The poor poor Pakis!!!

Oh sorry! Is that a deragatory term? I didnt know that! Dumb politically incorrect bigot that I am, questioning communal countries and breeders of jehadis (shudder, will there be a fatwa now against me? will my pauwa bar be blown apart by a teenage suicide bomber?).

Its not like the pakis (oops soory again)are racist or anything right? Because in THAT case there would have been no noise on their exclusion. After all, a team like South Africa, who had 7 world class players in their ranks, could be banned for 22 years because their government was racist. But who cares about a thousand odd bloody indians killed in paki instigated terror strikes? At least the apartheid south africans were just killing a bunch of faceless blacks. Its not like they were a crucial factor against the 'war against terror' in the 'axis of evil'!

At the end of the day, a big FUCK YOU to the politicos - none of whom have so far had the balls to say yes it was deliberate. To the media (as usual, since the post is in this blog) for gleefully watching from the sidelines and not asking a single straight question. To all the psuedu armchair cricket experts, bemoaning the loss of the world champion side, in a format like T20 where the world champions of one day can lose to their domestic help team the next.

I think the pakis deserve us as their neighbors.

The revenge

Have you noticed the fact that the last 3 epidemics were caused by animals we usually slaughter and eat. And maybe they are getting back at us?

Taking this one step further, i investigated the names of swine flu victims and guess what? No Muslims there.

Research is on mad cow and chickengunia.

Will keep u posted.

PS: inspired by Steven Levitt who has made some amazing correlations just by crunching numbers.

The Shuv Equilibrium

Movie buffs and economists know of the Nash Equilibrium right? Well, here's one from me for addicts and romantics, preferably separate individuals close to each other. The Shuv Addiction Disaster Prevention Equilibrium states:

Promise to quit the addiction the day the other person gets married.
This way, the game always has ONE winner.

Dont need the Nobel, a bottle will do.

Quote of the day

'Airport me visibility kaisa hai deepak?'

'Bohut hi zyada low visibility hai'.

Jai ho jai ho! Indian news channels ki jai ho!!

A new beginning

Now that i am generally happy about my personal and professional life, its time i channelised my omnipresent cribs against somebody. Today's budget gave me enough material to start a new series on this dead blog (i am actually paying my driver these days to hit the site once in a while)..

So here goes..

From tomorrow..its 'CRIB TARGET OF THE DAY'...a lucky guy in the morning newspaper will get it from me every morning..and i will do it like taking quinine(sp?) in malaria..no creative bullshit here..just meeting the target.

SO..if u guys want to join my driver..meet me here.

Ghetu: i am open to syndication negotioations.

More more more!!

Hail blogging!!

By now hopefully all of you are glued to this genius. If you are not, please start immediately. Please navigate so that you start at the beginning and then move forward.

After ages, finally here is a desi who has a killing wit combined with a vivid imagination. And he has captured the imagination of blogsphere. Combine that being the guy who has made SRFK forget to shave his white stubble before appearing on television..well i think i have become a lifelong fan.

And if you want the cynical sign off..here's the cloud behind the silver lining. A guy who has sent cricket and bollywood (yes, bollywood AB) into a frigging tizzy deserved to be rewarded hugely. But those doors are closed to this poor bloke. In order to earn money he has to divulge who he is so sponsors can pay him. If he does that he will no longer be in a position to be privy to any of the inner gossip.

Sad for him. But for us, I wish he would go on forever!!

A Spooky Tale

KNOCK KNOCK

Who's there?

Death.

What do you want?

What the fuck do you think? I have come to take you.

Where?

What are you? The dumbest motherfucker in the world or something? I have come for you..your time is up.

No.

What? What the fuck do you mean no? You think you have a bloody choice or something?

No..i meant i am not the dumbest motherfucker..in fact i am not a motherfucker even.

DEATH GROANS Let me try and explain this to you fuckface. You are about to have a heart attack. And that will be the end of you. Then we will go together to the Other Side.

Why?

WHAAT? Because I say so dickhead..now get the fuck up and get ready for that attack. What are you doing?

Pudin Hara..its good for acidity..just had some chest pain..must have been the vada pav i had in the evening. So what were you saying?

EVIL LAUGHTER Thats not acidity you dung brain..Prepare for the end!

Wait...LOUD BURP Aaah! That was better..Oh sorry..excuse me. You were saying?

Enough!! Its 9:15. Time up stink face. Let's go.

Lets go lets go..so much in hurry all the time..one of these days you will get a heart attack..ok baba ok..i will come where you want to take me..i know what this is..must be those hidden camera programs..but i am too smart for you. Wait!! just let me watch the news headlines for a minute. Ok?

DEATH SIGHS AND SITS DOWN. MAN TURNS ON TV AND STARTS FLIPPING THROUGH THE CHANNELS ONE BY ONE..DEATH'S FACE TAKES ON A GREENISH TINGE

No..no!! Stop that! How can you watch that? Please..for satan's sake! Please!

Huh! What happened? Some new joke? Haha.

No no no..please! I will leave! If this doesnt kill you I dont stand a chance!

Leave? Are you crazy! Just wait for the next program! It will blow you mind!

DEATH CONTINUES WATCHING AND SUDDENLY THERE IS A LOUD BANG AND HIS HEAD EXPLODES. A PUFF OF SMOKE AND HE IS GONE

Strange fellow. But good special effects. I wonder which channel it will come on.

MAN CONTINUES FLIPPING CHANNELS

Thoughts on piracy

You will all realise that this is prompted by today's news item that a new legislation has been approved in Maharashtra to prosecute sellers as well as buyers of pirated content. And that Mr Karan Johar has opined that the film industry is suffering huge losses due to this menace. However, please believe me when I say that this has been something I wanted to write about since I started downloading music about 10 years back.

Now, before you start hammering on your keyboards writing crap like 'stealing is stealing, whether its a car or a movie' and all such nonsense drilled into your brains by the owners of content - PLEASE! Lets leave the morality part out of this discussion. Piracy is banned by 'LAW' not by 'GOD'. A very interesting angle was presented in 'The Reader' where a lawyer argues for a Nazi camp gaurd saying that she was only following what was the law at that point in time. No Vedas say piracy is a crime. So all our Vedas and epics were copied and read out in festivals and ceremonies and none of the rishi-s and muni-s earned a single red cent out of the deal. If Mr Johar had written the Mahabharata...well that would have been a different story right?

Anyway, so leaving out the moral and legal aspect of the discussion here are a few additional laws I would like to be implemented along with the anti piracy crackdown laws:

1) Arrest all directors, producers, writers, music directors and lyricists for copying any idea or content without acknowledging and paying the source.

2) Declare all earnings and let the government do Tax Deduction at Source.

3) Mandate part of the money earned goes back into the industry. So music labels should produce x number of new artists per year, film producers should open y number of acting schools etc etc.

4) Provide money back facility to the consumer. If the viewer/listener feels that shit is being dished out, he returns the shit and gets his money back.

5) Provide breakup and pricing justification to a central board or commitee to explain why a particular DVD costs Rs 500 in some label and Rs 29 in another label after 3 months.

Into this land of freedom let my country awake.

Bravo Mr Ranatunga!!

Lanka Paki bhai bhai!!! Down with BCCI and down with big brother India!!!!

So when India pulls out of the Paki tour post the Mumbai incident, Mr Ranatunga steps in as the concerned brother and long suffering empathiser. The heavens open and petals shower on him and a voice assures him of an ICC position in the near future! Shame on you India!!

Well..screw you brother. I sincerely wish you were on that fucking bus in Lahore today.

And it probably also lays to rest an age old debate about whether cricket administrators should be ex cricketers or not. As Mr Gavaskar had done his share in his ICC stint, I will now rest my case.

Yawndog Millionaire

Firstly, since I haven’t seen any of the other nominated movies, I wont comment on whether or not the movie deserved 8 oscars. Maybe the other ones were equally bad or worse. Maybe it's post Obama America trying to make amends for the last couple of decades of self-obsession and self-righteousness by acknowledging that non Americans also belong to the human race. Maybe it's all these and other factors combining in the ridiculous way fate sometimes has of turning things on it's head.

So, lets discuss the movie itself. It's not even good, forget great. The screenplay has gaping holes, the storyline is ridiculous, the performances are extremely ordinary, the script is juvenile, the cinematography is as good as what we see in most hindi movies these days and the direction is average. Rehman is good, but way way short of his best (but I guess even that is good enough for the Oscars so that’s all right). And of course it has the following scene:

Poor Boy Fucked by Fate (PBFF) working as guide to American Tourist With Golden Heart (ATGH) is caught stealing and is thrashed by Insensitive Indian Goon (IIG).

PBFF while getting belted tells ATGH – ‘see..this is the real India’.

ATGH stops IIG, scolds him, hands PBFF a C note and tells him ‘this is the real America’.

Amazing!! Real goose bump and lumpy throat stuff right?

And the reaction!! Funniest thing yesterday was how both the British and Indian media were going bonkers that ‘their movie’ had won. And there were celebrations in the Bandra slums and in Pali Hill bungalows. At the end of the day, the hype is all about Bollywood. This entire ‘spontaenous eruption of joy’ has been carefully choreographed since the BAFTA nominations. So, while the movie ran to empty theatres across Mumbai, the film fraternity came out with media bytes blazing – no doubt mentally rearranging their dates to accommodate Hollywood directors they think would be lining up after this phenomenon.

Was the reaction similar when Pt Ravi Shankar or Pt Zakir Hussain got the Grammy? Or when Ray (who???) won the Oscar?

As Borat would say…’Naaaaat!!!’.

Bloody us

Before the tirade starts a word of thanks to all my pompous, self-obsessed countrymen. For it was them that had started me blogging when i had felt the urge to express my frustration and anger against them. Then over the years my friends and constant readers (god bless each and every one of them) convinced me that i had 'talent'...with the obvious outcome being i stopped writing those posts and concentrated on compositions full of samples of my 'talent'...with the expected outcome that this blog averages 4 posts a year.

BUT NOT ANY MORE. 'I can see clearly now the rain's gone' as Mr Whittaker had sung. 'I have seen the light' as Buddha said. And so here goes.

Huge hoohah in India with 2 issues - Sachin not figuring in ICC top 20 list of test batsmen and Mr Amitabh F Bachan expressing his disgust at Slumdog Millionaire showing poverty in India.

A big FUCK YOU to all of you.

New story idea

Her daughter was on the phone again. She had that ghastly expression on her face, one that bordered between terror and ecstasy, if there could be a border between these two emotions. She ran towards her and took her in her arms.

'Who is it darling', she whispered in her ear.

'Its mommy', she said.

With trembling hands she took the phone and said 'hallo??'

A woman cackled wildly on the phone and disconnected the line.

...and after it all

there will be a picture in the front pages of the dailies tomorrow of a local train packed like sardines with smiling commuters and the headlines will scream
THE SPIRIT OF MUMBAI!!!

The last hurrah!

Lottery tickets!! That's it! He shot up in a flash. Now how the hell didnt it occur to him before? It was just 10 bucks a day. And he could cut down a pack of smokes a day for that. He knew he could do it. Initially, he had thought that moving from Marlboros to Pall Malls will be difficult. But he was used to it by now. Used to a lot of changes really. Used to moving from city to city looking for jobs. Used to staying unwelcome at friends' houses and convincing himself that they actually liked to have him stay with them for a couple of months. Used to logging in everyday to the zillion job sites and not finding anything. Used to not letting the panic and pleading come into his tone when he called ex colleagues and asked them if there were any openings. Used to the resigned acceptance of his family when he told them he was on the verge of getting something. Used to the terror stalking him every night when it seemed the tunnel had no light at its end and he would be stuck in the darkness forever.

When he bought the ticket he KNEW. He had gone for the state lottery. And the state wont cheat him. And it came as no surprise when he got the call from New York saying he had cracked the jackpot. 150 million dollars. 150 million roads to redemption. A thousand million dreams waiting to be fulfilled. Goodbye frustration. Goodbye abuse. Goodbye going to sleep and not sleeping. Hallo life.

Before entering the building he rechecked the address. As he entered the foyer he looked at the clock in the lobby. It was 8:15 AM, September 11, 2001. He would remember this date forever. He got into the elevator and pressed the button for the 98th floor.

The true story behind the madness of Dr X

The experiments were over. Mice, guinee pigs, chimps had all responded as they were supposed to. His lifetime's efforts, sacrifices and back breaking work had come to an end. And tomorrow he would be the most controversial man in the history of mankind.

He would be revered by 2 billion people and vilified by the other 2. But in the end, he was sure they will all pay homage to him. Because he had discovered the elixir of true happiness. And no one who was happy would be able to deny the fact when it will be in front of everyone to see. In one swipe, 90% of global problems will be gone. For he had discovered the ultimate pill. And it was called Manlinex.

The fundamentals behind this were always simple and for everyone to see - increase of testosterone would lead to male symptoms. The challenges were dual - how to restrict the symptoms to only affect behavior and attitudes, rather than having physical effects. And the second was how to achieve all this through a single dose achieved by a single pill (that can be administered surreptitously to an unwilling patient), rather than a long drawn out clinical process. And that was what all these years of research was about. And he was ready for the first human test case.

Everything was in place when his wife returned from work that night. The mood lighting, the soft music, the diamond bracelet and the glass of wine with the dissolved pill. He had absolutely no doubts that the pill would work and he was not wrong. The night was probably his best with his wife - where they polished off the wine and migrated to whiskey, and Richard Chamberlain gave way to Led Zep, and the living room was strewed with empty pizza boxes and cigerette ash, and the sex was uninhibited and raunchy and physical.

After it all, he laid a content and happy man. Not only for himself, for the incredible success, adulation and money he will get, but also for the millions worldwide who will live happier lives.

He felt his wife move beside him. He sat up and saw her getting ready to go out. Rubbing sleep from his eyes he asked 'Where are you going? Its almost midnight!'.

'I will be out with a few friends..will be late. You lock the door behind me', she said as she sailed out into the night.

Sometimes...a writer's block is good

Its cold here in the city
It always seems that way
And Ive been thinking about you almost everyday
Thinking about the good times
Thinking about the rain
Thinking about how bad it feels alone again

Im sorry for the way things are in china
Im sorry things aint what they used to be
But more than anything else
Im sorry for myself
cause youre not here with me

Our friends ask all about you
I say youre doing fine
And I expect to hear from you almost anytime
But they all know Im crying
I cant sleep at night
They all know Im dying down deep inside

Im sorry for all the lies I told you
Im sorry for the things I didnt say
But more than anything else
Im sorry for myself
I cant believe you went away

Im sorry if I took some things for granted
Im sorry for the chains I put on you
But more than anything else
Im sorry for myself
For living without you

Art!

Rant

A lot has been written on this blog about the state of Indian television. Last week I came across something that just took the cake. It was a hindi music channel that had a scrolling bar with something called 'Loveguru' where one was supposed to sms a couple's name to a specific number and get back a 'love percentage' that will tell them the chances of their relationship clicking. I sms-ed 'OSAMA' and the name of someone i used to know..got 100% as the chances of success. There were poor blokes however who got percentages of low 50-s and 60-s and i wondered how many have broken up relationships with seeds of doubts planted by this crap.

One can of course argue that its just trivial time pass and if someone is so insecure about their partners that they let a scrolling bar control their lives then they deserve what they get. I tend to agree as well..but thats not the point. Its the desperation for 'creative ideas' we keep on seeing on Indian television that never ceases to amaze me.

Add dollops of attitude on top of that and the impression these guys give of being the protectors of human rights, peace and democracy in the world and the combination always makes me want to grab the nearest heavy object and smash the screen in.

A poem for my son

What would I do,
If you became a pitiable drunk?
Wallowing in your self pity,
Meandering meaninglessly through life;
And I find you sitting alone somewhere,
Surrounded by the tattered fragments of your ruined life,
Putting up a brave front
And smiling that heart wrenching smile;
And saying 'It was all worth it,
and I would do it again'.

Would I think of my life?
How it was when I was his age?
How it still is,
Now that the excuses are gone,
The parameters have changed,
The paradigms have shifted,
But my behavior hasn't.

Where everything could be justified,
Because within my heart i knew i was always right;
And the heart never lies,
And the heart beats for you night and day,
And you need to save your heart from all that pain,
And you can do that all by running away.

IF HE CAN DO IT..........

Then so can I.

Goodbye

The past 4 years of blogging has been a roller coaster ride. Had a lot of fun, a lot of fights, met some great people and had some serious 'time-pass'. But ultimately, had to pay a heavy price. No complaints though, nothing in this world is free.

So this the official 'closure post'. Will keep on visiting your blogs..and you all know how to contact me in case my wisdom is required to guide you through the troubled waters of your lives.

Goodbye. And good luck.

Ode to an umbrella

It shelters you from the searing heat
Protects you from the torrential rain
And when the weather is fine
And its lovely to walk
You push it to some damp dark corner
And forget all about it.

But there will come some day
When you will be out in a storm
And you would reach out for one
To find its no longer there
You had neglected it for far too long
And someone has taken it away.

So, take care of that umbrella.

Did that make any sense?

Dont fight with friends

It was a typical new year eve morning. And the preparations were on for the night. As usual, the debate was about the break up of the six odd litres of booze that would be required. Meticulous planning, disaster recovery, buffer analysis and accurate estimation techniques are all required in this process. So obviously, there were disagreements. And one such disagreement reached ugly proportions and he stormed out of the house. As a parting shot, he told them all to go to hell and that he would celebrate my new year elsewhere.

There was another party on that he didnt particularly want to go to. He hardly knew anyone there and it was a stuffy high brow crowd. But there was nowhere else to go, and his ego was too big for him to call his friends and tell them that he was coming. So he went.

He suffered alone in that big crowd that night. Everyone else seemed to know each other and he was standing in a corner nursing his drink and cursing his luck. He saw her then in another corner of the room and she seemed to be in the same kind of situation. She was the most beautiful woman he had seen in his life. And she was alone like him in this big bad world. And he fell in love.

Today it was exactly 10 years to the day. And there was no particular reason why his mind went back to that night when he had met his wife for the first time. Except the lawyer's letter lying on the table asking him to meet for a consultation regarding the divorce proceedings. And that his mother was in the nursing home in shock. And that his son had stopped talking since being explained what it meant.

He slit his wrists that night. And while he watched his blood lazily snaking down the water in the bucket he thought of how things could have been different. But mostly, he thought of the friends he had fought with that night.

City of Joy!!!!

This image is for all those who commented on gypsy's post .

Chak De!!!!!!!!!!

INDIA GHORE PE BAAKI SUB LOURE PE!!!!!!!!

Duty

Finally things were in place. After months of preparation, tension, uncertainties and fear, he finally got the green signal from the Major in the hastily called meeting today. He had been unable to control himself then. And as he wept, and the Major took him in his arms, and his comrades all stood up as one and cheered for him, he knew that his life was fulfilled.

When he got back home and watched them huddled around the television watching the usual junk, THEIR junk, but he didn't shout at them or told them to switch the damned thing off as was his usual practise. Instead, he made space for himself and pulled his son on to his lap. It would be the last time he would do so. He looked across to his wife and gave her a wink and it was the first time he had done so. And when his mother reached across and caressed his hair, he allowed her to continue, and it was the first time in years that he had allowed her any such public display of affection towards him. And he thought of what might have been, how he could have lived like a human being instead of like a hunted animal, and how THEY had not made it possible for him and for thousands others like him, and his resolve strengthened.

And then he looked across to his father and saw that he was crying as he was watching the TV, one of THEIR idiotic talent shows. And he looked at the screen and saw his brother singing on a stage, and all the people watching him cheering him and loving him, then people rushing onstage to hug him and everyone spreading the message of love and brotherhood, about peace and harmony, about history and roots, about a future of togetherness..and he lurched out of the room.

He triggered the bomb at precisely 10:45 AM in the crowded market place. And in the split second before he was torn apart by the force of the blast, he thought of his grandfather's village in Punjab, and he cried.

Red

The sheer inefficiency of people around the workplace is starting to get to me. I mean, why can't we be more professional? Why can't people raise their hands and take ownership, rather than always looking for excuses not to work?

I mean, do they themselves realise how they are wasting the best years of their professional lives? Or do they actually think that they are smart because they are getting away without doing any work?

Blue

Desperately, devastatingly, dangerously blue since morning. Don't know what the fuck brought in on.

Need to do something to come out of it. What do you usually do?

The song is over

'This song is over
I'm left with only tears
I must remember
Even if it takes a million years'.........The Who

If I could have asked for 3 boons, one of them definitely would have been for a chance to be a teenager in London in the swinging 60-s. I mean, can you imagine yourself in those glorious years of the british invasion? Being one of the first few people to hear bands like Beatles, The Who, Floyd, Kinks, Stones, Derek and Dominoes, Ramones etc etc etc, collecting bootlegs, queueing up in underground pubs to watch them play live, the psychedelic shows, the guitar smashing concerts, the LSD, the flower girls..

And can you imagine the devastation on hearing about the mindless deaths and breakdowns? Duan Alman, Hendrix, Morrison, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Lenon, Bonham, Barrett, the Lynrd Skynrds, Buddy...again the list is endless.

My last trip to Calcutta put me through a similar experience. A couple of musicians I knew have died. Bands I used to love have broken up. Some have given up the gig scene altogether. And the places where I used to be on first name terms with most of the people are now full of unknown faces.

And I felt old.

'The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older,
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death'.

And it wasn't a nice feeling. I think its not always a good idea to revisit the places from your past.

A point to prove

A lot of technical stuff that had to removed because it got patented and hence not available for public viewing.

Thou shalt not cheat

We heard the key in the lock just as we were getting under the covers. White faced, I scrambled for my clothes and shoes lying scattered around the room while she made a dash for the door.

'I am home', the sonofabitch called out, from the living room, taking his shoes off.

'Under the bed' the bitch hissed at me, wrapping a towel around her before going out to meet him halfway. I had no options left. The bastard was bigger than me, and on top of that he was some bloody treasurer or something in the apartment complex. I knew what would happen if I got caught. At best, they would thrash the shit out of me and parade me around naked on the Gurgaon streets. At worst, they would call Aajtak or some such nosey parker motherfucking channel and blacken my face live on national TV. So..I dived under the bed.

I hate being under beds. Even when I was kid playing hide and seek I didnt like them. I hated cobwebs, cockroaches and forgotten junk. I hated the claustrophobia. I hated the smell. And in this case, I hated having to lie there hearing the groans and pants.

Because, nympho bloody bitch that she is, the escapade had made her horny. I saw their legs as they entered the room and then predictably, saw the towel slide to the floor. She giggled playfully and I saw one of her legs start rubbing the bastards pants.

'I am tired darling', he said, and I mentally cheered. But..the bitch was not to be denied so easily.

'A quick one sweetheart', she whispered, guiding him towards the bed, 'I need it badly'.

'You always do', he protested, as I rooted for him to stand up and be a man, 'but you also have to realise I just back from work'. But it was too late. As their weight settled on the bed, I watched aghast as one by one his discarded clothes started floating down on the floor. Soon, she was moaning and he was groaning, and then the bed was shaking and creaking and it started becoming so fucking unbearable that I started toying with the idea of trying to sneak out.

But I had underestimated the bitch. Just when her frenzied screams gave me a glimmer of hope that she was getting done, a hand snaked down and grasped my privates. I mean it was bloody unbelievable! The bloody woman was trying to fondle me while she was bloody shagging her hubby and I was just supposed to bloody lay down and bloody take it? Who the bloody hell did she bloody think I was? But my bloody dick has a mind of its own. I mean it actually quite exciting and all, and soon it was too late to resist and I gave in.

We all were done soon after that. I mean this communal orgasm was pretty ridiculous! It would have pretty funny if I had seen it on TV but at that time I wasnt laughing. She kissed him and said 'That was the best darling. Wait for me while I take a shower...and then we can do it again'.

We both groaned. She went in.

'You can come out now', he said, and I almost had a cardiac. I tried to make myself believe that he was talking to his wife, but I knew.

'Come out unless you want me to call the security', he said again without raising his voice, and I knew I was finished. With as much dignity as I could muster, I came out bare arsed and stood in front of him like a bloody kid caught stealing candy.

He measured me up very slowly and thoroughly and gave a satisifed grunt.

