-dignified (?) comeback of the Dada (which has led to most Bangalis supporting Pune Warriors instead of KKR), the end of the Left in Bengal, a wedding and a death jostling for media attention, none of these could convince me to dedicate a blog to them.

Things may change. I will have to get Ready soon *bites nails*. Dhinka Chika.

Crib-Post # 2

2011-04-30T20:26:00.002+05:30

Of the many weird things that people often ask me, this one clearly takes the cake. "Was your marriage an arranged one or a love one?" I mean "What the f***?"

No, seriously. And this question is asked in the most unlikely of situations too.

So, second day of office after transfer to Calcutta and this colleague saunters into my cubicle with a grin on his face. "I didn't know you are married." "Um.. mm.. been one year," and I smiled, not knowing what else to do. "You look young! Was it a love marriage?" he implored, with a gossip-starved look on his face. "No, it was arranged by my parents." He walked away with all his hopes of finding an interesting story washed down the drain.

And he is not the only one. Old friends who meet after a long time, people who you have met just an hour back, clients who have this nosy habit of asking about which gulli of which village did your grandfather come from... they all would invariably include this question as part of the "How are you?s and How do you do?s" and I am left wondering how does it really matter?

Maybe I am cribbing also because I do not have this knack for asking too many nosy questions to others about their lives. I mean if there is something I should know, the other person would tell me himself, right?

Or is it only that I have too many weird people around me?

So, what is your Cause?

2011-04-22T20:43:00.002+05:30

A few weeks back, we saw almost the whole of India take on the Govt in support of Anna Hazare. The objective was very noble: to root out corruption from the country and punish the scumbags who have been scouring the country hollow. Prominent amongst those who came out on to the streets to protest were actors, celebrities and youngsters.

Yes. Youngsters. Which should mean that the youth of India is responsible, aware and concerned. That makes the future of India bright and shining indeed. Only if.

Now, I do not wish to make a generalized statement. I am far too ill-informed to make one. Just that a lot of things about the whole incident amuse me to no end. And they, more worryingly, also scare me to some extent.

On TV I saw a school-kid (barely into his teens) making strong statements in support of the movement and justifying his presence at the protest-site. I would have loved to ask that poor soul some more questions about the movement. But I wasn't at the site myself. Now, please do not get me wrong. I am not commenting on the movement or its sanctity at all, in fact if there is something that this post is not about, it's the movement itself.

Gullibility can be dangerous. And something that can be even more dangerous is to think that it is fashionable to project that you are concerned, and aware, and responsible. When a very close friend cajoled me to join him for the candle-light vigil, I implored him - 'Why are you supporting this movement?'
'It's about corruption!' - he glared at me, I being this national traitor.
'So, you think corruption can be eradicated by doing what the movement seeks to do?' I persisted.
He gave me a blank look. 'They are protesting against corruption!' - he tried to redeem himself. And then, to belittle it all, he said, 'Plus the crowd would be good *wink*'...

I have seen people who go the extra mile. From flaunting a habit as eclectic as "I'm Vegetarian on Tuesdays" to something as done-by-all as "I don't wear Fur". They wouldn't touch fire-crackers on Diwali because they support the movement against noise and air pollution, but would go crazy bursting them when Indian cricket team wins the World Cup. The rise of social networking sites has taken these to a new maddening level.

Let's make the world a little more normal, shall we? And no it's not cool if you start a movement for 'making the world normal'!!

It feels like Home

2011-04-17T17:04:00.000+05:30

Potholed roads, dirty streets, people bickering over how Dada was cheated and humiliated by that 'enemy of the land' SRK (personally, I detest them both), election loud-speakers and rallies, overcrowded Metros (God didn't want me to miss Mumbai local trains after all), and the horrid weather making you sweaty and smelly. Still, it feels like home. That must be because it is home, duh.

What I am trying to imply is that I do not want to crib about Calcutta the way I used to about Bombay. And that's because there are so many good things about it. For example:

Ambassador Taxis:
Yes, I am fed-up of the tiny Fiat-taxis of Bombay (after bumping my head n number of times, while getting in, while getting out, while sitting in the cab!). The Calcutta taxis are the massive ambassadors, which not only carry 8 people aaram se, and as many luggage bags as you may possibly want to fit in the boot, they also have some other very unique uses, one of which is displayed in the attached picture.

Didi Fights:
Have you ever seen a stern-looking, Bong Didi? If you have not, you may not really get it. These females have the same look : thick-rimmed glasses, fat round bindi on their forehead, lots of sindoor, always immaculately clad in a saree, and ready to pick up fights with the drop of a hat. And only God can save you from their wrath should you step on their toes or nudge them in a crowded bus. However, when two such Didis fight with each other (which is very often, believe me), it can make for helluva entertainment.

Mishti Doi, Puchka and Jhal-mudi:
Every time I visited Calcutta, I would hog on these like someone who's returned from Sahara. You would think now that I am in Calcutta, I would stuff myself so much that I would cease to like them anymore. Let's say there is no such thing is too much Puchka or Jhal-mudi or Mishti Doi. Yum!

The Chaap factor:
Now, if you speak to the father of a Bong Class X student (or Class XII or College for that matter), you will know how much chaap his son is under. And that is why, his son needs to be fed by his mom like a toddler and also his father needs to carry an umbrella over his head when he steps out. Unfortunately, the chaap factor never goes away. You talk to the GM Finance of a reputed company, and you know that your proposal is taking ages to get cleared because the GM is under so much chaap. This net net means that you can also boast of all the chaap that you carry on your shoulders, shirk work and be happy!

Crib-Post # 1

2011-03-31T21:14:00.001+05:30

This is not to say that I don't crib in my other posts. But cribbing is never the focus and only a by-product.
So I thought of starting this series where I could crib with a focussed approach and complete, undivided attention. So, yeah, here we are:

I have always wondered at how bad I am with roads and directions. I mean you can't even imagine how exactly bad. If the directions involve anything but a straight line, I am bound to get lost. This holds true even if I have been to the place frigging 'n' number of times. It gets quite embarrassing at times, but I got to face the shit if there's a problem with me!

And worst part of the deal is when you get into a taxi and tell the cabbie to take you to a certain place and the cabbie asks you which road should he take. Since you are this God's gift to mankind otherwise (except for this small flaw of being bad with directions), you decide to act smart and tell the cabbie to take the road that would take you faster to the destination. In 9 instances out of 10, I can make out a smirk on the driver's face which reads 'Aaj accha murga fansa hai, lemme take the longer route!'

Then there would be friends and relatives who are visiting your city and who assume that you are a free tourist-guide. They would repeatedly call you for directions and random questions about how to reach a certain restaurant / monument from some godforsaken place they were stuck at. Needless to say, you are in for a lot of taanas should you tell them you don't know the way.

Sigh. Life sucks.

And my heart makes a secret wish

2011-03-20T14:09:00.000+05:30

The problem with our generation is that we grew up watching Chopra-Barjatya-Johar movies. So we get senti about almost anything in this world. So yeah, I was senti when I was leaving Calcutta for IIMB... and I was super-senti when leaving Bangalore for good. And this blog has indeed seen those maudlin posts from my keyboard.

But this time, it was different.

Maybe because I was coming back home to familiarity. Or maybe because being the cribber that I am, I could see only flaws in the city which so many others would swear by. I never liked Bombay and I have no qualms admitting that. So when people around would ask me 'Wouldn't you miss Bombay?', somehow I could never get myself to say 'Yes, I will'.

But it was in the last few weeks of my stay in the city of dreams that I finally started getting that familiar old sinking feeling. And I didn't really know why. My friends had taken it upon themselves to make sure that these weeks form a memorable part of my stay in Bombay. And they did - making me aware of all the things I will miss about Bombay. So when I took one last look at Bombay through the clouds after the plane had taken-off... I found my heart making a secret wish.

So yeah a new beginning. Once again.

Coming Soon in a theater near you

2011-03-12T10:14:00.000+05:30

Office Chainsaw Massacre

This will not really be a film but a documentary of sorts which will capture real-life events on camera. The anti-hero in the movie would be a masked 26 year old (with really really terrifying looks) who enters an office in broad-daylight and brutally murders a few pre-identified fugly individuals using his chainsaw. The movie is instant block-buster material and has the potential to spawn multiple sequels (you guys are welcome to send in suggestions for locations... and can act as the anti-hero in the sequels should you exude the much needed awe)

Chal Sanyasi Mandir mein

2011-03-05T12:06:00.000+05:30

No this post is not about Bollywood. But yes, we do learn lessons from Bollywood. That goodness always wins in the end. That you cannot break away from your roots - that the Sanyasi has to eventually return to the Mandir.

And yes, I never thought I will find myself saying this, but I will, indeed, miss Bombay. And in particular, I will miss:

- The amazingly overcrowded local trains: I guess my body will take some time to adjust to the lack of full-body massage that I get twice everyday here. I will miss the squabbles, the rush and the push, the madness and well, the madness.

- The tapori lingo: I fear that I might just hug the autowallah in Calcutta out of affection if he addresses me as 'aap'. No, Sir, don't you think that I am being paranoid here because this is after 3 years of being subject to 'tereko kidhar utaroon mein?'

- The Mahangai: Being an aam aadmi, I am very concerned about how much I have been shelling out of my pocket for bare necessities of life. Calcutta would see some more money, hopefully, in my Bank account. Hopefully.

- The Works: Ah, well, I know I have been bitching about my job so much already. So, I need not go down that road again. I will really really miss being treated like a rotten piece of shit. Okay okay I stop right here!

But is there something that I will not miss? The bestest friends that I have made and the memories that I will always cherish? Nopes. For I will be carrying them with me :)

But something tells me it ain't over yet. Or is it?

PS: The picture is there only for marketing value, so don't fret over it.

Happy Ending

2011-03-02T12:49:00.000+05:30

You know when they say that Happy Endings happen only in movies... now I wouldn't say that they are totally wrong. But then often, once in a while, just as if God forgot to throw in that random twist of fate, you do end up being happy in the end. And though it is not really the end, but merely a halt, such happy endings are what we all live for.

So yeah I am happy. But then it is not in my nature to feel good and talk good about others. So I shall crib as usual. I just wanted you guys to know .. you know just in case you guys feel that my cribbing lacks quality today, that's only because I'm happy!

So yeah I have been going through a lot of turmoil these days. And it doesn't help when each and every person you meet on the road / office / train / at the chaiwala's / facebook / Gtalk asks you the same question- 'Weren't you supposed to be in Calcutta already?'

Yes, I was supposed to have fled from this godforsaken city long back. In fact, I shouldn't have come here at all in the first place and taken jobs that promise to suck the last drop of blood outta my body. But then since I did come and now have monsters around me who wanna make my life miserable, all I can do is patiently wait. At least now I know that it's just another two weeks of pain.

So yeah, there, yes you, the moron looking at me from across the road - just know that I will be in Calcutta soon. Very soon. And that should wipe that smirk off your face!

Bringing Sexy Back

2011-02-13T14:51:00.003+05:30

I don't think I wished you people Happy New Year. I was too busy making plans for my Calcutta escape. Now that that is settled (almost), I am back *dhinchak background music*

A lot happened in Bollywood in 2010. But I want more. Much more. And some more of the old. Here's a list of what I would like to see in 2011:

Mamta Kulkarni: *Background Music: Gupchup gupchup*
Sheila and Munni may have impressed you to no end. But here was someone who could look sleazy without even trying. Whether dancing to lewd item-numbers or romancing Mithun-da, this Bholi-bhali ladki could set the screen on fire effortlessly. If Yana Gupta can make a scandalous come-back, Mamta can do much better. Let's root for MK's comeback. Yay.

Baba Sehgal: *Background Music: Aaja Meri Gadi mein baith ja*
The first pop-star (erm.. rapper?) of India deserves better than been forgotten. While you may remember classics like Dil Dhadke because of Pooja Bedi and not Baba Sehgal, still Baba has many more under his belt like Thanda Thanda Paani. So, we want the best rapist of India (as someone's comment on youtube calls him) to be back. And this time Long drive jayenge, full speed jayenge, kahin rukenge na hum :-P

David Dhawan-Govinda-Karishma Kapoor: *Background Music: Meri pant bhi sexy hai*
I need not tell you why. If you have read even one of my earlier blogs, you would know how much I adore such drama. Senseless, baseless, mad comedies are my thing. And even better if they have lewd, suggestive songs. Pure bliss.

Tum to thehre Pardesi and Desi Remixes: *Background Music: Ila Arun and Usha Uthup fighting*
I mean you didn't grow up in India if you didn't go to school humming that hideous Altaf Raja song and then silently praying that he never sings again (he tried and failed, that's another story). He was the Himessss of those days - every autowala and paan-dukaanwala loved him. He set such standards which years later only Himessss could break. I want him back. Not only because I love tragedies but also because I want Himessss to go.

Rakhi ka Swayamvar Season 2: *Background Music: Episode 1 of Rakhi ka Insaaf*
Ever seen a kid these days watching Pokemon or Doraemon? It is with similar fascination that I watch Rakhi Sawant. I mean even her goddamn serial has its own Wikipedia page! (What's wrong with humankind?). I want season 2 - since she is single and ready-to-mingle again. And I want more masala this time. I want the world to end and I want Udai Chopra to act again. Phew.

Khooni Kabristan ki Jung

2010-12-29T21:01:00.002+05:30

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any living soul could be because the author has a twisted mind. However, those should not be taken seriously at all *wink*

YogiMan looked around into the eerie silence. This was his only chance - to escape from the Khooni Kabristan - where he had been kept captive for the last two years by Takla Shaitan - the most dangerous of all evil wizards, the only one who had learnt the art of necromancy from the Lich King himself.

Today, Takla Shaitan was busy partying in the beaches of Pattaya, and YogiMan was making plans for his escape. The only obstacle now was Zingalo - Takla Shaitan's trusted servant and the gatekeeper to the Kabristan. He was slimy, evil and crafty, with a fetish for weird smells. But YogiMan knew Zingalo's pulse - his mortal fear of cats. And that's what will help him escape today. YogiMan had already sent SOS messages to Puss In Boots and Dobby the House-Elf. They would have already taken care of Zingalo. Now all YogiMan had to do was sneak out.

He ran towards the big mettallic gates. Suddenly there was huge roar and darkness all over. And a manic laughter. "Buddy, you thought you will escape? I can easily get another prey but this is wrong timing" - Takla Shaitan's massive head loomed over him. YogiMan felt as if his knees will crumble. But then he remembered.

The Sword of Gryffindor presents itself to any worthy Gryffindor in time of need. He closed his eyes. And felt the sword's hilt in his hands. He slashed at Takla Shaitan.

And Suddenly there was light. YogiMan could see his home. He was running towards his family and there was happiness all around.

End of Story

And I am going back to Calcutta! :)

Bechu babu?

2010-12-11T10:26:00.002+05:30

A group of CA aspirants sit in a tutorial deeply engrossed in solving complex accounting problems. Their tuition Sir intermittently cracks witty one-liners that lead to loud guffaws and hoots from the entire bunch.

Have you ever seen geeks laughing? They take even laughing pretty seriously.

Then, the Sir asks the class - 'Do you think there is any other profession which requires such skill and sharpness of the mind?'
Not knowing that this was a rhetorical question, one poor soul replies, 'Umm.. MBA?'
'Aha' Sir exclaims and the whole class jumps. 'Bechu Babu banoge? Tie lagakar sabun bechoge?' (Do you wanna become a 'Bechu Babu'? Wear a tie and sell soaps?)

