There's more to life than High5's

Dreams

2011-12-15T21:18:00.003+05:30

एक ख़्वाब की चौखट पे सर रख के अपना सो गए,

सोचा नहीं की ऐसे तो ख़्वाबों के और भी परिंदे उड़ जायेंगे!

न उलझे हुए यादों के टूटे से पिंजड़े, न कल की और बनते अधूरे से घोंसले,

बस आज ही के सपने और आज ही के ख़्वाब।

कभी पलकों के ऊपर उड़ते हुए ख़्वाब, कभी होठों के कोने पे लडखडाये से ख़्वाब

कभी क्यूंकि से ख़्वाब, कभी यूँही से ख़्वाब।

कभी माला में पिरोये हुए जीते से ख़्वाब,

कभी कल को छूटे हुए बीते से ख़्वाब,

कभी फूल में लिपटे हुए फूल से ख़्वाब,

कभी धुल में लिपटे हुए धुल से ख़्वाब।

ख़्वाबों को जिंदा रख, प्यारे हैं ख़्वाब,

जैसे भी हैं, हमारे हैं ख़्वाब।

वक्त ने किया क्या...

2011-10-29T02:04:00.002+05:30

चंद लम्हे बचे थे मुठ्ठी में, कुछ बह गए थे पानी से
संजोया उन्हें, संभाला उन्हें, की खर्च न हो जाये कहीं।
किताब के पन्नो के बीच, रखा उन्हें ये सोच कर
की सँभालते सँभालते सिलवटें न पर जाये कहीं।

सोचा नहीं एक पल भी ये, किताब भला वो कौन सी थी
इतिहास के पन्नो में भी लम्हे हो जाते हैं गुम।
गणित के गणित में भी लम्हे विलोम हो जाते हैं
फिर कौन सी वो किताब भला जहाँ लम्हे संभाले मैं और तुम।

बूक्शेल्फ़ के एक कोने में फिर,
संकोच में डूबी वो किताब दिखी,
जिसमे कहा था कवि ने एक ,
लम्हे युहीं बहाए जा, बस लम्हे यहाँ बहाए जा।

Sweet 60!

2011-10-01T20:02:00.005+05:30

What does 60 mean to you. The fact that each unforgiving minute is full of 60 long seconds and each eternal hour is pieced together by 60 unforgiving minutes notwithstanding, the fact remains that 60 is one of the most unglamorous numbers.

They decided that 50 is a half century and 100 makes you a hero. 60? Who cares for 60. The worst thing is, you retire at 60, making it one of the most dreaded number. Suddenly a virile man becomes old and irritable, or worse, irritating. A sultry aunty becomes a sulking grandma. Shit.

Do you think a song called Summer of 60 would have become famous. Guess not. And pray tell me what position can be called the 60 position, it would lead to nothing but boregasm!

However, as a friend said..."It reminds me of my morning TEA AT SIX" made me recall that every cloud has a silver lining.

When my Dad went to convince his dad that it was ok for a Bihari Rajput to marry a Bengali kayasta...he borrowed 240Rs from his friend...it was 4 months worth of his savings from, guess what, his earnings from tuitions of the princely sum of, yes sir, Rs.60! But for those 60 priceless rupees earned each month for four months, where would I be? A nameless, faceless, tadpole shaped, unicellular, uninteresting equivalent of space junk!

When Onion sold for 60...Governments fell!

Guess what people mean when they say make it large? Yup 60ml.

You know what they call a unhealthy collaboration in hindi... ६०-गाँठ!

You know the angles of a equilateral triangle...well they are of 60 degrees each and you superimpose two of these, it becomes...Star of David...the union of male and female...Yin and Yang! Don't underestimate mate!

My next post...number 2...when you fail to succeed...

Chin Up!

2011-07-23T22:56:00.003+05:30

कश्तियाँ तूफ़ान से डरतीं तो लहरों का आलिंगन कहाँ करतीं ।
ज़िन्दगी किनारों पे बैठ कर नहीं जिया करते ।
गर सांस का आना ज़िन्दगी है तो सांस का जाना भी ज़िन्दगी है ।
फेफड़ों में भरके हवा होंठ नहीं सिया करते ।
लौ अगर जली ही नहीं कि जल जाऊँगी, तो उसकी किस्मत में बस अँधेरा है ।
बुझे बुझे से दिये रौशनी नहीं दिया करते ।
धूप से डरता है तू तो उजाला क्या देखेगा ।
धूप के बिना तो पेड़ छाओं भी नहीं किया करते ।

Cyclic Reference - Much Ado About Nothing

2011-05-04T23:15:00.004+05:30

The pullup ring that hangs down from the jackfruit tree still exists,though the rope is frayed,

The koel still sings atop the neem tree, all she needs to say is already said.

The drumsticks in season still flowers,

And the pomegranate falls in that well of ours.

Sparrows sometimes still fall in the well, no one drops a bucket to pull them out,

Poor souls thrash and gulp and drown, can't for help even shout.

Guava Rots and falls amidst thunder showers,

And chickens lay egg in that backyard of ours!

Friends walk past, don't even glance for fear,

They just might see some ghosts of those past years,

They bow their heads and walk past those flowers,

That still bud, in those rose bushes of ours.

Must move on, time can't stay...

Memories fade and hair turns gray.

Must learn to live life by the hour,

And fake it in our Ivory Towers!

IF - रुडयार्ड किपलिंग की यादगार कविता

2011-04-21T17:51:00.003+05:30

अगर सर अपना रख सको ऊँचा
जब सभी के सर नीचे हो और वजह तुम हो ये कहें,
जब खुद पे कर सको भरोसा उनके शक के दर्मेयाँ
और पूछ सको उनसे उनके शक की वजह भी।
जब कर सको इंतज़ार बिना थके, बिना रुके,
झूठ को जब तुम सच न बनाओ, और नफरत तुम्हारी फितरत न हो,
जब तुम ज़रुरत से ज्यादा न बनो, न दिखो। ।

जब तुम देखो सपने, पर उनमे खो न जाओ
जब तुम सोचो पर तुम्हारी सोच ही न मंजिल हो तुम्हारी,
जब सफलता और असफलता दोनों ही एक से लगे
और तुम्हारे सच का झूठ बनते देख सको तुम,
जब तुम्हारा पूरा जीवन तुम्हारे आगे बिखर जाये
और फिर टूटे हुए औजारों से उसे जोर सको तुम। ।

अगर अपनी तमाम ज़िन्दगी को जुए की तरह हार सको
और फिर से कर सको सुरुआत उसकी,
बिना कुछ कहे, कुछ सोचे।
और बेजान जिस्म को कह सको की थोडा और रुक के अभी
काम और भी हैं ज़माने में करने के लिए। ।

अगर भीड़ में भी उतने ही तुम तुम हो
और रजवारों में भी तुम तुम हो,
अगर न दोस्त, न दुश्मन तुम्हे हरा सकें
और हर इंसान तुम्हारा हो पर ज्यादा नहीं,
अगर हर मिनट में तुम रख सको लम्हों का हिसाब
दुनिया ये तुम्हारी है और तुम
हो गए हो बड़े मेरे बेटे । ।

क्या मंदिर है, क्या मस्जिद है.

2010-09-30T19:25:00.001+05:30

मन ही गीता , मन ही बाइबल, मन मेरा कुरान,
गुरु ग्रन्थ साहिब मन है मेरा, मन ही वेद पुराण।
मन ही गिरिजा, मन गुरुद्वारा, मन में राम विराजे हैं,
मंदिर मस्ज़िद गुरूद्वारे सब, उसके ही दरवाज़े हैं।

आरती गाओ, नमाज़ पढो तुम, सुन लो तुम अज़ान
हिंदू हो तुम, या हो मुस्लिम, मिल जायेंगे भगवान।
मन की पूजा ही असली पूजा, मन में राम विराजे हैं,
मंदिर मस्ज़िद गुरूद्वारे सब, उसके ही दरवाज़े हैं।

अल्लाह है वो, जीजस वो, वो ही किसन कन्हैया है,
ढाई हाथ ज़मीं क्या उसको, जो इस जग के ही रचैया हैं।
मन से मन का मेल करो तुम, मन में राम विराजे हैं,
मंदिर मस्ज़िद गुरूद्वारे सब, उसके ही दरवाज़े है।

पशु पवन और हर बच्चे बेलों में, कबसे बसते हैं भगवान,
फिर पत्थर की मूरत में जाने क्या, खोज रहा इंसान।
मन में मुरख बसा तू इनको, इनमे राम विराजे हैं,
मंदिर मस्ज़िद गुरूद्वारे सब, उसके ही दरवाज़े है।

बरसात की एक रात

2010-09-25T19:29:00.004+05:30

जम कर बरसी व्याकुल बरसात
और भिगो गयी तन को भी, मन को भी
अँधेरी अनोखी अजब सी ये रात
भीगती रही और हंसती रही।
तारे दिखे नहीं तो क्या
चाँद नज़र न आया, न सही
और भी बेहतर कुछ मिल गया
ऐसा भी होता है कभी,कभी।
कुछ हम भीगे, कुछ तुम भीगी
कुछ भींग गया आसमान
यूँ ही भीगने, भागने में
बरस गए कई अरमान।
बस यूँ ही ये बदल बरसते रहे
यूँ ही तो होती रहे बरसात
कुछ तुम कहो, कुछ हम कहे
और कभी न बीते ये अनोखी रात।

Who moved my Curd Rice

2010-08-23T22:06:00.002+05:30

Ok. I know.

The title of this post is deceptively similar to a Best Seller Self Help Book. Disclaimer: The similarly is purely coincidental and not an attempt to fleece the popularity of that book.

It's not one of my seven habits to write lift offs. Come to think of it, its not even my bathrobe.

So, is this one of those cookery blogs...not really...its not even Chicken soup for the Soul...

To write a Cookery blog, after all would be a recipe for disaster.

So, what is this blog about?

Frankly, it's an ode to mediocrity. It's all about "Forget, Who Moved my Cheese...Who allowed me to get some cheese in the first place.!"..I was so happy with my Curd Rice...it goes well with Mango Pickle...it's difficult to move...both little people and little mice can't move it...and no one can move the big people...which is what the result is, if you have enough of curd rice!

So, who moved my curd rice!!!

Once upon a time...there was a Baba...not Baba Sehgal...although he was there too...this was one of them real things...those who teach Strip Yoga and Tantric Sex to middle aged foreigners. This one was the Before Specimen of Before and After adverts for Waxing Strips. Where there is a Baba...there is a baby (No..I think I got that one wrong...I think that one goes something like where there is a Bill there is a Monica...Aw! forget it...I am mixing these things...someone get my Cigar.)

So this Baba...he decided to write a book - It's actually quite simple to attain babadom...you begin with Tantric Sex...move on to an Ashram of your own (any order is fine...just don't forget the Sex)..get a fan following...write a book...get an exclusive MMS of your own...and voila...you are now a Baba. You should either be a Baba...or you should be Paris Hilton. All other Professions are for losers. Where is the curd rice - you must be thinking. Rightly. You see, there is no Curd Rice. There wasn't meant to be. Curd Rice was a metaphor.

Metaphors are the next big thing. Discovering new Metaphors is something like discovering the diamond in you.

Come to think of it, unless your mom was a rich babe...I doubt very much they will find a diamond inside of you. Not too many people can shit diamonds, it takes real guts to do so...pun purely by accident.

Well, this Baba...like all other Baba's, wanted to write a book. Like typical Baba books, this one was about discovering your inner voice. It talked off, among other things...writing the script for your inner voice...listening to the positive energy flowing through your inner voice. Really, if you spend too much time talking to your inner self, you'll end up in one of those Nursing homes for the rich. The ones where they give you enaemas if you get a headache.

To be continued...

एक सड़क की कहानी

2010-06-05T22:36:00.002+05:30

निकले थे इक राह में हम
ये सोच कर सामने मंजिल है
कुछ और चले तो पता चला
के रास्ता ही मंजिल है।

कुछ दूर तक अँधेरा है
कुछ और राह ये बोझिल है
बढे चलो तुम बढे चलो
आगे सड़क ये झिलमिल है।

रुको नहीं, मत ये सोचो
हमे यहाँ क्या हासिल है
चले चलो, तुम चले चलो
यहाँ कदम कदम एक मंजिल है।

अगर मिले कहीं दोराहे,
कोई एक राह पकड़ लेना
इस राह भी कोई मंजिल है
उस राह भी कोई मंजिल है।

अगर लगे एकाकी मन
और समझ न आये क्या करें
कुछ दोस्त तुम बना लेना
दोस्त यहाँ बड़े अच्छे है, दोस्त यहाँ दरियादिल हैं।

Musings of a Bookworm

2010-05-08T23:20:00.006+05:30

आज भी जब मिलते हैं पुराने दोस्तों से
बहुतों से नहीं मिलते, न बहुत बार मिलते हैं
कहते हैं सब वही पुरानी बात हमसे
"क्या आज भी तुम रहते हो किताबों में आँखें गोते"
और हम कहतें हैं उनसे, अपने ही अन्दाज ये बयां में
वक्त के बीतने में, गुजरने में लम्हे
वक्त के बिखरने में, बिगढ़ने में लम्हे
हमेशा, हर जगह, एक से कहाँ होते?