'You'll do', he said, lighting a cigeratte. 'From now on come here every Saturday afternoon..2-4PM..else your wife gets an anonymous call'.

I was hugely relieved. Fucker was a pervert who got off watching his wife getting screwed!! This was turning into something very good, I mentally gloated. Grinning I started putting my clothes on till I remembered something.

'Boss you forgot something..she goes to her kitty party thingies on Saturdays', I reminded him kindly.

'I know. You will come for me. Why do you think she sleeps around like a slut? I dont like women. But you will keep both of us happy'.

Overheard

'That's too big', she said, with rounded eyes.

'Try it', he said, with a smile, 'and you wont regret it'.

'But its too much for me. What can I possibly do with one that big?', she asked in anguish, as if its been shoved down her throat.

'Its not always that you will come across one this big', he said, obscenely caressing and fondling it as he spoke. The woman seemed rivetted. It was as if she was hypnotised by the size and texture of it. And sure enough, as if in a daze, she reached out and grasped it and pulled it towards herself.

'How much?', she asked, as she bent down and with a long, deep breath inhaled its fragrance.

'For you, 12 rupees a kg', the sabziwala said, wrapping up the cucumber in a take away pack.

And the spell broke.

Of crabs and humans

There was this joke that was going around when we were in school..about an 'international crab festival' where nations all over the world were participating in a competition to prove whose crabs were the best..and they were all travelling on the same airline, and each country had their own basket containing their best crabs, and then a long detailed description of the lengths each of the 'advanced' countries have gone to to make sure that their prize crabs don't escape, and then obviously there was this indian basket which was left lying totally unsecured, and when asked the indian delegation says 'dont worry, they wont escape..whenever one tries to climb out the others pull him right back in'.

Well I am sure u have heard some variation or the other of this story. But this is something I have been facing on and off for the last 6 years or so. Since 6 years, I have been living a so-called 'lonely' life. Staying 'away' from my family, commuting to meet my wife and kid, returning to an empty bed after work and whatever after office activity i choose to pursue, taking extended weekends to visit my family whenever I feel like, deciding to visit relatives and friends on the spur of a moment if I feel like it irrespective of their location in India, going out on family trips to some goddamn weekend break place if the city is getting too claustrophobic..i don't know, generally sleeping well.

But..

Some people are so concerned about me. Be it some childhood friends, some casual aquantainces, some faceless meddlers...they are convinced that I am miserable. 'Some' is the operative word here. Anyone who knows me well is happy for me. Because I won't trade my life (at the moment) for anyone else's.

So all you people..thanks for your concerns..but no thanks. Get a life and let me live mine.

I refuse

After long consideration, I have decided that I can't marry you. Probably the decision is a mistake. After all, we are so much alike. Both of us respect the other's space, we both love the same things, have the same attitudes towards life. Both of us get frustrated because of the same reasons, both of us come out of our darkest depressions through the same tonic. I love your eyes and your impish smile. I would have loved to grow old with you.

But.

I cant. And the reasons are obvious.

So, I refuse.

And its a good thing that I have never expressed my feelings to you. And that you don't have a clue. And that this entire tragedy resides entirely in my imagination.

Communal living

We have all grown up in a so called 'middle class' upbringing. Joint families, jurassic age neighbors, teachers who have taught your uncles, knowing the number of wrinkles of everyone in your neighborhood..the works. And that's supposed to be Utopia.

Maybe it is. Maybe not. That's not the point. The point is, Hollywood (and then automatically Bollywood and then any wood) INSISTS that 'the golden age has gone'. The age of communal living, sharing, helping, adjusting, frustating...i dont know, i have run out of 'ing' words. But that's maybe because i have never lived in a chawl, or a 'para' or whatever vernacular a commune goes by.

AAAAH! The concept of the chawl! Where else will one find a potboiler such as a chawl, where everyone's worry is everone else's and every joy, sorrow, rage, madness is distributed and broken down in tiny little pieces, so that finally there is nothing left, apart from the numbing dreary meaningless existence where nothing really matters, where it all comes down to the lowest common denominator, who wakes up to fill the buckets, who gets the first shot at the virgin loo, who gets the first steaming loaf of bread from the yawning delivery boy. But then, at the end of day, if u havent done anything of the above, have failed to achieve each and every one of these magnificient tasks, well..the chawl is waiting. You go back, and find other people who are at your level, failures in all that they have attempted today, and cosy, comfortable and cushioned in the communal feeling..that fraternity of failed brotherhood, a brotherhood where everyone is happy, and no one dares voice their deepest, darkest insecurities, where brothers in arms perish together, happy for the warmth, succumbing to that numbing nothingness.

So..which 'chawl' are you in?

What some women don't understand

is that, for some of us enlightened ones, sex is a form of worship. When we say we want to have sex, and the bill has not yet arrived, it doesn't mean we are desperate, or deprived or perverted or chauvanists or anything. Its just that we are so in the throes of this deep religious awe, surrender and worship, that our expressions of submission and supplication need outlets..whatever the cost or the outlet.

One can't be hyocrite when it comes to religion, can one?

Defining a movie experience

I am no longer a movie buff. Over the weekend I watched Postman Always Rings Twice, Taxi Driver, Streetcar Called Desire, Chariots of Fire and The Graduate. And then I switched to television and watched KANK..and I watched it right upto its ridiculous ending..and I didnt switch channels in the breaks..and I related to a lot of situations in the movie..and kind of forgot how Taxi Driver ended..

So the question that popped up was...what defines a movie experience? When does bad cinema capture one's imagination? Does a chilling movie like Taxi Driver not stay with you because you do not relate to it? And by the same logic, does a rank bad movie like KANK grip me enough to make me sit through it because i can identify with the characters?

I dont know. I guess I should stick to No Entry in the future.

Me and my bloody luck

'What's your name', she asked me, moving her chair closer to mine.

'Neil', I said, indicating the empty chair next to mine.

'You bastard', she said, and walked away in a huff.

Weeks later, I found out that she thought i was asking her to kneel.

Diaries

Man

The last few days have been such that I have decided to write things down. I am not much of a writer, but I just want to record the events for future reference. You see, I have this nagging suspicion that things are not as they appear, that everyone around me is wearing a mask, watching my every move, uttering memorized lines while speaking to me. You may think I am being paranoid, but let me start at the beginning and let you be the judge.

Last Sunday I woke up without a memory. I didnt know who I was, where I was, what I was. I dialled random numbers from my cell phone, different people called me different names and spoke to me in different languages and I didnt have the guts to ask them how I knew them or how they knew me. I spent the entire day in terrified loneliness, totally helpless and desperate with no idea what the next step should be. It was then that the doorbell rang and I opened the door to find a beautiful woman standing there..and when I looked into her eyes I knew that she was my lover. It all came out then, my fear and my helplessness, and she took me in her arms and I knew things will be all right. We discussed our future and she told me not to worry, that we should let time heal things. She has moved in with me and in the evenings, we lie in each other's arms and she tells me how I used to love her, about the wonderful moments we had shared, and the beautiful life that lay ahead of us. Looking into her eyes, I believe her.

Wife

That's it. Its been over a week now. No contact, no news. No responses to messages. I think I have had it. Probably its best that this ends this way. We were meandering towards nothingness and I guess its fitting that the end came as a fizzle rather than a bang. Anyway, I sincerely hope he has a happy life..and I desperately hope that I do too.

Lover

This will be the last entry before I burn the diary. All the pages filled with angst and tears after he dumped me are behind me now. I always believed that if I didnt give up hope he will come back to again some day. The months of playing 'good friends' are thankfully gone. He is now mine. Completely. And forever.

Conversations

Canteen - 10:30 AM

Girl: God I hate that slimeball! The way he looks at me makes my skin crawl man!
Boy: Yeah..he is a total frustrated arsehole yaar!
G: I mean, like, if his eyes had hands all the girls in this office will be walking aroung nude.
B: Well thats the only way he will ever be able to undress a girl anyways.
G: Doesnt the fuck realise how obvious he is? Cant he bloody make out that all girls are aware of his roaming eyes?
B: Chutiya thinks thats the way to get a response.
G: Yeah right! Like a kick to his balls.
B: Haha...be careful though! That might make him think that you want to be physical with him!
G: UGH!! Whats with guys anyway? Why the fuck do they always have to think with their dicks? Cant they fucking view women in any other position except lying under them with their thighs open?
B: Hey come on! Dont generalise man! I accept that most of the fuckers are like that. Its how they have been brought up, what company they mix in, what kind of sexual experiences (or lack of) that they had..
G: Maybe you are right..i mean i am totally comfortable with you. i just hope those fuckers learn something from u dude.
B: Yeah, well, one can only hope..shall we go?

Pub - 7:30 PM

Boy1: Abey saale aaj G se saath bohut khusur fusur kar raha tha behnchod?
Boy: Kuch nehi yaar aise hi.
B1: Shut up man..bol na behnchod kya scene hai.
B: Abey sahi maal hai baap..do teen din me aa jayegi khopchi me.
B1: Boss tu bhagwan hai.
B: Saath saath reh beta bohut kuch sikhega.

The seeds of the holocaust

It was a hot, sunny day and the streets of Munich were deserted, barring the stray dogs and puppies lolling about with their tongues out. Hienrich roamed the streets looking for his next target. The hand holding the magnifying glass was rock steady but his otherwise solemn face was flushed with anticipation, his normally cold, expressionless eyes sparkling with anticipation.

He had to be careful. The last time he was caught,his father had given him a hiding his arse still remembered. Joseph was normally a god fearing, mild man. But he was a fanatic about discipline. And Hienrich knew that he had just about reached the last few inches of the fuse that was wired to the keg of gunpowder that resided in Joseph's mind. So, he had been careful for the last few months. But today the temptation was too much.

He spotted his target soon. It was a beautiful Labrador pup, about 2 or 3 months old. And it was sleeping alone on the pavement, it's ears pricked and eyes closed. It looked so beautiful, so vulnerable, that Hienrich's heart swelled with love for the helpless creature. He took out the glass and carefully positioned it so that the sunrays focused on the delicate soft pink tissues of the inner ear. As the pup screamed out in pain he moved in for the kill, the blunt hammer halfway out of his pocket. He felt a sudden movement from behind and before he realised what happened, a hand clamped down on his shoulder and another wrenched the hammer out of his curled fingers..he turned around with a thundering heart and his worst fears came true..it was that wretched Rabbi Efrati again.

'You are sick', he said, 'and its time Joseph realised the depths of your depravity'.

He took the struggling, kicking boy to his home and when Joseph opened the door, one look at the rabbi and the hammer and the struggling boy in his hands told Joseph the entire story. He grabbed both and before the rabbi could say anything, the door slammed in his face.

'I think you and me have to talk boy', Joseph said, taking out the horsewhip from the cupboard.

Late that night, Hienrich lay face down on his cot, with his flayed back swathed in bandages and made a vow.

'I will get you, you fucking jew', Hienrich Himmler said.

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.


Poet: W.H. Auden
Kick arse rendering: John Hannah in 4 Weddings And A Funeral.

A hilarious party

One of our teams had a major software release last week. These guys had been toiling pretty hard for the last 6 months or so, fighting a hostile customer as well as coping with inter-departmental politics, but finally, the project was successfully completed and everyone was happy. So, the boss of this team decided to throw a party for his 'boys'. I had done some architectural design for this project a few months back, hence I got an invite as well.

To give you some background, this team is comprised mostly of guys fresh out of college or out barely a few months back. And let me tell you, for the new blokes, the first few 'office parties' have a lot of significance. If i try to recollect personal experiences, it used to feel like I have finally become an adult - being able to booze with a boss 15 years my senior, and being treated as an equal, irrespective of their knowledge, standing and years of experience. So, a lot of these guys were pretty excited.

We reached the place. It was a restaurant. A family one. With 4 sitter dining tables. And soft music. And NO BOOZE.

Shit I pitied these guys man! Everyone was roaming around with a dazed expression on their faces. I mean nobody had a clue! It was 7PM and the buffet was laid out. Some optimists refused to believe that there could'nt be no provision for booze, but by 8 everyone was pretty convinced. So, one by one, they shuffled towards the buffet tables and dinner started.

And mingling with them, with a kind, beatific expression of a proud patriarch, was the big boss, asking everyone to enjoy themselves to the fullest, saying that they deserved this 'treat' after the hard work they had put in. And the scream was that, this guy actually believed it himself! And you should have seen the expressions on the guys' faces man!!

Anyway, I had a great time. Set an all time personal record - had food, dessert and coffee for dinner for the first time in my 'adult' life. And being the kindly soul that I am, I have promised these guys that I would take them out next week for a booze-only party.

You guys are invited as well.

Thank you Shilpa

What would I do without Shilpa guys? You may have read this post. But today she has given me another chance to write about something important, rather than posting 'delhi jokes' and 'bullshit tags' (according to one of my ex-friend's whom i have disowned because he is the wrong finger type). So here goes..

There is a huge ruckus about Richard Gere necking with Shilpa Shetty yesterday. And why should'nt there be? We are from the land of mughal and victorian slavery. We dont have sex. Some dirty bastards wrote the fucking Kama Sutra. Their bastard cousins sculpted the Khajuraho temples. Our widows shave their heads and eat veg to make themselves unattrative to 'preying males'. Our children fill up forms where there is no space for 'mother's name'. Our father (of the nation) slept with his nieces to prove that he was above the 'weakness of the flesh'. In all his greatness he went on record saying that he failed....

But so what? We are a nation that respects women. Where our country is our mother, where the mother and sister are goddesses, where words like 'behnchod' and 'motherchod' are more reviled than 'uncivilised' or 'uneducated'. But that again is not important..

What is important is that for the last 779 years we have conquered our sexual drive. We are a nation that believes, truly madly and deeply, that sex is BAD!! Our movies show swaying flowers when couples kiss. Our heroines get slapped around by 'manly' heroes and then go home and justify the fact saying that the its the responsibility of the woman in the house to maintain peace and harmony. 2.7665% of our women achieve orgasms, 97.2335% of those who dont, have some 'problem'. We are a country where a guy indulging in a screwing spree is a stud while a girl doing the same is a slut. We are a nation of 'men'.

So Richard..lay off man. Do your shit with the Julias of the world. In our country, even the whores are virgins. If they are not, it because they had been raped by an uncle or an office boss and they have been forced into that world. You can take your charms elsewhere...'it don't impress us much'.

Jai Hind.

Another tag

You Are a Pinky

You are fiercely independent, and possibly downright weird. A great communicator, you can get along with almost anyone. You are kind and sympathetic. You support all your friends - and love them for who they are. You get along well with: The Ring Finger Stay away from: The Thumb

What Finger Are You?

Thanks Dravid

Gorged myself on movies this weekend. Here's is the list:

1) Forrest Gump
2) Breakfast at Tiffany's
3) Dumb and Dumber
4) Deer Hunter
5) Who's afraid of Virginia Wolf?
6) My Cousin Vinny
7) Gandhi
8) American Beauty

About 40 oscars all considered.

A post for Sayantani

Sayantani wants me to write something funny. Being the serious person that I am, I cant think of anything funny at the moment. So I will tell her a small story.

So what happened was that there was this family. Handsome dude, sexy wife and a smart 6 year old son. And they go to the zoo on a nippy Sunday morning and the kid has the time of his life. They come to the elephant enclosure and the father tells them to wait there while he gets something to eat.

The elephant was in heat and was standing there with a gigantic hard on. The boy spots the appendage and tugs at his mother's T shirt and asks her 'mom, mom look!! what's that coming out of the elephant's stomach?'

She looks and gets all red and tells him 'that's nothing. look at the tigers'.

'What nothing?' he asks. 'Look at that. Something is coming out of his stomach!'

'I told you its nothing', she snaps. 'Keep quiet!'

The bewildered kid decides to ask his dad. His father usually talked to him in a language he could understand. So, when the father returns with the chips and sodas, he sidles up to him and whispers 'dad! what's that?'

Dad looks and tells him 'that's the elephant's dick son'.

The kid asks 'then why was mom saying it was nothing?'

Dad says 'son..to your mom, even an elephant's dick is nothing'.

I tag you

When you are alone in the house and you take a shower, do you keep the bathroom door open?

Please let me know. Its very important.

The showdown

She was absolutely and utterly sick of him. His apathy, his callousness, his insensitivity. Sick of his posturing and his double standards, of his smug belief that she will take all the shit he can dish out, sick of his confidence that ultimately, she was a 'traditional desi girl', who would do anything but walk out on him with the kid and shatter three lives.

Civilised conversations had long since ceased. Any attempt to do so invariably degenerated into mud slinging exercises. But these days the sheer weight of cohabitation was proving to be too much for her. On one of the rear occasions when they had sat down and talked like mature people, they had decided that at least for the sake of the child, they would make a final attempt to coexist. 'Working relationships' they were called, at least according to the hollywood movies that they enjoyed watching separately. But she had never imagined that his sheer presence could be so difficult to handle. Not talking to each other could not prevent her from hearing him talking to others, and in each conversation, all that she detested about him crashed on her eardrums in unforgiving waves, choking her with the bile that welled up inside her till her whole body trembled with disgust, leaving her head throbbing with pure, white hate.

She woke up today knowing that something had changed. After ages she felt calm. She saw things in a totally different light. Nothing could justify this existence, this utter wastage of a life, this pathetic attempt to keep up appearances and in the process making things worse. There was no point in trying to enact something for a 4 year old. Soon he will be old enough to see through the facade. And by then it may be too late. She wanted out. She wanted her life back. She wanted to live for herself.

She heard him turn the key in the lock. She went out to meet him and tell him about her decision. Their eyes locked as they faced each other. He dropped his bag and ran to her and fell on his knees and hugged her waist.

'I cannot live without you. I love you. Lets start again', he said.

Thoughts on farting

There are 2 types of men in the world - those who can fart in public and those who can't. Farting, I have discovered is the greatest leveller. I have heard many uncles of extremely serious disposition farting along during serious conversations, timing the farts to coincide with the breaks in the conversation. I have heard some of my occidental colleagues in Europe and elsewhere farting to their hearts contents in meetings or in pubs (the only difference being that each fart is followed by a muttered 'excuse me').

So ok I arrived at a theory to explain this. Uncles fart because they are 'socially challenged'. Goras fart because they have confidence in their superiority.

So why can't I?

A love story

B was in love with S. And would do anything to get him. And everyone around knew that as well. And so, bastards that they were, they used to take B for a ride. They would go to B and say "S was wanting to go for the latest Amitabh flick." And B will beg them to ask S to take B along. And they will hem and haw and confer and strategise till B will tell them that there was a big treat waiting for them if they can convince S. And then they would troupe to S and beg him to take B, to somehow sit through the 3 hours for the gastronomical good of the majority. And S would go and not talk to anyone for the next 3 days.

This went on for some time. But it seemed that B wanted more. And the fates arranged for a situation where it became suddenly possible for B to have S completely. It so happened that B's parents were going on a 10 day trip to Sikkim and B had the run of the house. And so B called all S's 'friends' for lunch one day, plied them with food and begged them to convince S to spend a night there. B had some contacts in high places and promises of jobs and substantial donations for that year's pujas were hinted at. And so, they took on the love brokerage.

These guys came and it was long hard and bitter battle. S stood his ground, refusing to be pimped around but his friends were up to it. They tried ridicule (can't you handle B for one night you wimp). They tried cajoling (just a night yaar. dont do anything if you dont want to). They tried emotional blackmail (think of T yaar, he will get the job if you do this). They even tried threats (boss if you are so adamant then we have issues about your loyalty towards friends). Whatever factor it was due to, or perhaps because he was so sick of this whole thing and wanted to put an end to it all, S finally agreed.

D day came. S didn't come. A frantic B called up all his friends and asked them to find him and bring him home. B also expressed doubts about the abilty of these guys to organise the next year's pujas. If they cant convince one guy how did they think they are going to convince the people in the neighborhood to part with donations, B was heard muttering. Tempers frayed. Decisions were taken. Everyone bayed for S's blood.

When they reached his place they found a crowd outside. They pushed inside. S was hanging from the ceiling fan.

Drastic you think? You see, B was a man.

What would you rather be?

A jack-of-all-trades or a master of one? Would you rather be able to talk comfortably on issues ranging from the effect of a failed crop in Ukraine on the Dow Jones index (whatever that means) to the finer differences in guitaring styles of Jeff Beck and Peter Green? Or would you rather only participate in conversations where you know everything that is to be known on the topic so much so that when you open your mouth there is a hushed silence and everyone listens?

Let me know. Its been a dilemma for some time.

Slithering

Tried to look up the word on the net but failed to find what I was looking for. What it was supposed to mean was that you are supposed to bungee jump into a river. Went to Corbett National Park for an adventure sports outing last weekend. Stayed in tents, swam in a fast and furious river, trekked in the forest..but slithering took the cake.

There was this creaking swaying suspension bridge (that looked about a 100 years old) where we were fitted with harnesses and ropes. Then you are supposed to lean back over the water while someone holds the rope and then lets go. After a free fall of about 3 seconds you crash into the river and go under.

Absolutely amazing experience man! Try it if you get the chance.

Was this abuse?

I was all of 11 years old. I knew all about girls, had played doctor-doctor with 3 of my classmates, I had read graphic descriptions of the adult female anatomy in Nick Carter thrillers I had smuggled in from the school library. I wasn't tongue tied or intimidated by girls. I positively strutted around them. Till the time Mlle Jenette joined our school as a French teacher.

I dont why the fuck she launched into me from the first day. At first it was trivial stuff like asking me to carry her books back to the staff room. Then she started dropping me off home after school. And then asking me to stay back after school to help me with my homework. And the constant fidgeting with my uniform - adjusting my tie, tucking in my shirt, zipping up a half open fly.

And then one day, she called me to her house one hot sultry afternoon to 'amusez-vous certains' as she put it. Have some fun indeed. That afternoon finished my confidence level with the opposite sex.

Before I entered I heard her splashing in the pool. And when i reached the poolside, I saw her cutting through the water in long streaking strokes. She was a great swimmer, but that's not what I was staring at with my mouth open. It was the first time I was seeing a 2 piece bikini in real life..and Nick Carter hadn't prepared me for that. As an Indian kid surrounded by saree clad women, I had grown up seeing bare midriffs of various sizes, shapes and colours. Never had I thought that it could also be something like that. And when she came out of the water and opened her cap to let her blonde hair cascade out, I thought I saw it all. But I hadn't.

She saw me gaping and a peculiar shadow crossed her face. "Venez ici", she beckoned, patting the lounge chair next to her. I moved like an automation, and as I neared her and saw her leaning back and looking at me with a peculiar half-smile, and I saw her breasts heaving as she was catching her breath, and her nipples straining against the soft bikini top, and tiny droplets of water breaking up the sunrays into rainbows like a prism and to my horror I felt my pinky rushing up to meet my slack jaw.

"You helping me to put oil on my back, yes cherie", she asked me, and I dumbly nodded my head. Oil on your back? I would oil and entire leper colony if I can have one more chance to see you like this, I thought. She gave me a bottle and and lay down face down on the chair and for the first time I can feast my eyes on her body, without worrying that she would know I am doing so. I poured some oil onto my trembling hands, squeezed my eyes shut and touched her back and it felt as if I was getting jolted by electric sparks that travelled from my fingertips and spread through my body, leaving goosebumps on my skin and making the hairs on my arms and legs stand up. I started making circular motions on her back, gently to start with and then faster and faster, but then stopped when I heard her moaning, fearing that I had hurt her.

She sat up and looked at me. I looked back hypnotised as she reached back and untied the string holding her bikini top. As it fell away I realised that this was the most beautiful thing I had seen in my entire life. "Front I can do cherie", said with that curious half smile, and I felt my heart shatter into a billion pieces.

"You go and make swim now", she said, and starting applying the lotion on her breasts. It was too much for me. I felt something burst and to my utter disbelief I discovered that I had pee-ed in my pants. I am saying pee, but to me it felt like my wee wee had gone utterly crazy. I tried to mumble something and slide away before she saw me, but my worst fears were confirmed when I looked her and saw her staring at the patch that was spreading in my pants and her hand groped for the towel lying at her side.

"You go home now, yes Neil?", she asked me in a small voice.