Years later, I have understood the irony in those words. Yes, I was part of that geeky gang of students. And today I wear a tie and sell, well.. not soap, but banking products.

Everything you hear (and laugh) about a Sales Job is actually frigging true - evil bosses, ungodly targets, wicked clients, sad life.. and the fact that you start hating your job from day one.

You do a good deal, your boss takes the credit. Your boss fucks up bigtime, you face the shit. You meet your targets and are told you should have exceeded expectations. The Hot Chic gets accolades for merely existing. One more Hot Chic joins office, your workload doubles. And Boss seems happier than usual.

Look pretty, talk smooth, lick asses of everyone around you, keep brain dead for most of the times, and use it only to contrive new wicked ways of projecting what a brilliant salesman you are.

But then once you are in Sales (and did not have the sense to run away within a month of joining the job), you will realize that you crippled for life and are now good-for-nothing-else. You cannot do a desk-job anymore (too boring!), you cannot do anything intellectual (Umm.. what?), your only hope is to reach a level where you can start giving shit instead of taking it. It isn't tough if you have the talent, or if you are a hot chic (refer above).

But what's with all the glory then?

I will conclude with one of the shadiest jokes I have ever heard. It goes something like this:

When the judge asked the plaintiff, "My dear lady, why did you do nothing when the defendant raped you again and again over several days? Do you think you could have done something about it - told someone, raised an alarm?", the young lady giggled nervously and whispered "Yes - But I was enjoying it".

Sharm hi Bhartiya Purush ka.. umm.. Gahana hai?

2010-11-28T21:54:00.000+05:30

I am so totally against discrimination of any sorts. I know you must be thinking if I wasn't awesome enough already, but yeah, this is how I am.

I have always wondered why it is ok for men in India to roam around clad only in vests and lungis while women have to be covered from head to toe. Ok, this may have changed today - that is, I have seen chics in clothes that ideally should be worn by toddlers.. but yeah, that is restricted to Mumbai / Gurgaon / Bangalore and maybe 10 other cities? Men, on the other hand, get away with a lot of things.

Anyway, what prompted this post was this - We had gone to this new multiplex to catch a movie. And I had to use the men's room to take a leak. When I entered the place, I was amazed at the decor - it matched that of a five-star hotel loo I had once used. Brilliant lighting, modern fittings, amazing colour combinations and no separators / dividers between the stalls. Wait a second - no dividers? Only a bevy of pans placed next to each other!

So I just had to go there, whip my thing out, do what I was meant to do, with all and sundry free to stare? Forget the hyginene bit for a moment (I mean what if droplets get splattered and land on the hand/body of the guy standing next to me?), even otherwise, why was it okay for men to be nude in public? And noone other than me seemed to be bothered in the least. I rushed into one of the cubicles and did my thing - but this episode left me scarred for life.

Maybe I am more shy than most other men. But, there are some things that are meant to be private. Anyway.

Decoding the mind of a Serial Cribber

2010-11-06T16:45:00.000+05:30

I always believe in doing good to others. In fact, at times, I even surprise myself by being this amazingly generous guy who would go out of his way to help the losers of the world. This Diwali, in line with my awesomeness, I help you petty mortals understand more about the Cribbo psyche. Frankly, there are too many poseurs around, and we need to make people understand more about us, so that they can tell between an amateur cribber and a seasoned one. So, here we go:

We crib. Therefore we are - Asking us "Why do you crib / why are you cribbing?" is like asking us an existential question (Why do you live / breathe?). It's the way we are. Deal with it.

Don't worry, we are normal - We don't need a reason to crib. We really don't. It could be something as life-shattering as getting ditched by three girlfriends in a row to something as trivial as your friend lighting one extra candle on your birthday cake. It could be the weather, the neighbor, job, boss, you, me, movie, cricket, more of anything, less of anything, how things are boringly perfect.

We don't need your sympathy - No, not even your empathy.

We don't like competition - I was once enthralling my co-interns with some of my choicest cribs when this lady butted in. She didn't look the cribbing type - but then I have never been so wrong about anyone in my whole life. What followed was a nasty game of oneupmanship between us "Our mess food sucks - our mess food sucks even more; we have n loser profs - we have n+1 loser profs; there are no hot chicks in office - there is a greater dearth of hot guys". Goes without saying, I shall hate her forever.

Cribbing takes style - It's an art. You need to keep it interesting and novel. Sadly, no one notices the hard work we put in. Sad losers.

I am done with my Good Deed for the year. Sigh, it was tough.

Happy Diwali

2010-11-04T11:10:00.000+05:30

Wishing everyone a very Happy Diwali :)

A Neighbours' Nightmare

2010-11-01T18:33:00.000+05:30

Nothing else could have spoiled the mood any worse than it did. It was all we could expect from her when everything was going so well. We had just gotten into the party spirit when Simple, as clumsy as always, managed to get her dupatta entangled with the table-lamp which in turn fell on the table with the water-jars - thus spraying water all over the switch-board and off went the room into darkness. And although Mr. Raichand hastily called the electrician, with everyone stepping on each others’ toes, nudging each others’ arms and patting each others’ wives in the dark, the party was surely not in shape.

It was a party in celebration of the Raichands adding a Pomeranian to their already long list of pets. They took pride in the ownership of two of the most irritating cats, one smart-ass parrot and one Labrador which would stare at you with its sinister looking eyes wide open and the menacing canines bared. It was only last month when they organized a puja (followed by cocktail dinner) on the birthday of Chink, the Labrador. Everybody looked forward to the Raichands’ parties but this one turned into a nice little hullabaloo.

And of course the one to feel all the more worse was Simple. She kept making sighs of grief and remorse and when she apologized to Mrs. Raichand for the eighth time, the latter really meant when she said “It’s OKAY Simple”.

***********

It was typical of Simple. She managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents, always. She was the type of girl who would coax you into letting her do your chores and then spoil them for you. She would run madly across the road, almost causing a traffic hitch, to just say ‘Good Morning’ to you. She would ring you in the middle of night to apologize for a mistake she’d done weeks earlier. But there was something about her which restrained everyone’s ire at her irksome acts. Perhaps, it was the feeling of guilt which showed through her deep and immaculate apologies. Often a time she had broken into hysterical tears at being playing the spoilsport.

So in a way no one really resented her acts. Mrs. Raichand never complained, not even when Simple broke her favourite hibiscus pot nor when she sprayed tomato ketchup on her new sari. The hag next door, who barked at kids for storming into her lawn, never fussed when Simple broke her crockery. So everything moved smoothly, at least apparently, with Simple being ever so ham-fisted and the neighbours being ever so understanding.

But I guess I knew Simple a little too well. And, so I could see things which others couldn't. And I was shocked to know that Simple knew that I know too.

*********

We were sitting in the park that day when Simple pointed towards the road and announced mischievously, "Watch". It was Mrs. Raichand coming with a heavy packet in one hand and holding the chain of the Pomeranian with the other, the puppy trying its best to break loose. Apparently, she had taken her pet on a stroll and had shopped on the way. While I still tried to make out what Simple wanted me to look at, she darted briskly towards the duo. She was just one step from them when she stumbled, one gracious fall and Simple was lying in the lap of Mrs. Raichand, the latter slumped flat on the footpath. The peaches in the packet had sprawled on the path and the Pomeranian had dashed into the road swarming with vehicles.

“Dilbert, Oh my God!!!!!!” yelled Mrs. Raichand in fright. The vehicles skidded to a halt, Dilbert gazed about in horror and Simple had already assumed an expression of utmost remorse. The lady fetched her pet quickly, didn’t look twice at the peaches and hurried home with Simple following her with tear-streaked cheeks and long explanations. However, she did turn and wink at me.

Women!!!

*********

Jab main chota bachcha tha

2010-10-29T20:23:00.000+05:30

One good thing about Diwali is the annual household-cleaning that we do. This time, I was home for Diwali in time for the safai exactly after 5 years. And I was given the task of cleaning my cupboard which hasn't been opened all this while (partly because I had forbidden everyone from even so much as touching my precious books). I got all nostalgic flipping through my comic book collection (I suspected some of the books were missing but noone would take the blame), the Harry Potter books, the random children's magazines I used to hoard (ever heard of Champak and Gokulam?). In particular, I was (hell.. I am) quite fond of my Nagaraj comics, yes, the ones with amazing titles like Thodanga ki Maut and Pratishodh ki Jwala. Sigh! Those were the days, when Super Commando Dhruva could solve almost any problems on earth and when I learnt that Chacha Chaudhary's mind ran faster than a computer before I learnt what a computer was.

A lot has changed since then:
* Kids no longer read comics and they no longer play Ludo or Snake/Ladders
* They don't have to wait for Sunday morning to watch cartoon shows (Talespin, Jungle Book and Ducktales.. I can still watch them if given a chance). Actually my kid cousins don't watch cartoons at all. They prefer watching serials on Colours and Star Plus with their moms
* Definition of bigadna has changed from this to this

Not that I am the same anymore. I have become as careless and useless as was ever possible. Imagine, I kept thinking that I had booked my tickets from Bombay to Calcutta for evening. And then at 11 in the night the day before, I realize that I had actually booked tickets for morning 7 AM and not evening 7 PM! What followed was total chaos and a lot of snide taanaas from wifey and family.

Anyway.

Main Sasural Nahi Jaungi

2010-10-27T20:05:00.000+05:30

Act I Scene I:
I come out of my bedroom into the drawing room after hours of mugging (being the geeky muggu that I was) and find the women of the house deeply engrossed in watching the TV. The actress in the TV soap being shown is doing a real bad job of crying. I let out a chuckle commenting on her bad acting. Instantly, I get indignant looks from everyone else in the room. I soon realize that the third husband of the female protagonist in the serial had tied a sudden tragic death. Since I want dinner afterall, I try my best to look apologetic.

Act I Scene II:
Two of my very close friends in college are having a fight. Since I have always prided myself on my grey cells, I decide to act as the mediator. I approach them with a snooty 'Comeon you two, tell me what's the matter, I shall resolve it for you guys' look. Turns out they are fighting over the plot of some saas-bahu serial and that they were supporting the wife and the other woman in some guy's life respectively. Before you can write them off as losers, lemme tell you that one of these guys was the class topper. I contemplate for a moment 'Kya yahi hai iske itne brilliant hone ka raaz?', then discard the idea as bad and run from the scene.

Act II Scene I:
Office. Lunch table. I have occupied less than 5 seconds of airtime in the last half an hour of nonsensical chit-chat. This isn't usually the case. When it comes to boss-bashing or cribbing, I am usually most vocal. But today's topic for discussion is reality shows, Rakhi Ka Swayamvar, Jungle-bachao something, Agle Pichle Janam ki kahani and some such shit.

Act II Scene II:
Sonia and me are having dinner. The wife in the serial on TV expects the husband in the serial to do something. The husband forgets. The wife lets go of ganga, jamuna and saraswati from her eyes (overdose of glycerine I suspect). Sonia empathizes with the wife. I say, 'He just forgot. No big deal'. Oops. Too Late.
My name got added to the long and damned list of 'Insensitive Husbands of the World'.

Act I was 5 years back. And TV serials are still showing the same old crap. However, I am excited. The premiere of Rakhi Ka Insaaf looked promising. And Channel V is coming up with these verry innovative and shadiest shows ever. TV and me have a long way to go.

Why I am such a Fashion disaster!

2010-10-15T17:45:00.000+05:30

People have called me shy, smart, handsome (ahem), cute (ewwww), cribbesh (whatever!) and loads of other things. Noone, though, has ever called me well-dressed. I mean, noone ever?

Ok - I mean I don't fancy branded clothes, don't buy trendy attire, I prefer loose baggy pleated trousers and simple plain shirts, I have like 5 pairs of jeans but all shades of blue, I rarely buy round-neck T-shirts and don't wear the ones I do buy. But still. I am not your Govinda or Tushar Kapoor you know.

I don't wear accessories - watches, bracelets, jewellery (argh), or even fancy belts. I have a pair of chappals in the era where even men wear sandals. I don't deserve a good phone because I keep dropping it and treat it like trash. So, I have gotten myself this cheap and sturdy phone this time. And I really don't mind.

Well, to be honest, I don't care a damn about clothes or what I am wearing. As long it's me, c'mon, everything should be just fine (ok, ok, stop sniggering). I mean why would I ever bother? Duh. But I was forced to contemplate on this topic when they started discussing dressing styles a few days back at office. I mean I don't even have a style! Not that I should should have. Does it really matter? Am I one of those lousily dressed bankers? Is this why my boss hates me? Gosh! I mean, is it really important?

Well, but then again, I am lost when I think of what my dressing style should be like? The cool dude inspired by Super-Man who flashes his undies to all and sundry? Or the metrosexual who wears branded clothes and earrings and carries a man-purse? Or the Shilpa-Shetty-Fan-Club-Member who wears body-tight tees inspite of being all skin and bones? I can be the banker - but then I already am. Just that I don't wear expensive watches and branded shoes! I can be the rapper with my loose clothing - but I will never get a tatoo or wear that hideous cap. I don't even have a proper hairstyle.

Maybe all this isn't for me you know. I don't really have to stand out with my dressing style. I should be content with the 'Aww... you ARE well-dresssed you know' comments that this blog would get me *wicked grin*

Why Blogging is bad for health

2010-10-06T22:31:00.000+05:30

You spend hours trying to think of a good topic to write.
When you do get a good topic, you spend more hours actually writing it.
Then you hopelessly visit your blog every hour to check if anyone has read and commented on the blog.
You are disillusioned to find that most people don't give a rat's ass for the sorry shit you have posted.
You derive consolation from the fact that at least random spammers are posting meaningless messages on your comments window.
You swear that next time you will write this hugely popular blog *dreamy eyes*
You spend hours trying to think of a good topic to write.

You see - this a vicious circle!

Anyway, random updates as of now:

* Sonia is happy that the building kids have started calling her 'Didi' now. They had apparenly gotten a good telling-off after they called her 'Aunty'. She, however, conveniently ignores the tone in which they say 'Hi Didi' everytime she passes by and how they burst into mad giggles soon afterwards.

* We will be off to Calcutta for Diwali. And for 15 good days. Bliss.

* Khichdi was timepass. And Anjana Anjani was pure atrocity on the senses. Sonia in particular did not like the close-ups of Piggy Chop's disfigured lips.

* I have noticed of late that other commuters don't get as many wrinkles on their shirts as I do - after travelling in a crowded train that is. Maybe I am doing something wrong. Maybe my standing posture isn't right. I have tried noticing how the other guys stand - haven't been able to spot a difference yet. I shall continue my research though.

The Return of Randomness

2010-09-18T12:38:00.001+05:30

* I don't think I told you guys about my amazing new laptop. Yes, the old laptop simply crashed. The keypad had stopped working a long time back - now the hard disk too called it quits. The new lappy has a cam as well - I video-chatted for the first time in my life! Yes, being technologically-backward ensures that you get these weird kicks out of things others would call pretty ordinary.

* Work at office is getting more excrutiating by the hour. Yes, yes, we all hate our work but can one really hate his work as much as I do? To add to my woes, many among my office junta have started reading my blog - so I can't even write nasty stuff about work anymore.