मेज़ पर रखी उस पुरानी किताब के पन्ने
कभी खामोश होते हैं, कभी गर्म हवा में फरफराते हैं
कहते हैं हैं कभी दबी दबी जुबां से हमसे
आजकल क्यूँ नहीं अपनी छाती से हमे लगा के सोते
क्यूँ तुम लैपटॉप के पन्ने में अपनी
तक़दीर खोजते हुए, कभी टटोलते हुए
ज़िन्दगी कों माय दोकुमेंट्स के फोल्डर में फाइल करके
हुए जा रहे हो बस होते होते!

छह महीने से बुकशेल्फ मे एन्चंत्रेस ऑफ़ फ्लोरेंस
नयी नवेली दुल्हन सी बेचैन है अपने सुहागरात के लिए
कभी कुछ भी तो नहीं कहती, फिर भी
याद करते हैं उसे हम सोते सोते
कुछ किताबें ऐसी भी हैं जिनको पढ़ा है कुछ बाहर से
जिनके बारे मे न तो अनजान हैं न कुछ जानते हैं
न बेखबर है जिनसे, न पहचानते हैं
जो बस रह गयी बंद, शुरू होते होते !

कुछ किताबें तो ऐसी भी हैं, मन के किसी कोने मे बंद
जो लिखी ही नहीं, बस रह गयीं एक ख्याल बन कर,
इनके भी फसल लगाने के, काटने के लिए
कुछ नन्हे नन्हे से बीज होते, बीज होते, बीज होते!

Bangalore to Kanyakumari Via Madurai and Rameshwaram

2010-05-02T20:43:00.005+05:30

It has taken me a while to get back to writing. Actually, it has taken me a while to get back to Life itself after having my share of chasing the mundane.

The folks were in and wanted to take a train or a Bus to Kanyakumari from Bangalore -not exactly my idea of a fun Vacation -so suggested that I tag along as the designated Driver and we do this leisurely on the Swift! Boss was sweet (Writing this line as it is the Annual Review Season) and granted Leave pronto.

As these things go, scheduled a routine service for my Car and the day of service it got buggered by a bike and ended up with a proper maintenance schedule of a Week with 3 days to go for the Trip! Did not want to do this trip on a Alto-Lets go with 4 Adults and 1 hyperactive Kid so exchanged it with Ajay's Swift (TN Registration was an additional boon since it meant that one would not get too noticed while one drove down TN Roads!) and the Car held good (After a 9 Point Service and Nitrogen in the Wheels) for all of 1760Kms although the fuel efficiency could have been better!

The Drive started off well on Sunday the 25th April, we started early (about 8.00am) and hit a relatively free NH7 beyond Hosur - We carried our own Lunch so did not really have a lengthy stopover anywhere except to have lunch by the way side (Had a Large Ice Bag so there was no dearth of Supply of Chilled Butter Milk for most part of the day!)

We hit Madurai around 2PM (435Kms in 6 Hrs with a stopover of about an Hour is not such a bad thing!) and checked into Hotel Tamil Nadu - Madurai I (Old Properly but very clean and very neat and Value for Money for a Twin Bedded A/C Room with Separate Dressing Room at Rs1000/Night! - Was our acco of choice at all stopovers wherever rooms were available. You Can book online at http://www.ttdconline.com/) - We spent the evening at Meenakshi Temple and I alone spent the night at the TTDC Bar with a Rum and Coke!

26th Morning saw us head for Rameshwaram and enroute we changed plans to come back for the night to Madurai and instead decided to stay back at Rameshwaram - at hindsight a good decision - Rashmi booked the Hotel at Rameshwaram - Non TTDC as it was not available since we planned our trip and one of the reasons for the original decision to head back to Madurai instead of staying over at Rameshwaram. Rashmi also managed to get TTDC to postpone our 26th Stay at Madurai to 29th (for our return journey)

Rameshwaram was great especially Pamban Bridge which connects the mainland to the Island. The place is falling apart due to neglect but retains its original Temple Town charm.

Performed Pooja at the Ramanathswamy temple on 27th before heading off to Kanyakumari. Realised that there was a Bandh Call by the Left, so decided to stick to the National Highway rather than take the smaller State Highways and connecting roads. This meant coming all trhe way back to Madurai on NH 49B (Two Lane-but road in excellent condition and rejoining NH7 from there on, possibly an additional 50 Kms, but worth not taking a risk). Still managed to hit Kanyakumari at 3PM (Started from Rameshwaram at 1o:30am and travelled a total of 405Kms.). NOT.BAD.AT.ALL.

TTDC Hotel Tamil Nadu Kanyakumari was more...much...much...more than what I expected. Two Double Rooms for Two nights at Rs.4080 Plus Taxes gave you a Beach front property where Peacocks (in the plural and wild ones!) strolled on the Lawns. The Bar stocked Old Monk at 50 bucks a Large! The Restaurant served Indian, Chinees and Tanthoori Food - Good Food spelling notwithstanding!

The Heat was killing although Vivekananda Rock Memorial and Thiruvaluvar statue were great. The Sunrise was a dampener due to over cast conditions, but still got a good picture!

Also discovered the Suchinram Temple (The only temple of its kind where Bramha,Vishnu and Mahesh are worshipped together as a Trinity and presumably the place where Indra got salvation after doing the deed with Ahilya, hence the name Suchindram!). It's here that we found a place selling Barotta (Sounds like Beretta!) and Boori Masal (I know it sounds like a very hot and very well known place but roughly translates into Poori-Sabji!)

The Drive Back from Kanyakumari was a relaxed one, we took our time to start and reached Madurai only at 5PM. Checked into Hotel Tamil Nadu Madurai Unit II (A Star property, no less although the rate remains reasonable at 1200+Tax for a Double A/C Room. It was here that I also realised that since we managed to continuously stay at 3 Hotel Tamil Nadu's at a Stretch, we had a 15% discount due to us! (Pocketed a cool 1272/- which meant that Petrol for the Journey Back was now Free!). The Bar (Bar-Bar for me on this Trip, as you've noticed by now!) was as good as ever although costlier in terms of 65 Bucks for a large Old Monk!

Basically did nothing but sleep on this trip to Madurai, although did manage to catch up with the beautiful Thirumalai Naick Palace the next day before heading back to Bangalore.

Reached Bangalore at around 5.30pm on 30th April and headed straight for the Balcony to check on my 24 Potted plants (All survived, partly due to heavy watering and Plastic covers placed around the roots before we started our Journey!) and Buckets of Water flowed!

The body gave up around 7PM and stayed that way till 1PM the next day (A Good Massage at Ojus between 11 and 1 cured me!)

Will add details as I remember them. You can catch up on the Photos on my Facebook profile, till I figure out a fast way to load a slideshow here.

Hope you enjoyed reading this account.

A Few of Life's Missing Pieces, I wish I still Had

2010-04-04T21:46:00.004+05:30

1. Those 10 bucks Haircuts underneath the Mango Trees!
2. Rum and Coke at Anup Khalkho's Christmas Nights!
3. Hot Samosas, Chai, Shared Suttas (The Golden Puff) and Chilling Rain through the thatched roof!
4. Porn smuggled through the back door in the middle of the night!
5. Gawking at Girls at Subhash Bose Chowk (Real freedom!)
6. Haywards 5000 and Butter Chicken at Punjabi Dhaba!
7. Thinking that Flying Machine was an International Brand!
8. Setting up Chinese Food Stalls for Durga Pooja - Not making any money - Having loads of fun!
9. Reading Mills & Boon and pretending one does not!
10. 7 Rs Lunch shared with Girlfriend at Jal Joga - Salad thrown in Free once the Fatherly waiter realised we did not have much money!

Laughing all the way to the Bank.

2010-01-14T00:26:00.002+05:30

Well, finally got a late night's shows ticket to 3idiots last friday and since then have been trying to post this. There has been a lot of "song-and-dance" - pardon the bad pun- about how Chetan Bhagat got screwed by Aamir and Gang! Screwed? My Ass!

I have read the book and I have seen the movie. .AND. I am a huge fan of Chetan Bhagat for Making Indian Writing in English less about Elephants and Snake Charmers and more about the BPO Guy.

The Book borrows a semblance of a plot from the Novel (as it should as they brought the rights) but then, its a normal College Story like so many of them, which may or may not have got written!

And Poor Ol' Chetan Bhagat...not so poor after all. The reasonably good 5.someone,the horrendous 3mistakesofmylife and the delightful 2states are all doing brisk business, thanks to all the controversy.

Having said that; I think it's in bad taste to deny him proper credit.

Cheers!

Another Year Gone and the next one on its way out by the days!

2010-01-02T02:21:00.002+05:30

So 2009 is history, so is day one of 2010! How time flies.

Well, well, well! So how was 2009, I ask. Was it all of what family, friends, well wishers and unknown numbers promised you at the stroke of Midnight, Jan 1, 2009 through hastily forwarded SMS's most of which you forwarded, but did not reply to?

That brings me to the next question. How many of those hastily forwarded messages of Jan 1, 2010 and the well wishes they bring have moved you to tears? I got more messages from unknown numbers than from people I interact with on a daily basis. These unknown numbers, most of which, I did not bother to find out and assign a name to, are people from the past, some recent, most not so recent, all however, well meaning people, who become supersenti about your well being for exactly a day on 01-01-whatever before getting on with their "normal" lives the next day. Who cares about 3-idiots when we have all turned out to be 300000 idiots despite educations best effort!

Let it be. Lets' not become cruelly disillusioned at 2:34am on Day 2 of the TENTIES, as someone suggested this decade should be called. Pun or no pun, suggest its high time, we pitched our TENTS in the backyards of new beginnings and give up on silly middle class dreams! For every Ambani there are a million Nobanis and for every Tata, there are those bye-byes.

TOI and Jang group came out with "Aman ki Asha" to foster peace between India and Pakistan. A good beginning. I hope it tests the boundaries of the human spirit and makes the impossible, possible. Even the Berlin Wall fell.

Someone asked me what my new year resolution was. Quite honestly, I was flummoxed. Resolution, huh? I thought we discussed those when our carefully prepared PowerPoint presentations didn't look quite quite so carefully prepared when we projected them on the Big Screen. But, then again, That's what we have made of our lives, one hell of a PowerPoint pesentation, where you move from slide to slide, justifying a point of view, knowling fully well, that it's as easy to make a contrarian presentation using exactly the same material!

HIV AIDS, remains the greatest of killers, as ever and we are busy promoting the H1N1 vaccine. Ruchika continues to search for justice after almost 2 decades and we are figuring out what to call the next decade. The media decides to fight for her cause, only once the TRPs become guaranteed. Jharkhand votes for change by completely ensuring the ruling party does not get enough seats। The same guy becomes CM again!

And yes fairness cream was doing as brisk a business as ever.

खुश है ज़माना आज पहली तारीख है! मीठा है खाना आज पहली तारीख है!

Well, I resolved, not to resolve.

Happy New Year!

Alternate Use of A Washing Machine. #1

2009-12-28T08:51:00.002+05:30

Why would anyone want to write about an alternate use of a Washing Machine, of all things. What good is it anyways.Vibrates, giving your clothes multiple orgasms. Shakes like those deranged people on "Dance Timbuktoo Dance" shows on TV. No good. I tell you. Believe me. Period.

I heard they make Lassi in Washing Machines in Punjab. Whoever made those Surd Jokes should be tried for criminal conspiracy to deny them the patent for being the most inventive of souls. I wonder what they use in place of Pressure cooker? Steam Engines,maybe. Now we know why railways had to electrocute, oops, sorry, pardon me, electrify themselves.

Anyway, I always knew that Husbands were meant to blend in with the Furniture, but never realised, just how seriously it would be taken in my own house till I saw the washing machine being used to dye all my undies to match the color of the latest curtain/bedsheet, etc. Now, if I encicle my arms around a curtain, I look like one of those monkeys that they sell in home accesory stores!

Washing Machines, are no good. Absolutely no good. Well and Truly, no good. I do wish, however, that a certain US President owned one of these, instead of believing "Daag Achche Hain!" It's better to own a Peach Underwear, rather than being impeached!

The Story of My Experiments with Sex, Lies and Video Tapes Part III: College and Beyond!

2009-12-06T19:45:00.004+05:30

I am back!

I know, 5 months is a long time to spend thinking about writing a new post! But then again, if only the world had a few more thinkers and a little less doers, we would have been a better place.

On the one hand, there is the biggest doer (do gooder?) there could be. Uncle Sam! Compulsively obsessed with setting things right! Half the worlds mess has been created by our dear Uncle. Be it Afganistan or Iraq, or Pakistan, or the Gaza strip, our dear uncle has a footprint everywhere a.ka. Godzilla! It has done absolutely no one any good, transforming the World into arguably two completly muddled Bipoles of the "Wronged and the Wrongdoer" who keep exchanging places.

On the other hand there is this group of thinkers, the United Nations, whose perceived usefulness in life is to undo the done, unravel the ravelled, and basically sit around and think!

We are having earth summits to cool the earth which is suffering from the physical manifestations of Global Warming. Another example of Man's obsession with the Physical! Size does not matter dude! We are anyway hell bent on killing each other off on socio-political grounds, and at the rate we are going, Global warming is going to find only leftovers!

But, this isn't about any of that! This is about the Story of my Experiments with Sex, Lies and Video Tapes! College and beyond!

Since most of you have been wondering, where the fuck (pun completely intentional) is the sex in this 4 post story. So here goes my tribute to Choubey!