Fighting back my tears I ran all the way back home. I switched to German the next week.

Enough!!

"The main problem is the system, not the coach, players, selectors...."

"What does this fucker Chidambaram think of himself? Look at what he has achieved.."

"I cant believe how Aajtak can call themselves a news channel..did you see..."

"I dont know what's wrong with these Jats/Kannadis/Bongs..dont you think.."

"Ray was better because..."

"Its not a question of good woman or good wife. What i feel is..."

AAAARGH!!!!!!!! I am sick of opinions, discussions and debates man! Just want to go to a secluded beach and lie under a beach umbrella with a good book, a chilled beer and a stray dog.

People talk so much.

Reverse hangover

Is a phenomenon I have discovered when I have tried to quit firewater. Not only can I not sleep, but in the morning I get up with a splitting headache.

I am proud of myself.

Your birthday

Ok try this. Go to Wikipedia and type your birth day (month and day) in the search tool. And get to know how momentous that day was.

Mine was huge letdown. Except for my birth (which probably is quite enough in the history of mankind), nothing major has ever happened on that day. I sheer desperation I am listing a few events:

- Socrates executed
- British Labour Party formed
- Soviets invade Afghanisthan
- Dale Earnhardt Sr and Jr win the Daytona 500 (6 years apart from each other)
- Louis XV, Galileo born

Bloody hell!! Let me know yours.

I love you

I have finally realised I cannot live without you. When I am with you I can forget the rest of the world. I can forget the disappointments, the failures, the frustrations. Every song I hear with you sounds better that it normally does, every movie I watch with you gives me deeper insights. I love you for always being there. I love you for never letting me down. I love you for never judging me. I love you for never changing. I love you on my lips. I love your warmth. I love your moistness. I love you when you make my head swim.

Fuck my liver. I am not quitting booze.

Goodbye

I look back at this post with some sadness. What a character and what a player!

Have a good life Inzy. But first of all...thanks to allah.

Working like a dog

The Kiwi girls are waiting..

That's me and Shahrukh

'See this one', she said, flipping the pages of a dog eared photo album. 'Me and Shahrukh. I had put on a new dress that day'. In the faded 4 by 6 snap, he saw her standing in her pigeon hole in Sonagachi, with her arms on Shahrukh Khan's shoulder.

'Wait..I have one with Amitabh as well', she said, pulling out another album from a tin trunk that contained all her possesions and memories. 'But with Amitji I couldn't touch him', she said, giggling and blushing as she showed him the snap where she was standing coyly next to the Big B, decked up in ghastly chiffon silks of pinks and greens, but still beautiful with her breathless excitement.

'You are beautiful', he told her, giving her a quick hug. She clung to him, but he had to go. Away from her dark hole. Leaving her with her loneliness, with her pictures of bollywood actors' posters.

That's what friends are for

S was a very good friend of mine..and if you can manage to think beyond Bollywood he was actually a brother (such things actually exist beyond the celluloid, u know). But all that was before he fell in love..

Oh! I forgot to tell you that we were in bangkok..and BKK has these places called go-go bars (i don't know why) where the concept is that everyone (from the waitress to the pole dancer to the toilet attendant or to the sultry siren sitting in the next table) are available..for conversation i mean (what did you think?).So he liked this waitress, and every order was a looong and detailed one, just so she would stand next to him, and their fingers would touch accidentally while pointing out 'kau pak kai' in the menu card. And ultimately, inevitably, Mr Jack Daniels had his day, and he asked her out.

He came back (alone) with stars in his eyes. What a day it had been, he said. There were so many things in Bangkok that we poor souls had no idea about! Especially the boat ride, sitting on the deck with their arms around each other, eating Moo Chops and sipping Singha beer....man! i felt like loser!

And the day came when she arrived unannounced to his place, for the night. I mumbled an excuse about having some work (i was the flat mate u see), went to the nearest pool joint, lost to all the beautiful waitresses, went to the german steak house, over-tipped the lissome lass pouring dollops of Worcestershire Steak sauce, did this did that..looked at my watch (is he a superman? i dont know..better give him the benefit of the doubt)..tentatively scratched on the door, gingerly turned the knob..and the door opened.

There he was, sitting with an inscrutable expression on his face. My cynisim screamed to me that something was wrong, my romanticism told me he was in love (was it the same thing?). Before i could make up my mind he started the narrative..

'When she came in i couldn't believe my eyes man. I had always hoped that she would be easy, but somehow had wished that i was the exception, rather than the rule. And when she came in that's exactly what she said..told me that she didnt know what she was doing in my bedroom..she felt lost when she thought of me......'

i switched off..........yada yada yada yada......

'i had never seen a bra like that'

(i switched on)...

'how many have you seen before', i asked him...

'what do u think i am a chutiya? since i was so small (he said indicating a 2cm gap between 2 fingers in front of his zipper) i have been seeing them..fluttering on a clothesline on the next terrace..with their blue starch marks..some even with safety-pins in the back, and once i saw...'

'ok, ok i get you..so how was this one, if i may ask', i said.

the dreamy look returned..

'i dont know yaar..it was so different..i dont know how to say this..inside there was like something man..like you used to wear chest gaurds while playing cricket na?'

'uh oh', i muttered.

'what do you mean, uh uh', he barked out. 'u think i am a chutiya or what? i know about some women who have smaller breasts and use something to look big.. remember the time you went out on a date with napkin stuffed in your chaddi and...'

'sorry boss..i was just joking yaar. aage bol bhai'

'chutiya' he muttered. 'anyway, so she saw me looking and suddenly she pulled me up and took all my clothes off. i swear, the last time someone did that so fast was when i was 4 and we were entering kalighat temple and i told maa i had done potty in my pant..but then i told you na she was a nice girl. she could understand that i could not take the first step, and she also was new to this experience..'

i switched off..........yada yada yada yada......

'..and there was naked'

(i switched on)...

'huh! naked?'

'i mean i took her bra off..she was so beautiful yaar..so pure..and when she kissed me it was so beautiful yaar..and she was so innocent. she said she was seeing a dick for the first time..and she said she hadn't seen a bigger one before, and this was the first time also...i didn't understand..anyway, i was so happy and i told her to take her skirt off because i thought i will spoil her nice skirt. she told me this is the first time please switch off the light..'

'uh oh', i muttered..

'again you are doing uhuh u motherchod? remember the time you told T to switch of the light and you will show her magic and you...'

'shut up yaar..that was 16 yrs back man'.

'exactly..she is also same innocent like that..chutiya cynical bastard..anyway..so somehow i controlled and went dripping to the switch..i could hear her unzipping her skirt behind me..and the sound of her underwear going down her legs..i turned the light off, groped my way back and she was on the couch with her arms open..'

'sahi hai baap..chaa gaya beta'

'shut up chutiya sun pehle..i laid my head down against her breasts..'

'abhi bola kuch hai nehi'

'motherchod gaar maar dunga..sun na yaar..it was so nice..she said i was the nicest man she has ever met. all people only use her yaar, they think just pay money and make her do anything..yaar men are bastards, seriously. the amount of torture and harassment. and she said i was the one yaar..she wanted to share a secret with me..'

'let me guess..she was a whore', i said with a smirk.

'raand teri maa chutiya..sun na yaar..she took my hand and placed it on her breast..and slowly guided it down to her stomach..yaar how can they have so flat abs man..and then down. sahi tha yaar..trimmed and shaped..and then i felt it'

'it?'

'it', he indicated with his hand.

'IT?? MOTHERCHOD WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING??'

'abey loure sun na..its not her fault..she just wants money for the operation..she is otherwise perfect yaar..she showed me so many things one can do even if a girl doesn't have that..it was an eye opener for me yaar'.

'i dont believe i am having this conversation..u mean u actually...??'

'sun na yaar...just drop your fucking know all attitute for once..let me show you'.

Its been a long long time

Running your hands through a soft fluffy bush. Touching a bud and watching it harden. Kissing the petals and tasting their oh sweet juices. Caressing the valleys and the shadows ever so lightly, fingers caressing and feeling the gentle answering quiver. Feeling the moistness and inhaling that smell to the farthest capillary of your lung. Hearing the sighs and the groans and smelling the sweat. Pushing yourself to go on a on, deeper and deeper, till you collapse and lay panting and spent but ready for more.

Its really been a long time since I been on a nature trail.

The victory of the lowest common denominator

The concert was great..the sound, the visuals, the props, the hands and of course Roger himself. I had gone for the 'In the Flesh' tour in 2002 as well and had sorely missed Gilmour. But this time around the hands were magnificient and the lead guitar riffs gladdened the hearts of even floyd bigots like me. All in all..an evening to remember. But...

I was saddened to see that Roger had to come down to our level. His lyrics used to subtle, his anti bush sentiments used to be delightfully scornful. But subtlety is wasted on the non-occidental populace..so his latest song has lines like

'Are these the people that we should bomb
Are we so sure they mean us harm
Is this our pleasure, punishment or crime
Is this a mountain that we really want to climb
The road is hard, hard and long
Put down that two by four
This man would never turn you from his door
Oh George! Oh George!
That Texas education must have fucked you up when you were very small'

Pretty childish stuff i think..but these were the only lyrics that were displayed on the screen along with the song..and hence the only lyrics the srk-karan-bigb-lovers understood..so they cheered wildly and everyone was happy.

But then dont listen to me..i am just a cynical bastard.

An invitation

To everyone I have been talking to through this blog..to please make themselves available this weekend (friday or saturday) and get together for a few drinks and literary discussions of the highest order (we can also discuss Malika Sherawat if you want). Please be there (somewhere, anywhere everyone decides) and lets have some fun.

Slow slow office day

mail.yahoo.com
www.bbc.co.uk
ghetufool.blogspot.com
www.jhum.blogspot.com
mail.yahoo.com
orkut.com
saltlakeman.blogspot.com
varticity.blogspot.com
absolutelynothingisavailable.blogspot.com
mail.yahoo.com
www.bbc.co.uk
ghetufool.blogspot.com
www.jhum.blogspot.com
saltlakeman.blogspot.com
varticity.blogspot.com
mail.yahoo.com

tick tock tick tock tick tock

Can't write

Its not really a block..rather, its the reverse. After I visited this blog I have been itching to write about a lot of things that happened in my life. A lot of things that would make perfect blog material..but..like a fool i didnt make this an anonymous blog. 'Whatever I say can be used against me in a court of law'. So..I cant write.

But..if you start getting comments on your respective blogs from someone called IamNotShuv or something like that..and if you click on the profile and go to a blog with XXX nostalgia..please dont let on that you know its me.

Amazing picture!!

Isn't it an amazing shot? And you know why? Because the black camels are just the shadows of the actual camels (the white specks) shot from vertically overhead.

Taken by George Steinmetz for the National Geographic Turkey.

Seems like I have finally met my match in photography.

Manali!

That was on the road to Rohtang Pass, at midnight on a freezing full moon night. But that comes later. Let me start at the beginning.

Last Wednesday I suddenly came to know that all the top bosses are going to Manali for a 3 day workshop and I was supposed to join them. That could have meant 2 things - i would be promoted or fired. I didnt spend too many sleepless nights wondering which one it would be and utilised Thursday digging out my winter clothing from their moth balled existences.

The flight was memorable in one way - the propeller driven 30 seater Air Deccan airplane. Before boarding I suddenly got this premonition that I should talk to my son once before the thing took off but my fears were unfounded - we landed safely in Kulu an hour later on a nippy sunny afternoon.

4 of us had already decided to use this trip to freak out and so it wasnt surprising that we 'accidently' landed up in the same car for the hour long drive to Manali. A couple of stops for beer and steaming hot trouts later we entered the beautiful Holiday Inn hotel, just on the outskirts of Manali.

The post lunch kickoff meeting confirmed that out of the 2 professional paths, the powers to be had decided on the former, and the rest of the trip was gone in somehow going through the 10 hour meetings, freaking out for 8 hours and crashing for 6 hours.

There were a couple of great experiences...with one great thing in common. Manala Cream is reputed to be the best hash in the country, and boy, did it live up to its reputation! We procured a 'tola' from a small roadside shop in Manali and the last joint was smoked outside the airport before boarding the return flight. And it was AMAZING! Like 5 of us went out at 11:30 PM for a walk outside and suddenly found ourselves flagging down a car and heading towards Rohtang pass. We went as far as the road was open and then wandered around the snow for an hour in the biting sub zero temperatures. And the next day there was this amazing 2 hour trek up a mountain, with the reefers and the beers, and then paragliding down to the amazingly beautiful Kulu valley.

Well I am not much of a travel writer. But if you havent been there definitely plan (and not in the peak tourist season). Here are some of the pics..maybe they would help make up your mind.

The transference of apathy

A test for my psychic abilities

I have had these amazing psychic flashes that have come true and left me slightly uneasy about myself. But this time I want to prove it to the rest of the world. Here's the latest flash that would come true on April 28, 2007.

India will win the world cup by bundling out the aussies for 128.

All u guys out there cash in your life savings and go the nearest bookie.

Those bloody racist goras!!

Look at what they are subjecting poor poor Shilpa to!! So what if she is getting 4 crores to sit in a room? And how does it matter if the whole concept of the show is to have people gang up on each other and eliminate contestants one by one? How dare they subject her to racist abuse?

So what if she is from bloody Bombay, filled with those bloody ghatis and shiv sainiks who want to throw all bongs out? And who can blame them? The bloody bongs are a bloody lazy and parochial lot. And they also want the Gujjus and Panjus out, because those baniyas control 85% of Bombay. And dont forget the bloody biharis and bhaiyas from UP who make up for 97% of the auto and taxi drivers and daily wage labourers. Come to think of it, throw out all the bloody kannadis as well. They make up about 98.2% of all waiters and cooks in the eating joints. And the bloody backward castes, throwing the city in disarray on Ambedkar's birthday or if someone damages his statue. And throw out all the kattus man..all of them are Paki sympathisers and harbor ISI agents in their homes.

And how dare the brits be racist towards us? Our culture goes back 5000 years when they were living in caves. All goras are fucking with each other all the time. Fathers raping daughters, mothers fucking milkmen..thats what they are. And dont get me started on the blacks. All of them are drug dealers. And all black males use their huge black tools to entice innocent white women and fuck them. And can you trust the bloody hispanics? All bloody illegal immigrants, stealing jobs from honest ctizens. And the bloody chinamen, all coming from Taiwan, Vietnam, Cambodia and Japan and all those Chinese countries and making china towns and creating trouble.

But, all that is besides the point. How DARE they subject Shilpa to racial abuse??

The truth at last

Scout got me into this. And look what I found out about myself. THANKS A LOT SCOUT...

You are The Devil

Materiality. Material Force. Material temptation; sometimes obsession

The Devil is often a great card for business success; hard work and ambition.

Perhaps the most misunderstood of all the major arcana, the Devil is not really "Satan" at all, but Pan the half-goat nature god and/or Dionysius. These are gods of pleasure and abandon, of wild behavior and unbridled desires. This is a card about ambitions; it is also synonymous with temptation and addiction. On the flip side, however, the card can be a warning to someone who is too restrained, someone who never allows themselves to get passionate or messy or wild - or ambitious. This, too, is a form of enslavement. As a person, the Devil can stand for a man of money or erotic power, aggressive, controlling, or just persuasive. This is not to say a bad man, but certainly a powerful man who is hard to resist. The important thing is to remember that any chain is freely worn. In most cases, you are enslaved only because you allow it.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Decision time..

OR

Happy birthday Rod

"May the good Lord be with you
Down every road you roam
And may sunshine and happiness
surround you when you're far from home
And may you grow to be proud
Dignified and true
And do unto others
As you'd have done to you
Be courageous and be brave
And in my heart you'll always stay
Forever Young, Forever Young"

- Rod Stewart, Forever Young

Thanks for the thousands of hours of pleasure Rod.

Going back to my roots

I am thinking new way of making boring to my good friends. Now I am always doing the talking like my countryman do the english many time before. And all friends not happiness with this and this make lot of happiness for me. I also start same thing in my office and all good people having red face in meetings and showing very angry to me and not coming to me for asking anything. This also making lot of laughing inside me but my face showing i am sitting like very old man face and do a lot of jobs.

I am thinking that all my good peoples who have knowing me by reading this blog also do start and see how much good funness it is giving to the mind. Maybe I become famous when all world people having talking like this all the time and making happy talking all the time. Because like this no somebody can be having angry talks and have fighting with good friends or somebodies and every peoples have happy and smiling lifes.

Realisations and resolutions

Finally I realised what the rest of mankind has known for the last 2000 years. Any relationship between two people - lovers, spouses, parent-child, family or friends - can be a successful one if (and only if) it is based on mutual respect. Love can make the world go around and all the crap, but if two people do not respect each other, there is no way that love can grow and sustain itself. And respect is something that has to be earned, not demanded, cajoled or arm-twisted. So, finally, here is my new year resolution:

Thou shalt make thyself respectable to people who matter to thee.

A wide spectrum resolution such as this has got one major advantage. If, at the end of the year, I find that I have drunk myself silly, have not exercised, have not been a good father, son, husband, friend, employee, citizen or human being...well, I have just broken ONE resolution, not 127.

That would give me a good feeling moving into the next year.

A New Year Song

I dont know why..but this song by CCR looks like how 2007 will be for me..i have waded thru shit, swam in muck, seen it all..now its payback time...(loky this one is for u).

Someone told me long ago
There's a calm before the storm,
I know!
It's been comin' for sometime.
When it's over so they say
It'll rain on a sunny day,
I know!
Shining down like water!

I wanna know: have you ever seen the rain?
I wanna know: have you ever seen the rain
Comin' down on a sunny day

Yesterday and days before
Sun is cold and rain is hot,
I know!
Been that way for all my time.
Till forever on it goes
Thru the circle fast and slow,
I know
It can't stop I wonder!

I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain?
I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain
Comin' down on a sunny day?

YEAHHHHH!

I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain?
I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain
Comin' down on a sunny day?

SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!

As i was reading about the usual drunken incidents in the 1st January paper, I thought wouldnt it be great if cars came with built-in drunk detectors that would analyse a driver's breath or sweat and not start if the readings are above a threshold? That would be the only full-proof way of preventing the thousands of meaningless deaths every year.

And today i read this ...If only I had blogged the idea down!!!

There goes my million buck royalty paycheck...BOOHOOOOHOOO!!!!

Children of a 'lesser' God

I have always been very close to kids. I don’t know whether it’s because our mental levels are comparable or whether it’s because like kids, my heart is as pure as a driven snow. Whatever the reason, I have always been accepted into their world as one of their own and have seen their world from the inside.

It’s not a nice world.

Kids have this amazingly rigid socio-economic structure. When we were kids the economic part did not exist. Someone was branded a whiney, for example, irrespective of whether he was the son of the local coal shop owner or the son of the para doctor. There was no concept of differentiating people based on their parents’ money, stature or social position. Now I see these kids leading sheltered lives in enclosed residential complexes, with no exposure to the outside world and no idea of how people less fortunate than them are living in the outside world. Most children (and unfortunately their parents) are downright callous and indifferent about the poor and homeless. My son’s idea of charity and social responsibility is that when one of his toys breaks he keeps it aside saying that he would give it away to a street child to play with. Similarly, my contribution towards poverty eradication is to pay for the education of a couple of faceless girls through monthly deductions from my credit card. But then again, I am rambling.

Coming back to the kids, their world beats the competitiveness and ruthlessness of any high-pressure, performance oriented MNC or the machiavellian schemes of a coalition political party. It’s a dog eat dog world out there, allegiances are sworn and forgotten at the bat of an eyelid, bosom friends discarded and ridiculed in front of newly found soul-mates, shy insecure loners ganged up against and banished to their pitiful ignored existences and loud, brash, aggressive kids (or quiet, arrogant kids with the latest Nintendo or Gameboy) suck up to, adored and followed around. Only the fittest can survive here, and ‘fit’ is a person who doesn’t form any lasting friendships, who doesn’t display any conscience pangs and who can go with the tide and always duck the big wave coming their way.

I make no judgment or attempts to influence their world. I won’t stick around long enough to either change their directions or witness the world where the kids of today have taken over. But I can’t prevent my heart from feeling a twinge of regret or a shaft of fear, for innocence lost and purity killed.

My son's christmas wish

When i asked him what he wanted from Santa he said he wanted a tree in the house which grew money instead of leaves. That way I would be able to stay at home the whole day and play with him, instead of going back to Delhi.

Sniff.

Briefcase

I dont know if any one of you is old enough to remember the briefcase. From my earliest childhood, it was something that symbolised the transition from youth to manhood. Muhalla bhaiyas who used to lounge around in the club-rooms, playing carrom or cricket or generally discussing global issues, day in day out, without break or dip in enthusiasm, suddenly became respectable and serious when they landed jobs and started taking the 8:55 bus to office with a briefcase in hand. You no longer could greet them and ask them the East Bengal Mohun Bagan score of the previous day's match, or whether the latest Mithun starrer was worth watching or not (you could of course ask him these when he held court in the club in the evenings, but then you would have to wait till he has finished a lengthy discourse on how office politics is ruining the work culture in India, or how had ticked off his boss when he had dared to ask him stay an hour after office to complete some urgent work).

Not everyone was so lucky though. There were some poor souls who got jobs where the office did not give them briefcases to carry (after all, not everyone can aspire to be an Insurance Salesman, Maintenance Engineer or Sales Executive). These guys were treated with absolute disdain and we used to ridicule these poor bastards when we used to occupy our newly inherited positions of importance in the club house. 'Imagine', we used to say, with a superior smirk and knowing winks, 'Biltuda goes to office without a briefcase and have you seen the superior expression on his face? As if we dont know what a shitpot he must have joined'.

One such dada must have shared the same opinion as us. And after scrapping through his BCom Pass and landing a job somewhere, he started for his first day in office with a gleaming VIP swinging in his hands, looking as if the moment he would be approached, he would point the damn thing and mutter 'go ahead, make my day'. But we knew Keshtoda, and his academic record and his personal magnetism. And we were pretty sure that it was quite beyond him to secure a job that would require him to carry a briefcase. This was discussed in great detail over the next few days and finally a courageous handful of decided to waylay him one morning and demand to inspect what was inside.

That fateful morning, we waited at the curb, with hearts beating slightly faster, but secure in the knowledge that the para would get a scoop that would be talked about for ages to come, ensuring out place in para folklore for eternity to come. Sure enough, Keshtoda was challenged, his briefcase siezed, opened, while he blabbered in forced indignation, shoulders already stooping, downcast eyes fighting back tears as we all stood around his open briefcase containing a ridiculous collection of children's books and stuff and his tiffin of a banana and 2 slices of sugar sprinkled bread.

In the evening it all came out. Frustrated at not getting a job he had joined some social organisation that goes to slums and teaches children how to read write and stuff like that. They pay conveyance (state transport) and a princely sum of 20 bucks a day for lunch. We all had a great time that day, ribbing him for his worthless life, the other successful dadas explaining to him that he should have gone to them, they would have arranged something for him, why even the peon in their office gets 750 bucks a month!

Keshtoda took all this quite well. He just sat there quietly, sometimes giving a rueful smile when someone said something particularly funny (like Ajitda telling him to start helping our uncles with their housework and chores and then all families in the para will pool in with some contribution for him), sometimes clenching his hands when Romada declared that these NGO-s basically supply young women and children to the Arab world (and Romada would know, his uncle was settled in Canada for the last 28 years), but generally disappointing all us neither by breaking down or trying to fight for and defend himself.

Anyway, from the next day onwards Keshtoda started going to 'work' with a jhola slung on his shoulders. Initial ribbing died down soon enough as our interest moved on to other topics and targets. We all moved on in life, in turn got briefcases of our own. Some fell, some soared. The briefcase no longer generated respect. Kids were moving around with mobile phones and laptops. Some carried only combs to work. Some sat at home and earned trading shares on the phone. But all of them had one thing in common. Everyone moved like an automation. Nobody smiled, nobody stopped to talk to people they crossed in the streets. Nobody came to the club room anymore. Nobody knew whether their next door neighbor was alive or dead. Nobody had anyone to talk to when they felt lost and hopeless and needed someone to talk about their memories or their fears or their hopes.