* Once in a while, something will happen that will make you regret missing out on some very important event or action in life. Watching Dabangg was one such moment. It made me regret how I never could learn to bajao a shrill ceeti in childhood. Dabangg had many such scenes where normal mortals would errupt in an euphoria of ceetis and cat-calls. But I forget that multiplex-going-sophisticated-Mumbaikars aren't so mortal as Malancha-cinema-going-Calcutta-based-kanjoos-Marus. Btw, read Greatbong's awesome review here.

* Throwing caution to the air, I must tell you all about how my colleague noticed that someone from senior management at work doesn't fit into his chair anymore. She also demonstrated how parts of his body hang precariously over the sides of the chair - and how the chair makes squeaking noices every time he sits on it as if crying for mercy. We suspect that the chair is secretly replaced every night as it is not possible for any chair to sustain all the weight for two days in a row.

* TV serials are my new-found-love. This certainly deserves a blog on its own. Will come up with something soon.

Love, Pain and Little Malice

2010-09-11T18:48:00.002+05:30

Another shortie - had written this before college. I like reading it even now, though must confess there is hardly anything original or literary about this story. This was one of my first attempts at writing 'episodes', as I call them.

Prologue

Raina read the note again. On it was scribbled ‘I shall be back early’. “Idiot”, she muttered under her breath. She hated it when Priya went out without her. She hated it all the more when Priya went out with Raj.

Early that day Priya had annoyed Raina for no reason at all.

“You are not leaving me alone again!!! You know how I hate….” Raina had complained vehemently...
“Trust Raina to spoil her chum’s date. Don’t be a sissy, Ray. And I promise I’ll be back early. Now tell me how’z this?” she held her new silk top by herself
“Splendid (Absolutely ludicrous!!)”
“Should I couple it with the lace skirt?”
“Yeah, that’d be the right thing to do (Bet you couldn’t think of anything gaudier).”

Priya donned the dress quickly and stood in the posture of a mannequin displaying an outfit.
“How do I look???”
“Like a blue-eyed angel (with uncommonly long legs!!!)”

One

I am Raina. Priya calls me Ray. She is my best friend. Yes, she is. It's strange how we have absolutely nothing in common and yet we are best-friends. What if she annoys me a lot? What if she does everything that I hate? She is precious to me. She’s the only friend I have.

She says I’m sentimental. She thinks so because I cry at others’ pains, laugh when others do. But then why would I not feel my own pain, not realize my own happiness? Priya has to remind me, “Cheer up, it’s your birthday”.

She loves frolicking around with her silly friends and fussing over unimportant matters like what to wear, how to wear, what not to wear and how not to wear. She’s so full of puerile thoughts and confined energies, so it becomes more than obvious that she would disapprove of the coy and quiet nature of mine.

Can one envy her best friend? I do. I envy Priya on everything she has. She always scores above me. She gets everything she wants. And she’s so feminine in her looks. I wish I had blue eyes like her. She has all the qualities of a poet’s muse and as Raj always says, has the most beautiful legs in the world.

And talking of me, I hate my frizzy hair, my broken chin and convince myself as much I may against it I cannot possibly fail to notice the ugly marks on my face. Yes I am that way- ugly and distasteful. And of course Priya takes all the pain to remind me every now and then that I am no good. She loves pulling my not-so-beautiful-legs.

I had a perfect antipathy for boys. They are rowdy, self-willed and unruly. But that was until I met Raj. He’s the only guy I’ve met who sends my heart ringing. He too reciprocated my feelings, I thought he did. And I poured my passion out in a letter. But I never gave it to him. For I knew Priya loves him too.

So here too Priya scored. I love her, no mistaking that. But I also hate her, for being my best-friend.

Two

If you ever call a girl ‘sexy’ and she would look back at you thoroughly offended, you know she’s Raina. She typically hates what other girls love to do. What she loves is being snuggled up in the cozy comforts of her bed with a none-so-interesting book and criticizing everything that I do. I’m Priya by the way.
She gets annoyed at the slightest and I love annoying her. I hide the novel she’s been so deeply immersed in only to return it back after she has brought the whole house to shambles looking for it. She hates loud music and I take particular care to put on a jazz record every time I find her complacent. More often than not I curse her and blame her for highly fictitious crimes and pillage her cupboard throwing all her precious books out of the window. And once I took her for an adult movie saying it was a cartoon film with the temptation of seeing her go to pieces in the hall but to no avail; she sat through the entire film with her eyes shut tightly (I couldn’t even coax her to open her eyes during the Interval!!!).

It’s not that she is completely innocent. She bores me to death by narrating the story of the latest novel she’s read. More so because her novels are hardly interesting and she tells a story rather badly. But she relishes the experience of reciting her stories to me as (she says) I am a very good listener. I let out occasional oohs, aahs & omigoshes and other sorts of murmurs which seem to have a perfect timing and they encourage her all the more. I must learn to keep shut.

The other day I was on one of my small ransacks of her cupboard when I laid my hands upon her ‘Diary’. Ray is among those fools who take all the pain to record their unimportant experiences in a diary. I was delighted!!!! I thought I would definitely find something in the diary to taunt Ray upon, some guilty secret of hers. I still remember how I flinched upon sighting a letter folded neatly between two pages with ‘Raj’ written somewhere in it. I was naturally curious to read through it. And it was pretty well that I did for as things turned out, it did matter much!!!!

Raj is the guy I’m madly in love with. You are the luckiest person on earth if you have a guy like Raj who loves you, adores you, cares for you……… but I would swap him for a friend like Ray ANYDAY :)

Epilogue

Raina simply stared lost for words.

Then all of a sudden Priya sprung to her feet and declared, trying to sound cheerful, “You know something? Daniel has asked me for dinner tonight. Yes, that cute-looking albino guy”, she continued without looking at Raina, “Now no need to make faces, I’ll return early, I promise. Tell me what to wear? How is the Blue-Dress?” she suddenly turned, smiling.
“Splendid!!” was all that Raina said in spite of herself… She would go away to Brazil where her dad had ready a list of suitable grooms, she thought.
Priya slipped into the dress and chortled, “How do I look?”
“Like a blue-eyed angel”, replied Raina, “with the most beautiful legs” she added as an afterthought.

Lo Aaj Main Kahta Hoon

2010-09-07T22:02:00.003+05:30

Ok, so, I love bollywood! And continuing in the same line of thought as this post of mine, I will list down the 5 most amazingly fantastic memories I have of old-school Bollywood:

1. Tumne jo li angdayi hai - Mr. India was a movie that the kids thoroughly enjoyed. Sci-fi was an unexploited genre in Hindi cinema. The unadulterated comedy struck a chord with each person in the audience. However, one song, one wet and stormy night, a gyrating Sridevi, Kaate Nahi Kat te - and many among the kids spent several sleepless nights!

Years later, Raveena tried to create the same magic, but not quite.

2. Pyaar dosti hai - The only KJo movie that I don't mind watching again and again. With Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, the Archies came to India. Skirts got shorter, college-life was redefined, Kajol's one eyebrow became a pair of eyebrows, precocious kids came to dominate Hindi cinema, and I finally realized that I have to have to hate Shahrukh Khan.

(C'mon guys, this one is really after a long time - and not even nasty!)

3. Mausi chakki peesing - Sholay was not a movie. It was a piece of art. Every frame was perfect, every character chiseled out of storyteller's finest imagination, every dialogue legendary. The only possible flaw in the whole movie was that it could inspire someone to remake the movie years later, to a disastrous effect.

4. We love Maneka Gandhi - I am no pet-lover. But I used to love when movies had these wonderful multi-purpose pets. Pigeons as carriers of love-messages, Dogs as faithful friends, Monkeys as entertainers, Deepak Tijori and (recently) Udai Chopra as sidekicks.

5. Kya bolta re tu? - As anyone who has seen my drunken dancing would know, I dig chaalu Bollywood music. By 'chaalu' I mean songs that run thus -
Humein Tomtom se ja rahe the, tumhein cycle se aana tha
Aati kya Khandala?
Unchi hai building, lift teri band hai
Meri Pant bhi sexy
Hai Huku Hai Huku
A aa ee, o oo oo, mera dil na todo

Are you surprised to see that most of these songs had Karishma Kapoor? :) Miss that era!

Happy Birthday to me (Ah, well, belated) :)

2010-09-04T11:25:00.001+05:30

First birthday after marriage, first surprise 12'o clock party ever (Sonia was the host as well as the only guest), mom-made laddoos, a decent day at work (suprisingly!), this b'day wasn't so bad!

Soon

2010-08-26T10:02:00.000+05:30

A short story I had written a while back - abusive language has been used, so please read no further if you think you may find it offensive

CHAPTER FOUR

The car bolted ahead at breakneck speed… his heart pounding in his head, he could still hear her pleading... crying… Oh, how he hated that bitch!!! He crushed the accelerator…

A rickshaw appeared on the road ahead, steadily growing from a minuscule dot to a larger mass… he doesn’t care, does he???...he rushed forward in a mad frenzy… the auto steered leftward just in time… He didn’t stop; perfectly aware that the auto must have stood there, the driver looking back at him in towering rage… he doesn’t give a damn…

There was something on the road ahead… a cat… he doesn’t care… he heard the bloodcurdling shriek as the cat was crushed under the wheels of his Corolla… he was crying now… I hate her, I hate that bitch… he felt no remorse, no guilt, no pain… are you happy, now???

The car screeched to a halt… tears were rolling down his cheeks… he wasn’t like this before… he had killed something… and he felt no remorse… You are beautiful, Adi … he clenched his teeth… he wasn’t human anymore…

And he threw himself forward, crashing through the windscreen onto the bonnet… fell on the road and lay there writhing in pain… are you happy, now???

CHAPTER TWO

“But you know I had nothing to do with this” Aditya was livid…

“I have my restrictions Aditya...” Mr. Bose replied curtly.

“Look, you know that I wasn’t involved in the project… I had told YOU everything… as soon as I came to know!!! ”

“You never informed the management, Aditya” said Mr. Bose coolly, “You should have done that. They think you are with the crooks.”

“I told YOU, for God’s sake…”

“My hands are tied… you know how it…”

“Don’t do this to me…” Aditya slammed his fist on the table and stood up. He looked at the man sitting on the other side of the table, so plainly unperturbed by what had happened, something which was going to ruin Aditya’s career.

“Look Aniket, I have always considered you to be my friend… I need your help” Aditya was trying hard to maintain his calm. “You can’t do this to me…”

Aniket didn’t reply for a few moments. He wasn’t looking Aditya in the eyes … But when he spoke, a lot of the stiffness had gone.

“Yes, we have always been friends, Aditya. And I have always liked you” He got up now but still looked away from Aditya, “You have been a good employee but if I may add, you have also been somewhat foolish.”

Aditya opened his mouth but said nothing. Aniket was moving around the table towards him. He looked into Aditya’s eyes now, “I know that you are in serious trouble. Your foolishness will not only cost you your job… it may cost you a lot more…”

Aniket was face-to-face with Aditya now…

“I like you, Aditya,” Aniket placed his hand on Aditya’s shoulder and smiled, “And I want to help you… but you have to help me too” Aniket gripped his shoulder hard and placed his second hand on Aditya’s waist.

Aditya couldn’t understand what Aniket was saying but his shoulder was beginning to hurt. He instinctively wrenched his shoulder free and stared into the funny expression in Aniket’s eyes… “What can…?”

“You are beautiful, Adi … more beautiful than you know…” his hand was now sliding down Aditya’s waist…

Aditya shook himself free and moved away from Aniket.

“What do…???” he was incoherent with rage… “You are crazy…”

Aniket gulped and said, “Aditya, I really want to help you… I’ll get you out of trouble in no time. Everything will be all right.”

“You… you…” Aditya fumbled with words, shocked. Aniket had been his only ray of hope.

"No one would ever know,” Aniket seemed to return to his cold self now, “I understand that you have a wife and a kid… but what transpires between us…”

“Nothing transpires between us, you understand, nothing…”

“Aditya, you are not thinking with your mind now” Aniket warned coldly…

“Bastard, you… …” Aditya found that he was now dumb with rage… he flew out of the cabin, not realizing that he was crying. Aniket had been his only ray of hope. He was, now, doomed.

CHAPTER ONE

“This is the second time in a month, Mr. Roy” the Principal spoke in a matter-of-fact manner, “Needless to say, we do not tolerate such behavior in our school.”

“I am extremely sorry, Mrs. Xavier,” Aditya replied genuinely, “I assure you that this would not happen again.”

Something about his pleading tone made Mrs. Xavier smile in an understanding sort of way.

“Mr. Roy, Nishant has always been one of our brighter students. Frankly, his deterioration has alarmed rather than surprise us. And, now, he has started attacking his classmates. I don’t know if I should say this, but such changes are often the consequences of… … domestic problems. I hope you understand”

“Yes, Mrs. Xavier” Aditya replied bitterly.

“Our counselor has given up. From what she could make out, Nishant is really disturbed about something.”

Aditya knew what it was. He had to do something about it, soon.

“Domestic problems are not something we can wish away, Mr. Roy. But we need to take care of our children’s future too. Whatever it is that Nishant is going through, it is taking a heavy toll on his performance in school, on his behavior, attitude, everything.”

Aditya gave a short nod. He was feeling ashamed of himself. His problems were ruining his kid’s future.

“Children get influenced easily, Mr. Roy. They do not have the ability to analyze – to judge what is right and what is wrong. At times, the child’s mind may get scarred beyond repair. As a well-wisher, I don’t want Nishant to head that way.”

“I appreciate your concern, Mrs. Xavier. I’ll do the needful, I assure you. Thank you so much.”

Aditya came out feeling distraught. He will have to talk to her, to make her understand. It was about his son… her son… their son.

He got into his Corolla and drove towards his office.

CHAPTER THREE

Aditya was still shaking. He parked the car in the garage and rushed towards the elevator. He had to do something. They can’t do this to him. He was innocent, after all…

He had always thought Aniket to be his friend. That bastard… he spat in the aisle. The guard glared at him for a second and then looked away. He got into the elevator.

… he felt like banging his head against the elevator wall.

He got off on the second floor and entered his apartment, the door being ajar.

Nishant was playing with his toy-car in a corner of the living-room. He looked up at him and then returned to playing without as much as a reaction. Aditya remembered what the Principal had told him. He’ll have to take to Shreya.

He went into the bedroom. Shreya was looking out of the window. She must have seen him drive into the garage. Yet she pretended as if he was a non-entity. Aditya looked around. The bed-sheets were in shambles. He had been here again, Aditya gritted his teeth.

“Shreya,” he tried to sound normal, “I’d been to Nishant’s school today.”

“Did you go to our lawyer?” asked Shreya.

“Shreya, for heaven’s sake…”

Shreya looked at him. She appeared to be in a state of delirium.

“He told me!!!! You don’t want to free me… do you? You want me to serve you for the rest of my life…” Shreya was shrieking now.

“You are my wife, goddamit…”

“Wife… hah… I’m a slave, Aditya… your slave… tending to your needs, your son’s needs…”

“Isn’t he your son too…?” Aditya felt veins in his temple throb madly.

“Son… something I never wanted… saddled with marriage and a son when I had ambitions. I sacrificed my career…”

“Haven’t I made you happy in the past six years, Shreya? And you give me this in return…”

“Happy…? No, you don’t make me happy, Aditya… Your son doesn’t make me happy… Pete makes me happy, Aditya. Pete makes me happy. He understands my needs, my feelings…”

“He is using you…Shreya. Why don’t you understand??” Aditya was now yelling too.