Who?

Choubey, was a friend of mine in the 5th standard, there were Rahul and Anup and Kautuk and Choubey!

Rahul, Anup and Kautuk remain the closest of friends till date. Choubey, I Believe, was God's idea of injecting a banal version of Cupid into our lives.

Well, Choubey was the one, in the 5th standard, who let it be known, that before Salman Rushdie or Amitava Ghosh or Arundhati Roy etc, Indian writing in English was not so famous precisely because we were too busy reading Indian Writing in Hindi beneath the covers. MastRam, did not win any Bookers, but "they", since it was most definitely not a Singular, but a plural entity which initiated us into "Bhabhi ka pyar" were too busy making Men out of Boys to really care!

Choubey vanished from the scene long before he could leave a lasting impression on us. Instead of being the Viagra of our initiation into the virtues of sex, he became the quintessential premmature ejaculation!

So we remained, as our parents would sigh in relief, mostly untainted, arguably pure, from the vice called Sex, till a little after we entered college.

Who is we, you must be wondering. It's me and my little John Abraham I am talking about!

College left us with no choice, either you knew about the topic, or you did not!

Well, well, well by the time I entered college, we were no more just a small group of friends but a motley gang of adolescents hell bent on breaking all the rules.

So yes, we smuggled VCRs-yes those large monsters carried around in VIP Suitcases, renting at 60 bucks a day, each tape additionally costing another 20 bucks - under the noses of our parents and learnt about Big Boobs Betty's Quest for Long Dong Silver!

And yes, my brothers stash of Porn was, once upon a time, discovered and very publicly burnt under the able supervision of Ma, but not before he had had an opportunity to hide some of the more graphic ones!

Hey! Sweet Victory of Good over Evil!

But for the rest of the month, he was the butt of all jokes in the circuit.

The advantage of having a elder brother is that you don't have to worry about creating from scratch, your own stash of porn. You can always take a loan! Sometimes by deceit, if necessary.

To be continued...

The Story of My Experiments with Sex, Lies and Video Tapes! PART II

2009-07-08T23:15:00.004+05:30

PART II: How I Sleepwalked through School

My schooling started long before I started school. My mother used to teach me alphabets while she cooked food - on anything from an old fashioned electric heater (of the coiled variety) to a Coal fired one - this was the era of License Raj and a "Q" for everything including a Gas Connection.

We got our Gas connection much later, perhaps in 1984 (That makes it the same age as my formal education), that too because a friend of my father's was kind enough to pass on his connection to us - to this day we use the same one back home! It was my first lesson in friendships and relationships.

I joined school is a rather odd fashion. Due to my mother's ability to school me real well, I scored great marks in my Entrance Test. Unfortunately, no one told my parents that I needed to also prepare for my Viva! I remember a very British-Stiff-Upper-Lipish Mr Richard Ian Thornton (Our School Principal from 1983 to, I believe, 2003!) asking me question after question in his charecteristic, difficult to understand, soft and suave voice, and me the dim-wit-village-idiot looking on Blankly! (I remember - This is a Pencil is the only answer I could barely mumble out!)

Well, well, well - my father was not too happy for it. The apple of his eye had just bungled his chances of boasting about his kids (Big B did well for his entrance) studying at the most prestigious, possibly the snootiest school in town! Guess what - a mad rush at top speed standing in front on a second hand Bajaj Super followed - tears (Due to the cold wind dumbos) flowing down my cheek and as if this was not enough, an hour long session of "Nude Sunbathing" - yes this was before they decided that it was illegal for parents to suitably punish their kids deviant behavior - followed. Surprise, surprise, my school still thought I was good enough to be admitted, the only side effect of the entire episode being a slight denting of my ego and the near permanent tan that I got( Yup, I am tall, dark and handsome - just like them Italians - except the nose bit, which I inherit from a rather unimpressive set of ancestors!)

Despite my personal sleepwalking act through school, it was actually fun at Westcott Boys' (Bishop Westcott Boys' School for the uninitiated). It was actually more fun reaching school than being there - we used to get up at 4am and get ready for school which was close to 40-50Km from home (We were in a Hydro Electric Power Station whereas school was in Ranchi Town), we would take an old fashioned Jeep to School, Sohra, the Driver or Sohrai as his parents named him, being his usual cheerful self. We used to barely manage to reach just before morning assembly to recite our "Holy God" bit. Sometimes we would stop on the way to pick raw mangoes - and were resourceful enough to keep shaving blade and salt handy in the Jeep - and get late.

I joined 1A in westcott uner the able and subsequently ample presence of Mrs. Bawa, uneventfully got promoted to 2A - shit, don't remember who the class teacher was - and got rather unceremoniously passed on to the care of Ms. P D'cruz in 3A - I still remember toiling to "By Heart" the "I Saw a Ship a sailing, a sailing by the sea, I was it was laden with pretty things for thee" under her watchful eyes. Then I was moved to 4C - possibly due to my complete disinterest in studies - and do not remember the class teacher obviously because of my complete lack of interest in him!

5C and 6C was spent in the able care of the ever lovale Mr. Hansen and his booming voice, the admiration was mutual, that is why he requested to be promoted along with us to the higher class! My mother used to call him the "Lal-coat-wale-Sir" for his obvious love for the same Red-blazing jacket which he used to wear for all important occasions! 5C was also when Choubey - a classmate - first showed me a genuine, mint copy of western Porn - Long Dong Silver was truly well endowed!

7C was under the competent care of Mr. Sanyal and we all liked him, except for that one occasion when our only assignment over the weekend was to write "I won't do mischief in class ever again" a thousand times!

8B and 9B was spent under obviously forgetable teachers and by this time "Chakra" short for Chakravarty also had his strong and inept grip over the school administration and standard of teaching, but more importantly standard of Student-teacher relationship was definitely on a downward spiral.

10th Standard (Combined strength of 9A and 9B) was a saving grace spent under the able guidance of Mr. Mazumdar.

I went mostly un-noticed, except on those numerous occasions I scored a near perfect 99 in English Language and and Literature (Making complete sense of even Julius Caesar - complete original work of shakespeare, not a synopsis! A lot of my ineterst in Literature could be attributed to Miss Walker, who went on to become Mrs Kerketta, much to the collective dismay of a 60 strong class of -just-into-puberty-boys!- She was definitely good with her subject and also had a near mesmerising effect on us, especially with her habit of twirling her locks with her Index Finger - Left hand, to be precise). The other occasions was when an assignment I wrote for English (I remember it, it was a short story which necesarily was supposed to end with the line "..but when I opened the door, there was no one there.") got returned with the comment "Next time write an original short story." Well, Mrs. Kenswar, it happened to be well and truly original. Thank you, genuinely, for making me believe in my ability to one day, truly focus on, my writing, which that one sentence of your proved, I had in me. I wish someone pointed you to this Blog, despite all references to Sex, I am sure you'd be proud!

I scored a rather respectable 79% for my ICSE exams and decided to give up the "Never give in Dear Westcott, Strive to the set of the Sun, though you may not win, but you'll yet come in, if you will stick it through, thats the way we have in Old Westcott (1927 was when it was setup) - The best school of all, and we will strive (unsure about the exact word here) to its motto's power, till the last bugle call!" school song and move on to college - but that's another story for another day!

Non Nascor Mihi Solum - Live not for Self Alone! I don't know how far I have been successful in living upto that motto of my school.

The Story of My Experiments with Sex, Lies and Video Tapes!

2009-06-17T23:16:00.005+05:30

This is a 4 Part Series where I talk about my life.

Part I: Executive Summary

Part II: How I Sleepwalked through School

Part III: How I Screwed my College Education

Part IV: My Life as as consequence of my MBA

Part : Executive Summary

I began going to school in the summer of 69! Well not really, it was more like the summer of 1984. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times - I scored a perfect "100" in Mathematics in my first term exam and an equally perfect "0" in English reading and recitation. Who said I had a way with words - more like I had a way with figures! Never mind, since that first term exam, my tryst with figures was on its way down the curve and my tongue was put to the job! I started scoring in the steady thirties in Mathethatics by the time I hit 5th Standard.

I sleepwalked through most of school before I realised that enough was enough - I did not have it in me to become a doctor, my maths score was dismal and Indian Writing in English was still not fashionable.

That's when I rekindled my fascination with Figures - of all varieties - if you know what I mean.

My ICSE scores were quite telling, a cool 86% in Mathematics - my guess is they cut 14 marks for jumping steps- this was before MCQs were part of 10th Exams and you were actually expected to follow sequential method of problem solving - no quickies, ensure enough foreplay!

My English score, much to the dismay of my English teachers who were secretly seeing the new Salman Rushdie in me, was a dismal 72%.

Well, I promptly opted for PCM, went on to crack NDA exam after NDA exam, despite the armed forces consistent failure in digging out a single Officer Like Quality in me!

Around this time I realised that there was a significant shift in my thinking - suddenly the only figures I was concentrating on were those between the pages of Playboy and heavenly bodies no more meant asteroids! To hell with Physics and Mathematics, it was all pure chemistry!

I went on to take Physics as my major subject in graduation. God only knows why - by this time I had absolutely lost all interests in deriving special theory of relativity a 100 yrs after Einstein did it! Most of my Physics Professors had not a single research paper to their credit, nor had they sired a single legitimate child - equivalent of a Boson - but they toiled on - fueling IIT dreams - mostly empty, of an entire generation.

I went on to do my MBA, topped my batch - accidentally, most likely - at least thats what half of my batchmates would have you believe! Then started my 7 year tryst with the two key discoveries of the last decade (1) The Seagull Effect and (2) The Carpenter Phenomenon! More about that later

To be continued...

Condom...Condom...Condom...Condom

2009-06-03T13:43:00.002+05:30

In a novel effort to make condoms and condom use more socially acceptable in India, the BBC World Service Trust has created the Condom ring tone. The effort has also been funded by the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation.

Downloading and using this ring tone would kill the inhibitions and taboos that can be associated with condoms. In the process if your parents disown you, or you get sacked or your girlfriend / boyfriend understands your real intentions...its your problem my friend.

Download the condom ring tone here.

Now, the only Social Service I do is social commentary through my Blog. I thought that I need to contribute more than that and started looking for subjects where I can make a difference and came up with this one.

To tell the truth, as sex is on my mind most of the times and everyone is promoting Safe Sex (Not Sex per se) through Condom ads (and other suggestive ads most of which should be Axed), I thought why not support this cause. I mean, truthfully, Life begins with Sex and could end with unprotected sex.

Here are the Top 30 Brands and their Punch lines which I think will go a LONG (pun intended) way in promoting safe sex:

1. BIG B Condoms…For the “Asli Mard”
2. BIG B Condoms…Ye Diwaar Tutati Kyun Nahin!
3. Dev A Condoms… “De Ab Anand”
4. Dev A Condoms…Shake It Up!
5. Dev A Condoms…Chalta hi Jai!
6. Mithun Condoms…“Kasam Paida Karne Wale ki”
7. SRK K…K…K…Kondom. Yes...Yes...Yes...Boss!
8. SRK Condoms…For the Night Riders!
9. Kaka Condoms...for those who hate tears re!
10. Govinda Condoms…Really colorful!
11. Akshay Condoms…Unbutton without consequences!
12. Dilip Condoms…Na Munna…Na!
13. Jeetu Condoms…For the Himmatwala!
14. Sanjeev Condoms…No Hands. No Problem!
15. Shashi Condoms… Ma…Who?
16. Sanjay Condoms…Sheath Your Weapon!
17. Sunil Condoms…Let India be the only Mother!
18. Dharam Condoms…For the Hot Ones!
19. Manoj Condoms…Ye Desh hai Veer Jawano Ka!
20. Rishi Condoms…Ek hasina thi…Ek Diwana Tha!
21. Safe Condoms…Khulke Kare Na!
22. Aamir Condoms…No more Taare Zamin Par!
23. Guru Condoms…For the Pyaasa in you!
24. Shilpa Condoms…Be Warned!
25. Priyanka Condoms… Don Ko Pakadna Ab Mumkin Hai! Catch him on his way out!
26. Ranvir Condoms…Bachna Ae Haseeno!
27. Rajni Sir Condoms…Make the impossible happen!
28. Farhan Condoms…Rock on!
29. Deepika Condoms…No more shaanti…make some noise!

And…the big one…pun unintentional

30. Lilliput Condoms…Love has no limits!

A Big Fat Indian Wedding – How Big B got a BB!

2009-05-01T02:51:00.005+05:30

Not since the coronation of Akbar as the Badshah of Hindustan or the Launch of Model T was an event as eagerly awaited as my Big B’s (Prateek to many, Pedro to few and Big B to us) wedding to his long standing (till they agreed to sit down!) girlfriend (Sangs, Sangeeta, Husmukh Singh).

From the bourgeois by lanes of Byculla (Huh!) to the Raucous Residents of Ranchi, from Birbhum to Birmingham, from New South Office Para to New South Wales, people waited, and hoped. In short, just about everyone who was anyone held their collective breath from the time they got to know about it – through Mails, SMS’s, Turmeric smeared card – till the time they both said I do (not really, it was a Hindu ceremony). The Great Indian General Elections, the Tata Nano and this, are arguably the top three events of 2009. Three cheers!