Except Keshtoda. He looked as serene as ever. He looked fulfilled, satisfied and totally at peace with himself. Someone was saying that he was working as an advisor to Unesco. Someone was saying that he might go to the US soon to deliver a paper. But one thing I knew. The briefcase I had lent him when I started using a laptop looked like it had finally found its way back home.

An apology to the Sachins of the world

I suddenly realised that I am in the same league as the Sachins, Sharukhs and Amitabhs of the world. For you lesser mortals this concept will be difficult to grasp, but its absolutely true, believe you me. Where previously the fingers used to fly over the keyboard, for the past 6 days I have been struggling to think of something to write about. And its all due to critics who dare to question my greatness. Me!! Nowadays, whenever I am about to penn something down, I stop and force myself to think whether the 'true meaning' will be understood by those pea-brained nincompoops. And i can understand how Sachin, about to launch into a cracking cover drive, checks it just in time and tries to guide it towards point and nicks one to the keeper. All the time thinking what Harsha Fucking Boghle will say if he missed the drive.

To all couch critics of the world...FUCK YOU TOO!!!!

The long walk

Suddenly decided yesterday to walk from point A to B. Maybe it was the thought of the traffic snarls, or the lovely northern breeze or the bimbette who passed me as i was opening the car door. Anyways, I was glad I did.

I dont go to gyms or malls, and these are the only places I see people walking these days. So the walk brought back a lot of memories. There were times when we used to walk home from college just for the heck of it, prolonging the meaningless banter with friends, or delaying the return and the mandatory pointless sessions with an open text book. 90% of my first affair was walking together in winding bylanes for hours on end, feeling on the top of the world, feeling the thrill of the everpresent danger of someone seeing us and reporting the incident.

There have been memorable walks in my life. A 140km trek in the Kumaon has to be the best. But not far behind are the winding streets of Dublin, or the white sand beaches of Thailand, or beautiful countryside of Goa and many more. But gradually over the last couple of years, the mechanised home-office-home routine has squeezed out this activity from my life.

Anyways, it felt good. I discovered a lot of things I had never bothered to find out. The security guy at the gate has a beautiful 3 year old son, there is a gap in the hedges from where one can see a not-so-bad view of the surrounding neighborhood, the reriwala makes a great concotation of peanuts, onions, masala and nimbu, the stray dogs understand bengali, the neighborhood ladies give 'interesting' looks..

Ours must have become a developed first world country. If our lives have become such that these simple things now give us pleasure, then it must be so.

The month that was - Nov 2006

(Sing along to the tune of 'We didn't start the fire')

I dont know who is right
Greg Chappel John Wright
But I know the men in blue are a bunch of arseholes.
Dada on the sideline
Sachin missing ball's line
And all the fielders' hands are full of gaping holes.

Tata offers thousand jobs
Streets full of fighting mobs
Didi says that she wont eat until farmers get back their lands.
Dalits on the rampage
Someone abused their sage
Smashing cars stopping trains and taking law in their hands.

Hakla in takla out
KBC starts a new bout
Ash kiss beau hiss
Big B looks like losing clout.
Heat kills cold kills
Children starving in the hills
Jobless men trudge door to door
I cant take this any more.

A revenge on Loky and Vikas

So..u dont like my poems do you? Okay then. Henceforth, all my boring posts (rants against the system, country, countrymen etc etc) will be in glorious verse.

So proclaimed Bhishma..and the heavens opened and the crows shat on his head.

A poem for Britney

Britney went to a party
Forgetting to wear a panty
Shutters clicked and the media screamed
But i thought she looked pretty dainty.

Oh Calcutta!!

Just got back from a short trip from Cal. This was after a gap of almost 18 months and I just loved it. December and January are the best time to visit Cal. The nip in the air is divine. And if you want to compare the weather with that of Bangalore, I would like you to consider an incredient that Blore sadly lacks..and you would get that if you sit on the banks on the Hoogly, with a steaming hot 'bhaar' of tea in one hand and a packet of 'jhalmuri' in the other. Bliss!

Things have changed but if you dont seek them out you will find that your nostalgia will remain intact, safe from the marauding hands of progress and growth. No one I know grew up in Rajarhaat or Eastern Bypass...so no one will feel like an alien if he decides to visit his old para, or his old dating places, or his old hangout places. These remain the same, comforting you with their ageless solidity, enabling the celluloid of your memories to remain in crystal clear DVD quality.

And as fate would have it, didi obliged her little brother with the one experience that i thought I would miss out on this trip. But, thankfully, the cruel industrialists decided to build factories that would provide jobs for a thousand families and open doors to other such elements to enter the state and spoil our culture, heritage and tradition. So didi obliged me with a bandh.

Last night, at a friends place, finishing the last peg before heading back home, and concluding the open items in our discussions on Osho, genetics, Taoism , tantrik sex and degradation of the grilled prawns in Tyangra, I thanked my stars for such a perfect experience of my roots. But...it was still not over.

After all, what would a nostalgia trip be without the women of Calcutta? You can keep your Ibizas and Rivieras and Mardi Graas or whatever provides fodder for your fantasies. If you havent experienced the Calcutta girl, your life has been one of utter wastage. So, as I was sitting alone in the share auto, my heart did 27 sumersaults, when she languidly raised her delicate fingers and signalled the auto to stop. She was like a fresh daisy, the way a daisy looks when the early morning sun passes through a dew drop resting on its petals. None of the brashness of the northern indian sisters, or the excessive conservatism of the southern sisters. She sat close to me, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder, ankle to ankle, demurely looking down, riding the speedbreakers, jumping potholes, swerving the minibuses, in perfect harmony, in a ritual dance synchronised to perfection.

She got down a couple of stops before. As she did, our eyes met for the first time, and in them i saw an answering look of ecstasy, a knowledge that what we shared will be with both of us for a long time to come.

I was walking on clouds when i got down. Can life be any more perfect? Should I finally start thinking seriously about taking a tranfer to Cal? Should I postpone my ticket tomorrow and wait at the auto stand at the same place and same time? Should I pay a 100 bucks to the auto driver?

Thoughts of money brought me back to harsh reality. The driver was waiting impatiently with palms outstretched. I aplogised and fumbled for my wallet.

It was gone.

A Greek Tragedy

w: come closer
m: huh?? what's got into you?
w: just come. feeling funny
m: yippee!
w: mmm
m: mmm
w: mmmmm
m: mmmmmm
w: stop that! not now
m: what the..?
w: just hold me like this
m: (groan)
w: mmmm
m: mmmmmmm
w: take your hand out
m: christ!
w: let me
m: mmmmmmmmmm
w: take it out
m: (pant)
w: mmmmmmmmmm
m: (pant)
w: dont stop
m: (gasp)
w: (pant)
m: shit!
w: what?
m: sorry
w:
m: shit
w:
m: sorry
w:
m: i love you
w: good night

Not again!!!

Ordering that last one for the road proved to be a drastic mistake. As me and J stumbled into the deserted platform, we realised we had missed the last train home. And except for a few beggars bundled up in newspapers, there was not a single bastard in sight. The walk home was about 3 Km from the station, and it was not a very nice one. Especially on that cold, deserted winter night.

Perhaps the whiskey took the decision to start walking. Perhaps it was some suppressed desire to emulate adventurers who had plunged into the unknown to discover new lands. Whatever it was, it was a mistake.

This was a section of the city which was largely avoided by the everyday crowds. I mention the word 'city', but this 9 odd square kilometres could have been copied from here and pasted in Nevada and it would not have been out of place. It was a dumping ground at one time, when the municipality decided to turn it into a park. And as expected from their efficiency, the dumping stopped but the park was not constructed. And so it was now a deserted wasteland, used for drug deals in the daytime and dumping murder victims at night.

Thankfully it was a full moon night. To me it looked more of a fool moon night. Walking through the deathly silence, through mountains of waste bathed in that horrible cold white light, I finally realised what fools we had been in trying to attempt this. J must have started having misgivings as well, for he suddenly stopped. I turned to ask him what was wrong, but he was staring fixedly at a point about 100 yards to our right, and following his gaze I saw whatever it was that was staring back at us.

It was partially hidden behind the remnants of a smashed up maruti, but the upper half was visible. My screaming brains told me not to panic, that this was a human form, at worst a junkie who will whip out a knife and rob us, at best a beggar or a deranged man who probably stays here at night. But in my thundering heart I knew that junkie or beggar or lunatic - whatever it was, it was when he was a breathing, living man; now he was a creature from the other side.

to be continued (perhaps)...

What a strange man!!

On one of my fortnightly travels to Mumbai, I was approached by a young guy as I was about to enter the terminal. He was a sorry looking bloke, and it seemed that the weight of the entire world was on his puny shoulders. And as his story came out, i realised why.

You see, what happened was that he had come to Delhi from a small village near Patna. Some friend of a friend of a friend had promised him a job and had asked him to meet a guy outside the airport. He met a guy answering to the description given, who assured him that there was an agent who will place him, in return of a fee of 1500 bucks. You can guess the rest right? He had 1200 on him, the guy magnanimously waived off 300 bucks, asked him to wait right there while he got his scooter..and never came back. So, for the last 3 hours, he was reduced to begging for whatever he can manage, to at least purchase a train ticket to go back to his family.

What can I say? I told him Delhi is full of cheats. I advised him to be more careful in the future. I admonished him for chasing wild dreams, leaving everything for a fools errand. I paid him 300 bucks.

Tears of gratitude flooded his eyes. His trembling hands retrieved a dog eared notebook from his tattered pockets. He made me write my address down so he can send the money back. I gruffly told him, with a lump in throat, that it wont be necessary. But he would have none of it. His parting words made me feel good about myself..here was someone who has finally realised what a wonderful human being I am.

It says that lightning never strikes the same place twice. I found out that its not true for some poor bastards. When I came back from a Mumbai a couple of days back, who do i find standing outside? You are right, it was the same guy! And he came up to me and told me the same story. I listened with rapt attention, wondering the courage it must take to be able to take such misfortune, that too twice, and still be able to fight back and try to survive. While I was taking out my wallet, I saw him taking out his notebook, and told him not to bother, reminding him that I had already jotted down my address a couple of days back.

I dont know why he ran away!! I would have paid him again.

Some weird dream

I was desperately climbing to the roof. The staircase was caved in and there was no way up. But I just had to go up, you see. And so the only way up was from the outside.

The first floor wasnt a problem. One of the window shutters was open and I was able to use the grill to reach the parapet. But after that it was hair-raising. As i inched along desperately clinging on to any projection I found on that blank, unforgiving wall, the top looked like some impossible dream. I had the standard scares I have seen in countless movies, pigeons suddenly flying out from a hole above my head, one toe slipping and almost hurtling down, looking down and seeing the ground way down below etc. But finally I triumphed. I looked around and saw the world at my feet. And decided to jump.

And then suddenly, Harindranath Chatterjee was at my elbow. He gave me a severe hearing about the futility and cowardice of suicide. He took me home..and i started afresh.

A solemn vow. No more egg curry for dinner.

By a bong, on some bongs, for all bongs

Amazing post!!!! Enjoy!!

The arrest of Doctor X

Sergeant Jack: Sergeant Bob! Where are you?
Sergeant Bob: I am in the police station. What happened?
Sgt J: I just heard that Doc X is robbing a bank.
Sgt B: OK. I am coming! All police come to the bank! Wait!! Let me bring the walkie talkies and the guns!

Sgt B takes out his Lego set and builds 2 guns and 2 wireless devices. He hands a pair to Sgt J and together they race towards the bank.

Sgt B: I am going in now! You call the others!
Sgt J: Ok!!

Sgt B dashes in, rolls on the ground and gets up with gun poised.

Sgt B: Oh no! Doc X is escaping from the back door!
Sgt J: Oh no!
Sgt B: Wait! Look what he has let behind!
Sgt J: What?

Sgt B picks up a Stephen King novel lying on the table.

Sgt B: Its a diary! "All About Me" by Doc X it says!
Sgt J: Wow!
Sgt B: Look! His house address is written here! Lets go!

Sgt J and B rush into Doc X's house. They spot him and Sgt B goes for the kill. Soon the camera crew rush in and surround a panting Sgt B.

Reporter: Sgt B! How does it feel to have finally killed Doc X?
Sgt B: Good. And I am warning all criminals! I will find all of them! Be careful!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sgt B was my 6 year old. Sgt J was me. The dialogs and storyline were my son's. They were unrehearsed and impromptu.

My son is a genius!

My killer instincts

Although I always try and convey a 'rough, tough, hard-hitting' image, sometimes I get these sneaking suspicions that it may not be true. Anyone who goes roadside-shopping with me will know that in a minute or so. Stories of how I have been duped by sorry-looking salesmen have been doing the rounds for years now. But what happened last month was really incredible.

You see, it was a typical hot Delhi summer afternoon and I was watching TV with a cold beer in my air-conditioned room. The bell rings and I open it to see two men waiting outside, sweating oceans and looking on the verge of collapse. In a croaking voice they ask me if I can spare them a large container. I asked why (see how smart I am?) and they say that they have brought down a beehive and want to drain the honey out of it and sell it. I weigh this over and decide that in response to this the least I can do is lend them a container.

So the container changes hands (a 10 kg jar I thought I would keep rice in) and the transfer process starts.

Within no time the jar is almost full and it must have been a big load on their minds, because no sooner was their work done that their backs straightened, their glazed eyes took on a sharpish look and they took out their weighing scales and pronounced that I owed them 800 bucks. I feebly told them that I hate honey, have consumed a total of 10ml in my entire adult life and that it would take me about 83 years to consume the 8 litres that they had poured out. They looked hurt, maybe shocked at my insensitivity, at my disrespect for the hard labor they had put in, at my total ignorance in not being able to appreciate the health and culinary benefits of pure raw honey.

I decided that it was time I produced the ace from my sleeve. Triumphantly I told them that I had only 500 bucks in the house. They thought his over for about 3.5 milliseconds, and the deal was done. A Gandhi changed hands, they packed their stuff, I carried the jar to the kitchen, lit a cigerette in self-congratulations (i HAD saved 300 bucks you see), and started preparing a list of lucky people I would distribute the honey to.

A few cigerettes and beer bottles later, when I could account for about 500ml of the stuff, I finally realised that I had a problem in my hands. The brainwave came when my bai came. Magnanimously I told her that she can take the honey home when she leaves. Surprisingly she wasnt too thrilled (it would pose a serious storage problem it seemed) but I was not in a mood to take no for an answer (my aggression and people handling skills come from years of Project Management experience) and when she left with the jar I closed the door a happy man, reflecting on all the victories I had achieved that afternoon.

I reminded her to bring back the jar when she came the next day..and then reminded her every day for the next 4 days. She hasnt brought it back yet.

I think that it was the jar she needed all along.

Scent of a woman

I wont dare to try and write a review of probably the greatest movie of all time. What I would do is copy two of Lt Col Slade's monologues, ones that I could listen to a billion times and not get tired of, scenes I could watch a million times and still get goose pimples. So, here they are:
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Women !
What can you say ?
Who made 'em ?
God must have been a fuckin' genius.
The hair --They say the hair is everything, you know.
Have you ever buried your nose in a mountain of curls...and just wanted to go to sleep forever ?
Or lips --and when they touched yours, it was like...that first swallow of wine...after you just crossed the desert.
Tits ! Whoo-ah ! Big ones, little ones, nipples staring right out at ya...
like secret searchlights.
Mmmmm.
And legs --I don't care if they're Greek columns...or secondhand Steinways.
What's between 'em....passport to heaven.
There's only two syllables in this whole wide world worth hearing: pussy.

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

There was a time I could see.
And I have seen.
Boys like these, younger than these, their arms torn out, their legs ripped off.
But there is nothin' like the sight...of an amputated spirit.
There is no prosthetic for that
As I came in here, I heard those words: "cradle of leadership."
well, when the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, and it has fallen here.
Makers of men, creators of leaders. Be careful what kind of leaders you're producin' here.
I don't know if Charlie's silence here today...is right or wrong; I'm not a judge or jury.
But I can tell you this: he won't sell anybody out...to buy his future !
and that, my friends, is called integrity.
That's called courage. Now that's the stuff leaders should be made of.
Now I have come to the crossroads in my life.
I always knew what the right path was.
Without exception, I knew, but I never took it.
You know why ?
It was too damn hard.
Now here's Charlie.
He's come to the crossroads.
He has chosen a path.
It's the right path.
It's a path made of principle...that leads to character.
Let him continue on his journey.
You hold this boy's future in your hands, Committee.
It's a valuable future, believe me.
Don't destroy it. Protect it. Embrace it.
It's gonna make you proud one day, I promise you.

Getting old

I was never a fanatical durga puja bong. As a child, it was just a time for new shirts and pandal hopping. Things started getting better after crossing 15, when puja started to represent 4 days when there are no curfews, no questions, no rules. Till the time I left for B'lore at the 'tender' age of 20, those 20 days spreading across those 5 years gave me a lot of firsts of my life - my first drinking binge, my first girlfriend, my first visit to Sonagachi (returned unopened, I assure you..the atmosphere scared the living shit out of me), my first experiences of mob rowdisms (atop a truck, going for the 'bhashan') and so on and on and on.

But then life moved on. I became independent, first personally, then financially. All the rules of my life fell apart and 4 days without rules lost their significance. Friends moved on, muhalla kids grew up and started to occupy the prime seats in the pandals and puja time lost its charm.

The fanatical bong carried on. Taking vacation to visit Cal during the pujas was something that had to be planned months in advance. Spouses leave applications synchronised, children school leaves planned, tkts booked at exhorbitant rates...and then coming back with stories of drinking sessions and bad food and mad queues.

I have always felt myself to be 'above' these people. Once I left Cal I have never missed being there during the pujas. So it came to me as a shocker when suddenly, out of the blue, I felt myself desperately yearning to be in Cal on the oshtomi. Drop by on all friends and relatives, soak in the special treatment that is usually accorded to someone settled outside Cal (and the treatment is the same regardless of whether you settled in Bombay or Bahamas), eat phuchka at 2 AM in the morning, wake up to the beating of the drums and to that amazing shorot sky and the slight nip in the air..

Its official. If your root has started calling to you, you have finally crossed youth. Goodbye youth, welcome middle age.

Why I broke the vow

Yesterday was 'expats night out'. We have some consultants working with us on contract and we all went out for a couple of beers yesterday evening. And after having a sweet lime soda, I finally ordered a beer because of the direction the conversation veered towards.

You see, these guys are paid something between 500 to 1200 USD per day. So the topics under discussion were:

1) How to open accounts in Cayman Islands for taxation purposes
2) Whether to go to Thailand or Malaysia for the coming 2nd October long weekend
3) Whether or not to take the next contract that would pay 1100 GBP per day
4) How expensive it has become to buy a place on the Riviera

I drank.

Salute! And Sorry.

This is for all my non-drinking friends who have given me company while I (or me along with other drinking friends) have had our drinking sessions. I realised yesterday the depth of your friendship, patience and indulgence.

You see, I have quit drinking since this last Sunday (now I dont want to see those smirks and rolling eyes, you alcoholics out there. The statement is open-ended; i did not say I wont ever drink again) . The first 2 days I was alone and it wasnt a big deal. But yesterday, a friend of mine had come down from Cal and came to meet me at my place with a bottle in his hand. My cousin, who also stays me, joined him when he got back from work, and it took a lot of consistent refusal from me to finally convince them that I wont drink.

Anyway..after a couple of pegs they started a typical daaru-table-discourse - topics ranging from global poilitics, social maladies to socialite cleavages. And since i was sitting there wrung-out-dry, in about an hour i went from being bored to irritated to downright angry. The evening ended in me retiring to my bedroom in a huff, while they continued to discuss the Iraq situation till 2.

Even though I hope my friends will vouch for me when I say I am a sensible drunk, I shudder to think if there have been occassions when someone has thought of me the way I thought of these 2 last night. This thought is motivation enough to think of quitting for good.

Like I said.."salute"...and "sorry".

Hats Off!

I know I had written this a few months back. I still feel the same about Sachin. But I take my hat off to him for his temperament. A century on comeback, that too with trademark style. I wish our Dada had also let his bat do the talking, rather than resorting to the shit he did in the last 3 months.

Congrats Sachin on your 40th. Who knows? Maybe Amitabh will make a good movie now!

How to overcome blogger's block - Mel Brooks

Nothing! I have nothing to say!

Have any of you guys seen 'History of the world' by Mel Brooks? If not, watch it today..mixed with some typical slapstick Mel humor, its got some screamingly funny moments, looking at the evolution of mankind, starting from the jurassic age right up to the french revolution.

So there was this scene depicting the utter poverty in France under Louis XVI, showing a marketplace where people are selling dead rats, apple cores and banana peels and a guy standing with an empty cart calling out 'Nothing! I have nothing to sell'..hilarious!

So if you have NOTHING to write, you can write "Nothing! I have nothing to say!"..

Had it coming

So? You thought this would be a tearful, respectful orbituary did you? HAAH! You havent known me that well then! Here's what i think.

He had it coming for a long time. When I first saw a show of his in Discovery I was amazed at the guy's guts. But it took me 2 episodes to decide that this was a guy who belonged in a circus, not a wildlife channel. The feeling I was left with everytime I watched an episode was that deep inside him, he had no respect for these animals. So you saw him wrestling reluctant crocs in the water, pulling out snakes from holes, kissing the world's most poisonous snake on a dare, prancing around with a croc with his 8 month old son cradled in his arms, playing catch-me-if-you-can with a pond full of alligators in front of a sell-out stadium blah blah blah.

He was in absolute contrast to the sensitivity with which guys in NatGeo and Discovery treat their subjects (was that the reason he was moved to the more 'racier' Animal Planet'?). Can you imagine a NatGeo show where the protagonist is provoking a lioness by playing around with her cubs so that she will get angry and give some good 'action shots'? Blessed with a typical cocky aussie bastard attitude perhaps Steve had assumed that all animals in his shows will play according to the script.

Well, one animal thought different. So here's a message to you. Whether you are a hotshot naturalist or a run-of-the-mill city dweller - dont underestimate nature.

Else, get fucked.

What a character!

"I spent a lot of money on booze, birds and fast cars. The rest I just squandered."
Best on spending.

"In 1969 I gave up women and alcohol - it was the worst 20 minutes of my life."
Best on discipline.

"I was in for 10 hours and had 40 pints - beating my previous record by 20 minutes."
Best on the blood transfusion after his liver transplant

"I've stopped drinking, but only while I'm asleep."
Best on alcoholism

"The greatest footballer in the world".
Pele on George Best

Are you insulted?

12 Indians were deplaned from an airline yesterday because they were 'acting suspiciously'. The Indian media was full of righteous indignation and it seems that the entire nation, race and species has been insulted. And before you start feeling the same let me tell you of my experiences about Indians I have traveled with.

But first, the important thing you have to remember in this case is that all these people were part of a group who were textile merchants who had gone to attend some trade fair. The US marshals swooped down on them when they did not heed repeated requests by the cabin crew to sit down and fasten their belts before take off. They were also passing around their mobile phones (presumably showing each other nude clips they have surreptitiously clicked of the whores they had picked up) even when the switch off phones message was announced. While I agree that these actions don’t brand them as terrorists (is the xenophobia rampaging in the west really unjustified? I don’t know, that’s the topic for another post), but YES, these actions completely justify throwing out such arseholes.

As for how we (and hooligan English soccer fans) behave in groups, I have had personal experiences of both. Traveling to Bangkok from India was an eye opening experience for me. There are 2 types of groups that travel to Thailand. The first are the corporate groups who are traveling to attend some kind of sales meet or ‘team building workshops’ (both are companies’ ways of preventing attrition by providing pussy…PAPP shall we say?). The other is what are called ‘pigeons’ or ‘kabutars’. These are guys that are sent to buy electronics or computer hardware parts in bulk to carry back to India and sell at Indian rates.

And how they behave makes me ashamed that I am an Indian. The first group talk to each other LOUDLY across rows, click snaps of each other, discuss the vital stats of the cabin crew, get drunk and generally make life for everyone else miserable. The second group change into lungis, start card games, drink themselves silly when they realize that drinks are free and then puke between their legs. Can you believe it when I tell you that the Thai Airways security announcement video says ‘Sitting on the floor is not allowed’?

Deplane them? I think these guys should be deplaned when the flight is 30000 feet in the air.