“The thought of going away makes me happy… to go away from you… your son…”

Aditya could hold it no more. He slapped Shreya hard across the face. She fell onto the bed, whining. Aditya saw Nishant in the doorway and felt a pang of guilt.

“Shreya,” Aditya was crying as he sat on the bed, “We need to think for our son… we are spoiling his… why don’t you understand??”

Shreya gripped him with both hands, tears rolling down her cheeks… “Free me Aditya, free me… I want to live a life… I love Pete and he loves me…”

“Don’t you love me???? Don’t you love Nishant????”

“No” Shreya shrieked. “I never loved you… I was a slave in this house… I want divorce, Aditya…”

“Shreya, you are mad…” Aditya was trying hard again to control his anger, “Don’t you realize that our son needs you…?”

“I have been tending to all your needs for six years, Aditya… Give me what I want…” Shreya was pleading hard…

“You are out of your mind, Shreya…” Aditya’s heart was burning. He felt something was choking him up. Suddenly, he stood up.

“Did I ever ask you for anything? I’ve always been a slave in this house…”

“You cheated on me, you bitch!!!” Aditya roared. He pulled her up with both his hands, “You make it sound like you have suffered… but I am ready to forgive… for our son…”

“No… I want to be happy, Aditya. I want to be happy…” Shreya clung to his shirt…

Aditya whacked her hard across the face again and pushed her backwards. She collided with the table and crumbled onto the floor, sobbing hysterically…

“Are you happy, now…? If you meet that bastard once more, I’ll kill both of you… perhaps, that would make you happy…” He rushed out of the bedroom and found Nishant cowering in a corner of the living-room.

His heart skipped a beat, his mind numb with rage, “Nishant, come here. Come to papa…” He realized that his voice quivered, and his eyes were moist.

Nishant walked up to him hesitatingly, too afraid to disobey. Aditya took him up in arms and marched out of the apartment. He rang the doorbell of their neighbor Mrs. Pundit. The door opened…

“Disha, will you look after Nishant for a while?” Aditya blurted…

Disha nodded, a thousand questions swarming in her eyes.

“Thank you…” and Aditya flew down the stairs. His heart was throbbing wildly… He got into his car and drew out of the building, not knowing where he was going, not knowing what he would do, just knowing that he wanted to go away from here, as far away as possible…

CHAPTER FIVE

Shards of glass sunk into his skin, blood trickling down his face and sides, Aditya walked over to the spot where the cat lay on the road. The scene was menacing…

Aditya felt sick in the stomach. He thought he was going to throw up…

He gingerly picked up what remained of the cat’s body… and swaggered to a side of the road… he placed the cat on the ground and covered it with mud, leaves and stones…

And then he sank into the ground, crying like a kid. He lay there for several minutes… the pain in his heart unbearable… the flood in his eyes unstoppable…

I’ll not let my son suffer… I’ll secure his future… He sat up with great difficulty… I don’t care what happens to her, I don’t care what happens to me, I care only about Nishant… He stood up… I’ll get out of trouble… and we’ll go away… away from this madness…

A passing car stopped where he stood. “Are you all right?” the lady driving the car asked apprehensively.

Aditya nodded and started walking towards his car… Everything would be all right, soon.

Phata Poster, Nikla Hero

2010-08-21T16:36:00.004+05:30

Ok, maybe not quite a Hero. This is what I am referring to - but then, I had asked for it!

So, any learnings?
No Sir -just let me nurse the wounds (mainly to my pride) - will be back soon!

*evil laughter with appropriate sound-effects in the background*

PS: This masochistic brainwave was an inspiration from Mini.. err.. Maini.

Tu bhi Disco, Main bhi Disco

2010-08-08T14:28:00.000+05:30

Ok, so the off-site happened (they call it the Business Meet), and it wasn't all that bad. For three days, we were parceled to this luxury hotel in Goa where we had marathon presentations (which were boring to the point that you almost strangle yourself), team activities (read 'physical torture'), and random conversations with bosses where you are repeatedly reminded how fortunate you are to be part of this elite gang! However, to redeem it somewhat, met so many new people, gulped gallons of free daaru, and treated myself to the luxuries that such a hotel could offer (err... only the free ones!).

I shall not forget:

* how the DJ was playing my favouritest songs like I am a Disco Dancer, 1-2-3, Jumma Chumma and many more.

* how, after maroing three Long-Islands and a couple of shots (I could barely stand), I realized that I will be called on to the stage for receiving an award (They obviously couldn't let me know earlier!) And then you have kamine friends who suggest that you have another shot to soothe nerves. I didn't trip and fall, I didn't do anything stupid either - but people complained that I was dead serious when receiving the award!

* how I ran for my life after seeing my naked boss coming out of the sauna (accidentally, instead of entering the showers, I came out of the wrong door into the corridor. And I was wearing only a towel!)

* how we had a fight with the irritating lifeguard at the beach - who gave us fake excuses like "there are snakes in the sea" to send us away after nightfall.

* how I couldn't sleep at night (even after being completely drunk) because my room-mate was snoring loud enough to wake up Kumbhakarna.

* how, during the physical activity session, a Bong from Calcutta and a Sardar from Delhi broke into a fight. Watching the show from the sidelines was pure bliss.

* how there were hot, skimpily-clad, firang chics on the dance floor. But, as a poor desperate soul from Chennai got to know the hard way, they were reserved only for senior management.

From Bollywood with Love

2010-07-31T12:55:00.000+05:30

I have developed this one bad habit of late - of reading movie reviews before I go and watch them. Maybe this is because I seldom go for movies now and so have to really decide which ones to watch. Earlier, it was simple - one on Saturday, one on Sunday - if three movies have released the same week, then maybe one on Friday as well. Bachelorhood had its own share of fun!

But reading movie reviews before I watch them kills half the fun. Also, you are annoyed when you read these idiots dole out crap saying how the movie didn't do anything for them at an intellectual level. Right! You are watching Bollywood - let it remain Bollywood-like. As it is, Bollywood these days has lost much of its charm. What with all the 'different' plots and 'contemporary' movies!

I desperately want those days back when you go and watch a movie because you want your grey cells to rest for 3 odd hours, where you can laugh at silly jokes like this one, and jump in your seats at scenes like this one, and throw chawannis on the screen when Katrina Kaif dances like this.

So, here's a list of 5 things that I miss about Bollywood:

1. Bhagwan ke liye mujhe chod do:
These scenes used to be the highlight of any villain's career. Higher the number rape scenes he has done, larger would be his bargaining power with the producer. Small-time villains would try to rape the hero's sister. Stalwarts got to rape the heroine herself. And super-villains would get dialogues like "Itni acchi cheez ko Bhagwan ke liye kaise chod doo".
For the actresses, it was double-bonanza. Their blatant over-acting would get passed off as brilliant histrionics. And they got to expose sans raised eyebrows from the moral police. Sigh, those were the days.

2. Maa:
The Original Bollywood Maa was teary-eyed, overflowing with emotion, ever-sacrificing, pitiable creature. She was the one who made the women burst into tears and made the men feel guilty for the torture that their kind was inflicting on the Maa onscreen. Then, times changed. Moviemakers realized that they need not have a separate Helen as Item-girl. The Maa could double-hat (see here).

3. Black Vs White:
I don't have the time or the patience to analyze who is good and who is bad. The bad guy should look really evil and hatred for him should come naturally. He can try being bald or having long, bushy mustache. He should use only foul language and look at all the female characters with gandi nazar.
I hate shades of grey. I don't like anti-heroes.

4. Rita Bani Sita - In the same line of thought, the mashooka should be hot and the wife should be dressed like sati-savitri. Thus, when the hero and the heroine get married, the heroine's attire needs to be changed. (this to this).
First, actors don't get married at all in today's movies! And when they do, the girl still pirouettes around in skimpy clothes, not caring for our sanskars. Me not likes at all.

5. Ek Ladka aur ladki kabhi dost nahi ho sakte:
This should be crystal clear for all. I am fed up of all the 'we are only friends' stories. Show them love stories. Btw, watch the legendary scene here

Though, even today, Bollywood does occasionally surprise us with classics like Prince and Ek Second - Jo Zindagi Badal De. But these are far off and in-between. As a hamming Shahrukh Khan would say, Yeh dil mange more!

Because God doesn't like me

2010-07-08T21:46:00.000+05:30

Yes, I have arrived at this conclusion after a lot of deliberation and debate. It is high time now that I confront him, to put an end to all this madness.
And this post ideally should be in Hindi - the drama just comes out better. But then my laptop sucks and typing in English itself is an ordeal. Also, you will soon be enlightened about my paranormal translation skills. So, here we go.

*deep breath*
God,
You must be so happy today!
All through my life, I have never uttered a word. Ever since I was a kid, your world has doled out atrocity after atrocity on me – I always took everything to be your wish.

(Aaj to bahut khush hoge tum!

Bachpan se lekar aaj tak, tumhari is duniya ne zakhma par zakma diye hain mujhe, lekin main sab kuch tumhari marzi samajh kar chup chap sahta raha)

- Guys are supposed to be good at cricket. Period.
But I was always beyond being pathetic. Evil laughter of all the para-boys (para = locality) when I got out for a duck again or when I dropped a lopa-lopa (slang for 'too easy to miss') catch, still rings clearly in my ears.
I said nothing to you. I never prayed that I should be the star player in the para tournament.

- My world was shattered when I found out that Sridevi had married a motu and taklu Boney Kapoor. I mean, come on, I looked so much better! And I even remained faithful to her through atrocious movies like Nakabandi and Chandramukhi.
Maine tab bhi tumse kuch nahi kaha.

- In a world where girls go all gaga over brawn (and caring little for brains!), I was always lanky, all skin-and-bones. After all, which girl would want to date a guy who would give her competition in the waistline category? I was the favorite rakhi-brother material.
Still, I waited, patiently, for my time to come.

- Even in IIMB, you tortured me with Quant! What were the professors expecting? That we are mutated maniacs and that we have mini-orgasms while solving super-complex mathematical problems? Ok, maybe some of those weird engineer-geeks do get all ecstatic while solving Double Integration of a differential equation or some such shit! But I don't. And, it was third degree torture to me.
I took the C in Quant to be my fate. Quietly.

- When I joined work, you gave me evil super-bosses. Evil means really evil - descendants of Sauron, devotees of Mugambo, minions of Voldemort! I never fought back, never spat in their face or pushed them in front of a speeding car. I satisfied myself by gossiping about their extra-marital affairs instead.

- You gave me a paunch and white hair. You made college-kids call me 'uncle' in local trains. But today the lakshman-rekha was crossed.
Main ab chup nahi rahoonga .
While having a bath today, when I found that the drain is completely clogged because of my falling hair, and the naked truth stared at me, I was livid.

Aisa kya bigada hai maine tumhara? Itna bhi zulm mat kar ki duniya mein sabka tujhpar se bharosa uth jaye. Please, please, please!

Relief! *deeper breath*

Randomness.... all over again!

2010-07-04T21:31:00.000+05:30

*My office people have been planning a team-offsite in Goa. They tell me it will be a lot of fun. And then they tell me that we have to make powerpoint presentations and participate in fruitful discussions and team-building exercises and a whole lot of other crap! Am lost. And am already sure I will hate it.

*'I hate Luv Storys' was time-pass. The pair looked good onscreen. Songs were hummable. PVR seats were extremely comfortable. And caramel popcorn was pure bliss.

*I have got this cool little gadget on my Blog which tells me who all have been visiting my blog, as in from which country, which state, which link, which website. It also offers me uber-cool analytics and reports and stuff. I found that many visitors arrived on the blog from Google. Here is what they searched for -

Life at IIMB (After reading all my cribbing, the person would have the most distorted view of life at IIMB!), yogizone blogspot (I danced for half an hour when I found that someone actually googled for my blog!), if sabzi mein namak zyada ho to kya karein (this got thrown up in results!), yogi zone (this time it was the hula), are Indians smelly? (!!!!), bachelors not allowed Mumbai (I was amused), Flute Player (All smiles), Kaam wali bai ko ragda (And I died)

*Toy Story 3 was pure awesomeness. It's not for the kid in you - it is for You, if you have ever been a kid that is. And if, as a kid, you have ever had stuff that you treasured!

Randomness

2010-06-21T21:45:00.000+05:30

* During monsoons, Mumbai attains a new level of menace altogether. Ok, except Marine Drive - its beauty during the rains can completely mesmerize you. But, overall, its painful. Local trains get dirtier and more crowded. People poke each other in various body parts with umbrellas. In fact, if you are those types who relishes causing pain to others, you should carry these really huge umbrellas (which are also handy if you have to clear way for yourself in the train).

* Our colony's kids' favourite pastime during vacations has been splashing in the water that got collected in the complex's swimming pool (which otherwise remains dry due to water shortage in the area!). Suddenly felt so grown up, so old. Those were the days! No, not the ones that I remember - but the ones when I was so very young, the days I don't have even a sliver of memory of.

* Saw the new Fair & Lovely for men ad on TV. And rolled with laughter for half a minute. I thought they had come up with something called 'Fair & Handsome' for men. Is that product out of the market? Or do men prefer to be 'lovely' over 'handsome'?

* Sonia (my wife) has been having these weird nightmares. She gets up in the morning all worried and tells me that she had had the worst nightmare of her life in which her kaamwali bai was threatening to quit the job. And then I make the biggest mistake of the week by saying that 'It's just the two of us, you can sure manage by yourself'.

* I have listed my blog on all these blog directories on the net (in the hope of getting the most coveted of all prizes for bloggers around the globe - traffic!). Read some of the blogs listed there - and I suddenly feel so humbled, so dwarfed... so miniscule *sigh* But I will continue blogging for sake of my own stupid vanity. And will write on more random topics in the future *evil grin*

* I am petty sure I need a new laptop as mine one simply refuses to work (this is a blatant hint if someone is looking at cheering me up by buying an expensive gift)

* This post is made up of random topics. Randomness is the flavor of the season.

The Flute Player

2010-06-20T17:03:00.004+05:30

This is a repost of sorts. Had written this way back - before college, seems like before time. Don't know what had inspired this - but when I think of it now, various inspirations come to mind - The Solitary Reaper, Braj Ki Sandhya (one of the bestest Hindi verses I have read), The Pied Piper...

Can't write such stuff anymore, back then I used to write for myself, only my own self. There was no need for acceptance. No greed for praise and accolades. The innocence is now lost - I am myself no more.

“The Flute Player”

~~~~~

The ‘fireball’ was sinking low;

And darkness swept o’er the vale;

And the villagers awaited eagerly –

Him – who makes their hearts sail.

Then was heard a distant tune –

Soft like love, Soothing like prayer –

Which grew louder every moment;

He came, at last, the Flute Player.

He walked down the hamlet lane

Playing the most lingering tunes;

A surreal aura evolved, and,

The listeners forgot their haunting pains.

A maiden slipped into the world of dreams,

Oblivious to her worldly part…

Enchanted and mesmerized she sang –

‘Oh, oh, the Flute Player of my heart!’

The young ones also took a ride

To joys of bliss as the music loomed.

He weaved magic with his flute –

And they merrily danced to his tunes.

But still with all his lust ’n charm,

The Flute Player remains all alone.

He swaps our sorrows for divine joy,

Yet, pines for something, to us, not known.

He plays his flute with burning zest,

Perhaps to make his pains flow

In tunes that fill thy heart with Joy –

Wherein may he find his secret cove.