The Cultural complexity of India was unabashedly evident. A Gujju Dulhan without a tinge of Gujju accent, a sophisticated Bihari Dulha - where do you get one of those, someone asked – and a set of family and friends from both sides who reveled in their collective ignorance of each others traditions and nuances of rituals. A culture where every man is a Bhai and every woman, a Ben almost laughed its heart out on realizing that a measly set of three brothers can all have names starting with the letter “P”.

All the Masala of a typical big fat Indian wedding was there – Women smartly dressed in their best of silks and jewelry – unmindful of the sweltering Mumbai afternoon, the only saving grace the large cutouts from the back of the blouse, men as usual mostly turning up in their safe suits.

A set of foreigners were busy clicking pictures of their potentially first exposure to an Indian Wedding – don’t be surprised if some of those photos find their ways into the National Geographic! - People dancing away in the middle of summer, most of the dance in Indian weddings involves just arms and arm pits with hardly any legs been shaken, and definitely none of the steps being in tune with the really loud music, I was actually surprised that the band forgot to play all time favorite songs like “Raja ki aayegi baraat, rangili hogi raat”, “Dulhe raja aayenge, saheli ko le jaayenge”. Thankfully they managed to play the very telling "Ye Desh hai veer jawanon ka, albelon ka mastanon ka." Unfortunately, there was not a single baraati who did the omnipresent Snake Dance. In fact I was so disappointed that but for my recently acquired pot belly which makes me look like a very pregnant snake, I would have done it myself just to keep the tradition alive!

I had read somewhere that technology bridges gaps – I saw this bit in action – my dearest brother and my equally dear Bhabhi chatting away on their cell phones from across the room! It was so obviously not about the IPL scores!

My daughter was busy collecting kisses from Pretty Young Things from across the LoC – I wish it was me – while my parents were busy feeling important about the whole thing!

My little brother, Small B was too busy getting flack for everyone else’s mistakes – there is a price to be paid for being the youngest bro – that I guess he would have maybe enjoyed about the first fifteen minutes of the entire song and dance routine!

The youngest Bahu of the family, Deepa basically danced her worries away – no one can really dance when they know a third dictator is about to be coroneted.

Rashmi, my wife, who lost her unethically, unabashedly and uselessly acquired position of the eldest Bahu by virtue of my getting married first, looked relieved.

All our family who had taken the trouble to come all the way to Mumbai, were slightly overwhelmed at the whole thing, especially on seeing a Bride kissing men friends. Our Bua, who was always considered ages ahead of the times, was slightly worried that she might also get a kiss! Thankfully tradition survived the onslaught of modern ways and they all – God bless their simplicity – got their toes touched!

A bit of drama, typical of Bihari Baraat, was created due to a communication failure during the reception. My father, not without reason, got an opportunity to play the all important, hot-tempered father of the groom, not easily pacified, and everyone had an opinion about what went wrong. Actually nothing did, or maybe just a little bit did go wrong, it was mainly a scene seen in almost all Indian weddings, I wish I was carrying some pacifiers in my pocket; things would have been prevented from getting unnecessarily escalated.

A bigger drama unfolded two days later when we tried to return to Ranchi and realized that most of the train tickets were still waitlisted – an early morning rush to the airport ensued and Big B lost a fortune on 15 Flight tickets! Last we spoke on the subject the following plans were in place to recoup the loss:

Plan A: Bed Tea without milk – recover in about a couple of hundred years – plan unrealistic, drop.

Plan B: No Home theatre system for the Guest Bedroom – recover in a day – plan unrealistic as there was no plan for a guest room home theatre – drop.

Plan C: Lick your wounds and get on with life – knowing Big B and Husmukh Singh I guess that’s what they would do.

P.S.: For the sake of national unity and integrity, I have decided that all my knowledge of other parallel events like bitching sessions, bickering, unfair comparisons between the three Bahu’s will not be published in this Blog. Thankfully I do not fall under the Right to Information Act!

P.P.S: Please wait for Volume II – Ranchi Reception – coming soon….

ABCD: A Life in the Day of a Human Person

2009-03-31T18:34:00.000+05:30

A day begins like any other,
Begins on a promise and a song
Could not have been any better
Does not need to go wrong.

Effortlessly it starts to roll across
Fun way to get the job done
Greatness begets greatness, it does
Hope you notice before the day is gone.

In a flash it passes by
Just when you start to enjoy it
Kind Sun moves through the sky
Laughing like an activist.

Moonlight rests on its haunches
Night spreads its slow cheer,
One, two, three, come out in bunches
Pub-ward bound for a Pint of Beer.

Quiet descends as spirits soar
Restless hearts, trancelike state
Some are happy, some are sore
Twice the singles, half with date.

Unless you live the day
Very little chance you stand
Whether a prince or on daily pay
Xenomorphic day, try and understand.

Your day is not over, no Sir
Zariba day, Zariba enclosure.

O Sexy Sexy Mama - A Futile Debate

2009-03-17T10:50:00.002+05:30

O Sexy Sexy Mama - A Futile Debate

This is not really a Traffic Signal Tale except that it happened while I was waiting for the signal to turn green at the traffic signal and heard the following song on radio O Sexy mama let us do the Sa Re Ga Ma, O! Sexy, Sexy Mama It’s quite a fun song actually and you do feel like Head-banging to the tune.Now, my daughter (who is two years old) is really good with songs. She can already sing but Pappu can’t dance Saba – thank God for small mercies – and was picking up this one quite nicely before the Censor board intervened and said that while the song can continue as it is in theatres and Radio, the word Sexy has to be replaced by the word Crazy for TV. There goes my chance to, through the nice offices of my daughter, proclaim that my wife is Sexy, now, if I am to believe my daughter, My wife is quite crazy. ओ मेरी पागल माँ, according to the censors is a better way to address your mom rather than ओ मेरी सेक्सी माँ!
Incidentally this is a Baba Sehgal Song, the same Baba Sehgal who sang रुकमनी, रुकमनी, शादी के बाद क्या क्या हुआ to the tunes of A. R. Rehman and got away with singing words like खटिया भी धीरे धीरे खट खट करने लगी, आगे पीछे हुआ तो छट पट होने लगी …In the early 90s, I had to run the distant between the commode and the living room in less than 3 seconds at the same time buttoning my shorts when this song, on a cassette borrowed from a friend first played on the record player at my home, my father had a nice laugh at my discomfort, of course. Both of us realized soon enough that I knew exactly why Khatiyas do खट खट!
Twenty years hence another generation of Indian’s is now growing up being fed cheap horror shows, cheap advertisements, loads of violence, cheap cartoons, grow up thinking it ultra cool to drink Cola from morning to evening, watch unaesthetic condom ads, think its all right for Mother-in-laws and daughter-in-laws to plot revenge through most of their living lives, for fathers and mothers to have multiple partners, and still believe that it’s wrong to have a mom who can be considered sexy! I think that’s unfair. Cultures were not meant to be static. They are by nature of definition supposed to be transient. So while I believe my mother will take offense if I called her anything but “माँ”, I am sure my daughter, if the censors allow her, can get away by calling her mom “ओ मेरी सेक्सी माँ.” I am equally sure, that she will get a proper spanking if she calls her “ओ मेरी पागल माँ.”I remember my Childhood days, Raj Kapoor and Nargis were not my favorite actors, hence I never realized that प्यार हुआ इकरार हुआ फिर भी प्यार से क्यूँ डरता है दिल could possibly have any other next line but डीलक्स निरोध सबसे ज्यादा बिकने वाला कंडोम! And believe me; I have my own pervert habits, but it in no way made a worse man out of me than I would have otherwise been, if I did not know the word condom as a child!As far as film songs go, I have my own reservations about what some of them dish out in the name of lyrics – and I do not see a chronological sequence of degeneration, they were good or bad across the entire length of Indian Cinema – nevertheless, I think most kids know चोली के पीछे क्या है, they after all spent most of their first six months trying to figure that one out!I am trying to figure out whether it’s a sexy debate or a crazy debate! A futile debate, anyone?

O! Futile Futile Mama.

10 Reasons why Matrimonial Sites Don't Work

2009-03-15T15:46:00.005+05:30

I was browsing through a matrimonial site and came across these hilarious profiles. No. Don't get me wrong, I have no intention of marrying any of these men! Its just that I was actually scouting for masala for my Blog.

1. 35 Year old Divorcee father of two is looking for a 26 year old virgin girl.

Experience should carry youth along if this country is to develop!

2. A Charcoal Black guy (Michael Jackson wasn't fair to begin with people!) is looking for very fair, milky white girl.

You want dalmatians as offsprings.

3. A well settled software engineer is looking for a beautiful, homely, working (well settled, software? does not seem to matter) girl.

An unsettled cook-cum-maid will bring more spice to life.

4. A short and plump highly successful professional is looking for a slim and health conscious girl.

You the Brand Manager for Kelloggs K Challenge?

5. A Milky White, spiritual, ambivert (Where's the fucking dictionary guys?) from a close knit family is looking for a tall, working, fashion consciuos very fair girl.

You looking for a MTV VJ? Sheetal Malhar matches your partner profile to 6Sigma levels but does not qualify.

6. A very handsome (His parents did a Gallup Poll it seems) family oriented guy is looking for a sasural oriented girl.

Too many families spoil the equation.

7. A Guy who has visisted Europe and USA several times and whose parents are well settled in Mumbai and whose ancestral roots are in Mugalsarai is looking for a homely girl.

The girl should not have ventured beyond champaran.

8. A 38 year old straight forward guy is looking for a girl with substance and youthfulness.

Looking for an underage drug addict dude?

9. Someone is looking for a tall, fair, jovial, homely, accomodative, traditional and custom oriented working girl who can also cook, iron, and darn.

You obviously wants to have multiple partners. Naughty you!

10. A personal with wit, charm, energy, 6 figure salary and six pack abs, is looking for just about any girl from any background.

He is obviuosly gay and is doing this just to get his parents to shut up.

IN"SENE"TY INSTEAD OF INSANIYAT

2009-02-27T13:53:00.002+05:30

Shobhaa De: Sita Sena. Join now. Speak up!!

All I can say is that there is a lot of inSENEty all around. Let us not create more. If I must support a cause, it will be one which supports the Girl Childs right to Life and to Education and to a Wholesome Meal. Killing her at Birth or Denying her education or making her eat after "Bhaiyya ne kha liya" is infinitely more dangerous today than protecting someone's right to eat-drink-and-be-merry or dress-as-they-please.

While I believe that all rights are absolute and there is no relativeness about them and hence you should not prioritise your defense of one against another, because Society's resources are finite, I would like to use them where they matter most.

Slumdog Millionaire - Basking in Reflected Glories!

2009-02-25T18:05:00.004+05:30

Anyone who has an issue with my previous post – and I respect that - is requested to listen to the following song or any other from RDB.

aye saala abhi abhi huaa yaqeen ki aag hai mujh mein kahi

hui subaah main chal gaya

suraj ko main nigal gaya

ruu-ba-ruu roshni heyy - 2

jo gumshuda-sa khwaab tha voh mil gaya voh khil gaya

woh loha tha pighal gaya

kichhaa kichhaa machal gaya

sitaar mein badal gaya

ruu-ba-ruu roshni heyy - 2

(dhuaan chhataa khula gagan mera nayi dagar naya safar mera jo ban sake tu hamsafar mera nazar mila zara) - 2

aandhiyon se jaghad rahi hai lau meri ab mashaalon si bhad rahi hai lau meri

naamo nishaan rahe na raheye kaaravaan rahe na rahe

ujaale mein pee gaya roshan huaa jee gaya

kyon sehte rahe ruu-ba-ruu roshni heyy - 2

dhuaan chhataa khula gagan mera nayi dagar naya safar mera

jo ban sake tu hamsafar mera nazar mila zara

ruu-ba-ruu roshni heyy - 2aye saala - 4

Now tell me they are not Oscar worthy (Both A.R. Rehman compositions. The Lyrics are by Prasoon Joshi). Better still tell me that before Rang De Basanti happened to this country, there would have been Candlelight Vigils in support of Jessica Lall, or against 26/11 or Pink Chaddi Campaign against the Mangalore Attacks?

Rang De Basanti was instrumental in awakening the Public Consciousness of the Country and it’s music - Which is also what India’s contribution at Oscars for Slumdog essentially is - was a key part of that Bugle call.

My point is essentially this – Why all the Hoopla about a movie by essentially Non-Indians made for a Non-Indian audience winning a Non-Indian Award? I can still understand a bit of chest thumping for A.R.Rehman or Gulzar or Resul Pookutty but why the entire chest thumping about 8 Oscars for Slumdog. What has India (On Indian Brilliance) got to do with that? Ben Hur, Titanic and Lord of the Rings: Return of the King each has won 11 Oscars but India does not seem to care.

Stop Basking in Reflected Glories People!

Now I hear the Maharashtra Government is providing Houses to Rubina Ali and Azharuddin Ismail. Great. I am happy for them. I wonder what happens to thousands of other Children living in Slums of Mumbai. What is going to be done for those who still study sitting next to Kerosene Lamps, breathing noxious fumes because there is no electricity; or those who beg on traffic signals and have no hope for the future? Do they wait for a Danny Boyle to “discover” them and make “celebrities” out of them, before we bother to discover the plight of our own?

When will Pinki Smile because we wanted her to smile and made an effort to make her smile, not because she ended up at the Oscars?

A Small Town Boy Lives on...