Stories of B

When B came back after attending his first day in IGNOU he was ecstatic. The girls there were out of the world, he said, and every evening we used to sit around him, green with envy, as he recounted his flirtations with the Neerjas and the Somas of that Utopia. Soon enough, Bhan started pestering him for an 'intro' and then came the fateful day when B pronounced that he had invited some of them to his house for a get-together next week. That week was spent in frenzied preparation, doing push-ups to tone up the body, dabbing Clearsil on those dastardly pimples that had an uncanny instinct of emerging just before these momentous occasions and trying to wheedle out 50 bucks from our mothers to buy a new t-shirt.

A couple of days before the big day, we were in B's house as usual, making plans and allocating the girls amongst ourselves. B was unusually quiet that day and when prodded he said 'look guys, one thing i must tell you is that these girls i have invited are not too hot'. His comment was swept aside in our collective enthusiasm..at that time anything in a skirt used to be good enough for us. However, during the next couple of days, B kept on, his descriptions of the girls involving newer and more strongly worded negatives and eventually some seeds of doubts got planted in our minds.

Sure enough when the big day came our suspicions came true. Me and Bubai were always the 'look before you leap' types..so we decided to check out the girls from Bubai's balcony when they arrived. And boy! They were a sorry looking lot, even for our highly compromising standards! Bhan, shaved, perfumed and freshly scrubbed from his monthly bath, however was not so lucky as he was already in B's house by that time. So, after sitting through a horrible afternoon, an understandibly furious Bhan launched into a tirade when we reconvened in the evening in B’s house. B took this for about 10 minutes, then barked out ‘don’t you talk to me about bad looking girls. Your girlfriend is the worst sample I have seen in my life’.

And you know why that was totally below the belt? B had once gotten interested in a girl who used to move around with a girlfriend who was, shall we say, ‘presentably challenged’. So B had this brainwave. He convinced BH to ‘appo’ the girlfriend and then through her got to know the other girl. B had his fun with the girl, BH ended up marrying the ‘challenged’ girlfriend.

B was amazing!

Bappa

It was the eve of the Cost Accountancy entrance exam. The paper was GK, and a shell shocked B was sitting with an open quiz book on his lap, his mouth slack, rounded eyes staring vacantly into space. He had just discovered that Indira Gandhi wasn't the daughter of the Mahatma!

There are a zillion stories about B but till date I haven’t had the courage to write about them. Some won’t pass the censor board, some will lose their flavor in translation and some are so unbelievable that no one would believe them. But I would make an attempt anyway, else these stories would get lost in the damp corridors of my alcohol soaked brain.

The time was 1988 to 1992. I had met B when he joined Xavier's in class 11 and we somehow hit it off immediately. Bh and Bu were his pada friends, and soon the four of us became inseparable. And B was the star of the show. He was the original eccentric who used to perform antics that used to leave us spellbound. At a time when our sexual experiences were limited to having fantasies about the middle aged neighborhood ‘kakima’, B was going through relationships like he was born in the free-loving swinging 60-s, picking and dropping gorgeous girls at the drop of a hat, selling his cycle to assist a girlfriend through an abortion, ‘accidentally’ getting into a physical relationship with a girl he had brought home to teach her yoga, carrying a nan-chaku to his tuition class to ward off rival suitors and so on and on. The list was endless and to us he was absolutely larger than life.

Those years were probably the best of our lives. We were so damn content with each others’ companies, least caring about the rest of the world, cocooned in our absolute belief that we would be together forever, and that life would go on just like that, no worries, no ambitions, no plans, just the fact that we would meet again the next day and the next and the next.

Bh got married and broke off all contact. B is in the US and he doesn’t take a step before consulting his wife. Me and Bu are carrying on, wistfully remembering those days whenever we get together and wondering why we ever grew up and grew apart.

PS: Bu, I really tried to write about the cassette library, the confrontations with Kaku, the walking with his underwear locked around his knees, his conversations with Bh...its impossible. Either I am not a good enough writer, or B is too large to be captured on the pages of a blog.

Houseguest problems anyone?

I am paying a huge price for a tiny mistake i made. The wife's friend's brother was coming down to delhi for a month or so for some work and he called me up to ask about places to stay. The wife's friend was a bomb, and because of flashes of her sacred memory i offered that he can move in with me for some time and then look around.

Mistake.

He has moved in permanently. That by itself is not a problem. The problem is he has ALL the characteristics that turns me off completely. He talks incessantly. He is one of those people who feel insecure when not mouthing off. Be it summarising a newspaper article while reading the morning paper, admiring a new car that is being launched, opining about any issue while watching the news, anecdotes about office colleagues, the state of the telecom industry, the infrastructural problems indian cities are facing etc etc etc. You must be wandering what my problem is. These are everyday topics that are discussed all the time in conversations with friends. Agreed. The gaping hole in that logic is that as 'conversations' these make sense. You see, throughout all these, i sit like a statue carved out of granite.

Thats right. All these are monologues. I dont participate. Does that dry him up? OH NO..he goes right on. I have tried leaving the room, he goes on. I have tried opening the laptop and typing seriously (like now), the words flow on. I have tried conversation stopper replies (like 'if thats your point of view we should stop this conversation right now'), he carries on with a beatific smile. I have tried putting on a movie he likes, just so he will shut up..he reads out the subtitles. I go and stand in the balcony, he starts playing a game on his cell phone, and for my benefit does a running commentory (thats level 1, yeah, now come on Dronzo the Dragon..).

Last night I really wanted to be alone for some time. Some peace, some introspection, some solitude to take a few decisions (if you have read the last post you would know why). So i worked out a strategy. I came back home, had an early dinner, yawned copiously, then said that its been a dog's day, goodnight. Went to my room, feigned sleep for 30 mins, heard the living room lights go out, heard the door to his room close, waited 15 minutes, then tiptoed out, stood in the balcony, took a long drag on the fag, exhaled out to the cool full moon night, revelling in the silence, welcoming the end to a stressful week, trying to recharge the batteries to prepare for the fight I knew I had to fight in office in the coming week..he comes up from behind and tells me 'Thank god you are awake. I was getting so bored'.

I didnt deserve this. I seriously want a shoulder to cry my heart out. MOMMY! I NEED YOU!

Inevitably..

my cynicism triumphed. The past month was spent in hectic work, the drying up of posts must have proved that. It was a time when I actually felt I was doing meaningful work, part of a team of dedicated guys working together to surmount a major challenge.

it all came crashing down yesterday..wont bore everyone with the details...but i am finally convinced that we indians are generally a bastard race. and i have sworn that before i quit i will write a mail to Sam Palmisano our CEO, telling him exactly what's going and advicing him to take his shop elsewhere.

sorry bubai..couldn't come up with a positive post even this time.

Kotoi Rongo Dekhi Duniyay (Oh fuck! is there no end to the crap i see?)

Watching Sahara Samay now (i rarely get time nowadays to watch TV..whenever i do i make it a point to either watch a news channel or a 'lifestyle' channel..gives me something to write about..

anyway...sahara is covering a car for the past 1 hour which has 3 occupants..a girl who is driving, and 2 other friends..they are high, waving at the camera, and they drove their car right up to the PM's residence!! (as if its their problem, not the security agencies) and its still going on...

Now a very seriously concerned correspondent is linking the episode to the nuke deal that US signed today and the mumbai blast..

this looks promising..now they are trying to get cleavage shots of the girl who was driving as she is walking into the police station...

this looks good..logging off now..HAIL INDIA NEWS CHANNELS!!!!

Madness 3

the girl was something i dont even want to talk about. not even on my diary. in fact, i have reached this stage of self control where i dont even dream about her. i dont even think of how she screamed..and then laughed..in that high pitched voice kids have that drives me crazy, like hearing a hard chalk on a blackboard, or a steel cup scraped along a floor, or that incessant meaningless loud chatter when a group of them accumulate....sounds that makes me want to ram something down their throats, something short and abrasive, something that will scrape and scratch and shred their oh so soft pipes, drawing blood, raping that thing that the educated call the 'mucus' or whatever..i think of muck when i hear of that word..muck, shit, slime..all the words in the english dictionary that define these pests.

it was all right till the time i had one 'of mine own'. i fact, since i wont lie to my diary, let me confess that the only reason i finally decided to allow one of these smelly bitches to share my bed and commode was the fact that i could have one of these things to play with, away from the prying eyes of neighbors and 'concerned' doctors and teachers'. dont get me wrong here..i am not one of those choots who are (what the educated call) paedophiles...how can one think of sex when all one wants to do whip those bastards into total compliance? there's another english word for this of kind of fetish as well (i dont remember, nor do i care)...we live in a world where every abnormanility can be termed (and thereby justified) by some medical or psychological (or whatever term)..this so called abnornamility that i had had nothing to do with all that..is discipline an abnormality?

when the time came when i had to start listening to the clamors of marriage, all i used to think of was having some of my own..and after the first 7 months of our marriage (yes, dear diary...i had made sure that the waiting time was as less as possible..the bitter half was chosen accordingly) things started taking a rosy turn. in fact, i couldnt wait to get back home, when the doorbell rang and i could heard the sound of pattering feet, hear the scraping of the lock as he struggled to open the dual locks, hear the frantic struggle to take out the latest 'painting' he had excreted, hear the bitch put on the final touches to her hair before the door swung back....and then see the expressions change when they looked at my face, see the shrinking away, almost hear the pounding hearts, almost smell the naked smell of fear when i stumble in with my whiskey breath and bloodied shirt.

Hail Democracy!

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action--
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

-- Rabindranath Tagore (1901)

It took India 105 years to finally disqualify itself on ALL counts among the parameters listed above. Whatever the situation we were in till date, at least the common man had a voice. Its not important whether that voice acheved anything or not. At least he had one. Not any more. The Indian government has banned blogs, logic being that these are being used by terrorists to communicate. So 18 blog sites, containing 'objectionable, anti-nationalistic' sentiments (like calling that sardar an arsehole) have been blocked. As Daltrey sang these lines..

'And the men who spurred us on
Sit in judgement of all wrong
They decide and the shotgun sings the song
I'll tip my hat to the new constitution
Take a bow for the new revolution'..

But guess what? You know how one can access the blogs (how i am posting that is)..there is a Pakistani site that has the hack to open blogs that are blocked in India, China and Iran. So basically, Indians whose voices have been shut because of Pakistan backed terrorist can now open their mouths aided by a site hosted by Pakistanis.

Bravo India Bravo!!!

Sub chutiye hai.

I am thankful to the media. Thankful to the news channels, to the papers, to television..to everyone who somehow manage to save me at the last moment whenever it looks like i might shake off the comatose state and do something constructive. If you have read the last post you might have started getting worried that maybe finally i would wake up and do something..here's what's been happening over the weekend:

1) riots in mumbai becos someone painted thackeray's wife's statue black..buses have been burned, trains stopped and traffic disrupted...there's the Mumbai Spirit for you...2 days after the city was innundated and people waded thru shit to reach home.

2) surdies fighting amongst each other in ludhiana..akali dal faction fights...all the hockey stick 'interactions' live on tv

3) neighbors pouring ink over a 60 yr old professor because he is having an affair with his 22 yr student (covered EXTENSIVELY over 6 hrs in all news channels)

4) patient comes to AIIMS and docs are on strike..patient has 60% burns..not admitted..but reporters cover him, sitting outside the hospital, waiting for treatment..they dont take him to another hospital..oh no..they wait....and sure enough..the guy succumbs from his burns..and NOW, they are taking on the system and the administration.

5) guy threatens immolation over some fucking issue (i am least bothered, dont even remember)..time and date fixed. media reaches there, cameras on, guy immolates, dies, cameras rolling, 3 days of debate, lamenting the system.

6) bombay blasts..people walk home, smile on camera, people staying overnight at stations, food getting served, picnic atmosphere..BOMBAY SPIRIT!


FUCK INDIA! WE ABSOLUTELY DESERVE WHAT WE HAVE. CONSULTANTS!!! MAIL ME.

India shining!

Increasingly these days, I get approached by young guys, asking if I can get them some work. Their profile varies from a daily wage labourer to a qualified chartered accountant. I feel desperately sorry for these guys and sometimes I wonder how I would have handled a situation where I have to approach unknown people for a job. I have seen a lot of such guys, as well as office peons earning 1000 bucks a month, traders sitting on pavements selling used pins, broken radio parts and what not, jobless graduates standing in the midday sun requesting passers by to fill up a credit card application form....and have wondered how they can manage to support their families.

Yesterday I had to go to a place about 3 kms from my office where there are major hassles finding a parking slot; so i took a mini-van. Suddenly a huge rucus started in the front - the conductor was asking a guy for fare and he was saying he just wanted to travel for one stop. Finally the bus was stopped and he was bodily thrown out. At that time i cursed him for the delay..later i started thinking what possible situation a man might be in that he has to resort to such things to save two bucks?

What kind of a future can they dream of? Or do they even dream any more?

In a country such as ours, I sometimes feel ashamed of the industry I am in and the so called 'work' that I do and the pay packet I take home doing that. But then, I will only write about it..i am too lazy to do anything constructive about it.

Madness -2

It had all started about 3 months back - when I first started seeing the faces. Faces of a woman and two children. Faces with their expressionless eyes. Faces motionless, just staring at me, like vultures waiting for a prey to breathe its last. I still remember the first time distinctly. I had taken my car keys out of the dressing table drawer and looked up in the mirror and saw her. She was standing just behind my right shoulder, and though outwardly she looked perfectly ordinary, I knew that she was rotting inside. I could smell the graveyard earth on her, I could feel the emptiness, the nothingness inside her. And she just stood there, not making idiotic scary faces or exposing dripping canines or puking green vomit. She just fucking stood there motionless, even as the terror inside me finally erupted out, as i blindly lashed out and swept everything off the dresser, struggling to breathe, struggling to push air into my starving lungs, to unlock the muscles of heart and get the bastard ticking again. Then she was gone, and I began screaming, screaming till I felt my vocal chords about to break from the strain, screaming till i could hear the pounding on the door, till the neighbors finally broke in and forced me to lie down, till I could feel a prick on my neck and then oblivion.

After that it became quite common. I saw her again one day looking at me from the balcony outside my bedroom as I tossed around waiting for sleep to come. And then the children started. The first time was a boy of about 6. It was a power cut that day and I was climbing the stairs to my third floor apartment with a torch in hand. I rounded a corner and the torch fell on his unflinching eyes as he stood 4 steps above me. He was dressed in a school uniform and it was drenched with blood. Oh dear sweet god, there was so much blood! Again I felt my throat closing up, my heart locking and as i frantically clawed at my throat the torch fell out of my nerveless fingers and in the dark he(it) brushed by me and i actually felt the cotton shirt and the sticky blood and tissues as he went past. I had a screaming fit that day too and had to be put under sedation for 12 hours.

..to be continued (tough job..have to finish soon and get on with cribbing about life)

With apologies to none

A very close friend of mine, a regular reader of my blog, a guy totally opposite in character to me has been increasingly concerned regarding the sheer negativity of my attitude (in life in general and in this blog in particular) and cynicism. His standard question to me after one of my monologues is 'Is there anything in life that you like'? Agreed with him completely..until yesterday, when the 'Madness' post proved too much for him and he send me a link to a blog of a couple who blog together, sharing their favourite songs, travel plans, inform the readers how they miss each other and how they enjoyed their family function.

Here is my response to that..and to everyone else who feels that way about me:
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


ok..let this be a litmus test between your optimism and my cynicism. if u know them and follow their lives let me know what happens..not what they write in their blog but what actually happens (if u get to know about it that is)

and by the way..i am sorry but i hated the blog..reminded me of sooraj barjatiya..he will be happy in bombay..with his hindi love songs and walking thru waist high water with floating shit. i found the blog totally depth-less, in total disconnect with the real world.

by the way..i have had a great life...people who know me know how much i love life..thats why i try and collect experiences as varied as i can possibly can. i dont know anyone personally who has as many good memories as i have. when i die it would be without regrets. my blog is a place for all the other things in life..all the fuck ups and all the crap that is making this world a screwed up place. the REAL world is somewhere between the blog you sent and my blog.

its anybody's choice what their reading material should be like. an electric shock or a sugar coated sleeping pill. and that's all right with me.

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

Madness

The place deep within the centre of the brain had started itching again. It was maddenning, an itch that was was somehow both physical and psychological at the same time. And the more i thought about it, the more it seemed to pulse and throb and grow, like an alien mass of jelly that i had seen in those thousands of sci-fi flicks of the 70s.

I realised that i was slowly going mad. I could actually visualise myself cowering in the corner of a room, furiously scratching my head and face, drawing blood, bashing my head against the wall, lashing my back with a belt, trying to make my brain forget about the itch, trying to bring it back from the brink of that bottomless black void it was tottering on the edge on, a void from which there was no clawing back, a void at the bottom of which slithered silent, cold things, things one couldnt hear but can feel sliding up your body, surely finding out the orifices of your body and making their way up to the brain, as if guided by some beaming signal sent out by the rotting, metling brain.

...to be continued (maybe)

Dont worry

OK..I am out of it. To all my dearest friends (and I am lucky to have all you guys), people who have started to worry about my mental state here are the changes:

1) I am not leaving IBM. I will stick around for a couple of years more and then see what the company can offer. If I manage to get a transfer to Pune in the near future then that will be an additional boon, else Delhi it is.

2) I have started cooking. Yesterday's mutton was slurpalicious.

3) French classes start from 10th evening.

4) Serious work starts from 3rd morning.

5) Detox starts from 10th evening.

Impossible is nothing.

My last poem

imagine
a life without tears
a world full of laughter
a mind without darkness
a heart full of hope.

imagine
an day without boredom
a week without fear
a month without anger
a year well spent

imagine
a poetry with meaning
a blog without pretensions
a shuv who sticks to prose
your life without my ramblings

Humanity

Read this and be ashamed. This is what we have achieved over a million years of evolution. What went wrong? What circumstance can drive a man to do this to his fellow man?

I, of course, have all the answers. If u ask me about africa (please ask me) i think it went horribly wrong when the white man came and tried to civilize the continent. When i was in Nigeria i had read Chinua Achebe where he had described how the social structure of a village is destroyed when a missionary comes with his concepts of religion, democracy and western society laws. Read 'Things Fall Apart' if you get the chance. It will give you a different picture of what 'civilization' has done to the human race.

I think the word 'humanity' should be scrapped from the dictionary now..or at least, redefined.

Movies that make you cry

I have noticed this trend in me and some of my friends. Old age is making us simultaenously cynical and maudlin. These two characteristics usually dont go hand in hand; a cynical guy is rarely moved to tears. But thats how it is.

I remember when i was a kid i used to bug everyone while watching tear jerkers like 'Anand' - my favorite past time was shining a torch into my father's while he struggled to hold back his tears. Now the same movie invariably makes me cry (i particularly love that scene when Johnny Walker breaks down). There are sequences in Gandhi that moves me to tears, I cry with Mukul when he sees the ruins of his house in Sonar Kella, I cry when Forrest meets his son for the first time and asks if he is normal or like him, I even fucking cry when Vinny wins the case in My Cousin Vinny.

Pretty fucking disgusting I think.

Wanderlust

wan·der·lust (wŏn'dər-lŭst') noun: A very strong or irresistible impulse to travel.

[German : wandern, to wander (from Middle High German) + Lust, desire (from Middle High German, from Old High German).]

When I was 17 I met this American guy in Calcutta airport. I was doing a part time job for the Ministry of Tourism, the job being to fill up a questionnaire about tourism experiences of foreign tourists in India. This 20 something guy was sitting on a suitcase when I approached him and when I asked him what his permanent address was he patted his suitcase and said this is it. He had left home at the age of 17 and for the last 10 odd years he has been travelling around the world, working his way through one country to another, staying for as long as he liked and then moving on. He had come to Calcutta hoping to do some work with Mother Teresa and hopefully to roam the rest of India. I went home and after eating food my mother prepared and keeping the unwashed plates in the sink for the maid, I went to my room, turned on Floyd and thought 'what a life this guy has! how lucky he is that he can afford to do this'..

I met a similar guy in Bangkok..this guy was an electrician in Denver and he takes 6 months off every 3 years and roams the world. I met him when he was on his fifth month, when he had reached Thailand after staying in Japan and Australia. Again i went green with envy, wishing I had the dollar power to be able to live such a life.

Wanderlust is common among bengalis. Any tourist place you go to in India will be full of the bong traveller, unmistakeable in his monkey cap, cardiganned wife and shawled mother. I asked a shopkeeper in Kumaon (last month when I went there) what the tourist season was like. He answered that usually its March to October, except for bengali tourists who come in the winters as well. But even these guys are not the true travellers. When I was a kid I had heard so many stories of bengali globe-trotters, who had left home in their teens and had worked their way across the world and came back home after 25-30 years.

I salute these guys. These were the guys that prove to couch dreamers like me that you dont need dollars or a permissible society to pursue your dreams.

Firsts

1) Driving around alone in the hot afternoons just so as not to stay at home alone.
2) Agreeing to go out with colleagues for a beer.
3) Trying to stay at office for as long as possible.
4) Eating out.
5) Sitting at Barista's and drinking coffee in the evenings.

Thanks vikas you bloody fool.

Goodbye and good luck

Vikas is leaving today for Australia. BIG decision, BIG uncertainties. Hope everything works out brother. Will be rooting for you. Go get them tiger.

Quirkyalone

Quirkyalone: noun/adj. A person who enjoys being single (but is not opposed to being in a relationship) and generally prefers to be alone rather than dating for the sake of being in a couple. With unique traits and an optimistic spirit; a sensibility that transcends relationship status. See also quirkytogether, perkytogether, quirkyslut.

There are some really great people doing great things out there man!! I mean all these years I grew up thinking that I am freak of nature when lo behold!!! I visit this site and find out that I belong to this thriving global community!

I am choking with emotion. Let me go to a corner and spend some time with myself alone.

Disclaimer!

Before i am banned from peoples' houses or family get togethers let me state that..

'Not all opinions expressed on this blog are mine. Some are deliberate attempts to provoke comments on a slow office day'.

Phew!! Some reactions are scary man!!

Promiscuity in the modern world

'Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's companion'...one of the bloody ten commandments

How can one exactly define 'loose' morals these days? In this day and age of failing marriages, dead relationships and robotic existences why is adultery still such a big deal? How does one justify a person who never cheats on his spouse but at the same time has a meaningless marital relationship? Is such a person a hypocrit, an escapist or is he the future of the institution called marriage?

Why is it that people can forgive a person who has a platonic relationship outside a regular relationship (be it marriage or otherwise) by justifying that 'everyone needs a shoulder to cry on'. Why is the same person labelled a cheat when the relationship becomes physical? Nowadays, people hardly meet someone they can talk to or relate to. All relationships are structured, all players all careful to play it according to the book, all of us are actors who mentally rehearse each line we speak before we utter them. When we find someone with whom one can be one's true self, is it a sin to bare one's soul to that person? And if one has bared one's soul, what is baring one's body?

Why are 'sacrifice' and 'adjustment' such holy words?

Arindam

I 'inherited' Arindam's friendship through by elder brother. Dadamoni and Anupam (Arindam's elder brother) were class friends and me and Arindam got introduced to each other when we joined class 1 in Xavier's. We were good friends till class 6 and even though we were in the same class right till class 12, that childhood bonding faded away by the time i was 14.

Arindam was the first boy in class throughout. He was brilliant in the arts subjects, was a good orator and a fantastic footballer. I personally believe that if he had gone pro all football lovers in India would have heard of him. But..this is what finally happenned to him.

He was always shaky in maths. Till class 10 it doesnt really matter as the science and maths syllabus are quite easy. Then there is a quantum leap in the higher secondary syllabus. He scored 85% in 10th (a lot in west bengal board standard) and expectedly was instructed by his parents to take up Science (all good bong students have to take up science and then become docs or engineers..its the law of the land). He somehow scraped through the board exams but did not crack any of the competitive exams. His family still were unable to reconcile the fact that their topper son was not cut out to be a science student, and he was forced to sit at home for a year and prepare for the next years entrance exams. He failed again and tried to commit suicide. I lost track of him after that. Then a couple of years back i heard that he has become a drug addict.