~~~~~~

Mr. Beautiful

2010-06-10T14:51:00.004+05:30

He welcomed me with a gleeful smile. Most salonwala bhaiyas I have known are never happy to see another customer. At least in Calcutta, they never are. Bored with work, they just want to sit idle, pick at their noses and listen to Himessssh songs on Radio Mirchi. But this chap was different.

Me: 'Baal kaat do yaar'
Dude: (running his fingers through my hair) 'Sir, shampoo kar doon? Aapke baal bahut dry hain'
Me: 'Nahi yaar. Main ghar jakar shampoo kar loonga. Tum baal kaat do - aur chote mat kaatna' I warned him.
Dude: 'Normal cut ya style mein katoon?'
Me: 'Normal. Baal kahan hain style karwane ke liye. Duh'
Dude: (again tousling up my hair) - 'aap spa kyun nahi karwate. Baal ekdum mast ho jayenge'
Me: 'Nahi yaar. Tum zaldi baal kaat do'
Disappointed, he got to his work. And I started dozing off. Then he jerked me awake.
Dude: 'Aapke baal girte hain?'
Me: (irritated) 'Bahut'
Dude: (perhaps sensing the bitterness in my voice) 'Sab dandruff ki wajah se hai. Aap spa karwa lo'
Me: 'Arey paise nahi hai bhai. Karwana hoga to bolunga main'
But he was just too enthu about his job. After the haircut, he offered to do a facial with some 'special gora banane wali' cream. I gave him a flat 'no'.
Dude: 'Sir aapke sare dark marks chale jayenge. Girlfriend khush ho jayegi.'

I was amused. But I didn't give in. Paid him Rs 60 for his shitty haircut (in Calcutta I would have paid only Rs 25!) and came out of the salon.

And I don't actually blame him for peddling these products to me. The modern day metrosexual man goes to the spa, gets facial done, gets pedicure, manicure and what not cured. He is increasingly trespassing on what used to be female-only territory in the bygone days. Companies are launching beauty products targeted at men - to make men fairer, softer and possibly, more girly. Kudos to Shahrukh Khan for starting this madness - he told the whole world that his beauty secret was actually a Lux soap.

But some of this is also getting out of control. If my 'male' superboss can announce that he is addicted to pedicure & manicure and start taking tips on the same from a 'female' colleague of mine, I know that the world is spiralling out of its orbit.

It's not that I don't take care of myself at all. I am very concerned about my falling hair and I get repeated nightmares that I have gone bald. And just like I would do if you bring a cockroach all of a sudden in front of me, I flinch on seeing an ujda chaman. So I have started getting head massage where I make the salonwala bhaiya apply smelly nariyal oil on my hair whilst he keeps pleading that I opt for its super-costlier version hair-spa instead.

Maybe this would stop soon. Or, maybe the day is not too far away, when men would be 'beautiful' too.

Once upon a time in the 21st century.....

2010-05-26T21:04:00.006+05:30

.... man stopped talking or writing. Because he found out that he can tweet instead.

Tweeting was after-all a far more evolved form of communicating. Once you have tweeted, people all around the world can see it, and do random things in response (apologies, I don't yet know what all you can do on twitter). On facebook, for instance, once you had posted a status update (e.g. 'I just farted!'), your friends can 'like' it, comment on it (e.g. 'Is it one of those smelly ones?'), share the update with their friends, have a conversation around it and someone sitting in Prague who you don't know at all will see the update when they log into facebook simply because his friend's friend's friend is also your friend and this might just make his day ('OMG, Indians have smelly farts!'). See the magic yet?

Thanks to Orkut, Facebook, Twitter and now Buzz for Googlomaniacs, losers round the world can have a thriving virtual social life. E.g. I never forget my friends' birthdays, anniversaries, weddings anymore - I facebook them! He may eventually never know that I wished him because he would have 250 other 'friends' also facebooking him the same day, but I will have to live with that. I am now in the know of all my friends' minute-by-minute activities like A is at the airport tweeting around, B is getting bored in office and is hence, facebooking, C is watching Kites in a theater and has buzzed about how pathetic the movie is. The only downside is that I don't get any brownie points for supplying gossip anymore as everyone knows everything. But, ta da, I save money as I don't need to call / visit anyone at all.

Truth be told, I am somewhat scared. I am scared when I see how willingly people share their lives on a public forum. How easy it is for someone to find out anything that he wants to know about you, your appearance, your thoughts, your daily routine, your likings, your fears, your relatives, your hobbies! Websites like facebook, google and many others, in order to supposedly 'enrich' your surfing experience, track what you do on the net. So, don't be surprised if next time you notice an innocuous car ad on your google homepage if you have been doing online research on cars. You realize how far this can go?

The other day I received a facebook prompt - "Mr. A visited your album". Here, A neither commented on my album nor 'liked' any of the pics. A was not even in my friends' list. Still I know that he visited my profile and looked through my pics. Next time facebook might tell me that B likes visiting a particular porn-site or that he's been googling on schizophrenia purely based on his online activities and without his knowledge. Scary, no?

Ok, I guess I am done. Now, let me post a link to this blog on facebook and also update my gtalk status message telling the world that my blog is updated. I also think I should finally start tweeting. How else would my friends know about my stupendously interesting life!

Ass you like it

2010-05-09T22:13:00.006+05:30

It used to amuse me earlier. But now my reaction borders on that of disgust.

I have actually seen all types - fair or dark, smooth or hairy, bony or muscular, tight or lumpy, guy's or girl's. A good view used to get an appreciative nod. A pathetic one got only a chuckle. But I am bored of the show now. So I will blog on this topic instead.

Indians catch on to a fashion fad like fire to fuel. Ok, maybe a little later than the rest of the world. But they also overdo it to crazy levels.

First, we were supposed to show off our underwear. We only had to wear our jeans a little lower than where they ideally should be. Then, we thought, what the heck, a little bit of ass-crack would do no harm. Now, everywhere around we see asses on display. Guys', girls', uncles', aunties', kids'!, the sabziwallah's, the electrician's, the cobbler's, the receptionist's, the courier boy's, the chaiwallah's, my friends' and their friends'. One of my earlier kaamwala boys had his ass-crack on show with panache. John Abraham has done it on screen. I am sure than Shahrukh Khan will do a personal show for you if you pay him enough money (he may already be doing such shows - you may want to check if interested)

Since I have decided to dwell on this at an intellectual plane, let us wonder why would one want to resort to such an antic:

1) Mini-striptease: Peacocks dance to attract peahens. Maybe, for modern-day man, showing one's ass is a mating ritual. Maybe, lust at first sight (of a cute ass) can finally transform into eternal love.
2) Maybe the clothing brands don't make right sizes anymore. Or like true Indians, we buy our clothes one size bigger just in case we put on weight later :)
3) For making a statement like 'Meri underwear teri underwear se mehengi (aur choti) hai'
4) Maybe to show the world that you have lost weight. And, you have lost a lot of weight real fast. So fast that you didn't have time for buying new clothes
5) In the hot Indian summer, we prefer air around our sweaty asses.
6) Maybe this is the way members of a secret cult identify each other?

Main aur mere Kaamwale Boys

2010-04-30T21:23:00.006+05:30

Jobs that suck, atrocious weather, travelling by local trains, house-hunting, living away from home, and I had thought that Mumbai had tortured me enough. I was, obviously, wrong.

Ankit and I wanted to live the good life. And we decided, after painful encounters with Mumbai's Kaamwali Bais ("Main undergarments nahi dhoegi aur ghar zyada ganda nahi chahiye aur bedsheet roz roz dhone nahi dalne ka aur....... khich-khich, chik-chik!!"), that we shall keep a full-time flunk to cook for us, do all the household chores etc, get cigarettes for Ankit when he ran out of them, have no qualms about washing our underwear and... let us make the house as dirty as we possibly could. We did not know, then, that this was going to be a big fucking mistake.

So, let's look at the various kaamwale boys we have had:

1) Hero Hiralal

Our first was a decent chap - short, lanky, malnourished, polite, hardworking. He looked very very decent. And apart from the fact that he occasionally wore these ghastly KRK-inspired glittering shirts, we had absolutely no issues with him. He made amazing Aloo ke Paranthe - and that is the one reason why we missed him the most. He also kept the house spic-and-span. When Ankit's parents came visiting, he won their hearts like a susheel bahu. And then one day, the devil played his dirty game.
Imagine. You are called at work and told that your domestic flunk has locked himself up and is not opening the door. You rush home to find 300 angry Marathis standing at your door baying for the blood of your Bihari servant - accusing him of molesting a school-girl. You break into the house (with the help of the angry mob) to find the flunkie crying, in a state of delirium, pleading innocent. You manage to save his life but the flunkie is now an outcast. He should never be seen in Kurla again. The real truth will never be known. But we got to know that the mob's definition of 'molesting' was talking to the girl on the road ("Iske iraade theek nahi the"). And we lost our best kaamwala boy to date.

2) Two-timer

Then we got someone who was already working at a friend's place to also work for us. He was ok except for the fact that he gave us this step-motherly treatment.
He was a little lazy but he worked when told. And he always seemed to spend all the money the same day we gave him. And we used to wonder how. Finally he went to his gaon with two months' advance salary and never returned. Worst thing was we were, once again, left at the mercy of temporary kaamwali bais.

3) Kaliya

The third guy looked the kamina type. Let's refer to him as Kaliya. He loved throwing all our stuff away when we were not at home (giving stupid explanations like 'mujhe laga kaam ka nahi tha'). He broke everything precious we ever owned. You get a family pack of ice-cream and leave it in the fridge. It's gone by the time you get back home. You get 10 packets of Lays Chips for the party you will throw over the weekend. Nothing can be found on Saturday morning. Fruits, dry-fruits, churan, he used to hog everything like crazy. Our ration budget went up at least four times. And, one day, when he crossed the line (by answering back), we decided to throw him out.

4) Psycho

This guy came highly recommended through a friend's friend's friend. He was a little old and so we were apprehensive from the very beginning. It hadn't even been a day when he showed his true colours.
He gets up early in the morning and starts knocking on our doors to wake us - it was a weekend for heaven's sake! Then he says something funny:
"Bhabhi ko bol dijiye taiyaar ho jaye, naashta ready hai"
We looked at each other with suspicion. When all three of us shrugged, we told him, "Yahan koi Bhabhi nahi hai"
"Abhi to thi wahan saari pehne huye"
Then without waiting for an answer he runs into the kitchen. We leave it at that, thinking he may have seen Ankit (with his small frame) and thought it was a girl.

Evening 10 PM: We are having dinner.
Psycho comes to us, looking pensive. "Main aapko pehle se hi bata deta hoon. Police aane wali hai aapko pakadne". We choke on our food.
"Aisa kya kar diya tumne?"
"Maine? Maine kya kiya hai? Raat ko aap log hi to sab kar rahe the"
"Kya kar rahe the hum?"
"Yahan 20-25 logon ko bulakar aaplog andhere mein puja kar rahe the. Kahin baithne ki jagah nahi thi. Aap log zor zor se mantra ka jaap kar rahe the"
"Hum teeno apne apne kamre mein so rahe the. Aapne sapna dekha hoga. Aur police kahan se aayi beech mein?"
"Mujhe mat batao. Main sab jaanta hoon. Yahan, wahan, sab jagah log khade the. Bathroom mein, balcony mein teen log, Kitchen mein.... main jakar neeche garage mein soya. Itna shor. Baki building ke logon ne police mein complaint likha di hai" he looked scared, and dead serious.
"Isne bhoot to nahi dekha?"
Several shots from Ramgopal Verma's horror flicks flashed before our eyes. What if the house HAD ghosts.

We called the watchman. He confirmed that the guy had slept in the garage in the night. But he hadn't heard any noise. Then the psycho threw his trump card.
"Aap log mujhe kal raat ko kitna maar rahe the! Kutte ki tarah patti bandhkar mujhe ghumaya. Sab mujhe laat mar rahe the!"

He was obviously hallucinating. We got so scared we immediately (at 11 in the night) called his family members, packed his bags, called a taxi, gave the taxiwala money and his brother's address and parceled him back.

5) Marathi Manoos

Next was our first and last marathi flunk. He was lazy no 1. He was with us only for a day half of which he slept through. And then he announced that there was too much work so he couldn't do it!

6) Shehenshah

Next guy lasted some time. He had this gorkha look and was polite. He kept the house extremely dirty but we were so desperate by now that we didn't say anything. He also wore his pants very low so that half his ass was exposed - we didn't bother unless some female friends were to come over.
Then one night, he drank all of Ankit's daru, took Arjun's car-keys, took the car out from the garage and rammed in into another one. He apologized profusely when he came to his senses but we had to throw him out after that.

I am forgetting about a couple of others who came and went like a whiff of stale air, only leaving the nausea behind.

With Sonia now to deal with the kaamwali bai, my life is a lot simpler. Married Life. Good Life.

PS: After I have been threatened with dire consequences if I even as much as try to suggest watching Prince, I have given up on my aspiration of writing the review. Please don't thank me on this blog.

Yogi Baba ke Nuskhe

2010-04-18T13:29:00.004+05:30

"Marriage is one of the few institutions that allow a man to do as his wife pleases." - Milton Berle

After having been blissfully married for the last 4 and a half months, I think I can author this blog in the capacity of an expert. For benefits of future generations (I already belong to uncle-category now), I shall generously pass on the secrets to a happy married life:

- The wife is always more beautiful than the hot chic next door or any other female that she may think is good looking (Yes, even Katrina Kaif). If you don't work for a bank and have not been trained in the fine art of lying yet, then you may say something to the effect - "Mere liye to tum hi duniya mein sabse khoobsoorat ho". This is not what she wants to hear, but this will not piss her off completely.

- You should always agree with her views, points, viewpoints, and practically anything she says. But this doesn't mean that you keep nodding your head like a retarded Shahrukh Khan in MNIK. Listen, analyze, contemplate and then reply. For she will occasionally catch you unawares with a "Do you think I have put on weight after marriage?". You have to always reply with a vehement "No"

- Never complain about her cooking. In fact, in this fiercely feminist world, you should thank your heavens if she agrees to cook in the first place. Even if she says "Aaj to daal mein namak zyada hai", you have to pat her lovingly and say, "This is fine, darling" and then take a second helping.

- When you go shopping (which you will do more often that you can imagine), don't ever criticize her choices. Else be prepared to do all the grocery shopping for the whole of next month yourself. And you don't have to buy her gifts while you are shopping together. Your gifts for her should always be surprises :)

- You should always guess what she is thinking. I know you are thinking 'Am I a psychic or what?' but still you should try. Gradually, you will realize that she gives you these small hints. She loves playing these games to check how much you love her. If you can't get these hints, you don't love her enough.

- You can never refer to her as a woman, aurat or mahila. She will always be a girl (ladki).

- If you think she is being illogical and irrational, you are probably right. But you don't have to point that out to her. Ever.

- Your guy friends are all sad idiots with no life. Accept this fact and start ignoring their phone calls citing too much work at office.

I wanted to add a lot more. But that would take all the fun away when it happens. Marry and then go figure.