2009-02-23T14:56:00.004+05:30

Before I begin farting about my life on this post, let me first post my tribute to another small town boy - the one that every screwed-up news anchor worth his salt, never mind his limited knowledge of how the Oscars, or the Film Industry work - has been farting about. A.R.Rehman. Yes Sir, the same guy who gave us memorable music for Roja, or Bombay or Dil Se (Chaiya, Chaiya to my mind is decidedly better than Jai Ho, unfortunately Dil Se is not a Hollywood movie!)

Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, Jai Ho is my current Caller Tune-maybe its because of Sukhwinders rustic charm, I love A.R. Rehman (despite sometimes finding his music too geeky, as in Computer Perfected, missing the human touch) and I am happy that a Indian Music Composer has won not one but two Oscars! Kudos!.

But that's about it guys, period. Everything else about the Movie's technical side is decidedly as un-Indian as it can get. It's a Hollywood Movie and like many other Brilliant Hollywood movies before it, has won multiple Oscars. Big Deal. Move On. In fact, look within yourself to figure out why an Indian Producer, and an Indian Director, could not figure out a good way to make the same movie in India - after all it was an Indian Story! (Sorry Madhur Bhandarkar, you make nice movies, want an Oscar - Move to Hollywood Man! the Media will go mad about you, not that its not already quite mad!)

I for one, would have been more satisfied, if such a movie would have (1) Been appreciated by most often than not, an Indian Audience with Quite Shallow Taste (2) Won 10 Filmfare awards instead!

So, here I repeat myself. Kudos A.R. Rehman for winning an Oscar. Don't forget however, that you have given better music earlier as well, do cherish your other awards, despite all the media hype about this one.

Screw everything else about Slumdog Millionaire!

My Life will have to wait, its not Oscar worthy! Do I care dog shit!

A small Town Boy

2009-02-19T06:43:00.007+05:30

I grew up in a place where it cost me 75 bucks to get a e-mail ID created! and the Cyber Cafe guy did not even let me touch the keyboard. To top it all, despite the relative uniqueness of my firstname last name combination, he got me an id which was like prabhashn@yahoo.com, I mean who get's you prabhashn@yahoo.com (thankfully abandoned now) when you can get prabhashnirbhay@yahoo.com (don't try sending me a love note on that one - its available but I have not got it yet!), why not simply get plainstupid@yahoo.com (Now wouldn't that be nice!).

What I was trying to say is that Ranchi was real small, come to think of it, it still is, despite half a dozen Reliance Fresh's and a Big Bazaar, and a Cafe Coffee Day sharing it like a dormitory. It happens to be the capital of Jharkhand, never mind that a part of the population still relieves itself behind "jhars"!

There was once a time when VCR was the main source of entertainment, and movie tickets were 15 Bucks! and it was impossible to explain Y2K to anyone. I hear there's a Multiplex there now!

I remember when I started working for Arvind Brands - a Garment Manufacturer and Retailer - people could not, and still can't fathom as to why I would sqaunder a hard earned MBA by working in a Tailor's! That was after they understood - taking their time at it - that MBA was respectable enough, even if I was not smart enough to be a Doctor, on an Engineer, or better still an IAS. I have not done these same people proud by moving from one unlikely employment to another, even now, my parents think it unwise to let people know that I work for a "Daaru Kumpani", people won't believe them, if the word multinational was uttered. Why in fuck's name did I not get into something safe like IT, even BPO. Satyam hasn't dented the enthusiam for IT.

But then again, my parents have been a little unwise in letting all three kids get into unlikely professions. Big B, thats the eldest, has been working in Events Management for almost a decade now, in the first half of that decade, it was difficult to explain what event management was, in the second half of that decade, post the enlightment of Dubey in "Monsoon Wedding," it was difficult to find a remote location to runaway to. My Brother was called Dubey for quite sometime after that! Small B, the youngest, decided to follow in my footsteps - he works for the same tailor now, the turnover is in hundreds of crore, does not matter. Once a tailor, always a tailor. And I, unmodestly called Tall B - for my height, in case you hadn't guessed already - I keep shying away from IT, and have ignored my last chance - before I turn 30 - to appear fro the IAS!

My poor parents!

Hey! got to rush before the Bangalore Traffic translates rush into crawl...this post will continue...promise.

There's still more to life than High5s

2009-02-11T23:13:00.001+05:30

My sincere apologies to all my fans out there -Gotcha! You thought for a moment I had loads of those, didn’t ya – nevertheless, my sincere apologies to the friends and family who indulge me by reading my Blog. I admit, I have been lazy, worse still, I have rationalized my inaction by blaming it on my busy (read that as mundane) schedule.

Forgive me, forgive me, and forgive me. Better still, bludgeon me to death and ask me for forgiveness instead! There is no excuse for inaction. Any action is better than that.

I have been busy trying to reach intellectual orgasm these last few months – rationalizing, thinking, Obamargasming, etc. Basically – fuck all those who have issues with the use of this word – I was failing miserably in trying to get an intellectual erection, do they make Viagra for the brain I wonder. Do they make brains?

Barack Obama captured public sentiments – so much so that my daughter recognizes SRK, Aamir Khan and Barack Hussein Obama – in fact she thinks the world has Obama and the world has “other bamas”! Talk about denting our collective conscience.

Kasab also captured public sentiments – for the wrong reasons – although Pakistan still thinks that he is a figment of the imagination of over 1billion people!

While public sentiments was busy getting captured, some “mut-alike” fellow was busy curbing private sentiments, putting “loose” women in their rightful place. He got truck loads of Pink Chaddis, G-string and all, to stuff in his mouth!

Valentine’s Day is just around the corner, and so are the moral police, take your pick. Roses are going to cost INR50 a stick, otherwise sensible women are going to swoon at the sight of pink teddy bears, and honest single men are going to feel like jerks, and will prowl the college and work campuses in search of a date! Add the “culture” factor – never mind we are in the “Devadasi Backyard and voila, you have the making of front page stories. Men who there own mothers don’t know exist would suddenly be made into instant celebrities because they beat up young boys and molested young women in the name of safeguarding Indian culture!

What irony that a country whose Prime Minister is called “Man Mohan” aka “Chitchor” aka stealer of hearts has no heart!

I bet the two women who will get the most roses will be “Behen ji” and “Sonya ji”.

While people were discussing about their rights to get into a pub and drink till they drop dead – good luck to them – I suddenly realized that there are more Pubs and Bars in Bangalore than schools!

Are we fighting for the right cause folks?

Terror Strikes Mumbai!

2008-11-28T14:48:00.000+05:30

It happened once more and predictably in Mumbai, which has already seen some of the most devastating terror attacks.

Tragedy is not that hundreds of innocent people have been killed once more; the tragedy is not that the Country, in one night, also lost some of its best Police Officers! The tragedy is that it happened in one of the most predictably obvious targets, and within that in predictably the most vulnerable, most accessible and quite logical targets. The Oberoi and the Taj Mahal hotels are barely at a walking distance of the Gateway of India and so obviously accessible from the Sea. Unfortunately, our intelligence agencies, aided by inept politicians’ complete apathy, had neither clue nor the necessary preparedness to handle the situation. To add to the woes, all and sundry politicians’ started descending on Mumbai, giving the forces the choice between protecting innocent civilians and protecting these Z+ (whatever shit that is) secured guys! What kind of choice is that?

And it will continue to happen as long as guys like Shivraj Patil, with no antecedents, nor inclination to learn, continue to hold portfolios as important as the Home Ministry despite repeated public showcase of a total lack of capability to handle the situation. His only eligibility criteria - that he is a Nehru-Gandhi Loyalist! Despite their arguably decades of service to this country – pardon me for saying this – “Ye Desh tumhare baap ki jaagir nahi hai” (This country is not the private property of your Father) – that you’ll hand over its management to any Tom, Dick and Harry – mostly Dicks.

Mr. Patil said He was proud that certain Policemen had died in the line of duty. Mr. Patil, you don’t deserve to be proud for the sacrifices of able men, you ought to be ashamed that they had to die, or are you too think skinned along with your numerous designer clothes to assist?

I think its time that Mumbaikars refuse to showcase the “indomitable spirit of Mumbai” that politicians use as shields to hide their callousness, ineptitude, and disregard for ordinary citizens of this country.

There is no spirit left. The nation is heart broken, not because innocents got killed, but because innocents got killed AGAIN!

Mumbai, please, for a change, keep that spirit in abeyance, let them feel the pinch of a Mumbai coming to a compete standstill, if necessary for weeks, till such times that they come out with comprehensive, executable action plan, not hollow words.

Corporate houses in Mumbai too need to come together and say that they are too tired of this to even want to bounce back, how about bouncing out instead, that should do the trick as far as Mumbai goes, the rest of the country of course will continue to suffer.

One saving grace is that the Western Media, for a change has taken more notice than it normally does – maybe because American and British Citizens were involved (Tumhara Khun -Khun, humara khun – Paani “Western Blood is Blood and Indian Blood is water?) – At least the world understands that this is not just a third world problem.

What hurt me most personally was that quite a few of us were too busy chasing our daily targets to bother about, or concerned with this, simply because Mumbai is not our backyard. Someone please teach such people that nothing else can be more important in life than life itself!

A Matter of Interpersonal Choice - The Kunti Phenomenon

2008-11-26T18:21:00.001+05:30

Last night I caught up with a debate on TV, on the pros and cons of Premarital Sex. Both sides had very self righteous approach to it. One side talked all about gaining experience - what’s wrong in Being a Management Trainee in Marriage, instead of straight being a CEO, I wondered, and please that’s not the only experience required for a successful marriage, how about more mundane areas like Cooking and Budgeting, and Child Birth – the other side talked all about abstinence, to keep oneself a virgin for your husband/wife, mostly husband because I do not hear too many debates where it is found worthwhile to ask whether a guy is keeping himself in pristine condition for his future wife.

The main question in my mind was, where does right or wrong come in, is it not a question of personal choice, or maybe a question of interpersonal choice!

And yes, most of these debates equate virginity with vaginal sex, there where no clarifications on Oral or other forms of sex, or even masturbation! To my mind, Virginity is a state of mind. If, in your mind, you have experienced desire, if in your mind you have had an orgasm, or if you have really had an orgasm, you are no more a virgin (You may call it the Kunti Hypothesis – apparently no Sex was involved, but because she gave birth to Karna just by thinking of the Sun God – She lost her virginity and had to go a great length to hide the fact!)

Otherwise, there is no other definition of virginity that is gender neutral and hence progressive. Alternatively, as an after thought, you may say that if two or more people are involved in a sex act, virginity is lost (irrespective of how far you go – heavy petting, mutual masturbation, intercourse etc), else not.

Now the question is, if virginity is lost, does it matter? I think not, but then that’s my opinion, and to impose my opinion on others would defeat the very secular nature of this article!

THE UNCOMMON MAN!

2008-11-20T16:24:00.003+05:30

He walks out of his office. It’s his last working day and he has decided to not be polite even for a moment. After all it’s not his style. He is not a common man.

He is, after all, by popular account – The uncommon man, Man, MAN!

But to begin at the beginning once more, he walks out of his office, or rather his big, bad paunch walks out first, and he follows a couple of minutes later. I remember someone saying – Structure follows strategy. Is this what they meant, I wonder.

He walks out, and he is thinking something. You can make that out by the way he twitches his moustache – no, wrong expression - he actually twitches his nose and the moustache follows obediently.

His day has been normal, he is mega satisfied with himself, having sent some really rude e-mails, for having woken up people from their apparent disinterest in what are potentially cutting edge assignments. He positively cannot fathom as to why others don’t share the same enthusiasm for excellence, the minimum standards for any assignment is after all, “world-class”.

In this age of inclusiveness and diversity, he is the greatest champion of diversity. He has this knack to respect, and to insult, regardless of gender, sexual orientation, genetic map, etc.

He is actually diversity personified.

He is a minority unto himself and to have him in the team is by itself a very satisfactory diversity policy and success story! Where else can you find a person who potentially can become the first casualty of a POSH he himself launched! Now come on, who in their right senses would do something as crazy?

He is a master in music, mainly classical. But he is classic in his mastery, or lack thereof, of Hindi. Even here, he does not, true to form, distinguish, or shall we say, discriminate between genders, Women to him, are man enough!

Ladies and gentlemen, I regrettably but quite proudly (for having known him) escort a very uncommon MAN out of our doors.

May the doors be kept open, in hope that, the paunch, and its owner, will walk in again! Structure, as always, will have to follow strategy.

I wonder who will do the insulting around here now!

Immaturity to Maturity Continuum

2008-11-17T18:12:00.004+05:30

The question I had in mind while posting this peice of Behavioral Science was, what is the effect of Positive or Negative Reinforcement (B.F.Skinner)on a person's movement on the Continuum.

However, in this day and age, I honestly don't know what being immature means. Is Political correctness and making people hear what they want to hear - Maturity and as a consequence, being honest and upfront- immaturity?

Suppose someone asks me for an opinion, and I give them mine, and its not exactly what they had in mind in the first place - Which one of us is immature, I, for having a difference of opinion, or they, for not being able to live with that difference! Is disagreeing with a point of view Immaturity or is being disagreeable on being confronted with an alternate opinion, Immaturity?