To all of you who have children please let this incident be a lesson. Please identity the inclinations and strengths of your children and help them pursue their dreams. Let us make sure that there are no more Arindams.

World Cup Soccer and India

Do you know the population of Togo? Its about the same as Andheri, a suburb of Mumbai where we used to stay. They are also a poor country, not having the natural resources that Nigeria or South Africa have. They have, however, qualified for the world cup. Should'nt we be ashamed of ourselves?

But wait...did you know who has supplied the balls for this year's world cup. Its a bloke from Jallandhar, Punjab. He had landed the 5 million dollar deal, and these are the first stitchless balls in the world. There also has been a lot of praise for the balls in terms of the movement and balance.

Good for you man! At least we are somewhere on the soccer map!

World Cup Trivia

Brazil won the world cup in 1994. Before that, Brazil had won this title for the last time in 1970.

If you add up: 1970 + 1994 = 3964

Argentina won the world cup for the last time in 1986. Before that only in 1978.

And 1978 + 1986 = 3964

Germany, though, won the world cup in 1990. Before that, Germany won in 1974.

Look: 1990 + 1974 = 3964

This could lead us to guess the winner of the World Cup in 2002, since it should be the winner of the 1962 World Cup (In fact 3964 - 2002 = 1962).

And Brazil won the world cup in 1962! (And, in fact, Brazil won the 2002 WC)

This numerology seems to work...

And now, who would be the winner of the 2006 world cup?

Let's see, 3964 - 2006 = 1958

And who won in 1958?

Oh, Brazil did!!!

Fear Factor

Generally dont watch it but yesterday's episode was so gruesome that I just couldn't flip the channel. Usually, people are made to eat ants or lie down with a million rats or spiders or perform similar intellectual asks. Yesterday, the grand prize was a year's free mortgage for which the participants (4 mother and son pairs) had to perform these simple tasks (fastest pair wins):

1) From a murky water filled blocked kitchen sink (drain blocked with hair and garbage) take out a set of keys using their mouths.

2) Open a glass cage filled with vipers with these keys and take out a box (first one has to unscrew a couple of screws holding the box. everyone got bitten).

3) Open the box and transfer 6 scorpions from the box to a bowl...using their mouths.

4) From a bottle of spoilt rotting milk transfer the contents of the bottle to a bowl using a straw.

5) Drive a low sports car alongside a 12 wheel truck at 60mph and 'undertake' the truck..that means cross the truck from underneath and overtake from the other side.

Each of these had to be done by BOTH the mother and son, separately. And ALL of them did all of this, no one failed to complete the agenda. The winner was decided on time. The expressions on the mothers' faces were to be seen to be believed...but they did it all.

I guess mortgage is important to these guys. Personally...i would rather pay my EMIs.

Review - Crash

I wont go into a cinematic discussion except to say that I loved the movie and the performances. I also missed Denzel Washington in the role of the black inspector..that would have added one more oscar to the kitty for Crash. No, this will more of a discussion about the issues the movie has highlighted.

Of the situations portrayed in the movie, I could identify a lot of scenarios that hold true in India today. We also have our divides, be it religious, regional or socio-economic and a lot of that create the same frictions as those the whites, blacks, hispanics, chinese and arabs are facing in the US today. We have our problems with the 'minority' muslims and they have the same with the blacks. States like West Bengal and Assam have Bangladeshi immigrant problems while they have the same with mexicans in Florida and LA. And the rich versus poor divide is always there.

There were 2 protagonists who were characterised very interestingly - the racist white cop and the racist black mugger. Both are portrayed as extreme cases of bigotry, who see the entire world through some invisible coloured glass, where any incident can be traced to some problem caused by the 'other' side. We have frightening similarities amongst our communal Hindu and Muslim brigades, and its a divide that seems to be deepening each day. There is also Sandra Bullock's character, who is a closet racist, who is surrounded by all kinds of immigrant population who are the domestic help, who finally shows her true colours once she is mugged by a black and uses that excuse to come out in the open with her parochial views.

There was another interesting sequence in which an episode of a soap was being shot and the director asked for a retake because a black guy didnt talk 'black' enough. Made me think of how bongs are portrayed in movies and tv. I mean how many bongs do you know who says 'Oooribaba, arey tumi kya kaurta haay'. Bongs and Tambis have been stereotyped for ages now. Padosan was one of the roots for the anti hindi movement in the south. There were other scenes in the movie where Americans are ridiculing arabs or chinese people for their accents and grammar (as if those fuckers speak english) and this was also portrayed as one of the factors why immigrants dont feel they belong.

All in all, I felt that the movie was really balanced. It managed to portray both sides on the picture without trying to analyse who is at fault. And even though I generally think the average american is an arsehole, I can kind of understand the situation they are in. True, when their economy was booming they had welcomed all kinds of immigrants to do their dirty jobs - mexican gardeners, puerto rican housemaids, indian coders, chinese cooks etc etc etc. Now that they have a job crunch they are cribbing about outsiders taking their jobs. But dont you get it? Its their bloody country and they have every right to give out AND take back jobs when they want. There was a scene in which a Syrian is ranting and raving to the authorities after his shop is burgled. I mean, why dont you go back to fucking Syria then? There you will be lucky to have a slum to stay in. How would you feel if Bangladeshi illegal immigrants staged a dharna in Calcutta because they dont like the conditions of their settlements? Forget about immigrants, how would you feel about your countryman who is studying in AIIMS because his grandfather washed toilets, or a muslim who has 4 wives and 20 children who feels muslims in India are persecuted?

THINK.

Hail Male Bonding!

The progression in the pictures tell an amazing story. Ayush and Shirley were as thick as thieves over the past couple of years. 80% of their waking time at home was spent together and it looked like they would never get tired of each other's companies. Harsha was the haddi in this kabab, and sometimes it saddenned me to see how these 2 used to gang up against this 12 year old. He used to be left out of their games, ignored in conversations and falsely accused when either of these 2 got hurt playing (kids can be damn cruel man, read Lord of the flies).. Suddenly in this trip i witnessed a change. Ayush is becoming a man, and he seems to be prefering Harsha's company. Shirley is more interested in discussing the latest Imran Hashmi kissing scene and trying to enact it with Ayush (scary!!) while Ayush is happier discussing the latest Power Rangers episode with Harsh. Ayush is getting into the physical games boys enjoy, like punching each other around or hammering away at a video game keyboard, and Shirley is not being able to keep up with the pace. The inevitable has started to happen and these 2 are now ganging up against Shirley. I did some reading on the net and found out that this usually happens to kids when they are about 5 or 6 when they start preferring same sex company. Am I happy?? MCP that I am, YEAH!!!

I am back (BOOOHOOOHOOO!!!!)

But what a great trip it was!! And instead of writing a looong post which no one will read, I will penn down thoughts about each place we visited as well as about some special incidents. Till then, enjoy this..

BREAK!!

'Pyare bhaio aur behno' (in Amin Sayani's voice)..it will be a couple of weeks till the 75th post is going to be penned. The wife and son are coming and then we are going on a looong trip to Kumaon (yipeee!!!). And the next one will be about that trip, pics galore. Till then....toodle doo.

A different world

Went to Saldana, a village near Meerut, for a day outing yesterday. Me, Bubai and Vikas with his school friends. One of his friend Sumit is the brother of the village pradhan there. 'Bade bhaiya' is the mai-baap of the entire region, and the region we are talking about (Meerut to Muzaffarpur) is the worst crime belt in India. He was part of the infamous Tyagi gang at one time, then went into legtimate business and then politics. His drinking buddies make up the rest of the region's who's who, and our main agenda was to experience what it felt like to be the guest of such a person.

The ride was hot and dusty and to combat the discomfiture everyone got busy in going through a gigantic database of MMS scandals that one of the guys had on his phone. By the time we reached there it was high noon, and everyone got down to their chaddis and plunged in the deliciously cool tube well tank. The next 5 hours was just sit in the water, get your drinks served up to you and talk.

What was amazing was how these guys recieved us. It was bade bhaiya who cooked country chicken for us (absolutely mindbogglingly delicious, with real spices), chote bhaiya who served us our drinks and a member of the village panchayat who served us food. These guys are not only politically powerful, they are also stinking rich. But i havent seen any guys of this stature who are so down to earth. When it was time for us to go they promised us that the next time they will get permission to go hunting and asked us to try and make an overnite trip (THAT will be one memorable post I can assure you).

At the end of it all I was pretty confused. These are the real criminals of India, who have broken all laws of the land, raped the political system and destroyed thousands of lives. On the other hand, personally, they are wonderful, warm and down to earth folks. How does one reconcile these two things?

Choose!

Bubai does 20 minutes of Pranayam every day. Vikas and Paplu do not. Whether you will start or not is up to you. I have.

Darna Zaroori Hai - Review

waha waha ramG (chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk)
movie kya banayi (chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk)
mera aur vikas ki (chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk)
band kyu bajayi (chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk chuk)
sub chutiyo se badi hai chutiya jo aise bakwas picture banayi.
waha waha RAMGEEEEEE.

Six degrees of separation

I am sure all of you know this theory that has been around since 1929 that proposes that anyone on earth can be connected to any other person on the planet through a chain of acquaintances that has no more than four intermediaries. So basically that means that I only need to trace 4 people connecting my servant Deep to Demi Moore and I will be able to meet her. This has been proved by mathematicians in 1950 using a lot of statistical mumbo jumbo and sociologists who have spouted how humbling and noble this concept is.

I believe its all hogwash, but thats not the point. The point is, do watch the movie by the same name. The plot of the movie (starring Donal Sutherland and Will Smith) was inspired by the real-life story of David Hampton, a con man who managed to convince a number of people in the 1980s that he was the son of actor Sidney Poitier. Its a fantastic movie (you need to follow the dialogs carefully though) and brings out the incredible differences between people living next to each other in big cities - the ultra-rich surrounded by the gutter poor, and how they cope (or 'uncope') with this dangerous situation.

Try it.

Nightmares

Delhi has suddenly started giving me nightmares. All of a sudden, a hydra headed monster of infrastructural problems have raised its ugly heads. There is no water and no power. Power cuts happen at times like 11 PM, 4 AM and sleep has become a struggle (coincidentally, i am reading King's Insomnia now). And after tossing around at night, you can imagine my mood when I come to work. Had a fight in office just yesterday, and I am sure this will be one of many more to come. I think I will have a heart to heart with my boss soon. Dont think I will be able to survive this for long.

Amidst all this, can you imagine what nightmare I had last night? Vinod Kambli has been recalled, and that too as an opener. There is a huge debate in the media, and a disgusted Sourav has announced his retirement. I mean seriously guys, isn't there a limit as to what extent this game dominates our minds?

Comfortably numb

"The child is grown,
The dream is gone.
I have become comfortably numb."

- Roger Waters

For the past 2 years I have worked as an island. Office is a place I somehow survive for 8 (sometimes less) hours a day. I dont interact with anyone, shun attempts by people to strike up friendships, work only to meet targets and nothing beyond. For the last 2 years, I dont know the names of any of my colleagues who sit around my cubicle.

The last 2 years has also seen the biggest growth in my career.

I am totally confused.

Munich - a review

Watched Spielberg's Munich yesterday. It was a landmark event of my life as I have redefined my career path after watching the movie. Here's what I will do:

1) Become a CIA agent
2) Go undercover in the middle east - Operation Brown Mongoose (to kill Osama)
3) There will be 73 million dollars deposited in a numbered account in Banque Nationale de Suisse for operational expenses.
4) I will take out the money, come to India and invest in MF, blue chip equities and real estate.
5) I will return to Dubai (didnt I say middle east before) and stay undercover for a year
6) When the 73 becomes 125 million dollars I will return to India and cash in.
7) I will go back to Virginia and tell the CIA ops head that I was unsuccessful and return 81.76 million dollars (principal plus 12% interest).
8) I will come back to india and invest 41.24 million dollars in MF, blue chip equities and real estate.
9) I will buy a maruti swift and a pair of Police sunglasses.
10)I will then retire and concentrate full time on my blog.

If you see any snags guys please point them out to me. I am serious!

An amazing song

It seems like yesterday
But it was long ago
Janey was lovely, she was the queen of my nights
There in the darkness with the radio playlng low
And the secrets that we shared
The mountains that we moved
Caught like a wildfire out of control
Till there was nothing left to burn and nothing left to prove

And I remember what she said to me
How she swore that it never would end
I remember how she held me oh so tight
Wish I didn’t know now what I didn’t know then

Against the wind
We were runnin’ against the wind
We were young and strong, we were runnin’
Against the wind

And the years rolled slowly past
And I found myself alone
Surrounded bv stranners I thought were my friends
I found myself further and further from my home
And I guess I lost my way
There were oh so many roads
I was living to run and running to live
Never worried about paying or even how much I owed
Moving eight miles a minute for months at a time
Breaking all of the rules that would bend
I began to find myself searchin’
Searching for shelter again and again
Against the wind
A little something against the wind
I found myself seeking shelter against the wind

Well those drifters days are past me now
I’ve got so much more to think about
Deadlines and commitments
What to leave in, what to leave out

Against the wind
I’m still runnin’ against the wind
Well I’m older now and still
Against the wind

The amazing world of spam

Nowadays I diligently go through my spam mails before deleting them. There is a world of entertainment hidden there. Here are the top 5:

1) Very common are the ones with the plight of a terminally ill child who is paid 12 cents by the service provider for every person you forward the mail to.

2) Congrutaltions! You have 2.75 million dollars jackpot in the Online Lotto draw! Just open an account with us with a minimum deposit and we will transfer the winnings to you.

3) This one i got today. Its great news! Some solicitor has traced my name as the sole beneficiary of an estate worth 5.3 million dollars belonging to a man who has died hierless and without a will. This diligent bugger has traced me based on my last name and is willing to file a claim for me in return of 40% of the amount.

4) Natasha is looking for you! Along with 2347789 beautiful females!! Only at bharatmatrimonials.com

5) But the winner is Penis Enlargement Pills. Herbal, no side effect, gauranteed increase upto 4 inches. YIPEEE!!!

A north indian wedding

Actually it was a pre-wedding cocktail party. Went there expecting a stag affair where everyone gets roaring drunk and a couple of fights break out. Turned out to be a family affair with plenty of women and children. What I loved was this punjabi culture of dancing. There was a strobe lit dance floor which was filled to capacity. For women whose husbands were too busy drinking, they were quite happy to take on 12 year old partners. And the best part came when the grooms parents came on the stage on popular demand. Uncle and aunty danced to 'Ae mere zohra zabin' and it was wonderful. I wish I had seen my parents dance to a romantic number. Will agree to marry once more just to see that.

As usual, I was right

Remember this post and Loky's optimism? I had given him 3 months before he changed his mind. It, in fact. took him 3 weeks. Here's what he said yesterday:

1) He is sick of Kannadis
2) He is sick of the infrastructure issues
3) He is sick of the inefficiency of the people around him
4) He wants to go to some onsite project soon.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! MERA BHARAT MAHAAN!!!

Rantings and ravings (censored)

Statutory warning: Explicit language. Skip reading if you are too cultured

Bangalore is shut down because Rajkumar died. People have burned vehicles, blocked roads and closed markets. The so called silicon city of India, hub of the new face of india, home to the most 'happening' population of India. Tum sab kannadio ki !!&&**%. When I was in blore, there was a 7 day riot because Rajnikaant had come and during a speech, someone from the crowd abused him. This started a riot between !!&&**% Kannadis and !!&&**% Tambis that shut down the city. What the !!&&**% is the problem with these rasam guzzling !!&&**%? And the media! If this had happened in Kolkata, the channels and papers would have been full of how bandhs have ruined Bengal. When it comes to Bangalore, its 'genuine and spontenous outpouring of grief'.

Sehwag said 'Ganguly is history'. !!&&**% doesnt remember those days when Ganguly voluntarily broke up the most successful opening partnership (between him and Sachin) so Sehwag can open. !!&&**% does not even have the performance platform from which people like Dravid can dare to speak from.

Salman's lawyer has said killing a black buck is equivalent to killing cows, pigs, goats, fishes and chicken for eating. I am sure he will get a lot of support from the !!&&**% cow belt and from that !!&&**% Maneka. In India, the concept of animal protection is ludricious. So we have wild elephants destroying crops and forcing people to starve and people multiplying more than rabbits and eating up all forests. Maneka pass a one family one child law first u !!&&**%.

US has sounded a warning to Brazil to control deforestation in Brazil. Those !!&&**% are the biggest consumers of power. Cities are lit up 24 !!&&**% hours a day, heaters are on 12 months a year, they have started screwing up the Antartic for oil exploration digs and they dare lecture others.

Vivek is taking his wife to Vaishnodevi. Saale ko bola upar pohuchke ek friendly push de dena, saala gussa ho gaya. Take decisions and become pro-active, else stop cribbing.

Buss.

Another firang rape?

Was sitting in a bar in CP last sunday. It was a typical 'theka' kind of place and was filled up by typical middle class regular drinkers. And in a corner there was this beautiful Japanese (i think) girl sitting alone with a bottle of beer. Everybody's eyes, minds and other things were focussed on this girl. Next to the girl there were 3 young guys who were trying to work up courage to start exploring options. As expected they could not come up with the guts, but unexpectedly it was the girl who struck up conversation with these guys. Things progressed from talking, toasting, offering cigarettes, offering beer, taking snaps, taking closer snaps, hand-accidently-brushing-tits moves, hands-casually-resting-on-thighs moves to requesting the girl to take turns with each of them for 'friendly' photographs. Everyone else in the bar was mentally cursing these guys for their incredible luck, rueing their own table selection fate and asking god what they had done in their past lives to deserve this. I was thinking whether I will be reading tomorrow's paper about another rape in a car. But then these arseholes screwed up. They got so excited that one of them made a call and in about 5 minutes in walked 3 of their friends. The ones that came in were total taporis, answering perfectly to the 'jeans jacket-love locket- comb in back pocket' category of delhiites. They all crowded at the same table and the ratio now read 6-1. Some warning bells went off in the girl's head and she excused herself, got up, paid the bill and beat it. Everyone cheered (mentally) and smiles and conversations started all around the bar. The 6 sat there scratching their heads and wondering what went wrong. What arseholes!!

Judiciary going overhead

Saw a banner in Chandni Chowk yesterday. It read:

'Haseena marti hai to sarkar hilti hai,
Gareeb vyapari marta hai to sarkar kyu soti hai?'

The reference was to the hype over the Jessica Laal case and the recent High Court decision to demolish all shops in residential areas in Delhi. The demolition issue has 3 aspects to it:

1) Why was permission given to construct shops in residental areas in the first place? Who will catch the MCD and court officials who had been bribed to allow this to happen in the first place?

2) The court has ruled that Chandni Chowk is a residential area. Its a bloody 200 year old market! From the very first city plan it had been designated as a commercial area. Now one judge's ruling has changed all that.

3) The traders have also said that they are willing to relocate if they are provided land elsewhere. Their point is when u demolish slums u relocate beggars and squatters, whereas we have paid for these establishments.

I agree with the traders here. The court has suddenly started taking on a totalitarian role. There have been other excesses by the court in the near past. I am no fan of Salman, but 5 years for killing a deer?? Isnt that a bit too much to swallow?

World Test Playing 11

Toughest post till date..comments please.

1. sunny
2. greenidge
3. lara
4. richards
5. sachin
6. dujon
7. roberts
8. holding
9. warne
10. imran
11. lilee

It happens only in America

True story (courtesy Suro)

A lawyer purchased a box of very rare and expensive cigars, then insured them against fire among other things. Within a month having smoked his entire stockpile of these great cigars and without yet having made even his first premium payment on the policy, the lawyer filed a
claim against the insurance company. In his claim, the lawyer stated the
cigars were lost "in a series of small fires."

The insurance company refused to pay, citing the obvious reason: that the
man had consumed the cigars in the normal fashion. The lawyer sued .. and won!

In delivering the ruling, the judge agreed with the insurance company that
the claim was frivolous. The Judge stated, nevertheless, that the lawyer
held a policy from the company in which it had warranted that the cigars
were insurable and also guaranteed that it would insure them against fire,
without defining what is considered to be unacceptable fire, and was
obligated to pay the claim. Rather than endure lengthy and costly appeal
process, the insurance company accepted the ruling and paid $15,000 to the lawyer for his loss of the rare cigars lost in the "fires."

NOW FOR THE BEST PART...

After the lawyer cashed the check, the insurance company had him arrested on 24 counts of ARSON!!!!

With his own insurance claim and testimony from the previous case being
used against him, the lawyer was convicted of intentionally burning his
insured property and was sentenced to 24 months in jail and a $24,000
fine.

Is this cricket?

Munia was disgusted with me for not being happy with India's victory today. My point that it was not good cricket, England being without 7 members of their ashes team, did not wash water with her. The truth is that I dont consider this to be an Indian team bcos this is not the best 11 we have. Adding to that Chappel's arrogance, More's blatant high-handedness and Dravid's shameless spinelessness....no, there's no support for this team from within me. I do like it when youngsters like Sreeshant or Raina come good..but support for the team? NO WAY! How do you guys feel?

Koi Mil Gaya

Watched it for the 23rd time last weekend when I went to Bombay. Although the last 22 times have been at Riju's request (demand?) I have enjoyed each and every viewing. And its not just because of the great acting (Hrithik was brilliant), or the marvelous cinematography or choreography or script. Its watching the movie with kids that does it for me every time. Its a movie that not only makes a kid have a rolloicking time but also makes him think things out. It feels great to give a high five to my son when hrithik smartens up and tells the computer teacher 'aadmi computer ko banaya, computer ne aadmi ko nehi banaya. kisiko chota dikhane se pehle yaad rakhenge sir ki har chota ekdin bada hota hai'. Or to applaud and cheer wildly along with all the kids when hrithik manages to come with a fantastic dance step after trying and failing thrice.

And about making a child think, here is last saturday's conversation with my son:

Self: Achcha ayush tell me..this jaadoo becomes weak when there is no sun, so why doesn't he store his power in the day time?

Ayush: Like you charge your mobile and use it?

Self: Yeah?

Ayush: The sun is like fire and the moon is like a sea. When you pour water on a fire what happens?

Self: It goes out.

Ayush: Same. All powers of Jadoo goes out when the moon comes out.

Amazing or not?

Sorry

Made a committed effort to give England a winning start to the one day series. Went to Kotla early in the morning, wore the shirt I was wearing on the last day of the Wankhede test, took vikas along with me. We did the best we could, bundled out India for 203 and then created a great partnership between Pieterson and Freddy..but just when we started to relax the English guys gave it away.

Tomorrow also I will not be able to do much as I will be going to Mumbai to see Ayush's concert. The entire load now rests on Vikas's tiny shoulders. God give him strength!

A test for my cynicism

Last weekend we went to Punjab for a long weekend. There were seven and half of us - me, my parents, uncle, aunt, vikas, meetu and sanika. Left here on friday afternoon, stayed the night at Vikas's didi's house in Jalandhar, went to Amritsar and Wagah border the next day, stayed again in Jalandhar on Saturday night and then started for delhi on Sunday afternoon, reaching at 12 in the night.

It was a good trip and I was really impressed with Punjab. One cant help but admire their capacity for hard work and their enterpreneurship as well as for their verve in life. Punjabi philosophy is 'earn 10, spend 100, then plan on earning 1000, spend 10000' and so on. Yes..they are flashy, showy, shallow and sometimes overtly aggressive and interfering. But they are also genuinely friendly, straightforward and helpful.

My feelings of appreciation and hope were further enhanced on visiting the Golden Temple. It was wonderfully maintained, spotlessly clean, devoid of any religious 'middle men', devotees looked as if they had come because of some inner urge, not at the orders of some dictatorial relative or to wheedle a favor before a business deal or medical operation. I started wondering..'will this be my first positive post on my blog'? When all of a sudden...

People started running in huge numbers to a particular corner of the temple compound. Kids were brushed aside, old ladies shoved and the granth sahib was left to the dogs. IT WAS SALMAN KHAN!! With his brother and other family, come to match the collective strenghts of the 10 gurus against the Rajasthan High Court. Girls were screaming, jumping up and down, guys were surging towards the front to catch a glimpse of their God and it was chaos. I was relieved. Ultimately, my cynicism triumphed.