To write or not to write

2010-04-09T23:24:00.002+05:30

I have never written a movie review before.

But the temptation is just too much to handle.... ahh

Slow Local

2010-04-02T11:49:00.006+05:30

When in Mumbai, do what Mumbaikars do. Which means you need to screech a lot at everyone around. Be bossy, impolite and pushy (and I mean literally 'pushy' - that is you 'push' people away, even if they are not in your way!). And, you travel by local trains.

Actually, you cannot avoid the local train bit, even if you want to. Fastest and cheapest (ok, maybe buses would be somewhat cheaper but then you actually feel you have aged a little by the time you get off the bus), traveling by local trains becomes a necessary evil.

And they are always jam-packed. No matter what time you take the train and in which direction. Even First class! Ok, as many of you will know, my cribbing will have no end, so let me stop right here and start with what I actually intended this blog to be about.

People you are likely to meet in a (packed) Mumbai Local Train:

The Gujju Stock Broker (and his gang) - Sitting on top of each other in some corner playing cards, or standing in the doorway discussing stock movements, property prices and what not (and, unintentionally am sure, blocking the entry/exit), mirthful, teasing each other on silly things like 'teri pant kitni tight hai', laded with jewelery of all sorts - chains, bracelets, earrings, rings, diamond-studded-shirts - seriously! (and, yeah, gold is passé, they prefer platinum now!) - you just can't miss the Gujju gang in a Mumbai local. They speak only in Gujarati and hence, it might be difficult to follow the entire conversation - but what I like about them is their being so full of joy, energy and jest, all the time. While I did get irritated at 'all the loud banter' first, I have begun to like such gangs. They, somehow, find a reason to smile, a reason to joke, a reason to have fun.

The Motu Uncle - He will push his way through, occupy as much space as five people and then give you a dirty look that would say 'don't mess with me'. They rarely apologize after nearly crushing you to death. As a co-passenger once commented (after a Motu Uncle started squeezing him) - "Uncle, aapko gym hi jana padega. Aise dabane se pet kam nahi hoga" :)
Though, occasionally, having a Motu Uncle in front of you, when you have to get off a crowded train, does have its benefits. You can easily pass through after he has cleared his way. Just ignore the massacre all around.

The Gunda - He is rude, loud-mouthed and found mostly in Virar fast. He won't let you get onto the train, he won't let you get off. He will be a nuisance in general. He is occasionally with his other gunda friends, when he creates twice as much trouble for others. He will chew tobacco and spit everywhere. He will blow smoke in co-passengers' faces after smoking a beedi. He particularly hates UP Bhaiyas. He will abuse and crib. You will find it easy to hate him.
An advice: You should always ignore him - though the temptation to sucker-punch him or push him off the moving train would be very intense.

The College Nerd - He is the standard studious type. He will carry a huge bag filled with books. Even in a crowded train where people can barely stand, he will have the uncontrollable urge to take out a book and study. And this is no Calcutta where studious kids are offered seats by other passengers. Geeks like me will associate with him but when, in the jostling crowd, you realize that he is taking up extra space, you start giving him dirty looks.

The Newspaper Freak - He is the grown-up version of the College Nerd. His books are replaced by Newspapers now. He has embarked on this impossible mission to read the entire paper before the train reaches his destination station. He takes multiple poses while reading the newspaper (some of which look inspired from Kamasutra).

Mr. 'I-don't-believe-in-bathing-at-all' - He is the smelly kind. No more words.

Hairy Harry - These are uncles with an overgrowth of hair on their heads. Now, now, I am not making fun of them because of envy at their hare-bhare gardens. But in crowded trains, they tend to shake their heads a little too often which means that those standing around them will be gifted with loving strokes of their tresses. Best is when the Uncle in question has a penchant for applying smelly hair-oil. You will actually achieve a state of eternal bliss when a strand of oily hair brushes past your face.

Raasta bhatki Aunty - Occasionally, a lady will board the unisex compartment (mind you there are no men's compartments) and then all hell will break loose. Men, who have accepted the kicking and jostling as part of their lives, will be forced to behave appropriately - try fruitlessly to save that poor woman from the torture that mortals are subjected to in a Mumbai local.

Mumbaiya Tapori - He is the milder version of the Gunda.He tries to boss around but gets shooed away by other passengers. He lacks the evil look and tries to make up for it by using a lot of swear-words. He is the wannabe Gunda. Maybe he will never achieve the same perfection. But he tries for what he is worth.

The Gay - You find them everywhere. And you gradually learn to ignore them. And, frankly, in a crowded train it is difficult to identify who is trying to molest (if guys can be molested at all!) you and who is just another victim. A warning though: Some of them get pretty aggressive if you continue to ignore them. And, a dirty look will suffice to ward them off.

The 'madly-in-love' couple - Coochey-coo couples, falling over each other. Thankfully, this variety avoids crowded trains. They, instead, choose to do PDA (public display of affection) on the platform.

Oye Chakka Chakka oye - They run India's largest extortion racket. First class compartments are well within their reach.

The Chotu Ustaad - The modern-day dwarf. He cannot reach the overhead bars. He is usually crushed between bottoms and has to shriek to make others notice him. He will hold on to you like you are his long-lost-kumbha-mela-wala brother. Though he is particularly crafty in squeezing past people in crowded trains.

The Mandir ka Pujari - This gang sits together chanting mantras and hanuman chalisa. They often occupy an entire compartment. And also distribute tasty prasad after their puja is done :)

Now, now, this is definitely not an exhaustive list - but I had fun writing it :)

Mumbai, ahoy! - Addendum

2010-03-27T19:05:00.001+05:30

Have finalized the flat at Bhandup. However, no celebrations until we actually move into the flat! But what I can do is narrate two particularly funny encounters that I had in course of my khoj:

Episode 1#
Aunty welcomes me into her flat with a gleeful smile. The broker (who is incidentally a lady herself) looks very puzzled at the warm reception I am getting. Aunty quickly tells me that she will be moving to Kerala and hence wants to give out her fully-furnished 2BHK on rent to someone nice and scholarly. It turns out that she was a teacher and she loves good students. I am all smiles.

Aunty: Beta, you are an engineer?
Me: No Aunty, I am a commerce grad
Aunty: (slightly upset) Oh...
Me: (quickly adding) I did my MBA - from IIM Bangalore (close-up smile)
Aunty: (eyes light-up) Good. But you look so young to have done your post-grad. So beta why do you need a 2BHK?
Me: Aunty, my family will be moving to Bombay....
Aunty: Oh, your mom and dad?
Me: My wife, Aunty
Aunty: (suddenly jumps on the sofa) Oh my my! You are married. You look so young!
I look down at the floor and give a slight smile (in a sharmila bhartiya purush sort of way)
Aunty: So beta, how many kids do you have?

Episode 2#
The owner is a nice, slightly overweight but good-looking guy. He introduces me to his wife and shows me the flat. Then suddenly he asks.... "You will be staying with your family, right?"
"Yes, with my wife" I reply
"Oh" he heaves a sigh of relief!
"Why?" I ask
"Actually, bachelors are not allowed in the society!"
"Why is that so?"
"Because they are such a nuisance!"
Though I am no longer a bachelor, I take particular offence at that (having stayed with a bunch of guys for almost 2 years in Bombay now! If all societies thought like this!)
"Like?" I ask
"They play loud music, they get their friends over, they booze! They are an overall nuisance. We earlier had bachelors staying in many flats. I have personally complained against them many times. Now, we have banned owners from renting flat to bachelors!" Smug smile.
I decide not to push it further Like it matters to me now :)
"I will be giving the flat on rent for only 12 months. Because I come back to Mumbai in a year."
I look at him with surprise.
"Actually I am going to IIM Calcutta for a one year executive MBA" Smug smile 2
"Great". I give a wicked smile (while mentally picturing him running from the loud music-playing, boozing and philandering junta at IIM)

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

Mumbai, ahoy!

2010-03-25T11:31:00.001+05:30

Househunting... and the Mumbai rains!

After a self-imposed exile from the blogosphere for almost 2 years, what could have possibly motivated me to return...

Life in this godforsaken city had always been exciting - I could have written about my travails of commuting by local trains (that sure deserves an entry of its own!), could have written about how my job sucks, about how I switched my job and the second job also sucks, could have written about the end of the glorious era of my bachelorhood, about 'Wanted', about how I discovered the marvels of Playstation, about Rakhi Sawant, about the online-CAT fiasco.....

But I did not, any more, have the patience for blogging. Reading and writing were the only two (good) hobbies I had had. And both were snatched away from me. Don't know why, when, by who.

But today when I visited my blog (by random chance), I saw that this post of mine has been lying incomplete for ages! And, by now, I can write a book on this topic :P .... so, fasten your seat-belts, here we go:

Episode 1#

Broker looks like the south-Indian sidey of some B-grade Bollywood flick's villain. Turns out he is actually a Bong. He will charge one month's rent as brokerage. Both of us (with less than a month of cumulative work-ex) protest that it is din-dahade dakaiti, but give-in to his demands. We say to our hearts 'All izz well' and embark on the househunting journey.

Fast forward a couple of weeks - Found a house, Ankit used his negotiating skills over the phone (in person, his size would give all away!) to get us what we thought was a good deal. We paid the Broker half his commission (balance to be paid on the day of registration). Owner is in Calcutta but is nice enough to let us move into the house before the agreement is signed. We give the sidey the cheques for deposit and rent and we enter the unfurnished 2 BHK, on the top floor of a seven-storied building.

Day One: Sunday, we goto Big Bazaar and do max-level shopping. Ankit orders his furniture, we buy mattresses, grocery, utensils, what not. Otherwise, the day passes without event.

Day Two: Monday - all the Gods simultaneously take a leak and Mumbai is semi-flooded. We return from work to find our flat flooded as well. Turns out the roof leaks majorly - distraught and on the verge of tears, we call the broker. He feigns ignorance. We call the owner - he is like, 'didn't the broker tell you, there is minor leakage problem the society has been trying to fix for the past two years? You just have to adjust during the monsoons' . We cry foul and want our money back.

Broker - Actually Sirs, you have to pay me the rest of my brokerage. I can't help if you don't like the place now.

Owner - I have lost your cheque in any case. You can put a stop-payment on that cheque if you want, but I want additional one month's rent.

Ankit uses his charm over phone once again. We finally get away with minimal damage, monetary as well as mental.

(and everyone we speak to says, 'You shouldn't have taken a top-floor at all! You should know this in Mumbai - you could have asked me for advice!')

Episode 2#

We find another place and have to shift before the weekend - so that we don't have to pay the owner extra one month's rent. Only option is to move our stuff after office-hours. We book a tempo, return home from office in torrential rain and wade through knee-deep water to reach our building. The tempo guy refuses to come in such heavy rains. Now, it's a choice between some desperate last-minute jugaad and shelling out extra 21K. We choose the former and with umbrella et al, start scouting the locality for some tempo-wala who will help us out. We finally find a young boy who agrees to drive us (at exorbitant cost, of course) but he refuses to assist in getting the luggage loaded/unloaded.

The picture of that night, when the world around us seemed to be dissolving, and we were busy carrying our stuff from the 7th floor down to the garage, will be etched in my memory forever. And not only because of Ankit's decision to drive the tempo. Thankfully he handed over the steering wheel to the driver after nearly causing an accident (while we were still in the garage).

Stay in the second house was uneventful for the next one year, except for the time when I had to single-handedly fight (verbally, how else!) with a crowd of 300 angry Marathis because my Bihari servant was charged with eve-teasing a Class VI school-girl. But that is for another time.

Episode 3#

One year has elapsed. We have to find a new house. Ankit is hell-bent on taking a place in Wadala (which seems to have an aspirational value for all IIM-grads). Dosti Acres and the nearby shanties get a premium becuase all IIM junta stays there. The facts that it is absolutely unreachable by public conveyance and that travel cost is raised substantially do not seem to matter to the wannabe Investment Bankers. I finally manage to convince him against the very idea.

We finally take a 3 BHK in Kohinoor City itself. We get the local guys to move our stuff - and the day we are supposed to shift, the skies open up again! Not much of love-lost between me and God, since we were only moving to the next building.

Episode 4#

I get married and so have to find a place of my own. Being a SINK family (as opposed to DINK), this was anyways gonna be a mighty task. Finding a good house in a good locality at affordable rent! I did find one such place and promptly closed the deal with the owner - a Bengali software engineer who had gotten transferred to Ireland and hence was giving his place on rent. Then one week before my wife is supposed to join me in Bombay, he gives me a call:

Makanmalik: Jogesh, I have shocker of a news!

Yogesh: Erm?

Makanmalik: I have just been informed my Ireland project is canceled!

Yogesh: Erm?

Makanmalik: We have done the agreement and all (where I had slimy-ly put in 6month lock-in period), but that is all fine, right? Thanks for the cooperation. Happy House-hunting!

If you haven't guessed, I am still house-hunting after recovering from the above shocker of a shock! And, hence, couldn't resist venting out my frustration when I saw this topic in an incomplete status :)

Life @ IIMB - The Final Chapter

2008-04-21T18:28:00.001+05:30

For the past two years I had waited for this day. But when it came… it felt like it came too early.

After all, I had just started enjoying my vacation at IIMB.

Hours after hours of doing nothing.. playing World of Warcraft in the Computer Centre Lab night after night, taking a walk to Athica’s with friends at 2’o clock in the night for a cup of coffee, sitting in the OAT at 4 AM in the morning bitching about people, getting drunk on L^2 parties (and hitting on a girl?), watching a night show in a theatre and on our way back doing a little jig in the rain… the second year of my stay at IIMB was as chilled out as the first year had been rigorous, perhaps more … not because it was designed that way by the Insti… but because I had decided, after a lot of deliberation, that I want to enjoy this one year of my life to the fullest.

And enjoy I did. From travelling to Malaysia on a fraud project in a fraud course, to vacationing in Goa, to not mugging for FSA mid-term because I had to finish reading that newly released Harry Potter book (and thus, somewhat foolishly, showing the middle finger to grades), to organizing Karaoke parties in the night to the annoyance of the entire Girls’ Block, to spamming away to glory on all the BRacket folders in the name of ATF… second year at IIMB was fun. But always, somehow… there was an eagerness to run away from the place which had so few happy memories for me… I had always waited for the day when I will finally go far far far away from this hell-hole…

Now I realize how wrong I was… At times, we do not realize what is it that we actually want… maybe I didn’t realize too.

Second year was as different from the first year as it possibly could have been. Maybe because we knew by then that in this race for surging ahead of each other, in this game of marks and money… we are falling behind in this journey called life… we knew by then how to bend rules of the Insti, how to study just before exams and manage the passing grade, how to keep safe distance from the RG-loving, marks-hungry junta… how to ignore people who really don’t matter and … how to live your life your way.

Second year also shattered some myths for me… most important was the realization that my expectations have been misplaced all along… it is not necessary for friends to be like-minded, to crave for the same thing, to follow the same road. I made friends who couldn’t have been more different from me, they still are and will always be… and they formed part of every bit of fun that I had at the place. Had it not been for them, I don’t know if I would have survived IIMB at all. We have fought, we have shared, we have celebrated, we have cried together… have shown each other different facets of the world, have been each others’ conscience, have prayed for each other…

And all that was over…

I remember the day I left campus…

Mummy and Papa were waiting in the cab.. all my luggage had been loaded. I locked the room and rushed to the Hostel Office to deposit the keys… the corridors were deserted. Most students had already left campus. And those who remained would do so in a couple of hours. The first years were busy writing an exam…

It was in that moment that the feeling sank. So, this is it? IIMB is over?