Those are my questions on defining Maturity. However, the more important question that I have is what do I do with all the negative reinforcement that I am getting to exhibit a certain kind (read - preconceived) of mature behavior. Do I shrug in indifference. Do I study it like the way I am doing now as a keen observer of the subject, or do I, myself being the subject as well, allow myself to be led by the consequences of the theory, to be moulded into a certain pattern of behavior which may be mature by definition, but definitely not a true piece of me, and hence, not of consequence to the moulder. Catch 22!

Great Indian railways

2008-10-29T18:39:00.002+05:30

Does interesting travel happen to some people all the time or do some people make all travel interesting? This post is an attempt to answer that question by way of an example, that of our recent trip to Shirdi.

Shirdi is an interesting place, by all accounts you simply can’t plan a Darshan - it happens to you. This trip proved that once more. We planned to be at Shirdi on the long weekend starting 2nd October, got the leave sanctioned, got up early on many mornings to try and book the ticket online, somehow it never happened. The next weekend, despite the shorter notice, it became possible. On the day of the travel, just about 5 hrs left to catch the train and oops, Chiya develops a fever in excess of 102F. An hour or so to catch the train and we are still with the doctor 20 km from the railway station, decided to leave everything to God (and to the bunch of medicines prescribed by the doctor) and reached the station with 10 minutes to spare! We worried all the way to the station about the fact that her temperature now was below normal (overdose of medicine? should we, shouldn’t we? what if….incidentally come morning the fever was completely gone).

Finally we settled in our compartment. We were in the same Bogey but in adjacent coupe – another way the railways makes your journey exciting. One lower berth and one middle berth is what we had – never mind that another family was completely occupying the lower berth and looked at us beseechingly so that we part with the same – we would have too but for the fact that Chiya is too small to safely occupy the middle berth with Rashmi. Anyway, I managed to be firm without being rude and the rest of the night was relatively uneventful. Not really. For one this family in question was close to 20 people and were traveling with their entire household effects – Food for 100 people (Dinner, Breakfast and Lunch and spare meals for emergencies!), plates, pots and pans, I think I saw a cow as well. Maybe not! They would have had a tough time trying to put a cow in the upper berth anyway! To teach a cow to use a western toilet must be quite a task and to flush after that an even bigger one.

Separately, scores of waitlisted passengers spent the night haggling with the TTE for a Berth. A Waitlisted passenger in AC compartment is just another way for the Railways to become profitable I guess, in the process if TTEs also make some money, why not. After all it’s a nice mix of socialism and capitalism. Maybe even communism with 100 people sharing space meant for 60!

Then again, the Indian Railways were always a social commentary. You see all shades of people and behavior to go along with it. I have had the privilege of traveling in all compartments right from the IInd class to 1st AC. On the one extreme is - a towel thrown in through the window reserves a berth in the best of times and a place to squeeze in in the worst of times? The other is the extreme of snootiness, you not only get a extremely private (read boring) place to yourself, you also get people to wait on you, if only that pot bellied, smelly attendant could be replaced with a Flight attendant from one of the premiere airlines (who knows, you may still – looking at which of those institutions is more profitable). In the first instance, you can shamelessly borrow a Beedi from one of the co-passengers or maybe even tobacco to chew, in the second, in all probability you can peacefully have a heart attack!

The best way to travel in the railways is of course Sleeper class – people are friendlier, most people offering you food are harmless (although occasionally it may be drugged) and unless your planets are aligned in a negative manner, you will find very few cockroaches to share your food and your berth with.

You can safely chain your luggage to any and all existing hooks and pillars without for a second feeling typically middle class!

The best Platform Food and tea is also normally available to Sleeper Class passengers – Tea in Kullars (Non existent mostly, despite Mr. Yadav’s tall claims), Piping hot Bread Omelets, Puri and Sabji both dripping tons of oil – if someone could figure out how to tap into the railway toilets, I am sure it’s a perpetual supply of endless energy, separate the oil and use it directly as fuel and convert the rest to Biogas! I can see the headlines too, “USA signs a historical S1, S2, S3 deal with the Indian Railways despite strong Chinese opposition – Green Cards to Railway Vendors, Citizenship to Indian Middle Class, technology transfer from the Indian Railways. The military is concerned as this is transfer of duel use technology – Potential Biological warfare implications, especially since culturally we fart quite unabashedly."

The biggest advantage of the Railways over the Airlines is that your entire family can see you off right up to your seat.

Oh to see those multitudes, all with valid berths and most with valid platform tickets jostle at the gate as if someone else is going to occupy their seats.

If you are a 20 something good looking female - actually that’s sexist, it happens to quite ugly looking young men as well – no way you can safely travel on the Indian railways unless your Father, Mother, brothers, sisters, cousins, uncles, aunties, childhood friends and the next door auto rickshaw walla come to see you off. They must all enter the compartment, check that all fittings are in order, fan is working, and adjacent seats are occupied by “families” as against hormone pumping, young, lone “deranged” traveler of the opposite sex!

Thank God! I married and have a kid as well, gained some respectability, fathers of all supposedly good looking girls from Patna to Panaji have since sighed in relief. So have I, having suffered the humiliation of being considered a potential “Majnu” or worst a rapist! The added advantage for me is that now, if (academically, mind you, no real intentions) I do decide to lech and ogle, I need to be worried about only Rashmi as against some girls entire family tree since independence!

To be continued…

STAY HUNGRY!

2008-10-22T14:22:00.003+05:30

It’s been a while since I have posted on this Blog and even while I was posting, it was spaced more than I ever wanted. Since writing is one of the things I genuinely love doing, this set me thinking about the direction my life is taking.

You wake up in the morning, jumping out of bed to come to work, not so much that you want to (jump, that is) but that you have to. You are already feeling tired, have not slept well all week – and that’s your story for your entire working life – and there is general lethargy. Unfortunately, you also happen to love the work that you do, it gives you a high. Unfortunately, it also takes away from everything else that you love doing, some more so. Dilemma, huh?

You sleepwalk through your morning, catch up on the news (its either catch up on the news and get late to work, or not catch up at all, you choose) take the car out of the garage and drive down 17 km to work – ideally a 17 minute distance – and it takes you anywhere between 90 to 120 minutes, and you do it twice a day!

You get along with your day, sometimes coasting through, sometimes struggling with, but you get through the 10 hr day (ideally, 12 hrs is not a problem spent on quality work, but then you already have provisioned for the 3 hrs daily commute). At the end of the day, you reach home, drained and disgusted. Take stalk of your time – 1 hr preparing to get to work, 3 hrs commuting to work, and 10 hrs at work, 1 hr winding down from work. That’s fifteen hours. That gives you 9 hrs (wow!) to have your breakfast (I mostly used to miss mine, nowadays I eat it at the traffic signals - necessity is the unwed father of invention!) – prepare and have your dinner and then go to sleep (Most of us supposedly need 8-10 hrs to just do this last bit to keep our Biological machinery in top shape) – Interesting or what?

That brings me to two questions:

Is it worth it?
If not, what do we as individuals, and the organization that we work for, do about it?

The first question, obviously has a spirited (or dejected?), resounding NO as an answer. To do what we have been doing and to get a monthly salary which either takes care of your day to day needs or an imaginary future and does nothing significant to add to your present, unless you count those white goods that you can’t genuinely enjoy or the car you’d much rather not drive as a value-add. Look at the irony; I work in a mad rush to earn money that buys me stuff that I would not need if I had more disposable time instead of more disposable income! I can only smile that wry smile.

We notionally own two cars (notionally because one is company provided and costed as CTC and the other one we are still paying an EMI); we notionally own a house (notionally because in an inflationary economy, we would continue to pay the EMI till we retire!). We own a Microwave and a washing machine and pay exorbitant electricity bills to run the same and earn more money to pay those bills. Unfortunately, with more time at hand both these equipments are unnecessary and the work that you do to earn that money to pay for them is also unnecessary and hence releases your time, elementary.

So very clearly, you need to work only because you love doing it, every other reason is superfluous.

So what do we do about it?

Firstly, my advice to organizations is simple, go beyond the superficial and genuinely realize that employees are spending more and more time on work or work incidental activities and the only way work life balance can be achieved is not by superficial HR (or Non HR?) actions like taking employees to picnics, but by more robust, thought through interventions which do not follow the lead of others but carves out a name for itself. Let me give examples. Once upon a time, it was thought that 8 hrs was a good time frame to work. It went hand in hand with issues like 8 hrs was more or less fixed, stretching was not involved, and commute was far more easier. When commute to work became difficult (and organizations added to the difficulty by getting further and further away from the city centers to manage costs) the entire difficulty was passed on to employees to manage from their personal time. I know of no organization which has said that owing to the organization being located at a distance of 20 or more kilometers from the place of stay, the organization has reduced (not changed) its working hours by 30 minutes? Not one. The improvement in productivity reflects in the organizations P&L and the loss of individual productivity reflects in the employees personal P&L, unfortunately, no one except the employee is required to audit that. Not even organizations which control the commute through their own services like buses, have thought in this direction.

Work life balance cannot mean balance your work by constantly giving up a piece of your life. When was the last time a work life balance programme was launched, which envisaged giving up a piece of work to balance life!

Secondly, my advice to individuals (starting with myself) is staying hungry. Ask yourself this simple question every morning - “is what I am going to do today dear to me?” - if the answer is “No” for most of your days, its time to look for a change. Go out in search of what you truly value, make the sacrifices required to achieve that and you will achieve that. Stop living the mundane existence.

As I keep saying, there’s more to Life than High5’s. Tough choices will be presented to us often in life and only tough decisions will help!

Human Tragedy unfolds…On the Banks of the Kosi, in the tunnel of our minds!

2008-09-02T18:00:00.002+05:30

The happiness quotient of a nation is not determined by how many people are happy, it’s determined by how many people are unhappy, and our score is pathetic.

On August 18, 2008, the Kosi River, also known as the “Sorrow of Bihar” picked up an old channel it had abandoned over 100 years ago near the border of Nepal and India. The river broke its embankment at Kusaha in Nepal, thus submerging several districts of Nepal and India. Almost the entire River reportedly was flowing through the new course. The worst affected districts included Supaul, Araria, Saharsa, Madhepura, Purnia, Katihar, parts of Khagaria and northern parts of Bhagalpur,

2000 people are reported dead although the official figures are closer to a 100. 26 Lakh people are affected and more than 10 Lakh evacuated. 250,000 acres of farmland is under water destroying wheat and rice.

But this isn’t the biggest tragedy. The biggest tragedy is not what has happened. The biggest tragedy is what has failed to happen. I remember the Tsunami of 2004, when the entire nation stood together, at hindsight, perhaps because a Tsunami, by its novel nature grabbed attention, whereas floods in Bihar –change the topic – what’s new about it. They happen all the time! After all didn’t some statistician say, 20 dead is tragedy, 20,000 dead is statistics.

Our singular apathy to it, limited to reading the front page of the newspaper (5 minutes, maybe 10) or 2 minutes of news, channel surfing between a Big Boss and a Soap (watching imaginary tragedies unfold!) is cheap, degrading and simply takes away the right to be considered civilized.

In fact someone I genuinely respect as a human being commented, unexpectedly, quite surprisingly, and if I may say so, unbecomingly that “even God wants to wipe Bihar off the face of the earth.” And I wanted to ask. Why? What is it that Biharis have done that they deserve this? If an utterly exploited, genuinely suppressed, part of the country, as a consequences of that suppression and ages of oppression has turned out to be a Social misfit in an “IT enabled” environment, who is to blame?

Let me throw some light on the place that Bihar was. To begin at the beginning, Kosi or Koshi was formerly Kausiki named after Visvamitra (also known as Kausika) who was a descendant of Sage Kusika and was said to have attained the status of a Vedic Rishi along its banks.

Nalanda, one of the greatest universities in recorded history was situated here and used to be a major seat of Buddhism (In fact Buddha himself, technically was a Bihari). In fact, Mahavir Jain is said to be born near Nalanda at Kundalpur and attained Moksha at Pavapuri. Ashoka, one of the greatest administrator, a Buddhist and whose lions now grace every currency note that India mints, was a Bihari.

Do we really need to be wiped out from the face of the earth? Is that God’s will? No, that’s either humor at its worst, plain apathy or a sign of extinct intelligent life form!

On the Road in Bangalore – Version II

2008-08-14T16:27:00.006+05:30

I know, I know. I wrote a similar post a while back. However, if you need a different perspective, I suggest you undertake this journey. It’s literally an eye opener.

The day started on a high note. Chiya started saying OK instead of her normal “nahi” (No, for the uninitiated in the Hindi Language) this morning.

A Unisex Parlor had this hilarious signage outside.........Facial, massage, shave, ladies hair cutting, gents hair cutting, baby cutting (Huh! What was that again?).

Why am I surprised? During my last job, every day on my way back from office this thelawala was proudly selling Gobi Mangurian to unsuspecting victims!