But wait!! There's still Didi (vikas's elder sister). She is the Principal of Cambridge School in Jalandhar. The school has to be seen to be believed. And Didi says she has been able to implement only 50% of her ideas. I beleive that when she has her own school it will be the best in India. That apart, she is a fantastic person. My parents and uncles were blown away by her hospitality and friendliness. I have known her about 9 years now, and I can never remember a time when she wasn't positive, optimistic and full of laughter.

My cynicism takes a beating when it comes to people like didi. But i will make it up somewhere else.

Another short story

Every one heaved a sigh of relief when Air Force One taxied to a stop at the Andrews tarmac. It had been a nerve-wracking month. The first visit by the Prez in war-torn Iraq, a President committed to creating history, driven by a genuine urge to do something worthwhile for global peace, an entire world holding their collective breaths, walking on a razor edge where even the tiniest incident could trigger cataclysmic consequences.

No one knew it better than Special Agent Scanlon, in charge of the president’s security detail. ‘The devil is always in details’, was what he swore by, and the security measures taken for the past month were close to ridiculous. Daily life was totally disrupted for 15 days in an already chaotic Baghdad, and the public grumblings had started to become menacingly violent. Iraq’s capital was virtually turned into a fortress with security forces taking up positions at vantage points and American helicopters hovered constantly over the route the presidential convoy was to wind its way from the airport to the meeting venue. The entire neighborhood surrounding the meeting venue had been cordoned off and residents forcefully evacuated to temporary shelters.
Human rights organizations had pitched in, calling for protection of the basic rights of the Iraqi people and there were growing support for these voices within the Senate itself.

‘Yes, it had been tough in the end’, Scanlon thought. But now, as the president’s envoy entered the White house gate amid thousands of screaming, flag waving loyalists, he thought he would receive some accolades as to how he had handled the toughest security detail in the history of mankind.

‘Great job Scanlon’, the Man said, giving the crowds a final wave before going inside. ‘Maybe you should take a month off and be with the wife’.

‘Yes sir, you should also retire for the night sir. Its been a long week sir’.

‘ I think I will do just that. Thanks again and good night’.

As he entered the bedroom the President thought about what he has achieved. It was the crowning achievement of an illustrious life and he was perhaps the proudest man in the world at that moment. Looking at the sleeping First Lady he thought ‘if I can achieve what I did this week, perhaps I can even make my marriage work’. He reached for her and she turned away, just like it had been for the last 5 years of their marriage. ‘Not now Bill. Good night’.

‘Some things never change’, he thought with a rueful shake of his head and shut his eyes. ‘Iran is the next problem and I just have to find a way’, were his last coherent thought as sleep started to envelop him in her soothing grasp.

A pale hand holding a sharpened Black Berol Beauty pencil streaked down through the dark and plunged itself down his throat. And the last thing he heard choking on his blood was his wife whisper, ‘that’s for Monica you bastard’.

Last drunken thoughts of my life

That's because from today I am quitting drinking for 3 months, and after that resume as a social drinker. So, no more of sending SMS-es to myself at 11 PM to remind myself about what to write about in the blog the morning after..taaliyan, taaliyan..

Here goes:

SHIT!! last nite's messages got deleted..damn it!

Kolkata Food Guide (SLURP!!!)

Must haves next time you are there

Kabiraji Cutlet from Regent (S N Banerjee Road)
Moghlai Parota from Anadi Cabin (S N Banerjee Road)
Kosha Mangsho from Golbari (Shyambazar)
Phulkopir Singara from Mrityunjoy (Lansdowne)
Double Egg Chicken Roll from Kusum / Park Steet)(Campari @ Gariahat & Nizam is a close contender!)
Chicken Rezala from Shabbir (off C R Avenue)
Steak at Oly pub (with old monk!!)
Ujjala's Chanachur ( no comparison anywhere)
Telebhaja from Putiram (College Street)
Daab Chigri from Kewpies (Elgin Lane)
Chicken Cutlet from Baked & Fried/Mukherjee Sweets (Ballygunge Place)
Bijoli Grill's Fish Roll
Mochar Chop Dhoka from Apanjan (Sadananda Road)
Boudir's Lebu Cha (Deshapriya Park)
Kochuri & Tarkari from Tasty Corner (Mandeville Gardens)
Phuchka/Churmur/ Dahi Phuchka from Bilas or Boudi (Southern Avenue)
Chicken Cutlet near Samur (Bhowanipur)
Mishti Doi & Rosogolla from Mithai (Beckbagan)
Sandesh (all types) from Balaram (Bhowanipur) (Naram pak & Ice cream sandesh)
Pantua from Bancharam
Indrani from Ganguram
Rabri from Chittaranhan
Darbesh from Sen Mahasay
Amriti from Bhim Nag/Ganguram, Maniktala (Jalebis are no match)
Skyroom's Prawn Cocktail & Mixed Grill & Baked
Alaska or Blue Fox's Lobster Thermidor -
Mandarin Fish from Waldorf
Chello Kabab from Peter Cat
Chicken balls from Tyangra

Last night's drunken thoughts

"Its a hell of a thing killing a man"

Watched 'Unforgiven' again. What a movie! Clint Eastwood, Morgan Freeman and Gene Hackman together..need I say more? For those of you martians who havent seen it, go and buy the the DVD right now.

Dev Benegal

Director of Split Wide Open and English August, this guy is now making a movie on Ramanujan. Who said Indian cinema is all about Bollywood?

Garden Shot

CNN featured a 'breaking news' (hate this term..my son once asked me why news is always breaking on tv) about a old man who was arrested for shooting a teenage tresspasser on his garden. While he was being portrayed as a nazi fanatic, my thoughts were has anyone bothered to know if he was being persecuted by the neighborhood kids? Having seen the gora teenage brats first hand, I have seen how they treat elderly and lonely people. Wish my father had a gun.

Rajdeep Sardesai

I would like to meet that arsehole outside his studio. Inside, the fucker gets away with anything. He doesn't let anyone speak, cuts off people midway and when in trouble resorts to a commercial break. Did you know that even the so called 'live' talk shows are edited prior to screening? That's why these dickheads always emerge as the winners in any debate. Kabhi milna saale koi andhere gully main..

Detox

The last 5 years of drinking without a break has finally taken a toll. Liver test has shown some pretty bad results. Decided to resort to medication to quit alcohol. Soumyadeep (my school pal and consultant physician) gave me a routine that scared the shit out of me. It seems that the withdrawal symptoms are so severe that one has to be kept under tranquilisers for 5 days till the effect wears off. The medication to reduce the urge starts after that. There go my good intentions straight out of the window. Cheers.

Things to appreciate about a wife

Odes to a wife (any wife..)

Classic rock is 'classic' not just because of the music but because of the incredible lyrics. No other musical genre has captured the angst of our confused generation better than these guys. So forget those long hairs, drug busts and sexual orgies - these guys were the true philosophers of the previous century.

Here are few samples on the greatest lines on relationships (mostly bad - my fav topic of course)..if u like them i can start on other topics.

'You may be right
I may be crazy
But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for
It's too late to fight
It's too late to change me
You may be wrong for all I know
But you may be right'

Billy Joel (rest of the song)

'I don't care if you never come home
I don't mind if you just
Keep on rowin'away on a distant sea
Cuz I don't love you and you don't love me'

Clapton (rest of the song)

'You analyze me, tend to despise me
You laugh when I stumble and fall
There may come a day when I’ll dance on your grave
Unable to dance I’ll still crawl across it
You must really consider the circus
It just might be your kind of zoo
I can’t think of a place that’s more perfect
For a person as perfect as you'

Dead (rest of the song)

'Hey hey, what can I do
I got a woman, she won't be true
Lord, hear what I say
I got a woman wanna ball all day'

Led Zepp (rest of the song)

'My, oh my, you sure know how to arrange things
You set it up so well, so carefully
Ain't it funny how your new life didn't change things
You're still the same old girl you used to be'

Eagles (rest of the song)

Want more??

I wish

I wish that I was in Jo'berg yesterday night
I wish that our captain was like this
I wish that I could write like this
I wish that I was not born in this bloody country

A day with Swaminarayan

No..he is not my golf coach or tennis partner. He, in fact, was a 18th century saint, whose temple we visited this weekend. The place is Akshardham, in Delhi and its a must see for whoever visits Delhi.

The 'story' of Swaminaryan is a riveting one. Born to a poor brahmin family in the 1700's, he got bored of performing small time miracles and left home at the age of 12. From Ayodhya he started a trek that took him 7 yrs - going north towards the upper reaches of the himalayas in the month of october (wearing a small dhoti), crossing mount trishul, manosarovar, then down to nepal , assam, sunderbans, orrissa, down the east coast to madurai, kannyakumari, up the west coast thru maharashtra finally ending in gujrat.

Its a great story..and if you are interested you can look here for the rest..but obviously i dont believe 80% of it. But..thats not the point.

The point is that the temple in Delhi is a magnificient achievement. If you visited the link above you will see why. Its fantastically done up and beautifully maintained and the best thing is that they have managed to create a theme park revolving around religion. They havent commercialised it, but at the same time they have managed to package it in such a way that it can rivet any person of any class, age or religious inclination.

And the best part is along with the greatness of swaminarayan, the place tries to remind you about the greatness of the indian past, starting from the vedic ages to the mid 16th century, and tries to make you feel proud of your heritage. Quite inspiring really. Next time you are here, check it out.

Emptiness

emptiness - yawning, screaming void
swallows you
embraces you
soothes you
till it becomes your only friend
relief..and peace..forever

emptiness - rely on him
never changes, shocks, disappoints
always there, waiting, confident that you would come
dive into its black hole
oblivion..and peace..forever

emptiness - each day the same
numbing, drugging sameness
dragging, clawing, sliding, hurtling
one end, one ending
death..and peace forever

Bloggers, Narcissists and Insurance Salesmen

A friend of mine was an insurance salesman. He was sick of his job because it comprised of wheedling appointments out of friends, acquaintances and relatives, going to their homes on a Sunday morning, narrating stories of how someone he knew died of a heart attack at the prime of life and left his widow and teenage son helpless in this big bad world, followed up by ‘uncle I hope you wont make the same mistake; here’s a policy just perfect for you, blah blah blah..’.

While I always knew I would never have the caliber to become a salesman of this level, I thought post engineering that some kind of ‘technical’ selling could be my forte, considering my so called ‘soft skills’. That misconception was shattered after I joined GE and failed miserably trying to make high tech sales of high end diagnostic medical equipments. I became totally confident that as a salesman I would not even meet my targets selling chilled beer in the middle of the Sahara.

But…my post-blogging days have transformed me. Here are some samples of my typical conversations with friends:

X: Aur beta kya kar raha hai?
Self: Chal raha hai yaar. Blog likh raha tha.
X: Blog? U ka hai?
Self: Arey bataya nehi? Dekh le. Its http://www.absolutelynothingisavailable.blogspot.com/

Y: Did you see Rang de basanti?
Self: Saale blog me itna halla hua dekha nehi? Dekh aur comment likh. http://www.absolutelynothingisavailable.blogspot.com/

Z: Bad news man! Raj’s father passed away.
Self: Shit man! He was a great guy yaar! I need to write a condolence message on my blog. Maybe if he reads it he can find some consolation. Its http://www.absolutelynothingisavailable.blogspot.com/

A: Boss what about that doc you were supposed to send me?
Self: Gimme 2 minutes.
A: OK thanks.
Self: Check out the Amazing fact of the day. Its http://www.absolutelynothingisavailable.blogspot.com/

B: Did you get my mail? I am in serious shit with my girlfriend man!
Self: Get it? I posted it dude. It was too good to resist!! Its http://www.absolutelynothingisavailable.blogspot.com/.
B: Shit!

And so on and so forth. I am pretty disgusted guys. I was always someone who never took myself seriously. And now I refresh the bloody blog 40 times each day to see if someone has posted a comment or if some reviewer has ‘discovered’ me. When there are no comments (usually there aren’t, except for those of my brother Loky) , I read through old posts.

When I finally realized that blogging has made me more shameless than an insurance salesman and more self obsessed than any narcissist, I was pretty disgusted. The first thing I did was to remove the pic from the site. Second, I have vowed never to remind anyone to read my blog.

Relieved everyone?

A short story

The bone of contention among the Kumars had always been money. They were reasonably happy (if reason is a term one can use in conjunction with anything to do with marriage) and the birth of their daughter had brought them together to a common daughter-devotion-fan-club platform. But they had yet to work out a method when they will not go for each other’s throats the minute finance raised its persistent head in any conversation.

As financial behavior went, they had always been poles apart. While Naveen was irresponsibly open handed, Neetu was as tight fisted as any champion heavyweight. Naveen lived life for the present, while all Neetu thought about was the rainy day. Things were manageable during courtship, primarily because Neetu had no idea about the exact state of Naveen’s finances. But post marriage every discussion ended in the same way.

‘I don’t want to discuss this with someone who does not have the ability to support his family’.

‘If you want support then behave like a housewife and keep your trap shut’, would be Naveen’s standard reply. ‘You so called modern women make me sick. You people have your careers that come before anything else. Remember that your home is a job also. You guys invest your salaries while the husband buys the vegetables’.

‘Yes. At least that way you don’t spend your entire salary on alcohol’, would be Neetu’s discussion closer, before slamming the bedroom door.

Yesterday had been especially bad and Naveen was regretting some of the things he had told Neetu. While taking his shower in the morning he suddenly remembered their early days – the bike rides, the rain soaked lazy afternoons, the movie theatre neckings, the weekend stayovers. There were a lot of things that were good about his wife. Some of his friends’ wives he saw, he was thankful for his marriage. ‘I would make a fresh start’, he resolved. ‘I can make this work. From today……’

His thoughts were broken off by a knock on the bathroom door. ‘The milkman is here. Give him 750’, his wife said.

Music Television

Rock purists say MTV killed classic rock. The early 80-s saw the rise of music videos and with it, hair bands, disco and pop. The last rites were performed in the 90-s with rap and boy bands.

In our very own India the bug has caught on. Yesterday I saw the hideous Asha moving her body to a remixed RD song. It was painful to watch that face pouting lips, looking 'naughty', trying to be playful and sexy. Trying to match Asha and Lata's faces with their voices is as complex an exercise as keeping a woman happy. In the good old days one had the best of both worlds. One can watch a Mumtaz or a Saira Banu on screen and hear the nightingle sing. Not anymore. If you have to watch Asha Bhosle calling you with the words 'Piya tu ab to aa ja', or Lata asking you to 'Baahon me chale aao'....shudder shudder shudder.....

Jessica Lal verdict

What did you expect anyway? In our fucked up country, with the most fucked up constitution and judiciary, did the result come as any surprise? The only way we can clean up our act is to change the arcane judicial system. Circumstantial evidence must be considered for these cases, because eyewitnesses wont (cant) come forward. If I was an eyewitness and Pappu Yadav kidnapped my son and sent me his little finger in the mail, I will NOT give evidence. Its as simple as that. Even if there exists a system like the Witness Protection Program, I would not do it. I would not uproot my life and my son's life for someone else. The only way is if the law changes. Eye witness evidence must take a back seat. Truth serums must be legalised to grill suspects. There could be a 100 things that could be done. True, some innocent people will be wrongly convicted. But the theory that 'even if a 100 culprits go scott free, even 1 innocent should not be wrongly punished' does not hold water any longer. Some innocents will be punished wrongly. Tough luck. That does not mean that these bastards will get away with what they choose.

The only problem is..who will change the system? The people who are responsible for changing the laws will never do something that will screw them. So is the ending of RDB the only way out?

Fingers crossed

Today is judgement day for Vikas. Its his first job interview. That too for a position of Country Head in a big company as Pinnacle! Boy, I wish he gets it. Then its a drink-and-puke evening today. Go for it Vikas!!!!

RDB - 2 viewpoints

Vivek and Koushik loved the movie, Vikas said the second half was ridiculous. Sagarika Ghosh (CNN IBN) thinks its dangerous. I havent seen the movie, but from what Vikas told me, I tend to agree with her. It increasingly seems to me that in India we are rapidly losing our shades if grey. Everything is portrayed in black or white. So the first half is one extreme and the second half is the other. In the first half, do you identify with this Amir more than the Amir in Dil Chahta Hai? And is it possible to identify with anyone in the second half? What kind of society will ours become if the vendetta raaj takes over? A friend of mine gets drunk and dies in a road accident so 4 of my friends get together and murder Vijay Mallya and Bajaj? Is that the message of this movie?

And I would agree to one more thing that Sagarika wrote. The fact that this movie is such a big hit scares the shit out of me.

Inzy bhai

Aloo is too damn sweet man! He is one of the first Paki cricketers I started genuinely liking. Growing up watching Miandad, Malik, Sohail, Moin, Aaqib and Saqlain, I had developed this hatred for the men in green. Watching those Sharjah matches, listening to their animalistic screams when they got our wickets and the constant tension watching the one day encounters were nightmarish stuff. Things have changed over the last year or so. Now watching the Pakis play one doesnt get the impression that its jehad. They have become more relaxed and fair on the field, and youngsters like Malik, Butt, Asif and Kamran and really likeable.

But Inzy is the best. Not just his game. He is a sportsman, on and off the field. Never gets into controversies, never goes overboard in his actions and comments and is always modest and full of humility. But the greatest thing about him are his post match interviews. They are hilarious. "Salam Walequm, bismillah, ek rahman ek rahim. First of all I want to say thanks to allah..". This is the starting irrespective of the result. Followed by a series of 'is is is is''.

Next time he is on check it out.

Our heroes

Imran and Inzy have opened hospitals. Our heroes, Saurav and Sachin, have earned at least 500 times these guys and have opened restaurants. Something to ponder about?

Valentine Day's Programme

I love golf so I am headed to the course for a round. Tell me your plans guys.

Dho Daala!!

No. I am not talking about Dhoni. Uska to pata hi tha (and let vikas confirm that I have been talking about dhoni for the past 2.5 years, if we was playing I would watch duleep, challenger, ranji anything...much before the so-called experts in the media were talking about Patel's innocent looks). I am talking about Prez Musharaff's speech at the end of the match. I can wager my last chaddi that there is not a single politician in india who has the callibre to make a speech like that on the fly. Not only that. If you see how he has handled Bush since the Afghan war you will understand what a fantastic politician he is. He harbours terrorists and gets money from the US to beef up his anti-terrorist cell, he keeps the hardline islamic fundamentalists at bay, he warns the US government when they accidentally kill civilians in a taliban strike (and the US keeps mum), he does exactly as he pleases while our politicians huff and puff in UN councils and go around the world trying to get support to label Pakistan as a terrorist nation.

Hats off to you Sir. Wish we had someone like you in charge here.

Bollywood Extras

Yes BOLLYWOOD Mr Bacchan. Recently AB has taken to correcting anyone who mentions the term by saying 'please dont use that word. say the Bombay film industry. we have our own identity'. So its ok so steal blindly from them but not to be named after them eh? Nowadays they dont even bother changing the name of the movie. Yesterday I saw the copy of Fight Club (Brad Pitt) released with the same name. On his Oscar acceptance speech Satyajit Ray had said that this was a dream come true as Hollywood was his inspiration for becoming a filmmaker. So 'Big' B, if its good enough for Ray, its good enough for me and you can shove your opinions up where the sun doesn't shine.

Anyway. I was watching an bollywood award show yesterday on TV. The women have become more beautiful, production has become sleek, comperes have improved - everyone seems to have improved except the extras who dance behind the stars. I had once stayed at a PG acco in Bandra where everyone except me was 'struggling'. There was a playback singer who had sung one jingle in 3 years, 2 actors who had worked in 2 serials in DD, 2 models who had done nothing and a senior actor who had done bit roles in 3-4 movies but was out of work for 4 years. It was an amazing world. To see these guys struggle for that elusive dream for years on end, going from door to door, getting kicked out every studio, generally being treated like shit but never losing that hope, waiting for that ONE break that will change their lives. Girls with loose morals at least have the casting couch, these guys have nothing. And just when things look hopeless and they decide enough is enough, someone they know gets a break and they start afresh.

One of the models in that flat was Sayan Munshi. He has made it and it took him 6 years. The others have sank without a trace. Maybe the only thing left in their lives is the fact that they had struggled alongside Sayan.

The 'Baraati' Problem

Raju Srivastava (The Great Indian Laughter Champions) did a great one on baraatis. How they misbehave and what the girl's family has to go through. Brought back memories of 2 instances I had seen.

The first was in Mohuadi's wedding (our family friends for the last 45 odd years). Shanuda's folks had come from Asansol and were slightly late. In our weddings, generally the first dinner batch is for elderly people or for people who have to travel long distances. Someone told Mashi that these guys have come shouldn't we sit them first? She replied that they are late, let them wait. This was overheard by one of them who promptly squealed to Shanuda's dad who huffed and puffed and started a walk out. We were flabbergasted. Requests by a couple of uncles fell on deaf ears and it seemed that a lot of dinner will be wasted. Lu uncle came to the rescue. He prostrated himself on the father's feet and asked for forgiveness and the latter regally forgave us. After everything was over, a very emotional Jethu (mohuadi's dad) thanked Lu uncle for what he had done. Lu uncle shrugged and this was no big deal, it happens in every marriage in the south.

The second one was Munia's (Sr) wedding. That was the time of Sooraj Barjatiya and people in Kolkata were learning about stealing shoes and 'cher-charing' saalis. One 15-16 yr old kid started hanky panky with one of my cousins. I caught him by the ear and asked him what's going on. He rushed off to tell his father, probably thinking gleefully that he will be able to start a major fight or hoohah, ala bollywood. Imagine his frustration when his father came and asked me what the matter was and on learning the truth gave him an earful!!

The maximum baraati problem I have heard of in Bengali weddings is people acting smart at the dinner table. They will pile up food they wont eat, they will throw rasgullas in the dust and ask for more and crap like that. But this god like status is never given to them. That's something to be proud of, isn't it?

A first in the Indian TV industry

I may be wrong about this but yesterday I saw a show that was perhaps the first original idea in the Indian television industry. It was a show called Brand-e in the newly launched Times channel. Its an ad show, in which there is a segment called Flashback. Yesterday it featured the Bajaj bulb ad of 85 (jab main chota bachcha tha, badi shararat karta tha). Talked about what an impact it made, showed sound bytes of people across age, sex and socio-eco status who remember the jingle word to word and best of all traced what each of the models are doing what now. Good trip down memory lane.

Think you are smart?

I thought so too. Before I went here and sweated through this simple test. Found out that my bloody IQ is only 135, about 65 less than what I used to think it must be. Try it out and let me know your scores. It might cheer me up a little bit.

Finally some sense?

There have been many occasions when people have done something significant after getting the idea from a book or a movie. 9/11 was one such example. I am now reading Tom Clancy's 'Sum of all fears' where he has given a new twist to the Israely-Arab conflict. A Palestinian protestor, inspired by Gandhi and King, convinces the leaders that passive resistance is the best way. An Israely police captain, unused to such tactics loses his head and orders his men to shoot rubber bullets into the crowd in which a man dies. A CNN correspondent covering the event comments 'Finally the bastards have smartened up'..The entire world sides with the Palestinians for the first time and Israel lose their moral ground (their only ground in this conflict IMHO). That's as far as I have gotten to.

Anyway, this looks like something like that. This is the first time these guys have done and said something sensible. Its high time the west came down from its high moral ground and practised what they preached. I would really like to see leading western papers extolling the virtues of 'freedom of speech' publish cartoons about the holocaust and Vietnam. How about some research into who screwed Virgin Mary? Or maybe about Amercian Indians living in conservations, about what happened to Blacks after Katrina (no I wont say 'African Americans' because I dont believe that calling someone 'Black' is derogatory in the first place). How about some screamingly funny ones about Hiroshima?

Priceless!

Enough is still not enough?

There was a line in a bengali song that went 'I grow up but I dont grow'. That describes the muslim religion. How long will this go on?

Unsung Heroes

Did you know that this guy is your countryman?

Continuing on the vein of the 'Baggages' post, we are a nation obsessed with the handful of superstars that we have produced whereas there are people like these whom nobody knows about.

Thank god i dont have any special achievements to my credit. I would died of frustration at the lack of respect and recognition.