I tried hard to contain tears.. not in front of Mummy and Papa!.... A couple of friends were standing near the cab to see me off… I felt strange. I didn’t know what to say. It was like I am leaving a part of me behind. I looked at the campus one last time… took in everything. There are thousands of things I can complain about and I have been doing that in all earnest. But I know one thing for sure - these were the two best years of my life.

Loser?

2008-03-04T23:02:00.001+05:30

Yes, I did that. Again.

Happy Birthday to me :)

2007-09-03T12:30:00.001+05:30

Make a wish, Patwari!

Mumbai, ahoy!

2007-05-06T22:48:00.002+05:30

Sunday, Evening 8:00 PM – Cribbing to Thatha (my roomie) about how I have wasted the entire weekend by doing nothing but sleeping and hunting for a decent place to eat (i.e. a place where you get cheap yet great food!) and couldn’t really do the Mumbai-darshan that I have been planning to do ever since I landed here. Thatha takes his eyes away from his laptop (he is watching some Tam movie for the umpteenth time – don’t ask me why! Tams usually don’t have any reasons for doing what they do), murmurs something and gets back to his chore.

Night 11:00 PM – Playing War-craft on the laptop and promising to myself that this is the last game…

Night 11:59 PM – Take a Digene tablet (the oily food has caused acidity again!), check the alarm, and hit the bed.

Monday, Morning 7:30 AM - Shit! Am late again. Get up, check the alarm (it must have rung you idiot!), rush to the bathroom… have to get ready by 8 at all costs. Today, I finally want to attend that early morning briefing on the treasury floor…

Morning 8:05 AM - Enter the mess, check the menu, if it’s anything other than Misal Pav, order (and eat breakfast in 2 minutes flat) else rush to the station.

Morning 8:11 AM – Enter the station missing the 8:10 Andheri local by a few seconds again! The Bandra local is at 8:25 – so all hopes of attending the briefing down the drain!

Morning 8:35 AM – Getting a free full-body massage – in the local train – it is packed to the fullest and you can’t move a toe without pushing someone off the moving train.

Morning 9:00 AM – Waiting in the queue to board the bus that takes you to BKC, and making use of the time to breathe freely for a change and also to wipe the perspiration…

Morning 9:25 AM – I am again the last intern to enter the office and I re-assure myself that petty things such as this don’t affect my chances of getting a PPO

Morning 9:35 AM – Try and talk to the guide, she is busy (We’ll talk over lunch, dear), try and do some work (after successfully resisting the temptation to participate in the nonsensical chat the other interns are having), discard the idea as bad and join the gossip instead.

Afternoon 1:00 PM – Guide finally steals half an hour from her busy schedule and we meet over lunch in the cafeteria… this being the only thing in the whole day that I can feel happy about…;)

Evening 5:30 PM - All the interns go down for snacks and they need some bakra for time-pass as they are bored. But they don’t seem to get bored with me being the bakra everyday!

Evening 7:30 PM – After another day in office, you rise to leave and realize that you would be the first intern to leave. You again assure yourself that this would not affect your chances of a PPO and walk out of the office. (This occasionally doesn’t happen if guide wants to talk to you or you are doing some good work for a change - and then you may have to stay back till 9:00 – 9:30)

Evening 8:15 PM – Get a free full-body massage again!

Evening 8:50 PM – Enter the hostel, change into full pajamas and remind Thatha to do the same (In the hostel, we aren’t allowed to go to the ground floor wearing anything that shows even an inch of our body except the face. BTW, we are in a boys-only hostel and the authorities have no problems with the boarders loitering in the corridors in ill-fitting underwear almost all the time!), go down to the mess, eat dinner if anything is left at all…

Evening 9:15 PM – Check if the wireless is working, curse since it is not, crib about how long it has been since you checked your mail or did orkutting, and then start with War-craft…

----------------------------------------------------------------

Spend most of your next weekend (if you don’t go to office on Saturday that is) washing your clothes, ironing them (if the dhobi has ditched you again!), chatting with other B-school students, planning to go on Mumbai-darshan, falling asleep in the afternoon… doing nothing and just nothing…

That has been Mumbai for me for the past one month… the coming days have something good to look forward to like the faccha party, the Alumni meet… and the project work-load will also go up keeping me busier…. So taking a sanyaas from blogging for a while!

May God kill Arjun Singh soon! :)

Life@IIMB Part-V

2007-03-09T23:24:00.001+05:30

A five-day farce!

Things are getting scarier. There was light at the end of the tunnel, or so I thought. Now there is this nagging feeling that it was only a mirage.

You know that creepy feeling that something somewhere is terribly wrong and you ought to know about it, fix it if possible… as it concerns you and the ones you care for… but you don’t know what to do and where to look…

Final Placements of seniors are on now while I write this blog… was there most of the time… and was witness to the drama that is being played out in the MDC lawns… The newspapers will be agog for news of splendid placements and would carry articles that would eulogize the institutes and the MBA program in general. And all the budding MBA-aspirants beyond the walls that surround us here would embark on a journey… a journey fuelled by fragile dreams and delicate aspirations… a vicious trajectory would start all over again.

The placement process at the MBA institutes is a painful one. One would marvel at the way the entire mela is organized and at the sheer scale of it. One would also marvel at how only a few gain out of the process and most are left stranded trying to figure out what could have possibly gone wrong. Having been through a similar process during my summer placements, I thought I would be able to help them out, understand what they are going through. But, I realized that I am still not strong enough… that the vagaries of the process were more than I could take. Looking at people in pain is not easy… and not if a similar pain resides somewhere in your heart too.

One thing which strikes you immediately at the end of the first day of the placement process is that none of the people who are still waiting to get placed deserve to be put through this agonizing process. They are some of the finest brains in India and they don’t need any certificate to prove that they are good. And if nothing else, just the fact that they have the strength to be through all of this is good enough evidence of their capabilities, for me at least. It is not easy to hide from the world the excruciating agony that burns inside. But they don’t need anyone’s sympathy because, if anything, that will only break them down… it is indifference that makes them stronger, helps them to go through it.

Almost like a spider that carefully builds a cob-web for its unsuspecting prey, the MBA institutes ride on the glory of the Day Zero placements. That ensures many things – glamour and exclusivity being two of them. There is no denying that there is no dearth of opportunities for a graduate from a reputed B-School, even for a Day One or a Day Two candidate, and in the end, it all boils down to the abilities that you have. But what is surprising is the way the downsides of the process are played down… and what is highlighted in media is only what would add fuel to the fire.

While a sweeping sense of deja-vu engulfed me the entire time that I was there, I could almost see a similar thing happening to me one year down the line and I kind of feel I don’t give a damn. It is good that I have accepted it now. But does that mean that it wouldn’t hurt when that happened, or that I would stop aiming for the best? Probably not… but then that’s life. Isn’t it?

Yeh ILU-ILU kya hai?

2007-02-16T09:35:00.003+05:30

Should have posted this on Valentine's Day... but nevertheless!

Love.... it's something I have contemplated a lot about... something that has been the subject of a lot of discussion among friends.. something which I neither claim to understand nor believe in...

Now, I am talking about a very special variety of love. Love, sadly, is a term used with a lot of liberty and may have many different (and some shady) meanings in different contexts. The pure and quintessential love that we have toward our parents, siblings, family.. friends.. is not something which I will brood over here. Love, in this blog, has a romantic flavour.. it's about that 'itch'...

I begin by wondering. I always do. Why don’t I have a girlfriend while everyone else has at least one? I think I know the reason. Though I’ve a particularly well-crafted face (which I know because of my rather long observations before the mirror and for the fact that I’ve discreetly noticed ‘those who matter’ looking back at me), I don’t have that air of exquisite charm around me which sends gals rolling at your feet.
Never mind.

Next I elaborate on the importance of falling in love -

(between you and me, having a girlfriend and falling in love are two very separate, mostly mutually exclusive events... I will contemplate more on the former as that is what is thought, wrongly as you might have guessed, to be the most common symptom of falling in love)

First, you start getting this special treatment from all your friends. They stop taking you for granted as they know that, now, someone else has snatched away that privilege from them.

Second, all the other girls start noticing you too. It's as if you have proved your manhood without even winking an eye. They, apparently, think that when this girl is going out with that guy, that guy has to have something to him. Personally, I think that this is the only merit of falling in love.

Next, your daily routine changes like a miracle. You no longer are that stink-bag that can also walk. You keep your room and more importantly yourself clean and are given the privilege of being an escort to your girlfriend wherever she goes. This also has another incentive attached. This shows the world that you are also 'sensitive', the perfect metrosexual attribute... that is you are so deeply in love that you can't possibly walk without your girl..

Last but not the least, you also realize that this is not love after all...

My regards to all the lovers in IIMB and also the world that claims to exist outside...

~Down Memory lane~

2007-02-07T18:50:00.001+05:30

Some moments from the past that I cherish... some snaps from the years gone by...

Life@IIMB Part-IV

2007-01-20T23:15:00.001+05:30

A year older, a thousand years younger…

Okie… after much pestering from someone special, here is the blog about my Birthday@IIMB.

Hmmm.. I have always been somewhat indulgent when it comes to assessing the capabilities of my grey cells (I still do).. and it was such a stupid confidence which made me believe that I can do something really bold and brainy… and that was to escape the ceremonial hooshing on my birthday.

I admit I was scared… after witnessing the merciless way in which others were hooshed on their birthdays. And by some stroke of (bad?) luck, I realized that birthdays can indeed be deleted from the server and I did that, congratulating myself on a job well done. No birthday… no hooshes!!

Ahem, ahem, word did leak out and I got hooshed all right, albeit two days after my birthday… and somewhat more than required.. (Junta being angry at me for what I did) :(… And, as it became known to me that they wouldn’t really have hooshed me had I been good and honest, I felt really stupid and like an idiot.

So, I had to nurse my bottom for the whole of the following week and had to curse my stars for having given me that brilliant idea. But, luckily I was spared the customary pole dance (perhaps, because of my seedha baccha-type looks) and was also not made the target of egg-bombs.

So, the take-aways? Hmm.. small things such as this tell you a lot about the people around you.. about how much they care for you, how much they love you… and today, when I look back at these small incidents… I feel grateful that those many kicks landed on my bottom… for today, I have some of the nicest people I know as my friends…

As I always say… Life is full of pleasant surprises… :)

Now as a bonus to this blog, I am adding some clips and also the birthday mail that was sent out to all students before my grand hooshing… it also showers generous praise on me, so that’s another incentive… :D

*wicked-I-am-so-brilliant-smile*

“Hey IIM B,

What do you do to people who do not declare these B'Day for the fear of being hooshed?? You catch them and hoosh them the hardest possible!!!

We meet at L^2 tonight for the very same reason, to "celebrate" the BDay of a certain Mr. Patwari whose Bday was a couple of days back but the batch-mates discovered it today. So now its revenge time...PGP 2's invited to take out all their exam time frustration.

"Are mujhe last bench par baitha diya. kaise samjega hum lectures?"

"CA mein mera bahut kharab rank aaya tha!" (AIR 39 *^%**%)

"Kitna aata use karte hain roti mein, chhee!"

"kaisa khana hai yaar, chhee!"

"kitne machhar hai yahan ki library mein!"

"Bahut kharab marks aaye hai. sab mere se aaage honge!" (to a guy scoring 72, after himself scoring 87 in BGS)

Crib, crib, crib and a bit more crib!

And thus was born Cribbesh, the fraud CA, the half auditor, the super-sincere stud of Sec D.

A born fighter, he has buried himself into books right from the first week. In fact, he once seriously considered changing his room from K block to C block!

Reason - to quote the great man -

"I want to save the 15 minutes I spend everyday walking to class and mess, yaar. Can put more fight"

In fact the only reason he is still in his old room is the proximity to the loo, which incidentally he is in love with. In fact he spends more time in the loo, rather than in his room.

Talk about girls and the guy blushes big time. Further, given his devotion to studies and globe, we assumed that the fraud bong, would never be interested in the fairer sex. We were duly proven wrong when Cribbesh confessed to holding a torch and a lot more for ******** (Censored). Tribute must be paid to the bugger, who actually had ******* (Censored again) … Nah … the hero got the all India 39th rank ("woh to consolation prize tha, yaar"). By the way, the girl does not know that his aashique has gotten into IIMB!! Height of modesty!!

Yogesh is angry at you, he is furious and it shows on his face. He is about to open his mouth and you stand there waiting for the choicest of abuses to be hurled at you. And what actually comes out?? - "Chor", "Nalayak". Yeah, these are the most abusive words in Yogesh's vocabulary. Unbelievable for a 22 years old guy? But then, our Yogesh is one of his kind!

However, with his intelligence, simplicity and straightforwardness, he is sure to win many hearts in his two years here! Any statistical estimates as to how many of them will be female hearts??? Our calculations show a 99% confidence interval!!

Wishing this wonderful person a very happy, though belated, birthday.

Credits: Sec D Back Benchers Club”

~Snapshots 2~

2007-01-10T23:30:00.001+05:30

A few more glimpses of life@IIMB

2nd term was relatively a chiller affair... .. 'Coorg Trip' with the Section D-ites...

That's Pabbo Studdari... and me

Catching an occasional nap in class - trying to lure the ever-elusive sleep..

Birthday Celebrations at L^2...

Diwali celebrations... on campus!

Suit boot and photography!

That's my room, by the way

… and thus ended the worst year of my life

2007-01-07T17:11:00.001+05:30

The year 2006 ended with the usual revelry that one would expect on a new year’s eve… and as usual, I was locked up in my room, biding time, trying to ignore the loud music blaring outside and reflecting on the year gone by.

Now, am not really the philosophical type. So, while I always stay away from parties (even on new year’s eve), I don’t usually take stock of all the happenings in my life at year-end.

But this year was different. It was.

It gave me some moments that I will cherish all my life… it gave me some that I just want to forget… forget that they ever happened… believe that something like that would never happen.

Some loss may be transient, something which loses its importance over time and thus, the loss by itself doesn’t hurt you much. What hurts is the ignominy associated with it… But when you lose something which cannot be replaced, something which was very important to you, something which you had always taken for granted, something which had become a part of the way you lived… it hurts and it hurts more than you can take…

The good thing about life is that it keeps moving forward. So you move ahead with time and forget all that’s given you joy in the past, all that you’ve hated… all that which made you, all that which broke you… and when you actually sit down someday to relive it all, you realize how much you have learnt, how much you have grown, what you have gained and what you have lost. It is in such moments of introspection that you have an unbiased view of the world around you, the world inside you and you simultaneously feel proud of yourself for everything you have done that is good and hate yourself for everything that is bad…

Anyways… 2006.. good riddance!

Tagged!!!!!

2006-11-17T23:04:00.001+05:30

The third day of summer placements... I walk into the interview-room like a zombie - tired, shattered and bitter...

The lady looks up and smiles... "Hello Yogesh, take a seat"

"Let us play a game Yogesh.. you guess the question that I am going to ask next.. and if you guess it wrong, you lose points. Is that fine?"

"Yes" I replied, too tired to do otherwise....

"So, tell me Yogesh, what am I going to ask next?"