Then the day deteriorated. I stopped at a traffic signal. Saw a guy selling flags (he was from a minority community whose patriotism is often questioned in these difficult times) and proudly lowered my window to buy some - one for the house, one for my car, one for Rashmi’s car, but not if they cost more than 20Rs a piece, see how we set a limit to our patriotism – when thak-thak – (incidentally, thak-thak reads as think tank on my MS Word dictionary and there is a meaning to that as well) someone knocked on the other window – one of those numerous beggars who run an alternate economy on each traffic signal in the city – a woman, no less (at least one job where women are being given better than equal opportunity in this country) and let me be honest, my first shameless thought was – there goes a clean, disinfected window. That was before I noticed the child – maybe 4 yrs old, ordinary, just like hundreds of others roaming the streets, conceived precisely to do this job, in a country which guarantees education as a fundamental right to all children of the age of 6 to 14 years, and I don’t think his luck was going to change in 2 yrs time, for him to claim his legal rights. In principle, right or wrong, I don’t support begging, not that I do anything else about it either, so I shooed them away and watched that child limp away (yes, he was limping and I could make out that one of his nails was sticking out of his toe – accident? Perhaps), till the signal turned green. Green happens to be one of the most significant colors in our national flag and it provided me my escape route.

I did not buy the flag. It cost less than my 20 Rs patriotism limit. I was wondering what that child, who will not be set free, ever, was thinking about all this? When will his independence day come?

A few days before Independence Day, a rich man’s kid (I don’t resent him that) won a Gold medal in the Olympics (I am proud of him) and we set out making him richer still. State Govt. after State Govt. went about showering lavish cash rewards on him (taxpayers money, mind you – money better spent elsewhere, and not necessarily even on sports in a country where education is not available to all). Most newspapers covered him on multiple pages for multiple days, while little kids like the one I wrote about earlier were hawking the same newspapers on the streets.

They knew not sports.

They knew not Olympics.

They knew not Gold (most definitely not) and

They possibly would neither have heard of the Govt. or from the Govt.

And of course there is the electronics media, spends more time covering events like two celebrities kissing (breaking news, no less) than they would cover the plight of these kids. I wonder where the sannate ko cheerti hui sanshani, that we need so much is.

Happy Independence Day everyone!

EDIT (19th August)

My Apologies to Times of India. They came up with a wonderful campaign called Teach India http://www.teach.timesofindia.com/ on 15th August.

Shobha De published an Article on TOI on 17th August which bears an uncanny resemblance to this post of mine! (Mera Bharat Kahan - TOI 17th August, Page 12 - Read it @ http://epaper.timesofindia.com/Daily/skins/TOI/navigator.asp?Daily=TOIBG&login=default&AW=1219145335343)

A Journey, a Destination

2008-08-12T15:47:00.003+05:30

It’s been a while since I last posted. In all probability, the next post may take a while as well. I intend to make the most of this post and say as much as I would like to.

First things first, I was in between jobs and time was at a premium. I started my Career in the Cement Sector, Moved on to Apparels and have now joined a Beer Company. In short, I have now worked in Roti (not really, but allow me the poetic license! and the nutrients are in place), Kapada and Makaan industries. What do we need to survive in this world? Just about that and possibly a credit card and an e-mail ID can be thrown in and it would be perfect! So that sets the agenda for the future, Banking and IT to be the future entries on my CV. Sheer genius, I must say!

To begin at the beginning, after three and a half breath-taking years which I thoroughly enjoyed - except maybe the last 6 months - my last job had started feeling like a chore and it was time to move on, which I did, and here I am, drinking too much beer and it’s not always free, contrary to the expectations of my over enthusiastic beer guzzling friends and family.

One of the first “events” in my new assignment was to take a flight out of the much maligned Bangalore International Airport, which I did, having some trepidation about distance to airport, time taken etc. The distance was exactly 50 km point to point from my house to the Airport – one point to the critiques. However, the time taken, I realized was not significant, 03:11:23 to 03:54:04 – one point to people who believe in taking flights which maximizes the productivity of the day. My suggestion, don’t take any afternoon flights; you won’t get much work done at your destination anyways. In short, it’s a good airport, yes the distance is too much, and yes the connectivity can be bettered, till then, smart travel should help and you can always catch up on your reading, which we hardly ever do nowadays.

The circuit started with a flight out to Cochin (God’s own country is Gods own country!) followed by a flight to Chennai culminating in a day spent at Pondicherry (This isn’t so far removed from God’s own country, is my opinion – The Kind Sir has Dual Citizenship, I guess). The trip followed on to Hyderabad - and yes Rajeev Gandhi International Airport is a few notches better, aesthetics wise than our very own BIA. Shopping Experience, however, is better (make that significantly better) at BIA. But yes, taking off from Hyderabad and landing at Bangalore is decidedly a humbling experience.

I have taken other flights since, and my feelings about BIA remain the same.

I was in Istanbul in the last week of July, the city of two continents, but hardly in an identity crisis. In fact it was a city so sure of itself it gave a new definition to confidence. Wide, well developed roads (with footpaths – Having been in Bangalore for 4 years, I always thought footpaths were a figment of my imagination, mind you). Tramways, people always on the move and of course the belly dancing, you must admire the women for their fitness level; actually, you must just admire the women! Wow! I think I can get away with saying that the Istanbul Roads are inspired by those bellies!

The ride from the Airport to the city is brilliant, you catch the city in its various shades while the Sea remains a constant.

We flew Gulf Air, and on three out of Four Gulf Air Flights we took, the Cabin Crew was brilliant (or seemed brilliant in relation to the fourth one). Unfortunately, on one of the flights, precisely, Gulf Air Flight from Istanbul to Bahrain on the 30th of July (GF 44, 1500 HRS Istanbul Time) – The Airhostess had an attitude bigger and heavier than the rock of Gibraltar and the supervisor was not much help either. Reminded me of traveling (long, long ago, the memory is so feeble) on a state transport bus between Delhi and Roorkee, believe me, the experience is comparable. No, cut that out, the State Transport was better. I would like to fly Gulf Air again, but currently am working on the probability of encountering the same crew again! My math’s a little rusted.

Thankfully, the next stop was BIA (Bahrain International Airport, to be precise) and the Duty Free there makes you forget all hardships. We shopped till we dropped, especially since we had 4-5 hrs to kill. And this you must note, after three days at various locations, we discovered free drinking water here, a total savings of 2 Euros – just right for my coin collection.

Good Old McDonald’s was there in its full glory. Just never realized that a Burger would cost so much!

A last word, I suggest the Indian Govt. change the value of the Rupee to about 100 Euros, otherwise every time you spend money while you are abroad, you spend only small change (an Euro at a time for about 500 times) there and come back home having lost a months salary!

Deranged or what

2008-04-16T17:40:00.002+05:30

It’s been a while that I wrote anything. Whether on this Blog or elsewhere, elsewhere being the two books I am working on right now.

The first one, all of 10000 words written in 10 days in February, and languishing since in a remote folder of my laptop is contemporary in nature, which does not talk about the India that seems to permeate Indian writing in English - India of Squalor, of strife, of the rich and the poor where elephants and princes’ still roam around in abundance – this does not talk about that, instead it talks about the fairly ordinary, mundane, uninteresting middle class India, which lives in small towns, dreams of big cities, and does rather well for itself and finds no mention, naturally so, in IWE. The second one, might be of some interest to those big ticket agents, because it talks about an India that is of interest, snake charmers and all and to add to that actually goes back in history more than a hundred years. This is my ticket to fame, seriously, the one which will prevent my fall from grace for being a non-conformist. Here I conform. Unfortunately, this has not progressed beyond the 1000 pages of research and 100 words of beginning. Shit.

To begin before shit happened, as I said, I have not written anything meaningful for close to two months, and its getting on my nerves.

But, why would I not write, when I love writing and have always done so. I don’t believe in Writers Block, and anyway it can’t happen to a novice like me whose only publishing credit is about half a dozen Blog entries, read mostly by well meaning family and friends. So what is it that holds me back?

I think what holds me back is the fact that I have been feeling like Winnie the Pooh with Alice in Wonderland, if you get what I mean. Or to phrase that more meaningfully, I have felt like a Viagra Pill inside a castrated Dog! Lost.

But then again, as I keep saying, one, there’s more to life than High5’s and two, nothing keeps me from being my usual self, and that’s being a little over-cheerful and a little under-crazy.

So, here I am, back from the brink, anything but extinct, looking as good as shit would look when dressed in a bowtie, i.e. looking myself, bad color combination and all. I have so much to talk about; I don’t know where to begin. Do I begin at the point where I stopped; I was then talking about the rights of pets? But then that’s trivia when you consider all that’s happening around us –The father of the constitution which unifies this country has become the chief mascot of separatists, morons rule the world and all that’s within, Priyanka redefines sanity and forgiveness while all around us insanity prevails.

Where do I begin?

Let’s do something innovative. Let’s try and make this a group activity. Where do I begin being the last thread, may I request you to put in a comment in the comments sections which when added to this original post, makes it look like a continuous article? Lets say in about 150-200 words? I promise to edit this and incorporate the best of the lot to the original with due credit to the author of that part.

Interesting? Or just a dumb trick by me to get you to do all the writing? Makes us think.

How to Create a Dogs Life: For Everyone!!!

2008-03-05T14:26:00.004+05:30

First: Here's my sincere apologies to dogs for the title I chose for this post. I neither want to hurt your feelings nor do I want to offend you. Its just that most people understand what I am trying to convey through this topic.

My Apartment Complex is debating whether Pets should be allowed in the complex:

Let me first put forth the arguments against pets as listed by people:

They can be dangerous. Hullo, since when only they are selectively dangerous. What about all those I-care-two-hoots psycopaths who inhabit the planet.

They can attack Old People and Children on the elevators (Lifts) . Of course, I think they selectively target this group. I do notice a lot of Children carrying puppies with the scruff of their necks. I have yet to see a puppy carry a human child like that.

They create a nuisance at night by continuously barking. Read about other Nuisances at Night below.

They Drop poop. I thought it was people challenged in civic sense who did that!

Children are scared of large animals. Are they now? I haven't noticed.

Now let me put forth my views on the subject.

Even I don't want any Old people, Children, or perfectly capable young people to suffer any harm at the paws of "deranged" pet animals. But extremes of anything are never good.

I completely support that Dogs or other should not be left unattended anywhere: Not even within the confines of one's own flat. Not because they are a nuisance, only because It's not good for them.

I support that Old People, Young People, Children, everyone needs to be protected.

I support that Owners should be cleaning up after their pets.

I support that there should be rules governing pets, just like there should be rules governing everything else.

However, I do not agree that there should be blanket bans enforced.

This world after all belongs as much to Dog-Cat-Parrot lovers as to people who think otherwise. At least we are having pets in a controlled environment, is anyone safe in an uncontrolled environment outside.

Are Pet Dogs - mark the word Pet here, I am not talking about some street animal - necessarily deranged creatures that go about attacking people? Not really!

Yes. Sometimes they are a nuisance.

So?

Sometimes even children are a nuisance (Ever heard a baby scream at the top of her lungs in the middle of the night? Or two boys fighting or when they break something like the Pool Table cue?). Let us ban children as well shall we? In case you think I am joking, let me tell you that to a lot of people, their pets are like children. They don't keep pets to show off!

Sometimes youngsters are a nuisance (Ever heard music blasting late into the night?).

Sometimes Old people are a nuisance.

Yes sir. No disrespect meant, but I do know a Grandfather in our Complex who goes home only after checking on the welfare of me and my family, in the middle of the night, every single night!

Here we are, struggling with two laptops, a sack full of groceries, a fidgety toddler, two lunch boxes, and whatever else that’s weighing us down at 10 PM in the night, straight back from office, minus a cup of tea, thinking about what junk to eat for dinner tonight, and he says "been to your native?" one day or "very Beesy Man, Prabhash" the next all followed by his snigger- Please Ban him. I want to ban him! Better still punch him in the jaw and then ban him!

Hey! We will end up banning our lives.

But then again, not all Old People or Young People or Children or Pets are a Nuisance. In fact they are quite fun to be with. Let’s not go around banning them.

It’s a persons right to acquire a pet within applicable municipal laws and as long as he is a responsible owner and citizen. There are more stray dogs and other animals on the streets likely to cause harm than a well trained, properly inoculated pet under a responsible owner.

Children should not be trained to be afraid of dogs or other pets, they should in fact learn the social skills of interacting with fairly sensitive animals - Under Adult Supervision, always – I am looking forward to help my child become a well rounded individual not someone inflicted with zoophobia.

We the People

2008-02-25T19:09:00.002+05:30

The last few days have been amazing when it comes to Abuse of Biharis.

First, The Entire Sons of Soil Vs Soiled Sons episode was enacted in various parts of the country.

Then yesterday, I heard the erstwhile landowner of the land on which our Apartment Complex was built - He also owns a substantial number of Apartments there - say that the Carpenters were urinating and Spitting Pan all over the place – “These Bloody Biharis…” were his exact words.

Incidentally, I am a Bloody Bihari (at least I am from the United States of Bihar and Jharkhand), doing very well, thank you, in Karnataka for the past 6 years, and within that, in Bangalore for the last three and a quarter years, bought a flat and all that. I am not Shah-Rukh-Khan-in-Lux-Ad when it comes to cleanliness, but yes I don’t go around spitting Maghai Pan (Incidentally Maghai comes from Magadha, the modern day Bihar) on staircases and street corners, nor do I expose myself in public and start urinating against walls. Obviously he got my goat. Now, if I was the violent sort and - to lend strength to another unfair generalization- Biharis are a violent lot, He would be in hell and I would be in Jail, which is one and the same thing. Thankfully, for both our sakes, I am not the violent sort. Not even verbally abusive, another generalized Bihari trait, Teri ma ki…

I had to explain to him, very politely, lest the animal (Hardly any Humans are born in my native state, if you go by the opinion of certain morons) in me came out, that being unclean and unhygienic was not geography dependant, but trait dependant – arguably geography defines certain traits, not all. To give him credit, he apologized. I am not sure, if it was to let sleeping lions lie. My recently acquired moustache and the fact that I had not shaved in days, or got myself a haircut, did make me look as if I belonged to Chambal. Incidentally Chambal is NOT IN Bihar, but he wouldn’t know the difference, otherwise he would have been in the IAS, which incidentally the Biharis crack, like they crack their fingers, daily. Bottom line, neither my look nor the fire in my eyes left him with enough Hing-in-his-backside (Any Bihari in his dreams can translate that into Hindi) to continue the conversation his way.