25!!!

Never thought i will achieve this incredible milestone! I was sceptical when i started..it was tough for me to start in the first place man! But...a request to my readers..the limited readership (if i can call it that) I enjoy, i get all my comments via phone calls, messages, mails and drunken discussions. Guys..please..post your comments on the site. These are memories I will need when I am accessing my blog from a hospital 15 years from now (hopefully)...

Mera Bharat Mahaan

A debate is raging currently between me and Loky. To give you some background, he has spent the last 3 years out of India (Japan, US and Germany) and is now desperate to return to India. Vikas is on the verge of immigrating to Australia in March and Loky feels that this is a bad move on his part. I think moving out of our bloody country (to some specific countries like Australia, New Zealand, parts of Europe, Singapore, Thailand or Malaysia) is the only sensible option left. Here are some excerpts of our mature conversation:

--------------------------------------------------------------
neil_goswami: as far as i am concerned noida se adelaide is zillion times better place for sanika to grow up in
Lokendra Singh Parihar: so u guys think no indian kids should grow up in india, thats ridiculous!
Lokendra Singh Parihar: so u think confused desis are better than desis
neil_goswami: shut up u fucking NRI
neil_goswami: 2 saal bahar rehke patriot bann gaya behn ka loura
neil_goswami: 2 german kya gaand pe laath maara behnchod indian hone ka yaad aa gaya
Lokendra Singh Parihar: sach hamesha kadwa hota hai
neil_goswami: kadwa kyu hone laga? mai to hu desh me..tu aaja..fir baat karte hai
Lokendra Singh Parihar: i'm sure, i'll be happy to be in india
neil_goswami: yes..and if u r not u will convince yourself that you are
Lokendra Singh Parihar: no i'll not
--------------------------------------------------------------

Here is what he will find when he arrives in India:

1) He will carry his suitcase across the tarmac and step over overflowing shit from the toilets because AAI is striking.
2) He will be robbed blind by the taxi driver whose taxi he will take to reach home.
3) On the way he will sit a traffic snarl-up because some political party has taken out a procession protesting America’s role in Iraq.
4) Relaxing on his couch in the evening he will watch a news channel where there will be a 3 hour special about a DIG Police who has started believing that he is the reincarnation of Radha.
5) Retiring to bed he will stay up till 1 AM because the neighborhood ‘club’ is celebrating some religious festival by playing LOUD film music.
6) In the morning papers he will read that income tax sops given to salaried individuals have been withdrawn by the Finance Minister and the HRD has decreed that his son will have to learn Kannadi in school for 6 years.
7) He will go to office and do bullshit work and then find out that he has stay late in office to attend a telecom with US clients.
8) He will find that colleagues are uncooperative (and some downright hostile) because he is a ‘north-indian’.
9) On a long weekend he will take his wife to a resort only to find that he cannot venture out too much because a group of boisterous, rowdy and drunk students are making life miserable for everyone.

Come soon Loky. India is waiting for you.

Baggages

I realised that we Indians are quite emotional and loyal as a race. That probably explains why we are burdened with 2 superstars who just refuse to quit. I am talking about Mr Bachan Sr. and Mr S.R. Tendulkar.

Remember the time when DD showed Shakti one amazing day back in 1991? I remember the streets of Cal were pretty empty that day. It was an event to talk about - how DD has finally done something worthwhile. Now I groan when I switch the TV on and see a new ad featuring a bored and boring AB, selling clothes, chocolates, milk, cars, detergents, pain killers and anything else under the sun. His movies flop (Family was the 4th consecutive flop), his amazing voice nowadays grates on your nerves, his walk looks artificial and once-diehard fans (it was more than fan actually..we used to worship the guy) like me flip channels when he is on.

Remember Sachin's debut in Karachi? I had skipped a Stats exam to watch that. There have been many many more after that but is that what we remember now? Nope. Now I remember him as someone who walks when he is not out so as to get out of the line of fire, someone who exagerates his actions on being bowled to convince viewers that the ball was low, someone who is a pimp selling products, someone who is a 80 crore industry that no one dares speak out against.

Whats wrong with these guys? It cant be about money because they have made enough to last 3 generations. Dont they realise what a shame it is to have such greatness and ruin it all by clinging on?

Innocence - A litmus test

Was gladdened to know that contrary to popular belief, kids nowadays are still innocent. Devised a test for the same. On my last Mumbai visit, I was telling my son the story of Goopi Gayen Bagha Bayen. Its about 2 village simpletons who got 3 boons from the King of Ghosts and their adventures after that. So I asked my 5 year old what he would have wished for if he had 3 boons. Here was his list:

1. I want to become grown up
2. I want to have a mirror which can call any superhero I want
3. I want a magic basket where I can get any toy I ask for.

Considering the fact that I was expecting stuff like 'I want the sequel to Koi Mil Gaya released soon' or something along those lines, I was pretty relieved. Especially the part about being grown up (Remember the Tom Hanks starrer 'Big'?). When I asked him why he wants to be grown up when he is having so much fun as a child he said he wanted to do 'cool' things like be alone with his friends without supervision, go to office and stuff. Oh boy!! Ayush... you got a big shock waiting for you!! Hope you freak out while you still can.

Ojeet

Was a friend of mine when I used to work in Philips. A perfectly normal guy with no striking characteristics..except for one. His sister in law became Miss India last year. When we were in Bangalore together (this was in 2003) he called up one day and said his sis-in-law is coming and lets plan a trip together on a weekend. I wriggled out of that..i was pretty sure she would be as run of the mill as Ojeet was. Boy!! Log paid me kudhali maarte hai, main kudhali pe paid maar diya. Since then I have mailed Ojeet several times asking for her number. After all, she was new in Mumbai and needed some 'protection'. Strangely, he didnt reply back. I will take this regret to my grave.

Coming to Tanusree...last nite while flipping the channels my fingers froze on one. It was some movie starring Tanusree and the Murder guy..Phew!!! Was she hot or was she hot? And frank and innocent. She also reminded me of Pamela Anderson. Not glandularly, but histrionically. I mean her acting, or lack of it. After a long time (the last person I remember is someone called Sonam) here is an actress who cannot emote a single emotion. But who is complaining?? I am rooting for you Tanushree. May you get more such opportunities to leave nothing to the imagination of your viewers. Slurp....

Girls and fun

Have you noticed a weird phenomenon? Since the 80-s Hollywood actresses portraying working women suddenly became very serious. The cop will run faster, the manager will talk more, the programmer will type faster...and all this with a lets-not-play-around-its-serious-work expressions on their faces. And surprise surprise!!! Indian movies and TV serials followed suit in the 90-s. Our workplaces are generally relaxed and informal and people generally are not full of hot air and attitude (except some old foggies who are perhaps scared of being overtaken by so much youth around). So my question is..have you guys noticed this in reality in places where you have worked?

Saw a new scooter ad whose theme is a couple of extremely sexy girls cavorting around on a scooter and the punchline goes...'why should boys have all the fun'..WELL!!!! Thats exactly what boys have been wondering (especially in this fucked up country of ours) for years now!! No one is stopping you girls. Stop taking yourselves so seriously. Your generation need not be the only one that is responsible for avenging thousands of years of male domination. Your previous generation burned bras to prove women are equal. You are desperate to find ways to prove women are better. Relax! Learn from us guys. Its one life and one chance. Take life a day at a time and forget it when the day is over.

And yes...please start having fun. Have one night stands, pick up guys, pick up the bill, have extra-marital affairs, maintain kept men, drink yourselves silly, experiment with sexual positions, go on vacations with friends, have sexual fantasies about neighbors and colleagues, masturbate regularly...the list is endless. So COME ON!!

The Industry I Work In

Emerging 'isms' of the new economy

INFOSYSism You have a 1000 poor cows. You put them on a nice campus, & send them one at a time to the US for milking.

WIPROism GE has a cow. You take 49% of the milk.

DELLism Intel has a Goat. Samsung has a Camel. Buy milk from both & sell it as Cow's milk.

IBMism You have old stubborn cows. You sell them as pet dogs to innocent small businessmen.

MICROSOFTism You have a cow. Force the world to buy milk from you. Spend a million dollars to feed poorer cows.

INTELism Microsoft makes horse shoes. You nail them to your cows & wonder why they don't run fast.

SUNism You have a bull. It doesn't give milk. You hate Microsoft.

ORACLEism You have a cow. You don't know which side to milk, so you sell tools to help milk cows.

SAPism You don't have a cow. You sell milking solutions for cows implemented by milking consultants.

APPLEism You have a cow. You sell iMilk.

SONYism You have a cow. You spend $50 mn to develop the world's thinnest milk.

CITIBANKism Welcome to Citibank. If you have a cow, press 1. If you have a bull, press 2...stay on line if you'd like our customer care to milk it for you.

HPism You don't know if what you have is a cow. You sell complete milking solutions through authorised resellers only.

GEism You have a donkey. People think you have a 100-year old cow. If someone finds out, that's his imagination at work.

RELIANCEism You don't yet have a cow. You sell empty cans to people for Rs. 501, because Dhirubhai wanted everyone to have milk.

TATAism You have a very old cow. You re-brand it as TATA Indicow.

Amazing Internet

I think the internet symbolises the greatest virtue of the human race - that of brotherhood and sharing. Leaving aside legal issues, the whole concept of sharing music and movies is amazing. The first time i visited a peer to peer file sharing site (it was www.audiogalaxy.com) I lost myself in the sheer volume of stuff I could access for free. There were music available that I have not found in any music store across India. There were classic movies that I had only dreamed of watching but thought I would never be able to. I gorged myself till they had to close the site after losing a court battle.

Then, when I started learning the guitar, I once again was amazed at the number and quality of sites that gave free tutorials, chord progressions and riffs. That was also an eye opener for me about understanding the Indian mentality. You see for ages we had this 'guru-shishya parampara' as a result of which information and knowledge were transfered from one person to another in a very close hierarchy. Which basically meant that you massage some selfish bastard's feet for 20 years and he will tell you (and only you) the cure for cancer. Then if you die suddenly or just forget it, the cure goes to the dogs. This is basically how our science of herbal medicine (and countless other schools of science) has perished. Coming to the present, I found that getting the entire tablature for a Jimi Hendrix song takes about 2 seconds. Try that out for a Lucky Ali song and see what happens. There are a handful of sites that give you chord and tabs for popular hindi songs. The few that are there require a long process of requesting someone and following up with him till he grants you the 'favor' of sharing the info with you. The thinking of our race seems to be 'it took me 3 days to work it out..why should I give it out for free??' God!! What arseholes we are!!

Which takes me to the point where I found the exception that proved this rule. Had a get together at my place this weekend where 5 of us got together to watch some movies. Went to the library, spent an hour selecting the movies we wanted to see, then came home to find out that the discs wont play on my player (region error). Got no support from Philips and desperately turned to Google for help. Google (God Bless It) came out with this..http://blogs.nagwani.in/?p=4. It worked first time and I became a hero.

Thanks Deejay. Thanks Google. Thanks Internet...Keep up the good work.

Hail my new hero!!

This great man is called Vinod and he hails from Chandigarh. He was in the news yesterday evening for filing a case of physical abuse against his wife. To support his claims, he carried a 40 minute video clip showing how his wife beats him up regularly. He managed to do this by concealing a camera in his bedroom and then proceeded to get the living shit beaten out of him - kicks to the balls, slaps, punches nothing is left to imagination and its all there in glorious technicolor. There were interviews with legal experts who were of the opinion that this might trigger a change in legislation so that the blind tilt towards women is done away with in abuse and dowry cases. As Dylan said..'the times they are a changing'....Salute, Vinod my friend.

Disgusted

Acquired the complete Ray collection as a new year's gift to myself. Yesterday evening after watching Oronner Din Ratri, I decided to try out the Gautam Ghosh sequel. My disgust forced me to stop the bloody thing midway. Even mentioning it gives it more importance than it deserves.

I dont know what 'modern' film and TV artists are trying to prove. Everything they excrecate nowadays has a sexual angle. Does being 'modern' mean showing cunnilingus on screen? Even Rituporno, whom I admire greatly, has this irritating habit of trying to be 'bold' by inserting a couple of such scenes in every movie. There are so many things to be bold about..why dont you guys grow up and address those? From what I hear, the television industry in Kolkata has become a sewer. Most actresses have price tags for going to bed...and we are not talking about casting couches here. Anyone with the proper contacts can get to screw almost anyone in the bengali TV industry.

What went so horribly wrong? Who are these people? Is this the best that we could do?

Ah the irony of life!!

Two of my friends' lives are about to be changed drastically.

Ashish is a childhood friend of mine. Hadnt done a single worthwhile thing in his whole life. He opened his account (of doing worthwhile things) with a bang. He is filing for a divorce. Salutations my friend. All of my friends should hang a framed photo of his for inspiration. Ashish..here's to your new life.

Vivek is getting married in March. Need I say more on this subject? All my friends should hang a framed photo of his for playing darts. Vivek.....alvida my friend.

So Far So Good

It’s been about 3 weeks since I relocated to Delhi to join IBM. I went through a lot of emotional turmoil before making the move, wholly due to the fact that I was leaving Riju behind. But the move has worked out well on all fronts so far (knock, knock). Career wise I think I have made a good move. It is the first career move I have made where the only consideration has been my long term goals. The induction in IBM was very inspiring. I don’t know if IBM India will be able to live up to the parent body’s stature and values, but I felt really inspired hearing about what IBM stands for. Delhi has been great so far – perfect weather, great food, drinking with friends for a change (No! I absolutely don’t miss drinking alone at the FNPB-s), friendly colleagues, great driving and shitless roads. On the personal front, it went smoother than I had dared to hope. Riju has accepted the situation quite peacefully as of now (with a mild rebuke saying ‘why didn’t you get a new job in Mumbai’), distance has removed most of the daily frictions that had become routine in married life and the stress and frustrations of commuting have been totally eliminated from the daily routine.

So, hopefully, Someone up there has finally got tired of screwing me around and has gone seeking for newer arses to spend His time on. Thank you and you are not welcome.

No Entry - An Analysis

The world can be divided into two pieces - those who love No Entry and those who dont. Me and Bubai fall in the first category, the rest of the human race falls in the other, i guess. I have tried promoting the movie to people of multiple profiles - my cousin, close friend, drinking partners, father in law, brother in law - flopped miserably everywhere. Amazing....considering the fact that me and bubai had to stop the bloody CD for 15 minutes so we can go to different rooms and laugh alone...at one time it became a survival issue man! So the question is...why is it so? I am somewhat of a film buff..bubai is NOT..so what got us together on this point? Bubai is divorced..i a not (as yet, but almost getting there)..could that be it? Do people in bad marriages see the point? I need a second opinion..my list of readers....koushik, loky, vikas, vivek...watch the movie and answer my questions..till then...na na na na na na na na no entry..

A Vicious Cycle

Have decided to abandon my son to pursue my career aspirations. For those who know me, its been 5 years since I took this step. Anyway..the point is I tried to make it up by taking leave for 10 days and spending time with my son. It backfired; he is so used to having me around that now that he is not leaving me for a second. I am dreading the day when i will have to break the news to him that I will be going away for a long time...I guess i am rambling...but thats what you are here for right??

Duets

Two Aricles

Read a couple of articles today that pissed me off quite badly. The first was about Indian soldiers crossing the LOC and helping Pak soldiers rebuild bunkers destroyed in the recent quake. I mean how utterly ridiculous can a nation become? I can understand the Khans of Bollywood and Indian ghazal singers talking crap about our ‘brothers across the border’. After all they have movies and CD-s to sell and it’s a big market out there. But the bloody army? Have these bloody arseholes forgotten the treatment meted to our POW-s? The bodies of the Kargil jawans are still fresh in their graves, Sukhbir has recently been sentenced to death and here we are promoting brotherhood and solidarity. Get real guys! This is not a hindi movie.

The second article was about Sachin’s inclusion in the forthcoming series. The selectors had just the day before made a positive statement by removing Ganguly from the captaincy and asking him to prove his from in the Duleep trophy prior to being selected as a batsman. It was a good move. No one should take the blue lightly and it should be everyone’s duty to give 110% for the country. The next day the selectors chose a guy who has been out of any form of cricket for 6 months and whose performance against the B and C side of Indian cricket was 12, 5 and 22. So what’s the message selectors?

Two Professions

There are 2 professions in India that require no skills, qualifications or ability. One is being a politician. I wont go into that because politics bores me to tears. The other is being a sports commentator. I realized this when Mr Charu Sharma explained to the viewers what was wrong with Sachin’s technique after he was dismissed in the last match of the Challenger series.

Two Series Captaincy

Dravid was made the captain of the Indian cricket side for 2 series. I failed to grasp the thinking that went behind this decision. If you had a new boss who you knew would leave after one month do you think you will work for him seriously? Is it that people have given him rope to hang himself so that after he fails Sachin can be made captain? I have a sneaky feeling that’s exactly the strategy. In the last match of the Challenger, the Indian Senior captain Kaif had a fall and limped off the field. Sachin took over and for the rest of the match the commentators went gaga over each and every decision he took. Mr Sharad Pawar, if you want Mumbai to become the centre of Indian cricket once again, I am sure you can find young, talented, enthusiastic youngsters in Mumbai to back and draft into the team. Leave Sachin alone. Let him toil on, score 20 more centuries and retire with an unbreakable record.

Missed a great chance!!!!!!!

To rub the faces of many an expert and couch critic's faces in the shit of the aussie cricket team...i had meant to make a post after the ashes..first to write about what an incredible series it was..and second to flip the bird at the entire media who were having an absolute orgy flinging mud at the aussies. There is some saying in some language in some country that goes something like 'when an elephant falls the ants cheer' or something along those lines. That was what I felt at that time. An ashes defeat in 18 years and all these arseholes (70% have never played cricket above the local neighborhood level) nodding their heads and talking about the end of an era and crap like that. What these experts should have thought about was if it was any other team facing this current english side, the result would have been 5-0. England were incredible (and not just Freddie) but the way the depleted, injury ridden, out of form (heard about law of averages?) aussies fought was absolutely incredible. Remember the 5th day of the last match? The english side just needed a draw, they were 2 wickets down in the second innings and about 100 0dd ahead, when warnie came and took 3 wickets and the entire stadium shat in their pants. The so-called staid, cultured, sporting english cricket spectators were jumping wildly and cheering no balls, leg byes, anything...and if it was not for Pietersen's innings..who knows?

Anyway, yesterdays game has shut up a lot of people. The others who are still talking..shut up and enjoy the super series.

Oh Ushacomm!!!

“Time it was, and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence, a time of confidences
Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories; they're all that's left of you”

- Simon and Garfunkel - Bookends


A recent spate of emails from old colleagues in Ushacomm (where I spent 3 glorious years of my life) brought a heavy bout of nostalgia. It’s been 3 years since I have left the company and the city, but the bonds are as strong as it was back then. We have all moved on in our lives, people have become husbands, fathers, students, alcoholics, managers, directors…but within everybody’s hearts, there still exists a place that’s reserved exclusively for those days that we had, and that place will be there forever. Among other things it was cricket that brought us all together, and now our memories are inextricably entwined with our memories of our endeavors on and off the field. Who can forget those planning sessions? We had the audacity to book meeting rooms in the office and have day long meetings discussing budgets, schedules, logistics, team selection, cheer girls….Who can forget those matches? And the team meetings in China town or Starlit? And boy we were good!! I seriously regret the missed opportunities – because of people resigning or going on assignments we were never able to build a stable team. Were we a non software PSU kind of firm, we would have won quite a lot of things. And for you cynical non-believers out there, here is proof..

www.photos.groups.yahoo.com/group/thecooldoods/lst

Apart from that also life was great. Work (whenever we managed to get time from our busy schedules to do work) was actually meaningful. Ushacomm was (is) one of the very few Indian companies who have actually developed a software product and have successfully sold it globally. That’s something I am proud of (forget how we screwed up, thats besides the point). Work atmosphere was fantastic (PE bastards may differ with me on this one, but for me personally it was great). Business lunches in silver grill and starlit were another of the perks, as were the evening discussions in The Other Room. The ‘mamonis’ were meager enough to keep everyone interested, and each new mamoni joinee was discussed in the minutest detail over old monk and coke. Salaries were frequently late, but that never mattered. There were always better endowed friends to ask for loans, and loans were paid back in kind (the aforementioned old monk and coke).

At this shitty juncture of my life, where everything in general looks quite meaningless and futile (the other posts will give you a general picture), I am glad I have these memories.

Here’s to you Ushacomm.

Tempting Conversations

Apart from whiskey and orange juice, there is another dreadful combination that comes to mind. The combination of being an introvert and a compulsive debater. If you are exposed to situations when you are forced to be alone, within earshot of groups of people, but aloof (any mode of long distance transportation, bars, in-law get togethers and new office desks have been personal experiences), u will know what I am talking about. Mostly what you hear, you file away with a superior mental smirk (god, these arseholes!!) and then maybe write in your blog..but sometimes your vocal chords just itch to get involved man! Today was a case to point.

I was in the FNPB (for the LAST time, it stands for Friendly Neighborhood Pauwa Bar) and the guys next table were discussing the recent Mumbai Catastrophe - The Closing Down Of Ladies Bars!!!!!!!!! Man u should have heard them! They were so passionate, it brought tears to my eyes...and how I wished, how i DEAR-FUCKING-LY wished I could share some of my opinions with them. A city (METROPOLIS!!) obsessed with ladies bars (glossary: naaaah..look it up in google) for about a year now...an entire government machinery went into closing 1500 bars and making 75000 female bodies more accessible, a city which after being totally shut down and rodgered by a day's rainfall, has gone back to its agenda of maybe converting mumbai into delhi...where the rape rate will be more than Freddy Flint's batting average this summer.

There is so much I wish to say to these guys..not only the guys mentioned above, but with guys who are 'sensible and balanced'..guys who believe that a girl who wears a mini skirt deserves to be eve-teased for example....i wish, i wish, i wish i was not so introverted.

And dont u practical, balanced arseholes tell me to 'stop going to FNPB-s if u r so disgusted'.....

What will I write about then?

The Alchemist

Finally got around to reading The Alchemist. Wonderful. There are passages that can bring lumps to throats of even cynical bastards like me. I am not as erudite as some of the bloggers i
have come across online, but what moved me was not only the simplicity but the language in which the simplicity was expressed. I had never heard of Alan R Clarke before, but i thought him to be no less than Paulo Coelho.

Coming to the point (my blog is always about MY point..i really dont care what happens in Bosnia, for example, if i dont have very definitive points of view about the same). Every book, movie, song, painting, whatever....becomes great if it has the power to tug at your heartstrings. And the more magnificient the work, I believe the more varied are the ways in which it can affect the person diving into it.

From the alchemist, what i took away was not the central concept - that some people are destined to do certain things, and if they have the courage to pursue their dreams then 'the whole world will conspire to make his dreams come true' (nagesh should have had the courtesy to mention the source when he included this line in Iqbal..as a 'serious' film maker, shouldn't it be his responsiblity to try to spread the WORD - things that have moved him?). What I took away was the other concept - live for the present. The past is meaningless, the future is not in your control, so fuck all that philosophy and take your life a day at a time, and make the best of it. My so called enlightened friends and bar mates can argue with me on this till Bush Jr learns the alphabet, but the crux for me was that he was describing the thinking of the nomads, bedouins and tribal leaders of Sahara. Those fuckers now snap their fingers and the Bushes and Clintons come running, while our Vajpayees and Manmohans with their 3000 years of heritage and culture go to the world bank with their bowls.

I am inspired. I was in my friendly neighborhood pauwa bar when I grasped this MAGNIFICIENT concept. I was watching Zee Music. Bips was looking gorgeous (dont get me started on her)..and since I have decided to live for the present, I am going to see No Entry tomorrow.

So, as the inimitable Cartman (South Park) will say..'screw u guys, i am goin' home'.

On Suicide

Do all suicidals think 'If anyone ELSE was in my position, he would have committed suicide'? If so......I am in trouble man...

On Stephen King

The great thing about blogs is that you can prove your 'I told you so' s. Otherwise, most of these are dismissed when you are proved right in the long run. So here is one of those statements I wish to record for future proof.

Stephen King will get the Nobel Pri