"Hmm.. you'll ask me.... to introduce myself....." I said, earnestly hoping that she doesn't ask that 'cuz I was too bored of repeating the same mugged-up stuff over and over again for three days.. carrying that plastic smile on my face, trying fruitlessly to hide the pain that possessed my heart...

"No.. what I will ask you is..." and she looked at me menacingly "What went wrong on DayZee?...."

I stared at her... what was she trying to do? Make a mockery of my pain...I tried to open my mouth... but my heart burned... as if some unknown force had pushed a burning rod into it..
and the pain bagan to flow out....slowly...

What went wrong?? Do I know the answer?? No, perhaps not....

Being a non-engineer had ensured that I have a flurry of shortlists... but didn't ensure anything more than that. For the first time, I realized that being academically bright is not everything in the world.. All these so called DayZee companies look for something much more than that..
So what was it that I lacked?

Well, among many other things..one in particular which acted as bane was, as one recruiter put it, "Yogesh is just too nice and too polite... he wouldn't fit into our culture"... !@#$%^&*

Yes, perhaps my personality acted as the biggest drawback for me.. I am not 'pseud'.... quite a popular term at IIMs.. which signifies style, panache and attitude..something which I clearly lack..

Frustrating and painful though it may be, but the summers process did teach me a lot about myself and about the world. Being shoved from one interview to the other, without making a hit anywhere... and seeing your friends celebrating all around you is shattering... specially when you always thought that you were good..

And you find similar people around you.. people who have always excelled at whatever they have done.. and now who are left at the mercy of fate.. waiting to get a nod that they are good too.. that they deserve at least the mediocre, if not the best. The pain is mutual and some of the best friendships germinate in those 5 days.. people who undertstand each other..and who have been with each other, not in happiness but in pain..

There are several realizations that come to you once the summers process is over..

One, you realise that companies which otherwise earn a lot of respect out of campus, are derided just because they come recruiting on DayOne or DayTwo..

Second, there is a lot of hype surrounding overseas placements which is quite unnerving as the expectations of all students are raised... but only the lucky few actually make hay..

Third, you get to know who all your true friends and who are not.. there were people who were assisting in the process and supporting those who needed comforting.... in times like this, even a caring word from a friend means a lot... but then there were those who didn't give a damn as to whether others were placed or not.. but were busy celebrating their success immediately after DayZee... nothing wrong with that.. just that you were expected to be somewhere with someone..

With the summers process, I have, quite possibly, seen the worst in my life.... and I feel that I came out much stronger than what I earlier was.. But, yes, it has also ensured that I get 'tagged' DayOne guy for the rest of my stay at IIMB....

There are times when you want nothing in this world... nothing, other than just cuddle in your mother's lap and cry.. cry like a kid... and that feeling that here's someone who understands you.. who doesn't care what you are.. who doesn't care what the world thinks... who simply loves you....selflessly... and your ears hear her caring words even though she is miles away... and you cuddle in your bed... and cry.. silently.. cuz you are a man.. a strong man... and you know that another day awaits you tomorrow....

Snapshots

2006-09-06T09:57:00.001+05:30

Okie... been out of action for quite some time....
here're the snapshots of what I've been upto all these days:

Classes, classes and more classes,

Assignments, quizzes and submissions...

Those cherished moments when we go out of campus... be it only for a bite..

Anti-reservation protests... a peaceful demonstration of our angst against the governement's divisive policies

The Rakesh Jhunjhunwala talk... among a series of others...

The Matki-Phod... Esctasy... and other cultural activities... :))

Phew!!! Boy, you have been busy...

Life@IIMB Part-III

2006-08-23T08:47:00.001+05:30

......Till I saw a man with no feet!!!!

I apologise for posting such maudlin thoughts in my last post!!! As I now realise, life couldn't have been more generous to me. Did I deserve all that was served to me on a platter..? I'm able and I'm competent..... yet I choose to crib and not fight it out....

If there is something that one never stops doing, in this wonderful siesta called 'life,' it's 'learning'. We learn as we trudge along and in course, perhaps, evolve as better human beings... And, at times, something extra-ordinary happens which goes on to shake the very beliefs and the values we stand for.

And learn I did when I volunteered for Vikasana's new endeavour this Sunday. A group of spastic children, full of a zeal for life, but daunted by the tyranny of their fate, arrived for a short visit to our campus. Each of them had ambitions... and they were fighting tooth and nail to reach the same... one of them, a fresh commerce graduate just like me, wanted to get into an IIM.... another, a small kid, wanted to be a scientist...
and many of them did succeed.... one of them was doing 3D-animation, which my engineer friend informs me that even fully able qualified engineers find difficult... another was an artist and his sketches could have put a professional artist to shame...

We had a wonderful time together... we wanted them to have a good time.... but it ended the other way round. We enjoyed ourselves more than we could have imagined...

When they were about to leave.. one of them said in his farewell speech..."After coming here, we realized, may what people sayoutsise the gates of IIMs, you guys also have a heart..."

So, what do I do now.... be thankful to God to have put me in such a privileged position. But does that mean that it is wrong to have ambitions and then feel bad when you fail in your efforts.. No, we can't stop trying to better ourselves for then we would stagnate...
But it is wrong to blame life and fate when they have been so kind to you... and you could not make the best out of the privileges bestowed on you...

Life@IIMB Part-II

2006-08-05T11:01:00.001+05:30

Midterm-Phobia

In this world, there are three types of people (No, this is not that cliched bollywood-movie dialogue!!!). First, who slog day in and day out... and in the end, come out with flying colours; Second, who don't give a damn about grades, who make the best out of their time(i.e. enjoying life to the fullest) and don't even wince upon getting pathetic marks; Third, who know how to beat the system, who make the best out of their lives too... but who, miraculously, also get top grades.

Surprisingly enough, I don't fall in any of the above categories. I form part of that rare breed who slog day in and day out... but still end up getting pathetic grades.
This truth glared at me immediately after I had landed at this place. Having performed miserably in the first few quizzes... I realized that I, perhaps, will have to put serious fight to survive here among this bunch of engineers.

Hard work doesn't scare me, but fear of failure does....

It's something wonderful if you have never failed in your life, if you have always managed to stay ahead of the rest, if you have always been this demi-god figure among your peers.... but, unbroken success comes with an accompanying curse... it makes to used to being successful, used to being popular, used to being looked up to... and that is where the fun starts.

Never before had it happened that Yogesh Patwari was scared of sitting in an exam. But the very thought of taking the mid-term Quants paper was giving me goose-bumps. Somehow, since my childhood days, I always failed to appreciate the beauty of this animal called 'Mathematics'. It was always 'Me Vs Math'.... and just imagine my plight when I realized that in the next two years, I will have to grapple with Quants in virtually every course that I take.

Hey.... I am not the only one cribbing after getting in..

There's this girl on campus who topped her university and was awarded a gold-medal for her spectacular performance.... last heard, she was barely scoring above-average in the tests... there's this guy who, after quitting a high-paying job, realized that he's simply not good enough to survive at IIMB.....

IIMB may or may not bring the best out of you. But it is adept at doing something for sure. And that is dragging you out of your ivory-tower and making you face the real-world, the real-competition... real struggle for survival.
Not fair... but then, whoever said life was ever fair?

Life@IIMB Part-I

2006-07-17T18:05:00.001+05:30

There are times when we spend hours appreciating the beauty of a single moment and there are times when we experience the most beautiful moments of our life but don’t even have a second to stand by and reflect. My first few days at IIMB have been somewhat along the latter line. It has been a rollercoaster, an experience which would form an indelible part of my memory.

Before coming here I had apprehensions about this place and whether I would be able to cope with the pressure or not. As regards the latter, I am still not very sure. But, yes, being one of the very few commerce graduates among a herd of engineers is a special feeling, no doubt. I had heard stories of engineers being devilish creatures, hardened by merciless ragging in engineering colleges. I had apprehensions and fears which I dared not express. Things couldn’t have been more different than what I had imagined.

Come to this place and a single most important truth would strike you. You are no longer important. While back home, you were considered to be this super-stud who cracks exams with finesse, come to IIMB, and you would be dwarfed by the rocking profiles which almost all the facchas possess. (At one point in time, I did contemplate what the IIMB authorities could have possibly seen in me… I mean, compared to others’ profiles…)

First, about the campus…. simply, awesome!! The entire structure is made up of grey stones which gives it the look of an old palace. Cosseted from the urban jungle by lush greenery on all sides, IIMB is the ‘perfect seat’ for learning. And the weather… it pampers you till you are spoilt like a brat.

The first week was the ‘orientation program’. It was a flurry of activities. IIMB has devised this unique way of “breaking the ice” between the PGP1s. Throughout the week, we, as a group, participated in a variety of activities, none of which had anything to do even remotely with studies, but at the end of which we came to know almost every other member of the batch.

We were divided into small groups of 6-7 and made to discuss among ourselves inane topics. We changed our groups after every discussion. While it did seem idiotic at first, by the end of the session, we had known all the members of our batch. Then, there was this unique session where every member had to introduce his neighbor to the entire class.

We were also taken for an outbound trip to “breakthrough” – a local camp-site. There we spent the entire day playing a variety of games (which all somehow ended in a moral each). But, most importantly, we had a lot of fun together. We did rope-walking, log-pulling and other stuff which would look amusing on paper, but we had helluva fun doing these.

We also had “Abacus” – the Yoga session where we were encouraged to be creative and we played a variety of games which ranged from a variation of dumb-charade, spoof on News-channels, aerobics, music etc.

While all this may sound to be very relaxing, trust me, the first week was something I would never forget. We were given a host of assignments by seniors from resume submission to getting 25 student-interaction forms filled up, all to be accomplished within ridiculous deadlines. But it all ended in the traditional IIMB way where all of us (both seniors and juniors) had a lot of fun.

How could I have not mentioned the L^2 parties till now! These form the lifeline of stay@IIMB. Though I am not a party animal and can’t dance to save my ass, there is no harm in seeing beautiful girls hitting the dance-floor. We have these parties every fortnight which continue well into the morning.

Classes have started and the actual IIMB experience is taking a toll on my sleep-hours rather badly. Will elaborate on that sometime later… But, for now, I am giving you a glimpse of the Hostel-Life@IIMB....

How birthdays are celebrated at IIMB:

Party begins at midnight. You are brought to the famous L^2 and wished "Happy Birthday". Just when you start feeling elated and marvel at the huge gathering of students who seem to care for you and have assembled in the chilly night to wish you, the actual fun starts.

You are 'Hooshed' in the traditional IIMB way and also punched and kicked. Then you have to name your favorite PGP1 girl. That girl would come forward and smear cake on your face. And then, it becomes a free-for-all. Every one throws cake at each other.

No, that is not all. The birthday boy is made to do 'pole-dance' a la Malaika Arora. He is then made to sit in the mud and given a bath, first with water and then with sauce. When you are completely covered in mud, you are required to do a "nagin" dance.

And, yes, you get kicked and punched all the while. Doesn't that make you curse why were you born in the first place?
Darn, I have already entered my birthday on SPIDI and there is no way of taking it down…. Waiting for my turn at the altar…

A Home away from HOME!!!

2006-07-09T11:11:00.001+05:30

Some pics of my new home... IIMB
Wouldn't you fall in love with this place?

THE GREAT INDIAN PUPPET SHOW

2006-06-16T18:21:00.001+05:30

In the corridors of power in Delhi these days, the ministers have found a novel way of amusing themselves. That is pulling the strings of a very old and ragged puppet and seeing it dance to their tunes.

First, it was the HRD minister. He needed to demonstrate his skills at puppetry. So he went ahead with his plans to implement Quotas for backward classes in the realms of higher education. The puppet did a lovely dance.

Next in line is Meira Kumar. She feels that the Quotas for Scheduled castes needs to be increased too. (This lady had already announced earlier the imminent implementation of Quotas in private sector jobs). The puppet is expected to perform splendidly this time again.

However, what remains to be seen is how will the Govt. repeal the SC ruling that reservations cannot exceed 50% limit. With the current 49.5% plus the proposed 1.23% (plus the Minority Quota which the UPA Govt would eventually bring) the reserved seats would be much more than 50%.

Saw the interview of Chidambaram on CNN-IBN.. and saw how he managed to avoid all the questions in his patent diplomatic style. Damn, what the Supreme Courts's ban on protests has done is strengthen the Govt's position all the more. I wouldn't be surprised if the SC fails to curb the Govt in its dirty measures. Mind you, it has already given the permission to go ahead with the Quotas while the matter is still subjudice.

The Y4E people had already foreseen this. That explains why they are forming a co-operative society under the name "Youth4Equality". So we will be seeing more active protests soon. The greatest achievement of the UPA Govt in two years of its rule has been that majority of the youth of India have lost their faith in democracy. And it is only a matter of time before what little faith we have in the judiciary is lost too. And yes, we all have lost our taste for puppet-shows as well.

LINKS TO INTERESTING ARTICLES ON THE NET:

1. RAJIV GANDHI AGAINST RESERVATIONS

2. NEHRU AGAINST RESERVATIONS

3. RESERVATIONS - ONE-WAY ROUTE TO STAGNATION

The Yogi Zone

Going that 'extra mile'...

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

For Abs and Glory

I know what you did in 2011

What I want 2012 to be like

Leap of Faith?

Of lungis, mustaches, coconut trees and more

This time for Calcutta

And then came Chammak Challo

Who would you rather be?

As another Birthday goes by...

Tales that Reflection Tells

How Muggles don't get it

Life's Most Important Resolution No. 199

The Review that you don't wanna Read(y)

I want to love you once again, Bollywood.

Busy days are here again

Crib-Post # 2

So, what is your Cause?

It feels like Home

Crib-Post # 1

And my heart makes a secret wish

Coming Soon in a theater near you

Chal Sanyasi Mandir mein

Happy Ending

Bringing Sexy Back

Khooni Kabristan ki Jung

Bechu babu?

Sharm hi Bhartiya Purush ka.. umm.. Gahana hai?

Decoding the mind of a Serial Cribber

Happy Diwali

A Neighbours' Nightmare

Jab main chota bachcha tha

Main Sasural Nahi Jaungi

Why I am such a Fashion disaster!

Why Blogging is bad for health

The Return of Randomness

Love, Pain and Little Malice

Lo Aaj Main Kahta Hoon

Happy Birthday to me (Ah, well, belated) :)

Soon

Phata Poster, Nikla Hero

Tu bhi Disco, Main bhi Disco

From Bollywood with Love

Because God doesn't like me

Randomness.... all over again!

Randomness

The Flute Player

Mr. Beautiful

Once upon a time in the 21st century.....

Ass you like it

Main aur mere Kaamwale Boys

Yogi Baba ke Nuskhe

To write or not to write

Slow Local

Mumbai, ahoy! - Addendum

Mumbai, ahoy!

Life @ IIMB - The Final Chapter

Loser?

Happy Birthday to me :)

Mumbai, ahoy!

Life@IIMB Part-V

Yeh ILU-ILU kya hai?

~Down Memory lane~

Life@IIMB Part-IV

~Snapshots 2~

… and thus ended the worst year of my life

Tagged!!!!!

~~Snapshots~~

Life@IIMB Part-III

Life@IIMB Part-II

Life@IIMB Part-I

A Home away from HOME!!!

THE GREAT INDIAN PUPPET SHOW

Snapshots