Then today again, in another conversation, the subject matter of Bihar (It’s quite popular as a subject of discussion if not otherwise) came up, this time, apparently the abilities of Biharis to get away with doing almost anything in Bihar. I tend to agree, except that we manage to do it even outside Bihar and not all of it we need to be, or are ashamed of.

But the most important point I want to drive home – home being the tender fat butts of these zealots who want to drive fundamentalist stakes right through the hearts of our founder fathers, is that, like it or not, the Biharis who are an imaginary threat to the imaginary jobs that you would have got if they were not around are doing very well, thank you very much and are here to stay. Therefore, stop fooling around with poor carpenters and cooks and taxiwallahs and hammals and coolies. Don’t grudge them their meager existence, and if those are the only positions you aspire to attain, the test has not been invented yet to test your IQ levels. I rest my case.

Incidentally, I work in a very cosmopolitan organization; there are Biharis there and Gujjus and Bongs, and UPites (who south of the Vindhyas are difficult to separate from the Biharis and you never know which one of them actually spit the Pan on the staircase wall!), we have the South Indians there too. All of us urinate. None on staircases and boundary walls.

All of us, outside of India, become Indians. In fact outside of India, even the Pakistanis and the Bangladeshis are Indians, working as cooks and taxiwallahs and Software Engineers, the entire community, with its identical identity lives on, till such times that they are caught urinating against the imaginary walls erected on the platform of jingoism. Such walls deserve to be urinated against.

Lick not, Nibble not

2008-02-20T14:32:00.001+05:30

Ever since I started growing a moustache, people, especially male friends keep asking me awkward questions such as these:

“How do you manage it?”
“Don’t you feel like nibbling it?”
“How do you stop licking it?”
“How often do you trim it?”
“Doesn’t your wife say anything?”

Hell, Gimme a break. No, I don’t manage it. Yes, I do nibble at it. Why will I lick it, it gives me absolutely no pleasure whatsoever. Trim? My wife absolutely adores it. So there, now you understand, your opinion matters not.

No, let me correct myself, yes, you have a right to your questions, your opinion, your sarcastic wit, freedom of speech and expression and all that. I have a right to ignore or not.

On the subject of moustache, and seeing how touchy I am about my own, It’s quite an interesting subject to cover, is it not. I mean, think about it, size, shape, color, texture, intent.

Let’s talk about intent for today.

Why do people grow moustaches, when it’s so much of a pain in the backside (I know, I know. That’s not where a moustache is normally grown, but still…) to manage one.

Why do I have a moustache for instance? Is it to satisfy my need to grow up quickly, need to look mature, imitate my father, and scare the shit out of potential boyfriends of my daughter (incidentally she is not even two right now…early days yet), what could be my purpose, is it divine like those shadhus we see in the holy Ghats on the banks of the Ganges? Is my purpose fashion, i.e. flow with the times, or is it cosmetic, i.e. is it to look good. Interesting questions those. Is it worth it, seeing that both eating, at the basic end of the spectrum and kissing, at the other end become so unmanageable.

Some people keep moustaches to flex their muscles, technically how that works I have no idea, but apparently it does. Strange. I mean, how can itsy-bitsy pieces of hair bunched together, help you flex your biceps? It will surely take some doing!

What people do with moustaches is equally interesting. Some people stroke it. Like a pseudo sex organ, they go at it. Up and down, twist and turn, two fingers, two fingers and thumb, slowly, seductively. Some people let their moustaches grow unkempt, more like letting it have a mind of its own. Some keep it immaculately trimmed. Some possibly gel it too.

I know a gentleman, who allows his full head of hair to grey, but keeps his moustache immaculately colored black. Huh. On the other hand, I do remember Mr. Hansen, my class teacher in 5th and 6th grade, his moustache was colored in such a way that he looked like a parrot rounds his lips.

My father has a full grown moustache. As far as I am concerned, it’s been there for the last few decades, makes him look like the “Masterjee” of the old Hajmola Ad. My moustache, in front of his, is a travesty of a moustache. I won’t be surprised if he disowns me in his will on this one issue alone. There are other issues. Insignificant.

Time to comb my moustache...

Wherein lies commitment

2008-02-05T15:27:00.000+05:30

The other day, I was reading an article in the newspaper as to how a Bollywood actress did a “bold scene” in an upcoming movie which involved wardrobe malfunction (scientific name for your boobs popping out at the most inopportune moment). The writer went on to inform us - was he/she trying to get us to watch a movie, I wonder – that this was the same actress who in an earlier movie had taken off her knickers and thrown the same at her beau! How original. Apart from bad odor and a possible chance of infection, I don’t know what that achieved.

The gist of the article was that this was one committed actress. Huh? Committed to what? International Society of Anatomical Research? PETA? Pirelli Calendar? Society of the Mothers in support of Breastfeeding?

Before I read this article I always thought that commitment lies somewhere between our two ears. Never realized it was anywhere lower than that. Certainly not as low as the Gluteus Maximus, nor anywhere near our breasts (unless someone was referring to the hearts connection to commitment, a concession, I am willing to give.)

I remember my college days, when we used to stash away our smuggled copies of playboy underneath the mattress, never realizing that we could have got away by saying that we were getting inspired to be committed. Nice big commitments some of them ladies had.

Even a few of my teachers at school were quite committed. One of them – I won’t name her, she doesn’t want the world to know her commitments - was oozing commitments. In fact commitment was straining at the seams of her colorful dresses.

I thought I will write a self-help book on commitment. An Idiots Guide to staying committed has a nice ring to it.

The chapters in the book could read something like:

Take care of your commitments. They are vital. As statistics show.
Stay committed to keep your partner happy.
Enhancing commitment: The Silicone way.
Commitment Self Examination is a must.

All the makings of a best seller; let me wait for the big fat advance and keep my cards close to my chest, oops, commitment I mean.

I see light at the end of the tunnel. My answers to a lot of questions that research could never answer.

Why men watch women in bikinis? Obviously, since they don’t like commitment.
What is common between Pamela A, Rakhi S and Bipasa B? They are all hugely committed. Go take a look again.
Etc.

One question remains unanswered. How do you recognize a committed man?

Murphy’s Law Revisited

2008-01-29T14:04:00.000+05:30

To begin at the beginning, Murphy’s Law is that thing which makes you make pulp out of your thumb when you are hammering a nail and you let lose expletives you didn’t know you knew.

Of course, in the simplest of terms, it simply states that “if anything can go wrong, it will.” Like the time when you have 3 sets of keys for all your bedroom doors and lock the door INSIDE WHICH ALL THE KEYS have been accidentally left!

So, Mr. Murphy is at his best when you are under stress. Did I tell you that the second Gas Cylinder we booked in August 2006 became due to be delivered to us on January 25th 2008, so wherein Mr. Murphy, you ask? Did I not tell you that we changed our dealer on January 19th and the booking apparently does not hold good with the new dealer? Cheers. Incidentally, the Solitary Cylinder, as it is, has been empty - like the Brains of people who make such rules - since ages and nothing stopped us from playing lazy and doing the transfer AFTER we had taken the second cylinder. Then again, Mr. Murphy had ensured that we had no way of knowing that the second cylinder, pending for a year and a half will get cleared at precisely the time when the maximum salt inflicted damage could be done to the wound, another one of those irritating Murphy’s Law corollaries.

Whilst on the subject, I realize that there are so many possibilities that exist in life to make Mr. Murphy’s day productive. Here are 10 examples from daily life (you are free to add 10 more in the comments section):

1. You can never set the shower knobs to the perfect blend of hot and cold water, either scald yourself, or freeze!
2. The only time otherwise busy people will have to look at you, you will be caught yawning or digging your nose!
3. Your ass will itch only while you are in a public place!
4. You cannot fart quietly in a crowded place, especially if there is female company!
5. Your boss will call you in the morning on the day you are late to work. Other days, he doesn’t know you exist.
6. Corollary to 5: You will be late to work on the day of an important meeting.
7. The only day the lunch dabba cover falls on you lap in 3 years is the day you are wearing white / near white trousers to work. Of course, you also have a post lunch meeting scheduled the same day!
8. If the only dinner you are planning on your way back from work is a glass of milk, rest assured that you forgot to keep it in the fridge in the morning and it would have curdled.
9. There are no places to hide your stockpile of porn which your mom can’t reach.
10. Corollary to 9: If your dad is the first to switch on the TV and DVD in the morning, you forgot Long Dong Silver in the DVD last night.

This was my small tribute to the genius of Mr. Murphy. Do keep writing in with your own compilation of similar Laws.

Jumping Out of Bed to Come to Work

2008-01-17T10:59:00.000+05:30

Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep! It went. No it wasn’t the alarm clock; it was Rashmi Sterilizing Chiya’s Bottles in the microwave. It was also my cue to “Jump out of bed to come to work” as DM used to say when asked about our Vision Statement. Unlike Dm’s context, this wasn’t a sign of my engagement levels however. This just meant that today, I was feeling good about life in general.

Then again, who wouldn’t feel good about life, if he is woken up from a deep slumber in which he was having erotic wet dreams about submission of proofs to claim income tax exemptions, trying to figure out where to find another 20,000 Rs to max out the 100,000 Rs exemption under 80C, all of this just to save some more tax. Incidentally I was the same guy who just about 6 years ago was taking home about 100,000 Rs a year and there was no tax to dream about. No Tax. No Tax Exemption. No Wet Dreams.

Who wouldn’t feel good about life to know that today there are no bottles to sterilize, not much at least. Wouldn’t you feel good about life knowing, intuitively, that despite the Dhobi not showing his face for close to three weeks - the three weeks during which I managed to use up all my extra advantages of working in the Apparel Industry – you will find your clothes ironed today? Top this up with that all important morning cup of tea that is on the bedside table, ready for you, when the solitary gas cylinder has been empty like Aurangzeb’s Harem for close to a week now. (You got it, we have mastered the art of microwave cooking, a strange mix of scarcity and plenty teaching you a few things).

Hey! I forgot to say thank you. Shit.

I put the last batch in the microwave and set it up for four minutes. Four important minutes during which I manage to brush my teeth. Yes. I know. Absolutely brilliant I am.

I come out, and the rice is cleaned and soaked, ready to be cooked. 20 minutes in the microwave, add Puliogere Mix and Oil and Lunch ready! Last night we had pizza, very cheesy, very different from Puliogere. How people change overnight.

Rashmi is ready by now and Chiya is up and ready for her massage. This is my cue to mix up 180 Ml of Warm water and Lactogen in her bottle, give it to Rashmi and run towards the bathroom, before she sees me and insists on me picking her up. No guarantee however that She won’t knock on the bathroom door for the next 10 minutes (she uses the door stop as a knocker, in case this bit interests you.)

We leave home, drop Chiya at her crèche and I get dropped at the Auto stand, say good bye to Rashmi and spend the next five minutes haggling over price to M. G. Road (with the guys who want to come to M. G. Road, in the first place). Rashmi waits patiently. Finally, a nice soul agrees to a premium of 10 bucks over meter (10 bucks that I fleece out of Rashmi) and away we are to our respective destination. She in an Alto, I in an Auto not much difference but just an alphabet. She also takes trouble to call me and tell me that this Auto is not Euro IV compliant and is smoking like a chimney. Two thoughts come to my mind; one, why do people quit smoking when all day they face this on the roads and two, wherein the Tata Car!

Didn’t I tell you a while ago that I was feeling good about life today? Well, the feeling continues and I do a bit of useless maths in my head, 10 bucks extra twice daily, for on an average 200 days a year, is 4000 Rs, give or take a few hundred. Oops, that’s more than twice my annual premium on a 10, 00,000 Rs, twenty year, Term Life Insurance Policy with LIC. There goes the good feeling out of the non existent window of the auto.

I cross BTM Signal, go through Maruthinagar and come out near the St. John’s Hospital Junction and there’s perfectly healthy trees cut all along the way! I count at least five. Mr. Pachauri, Ms. Narain, I hope this is on your radar.

I decide to count people instead.

The well built lady all of 80 kilos, eating what looks like half a dozen Rice Idlies in one of the numerous Darshinis that I cross everyday. “Ma’am, the Idlies will be there tomorrow as well, relax!” I think.

I see a man on a Honda Activa in one of the signals I stop at, stretching his shoulders and back. In obvious pain he is. Terminator, his helmet says. “With that kind of pain at 9:15 in the morning, you are the one getting terminated friend”.

I see a school girl, desperately trying to cross the street at a zebra crossing, while civilized men all around, in their civilized cars, rushing towards their civilized jobs, do their best to drive right over her. The elderly Traffic Cop helps – these guys are not all bad, I realize – he is in mortal danger himself!

I see the meter, disinterested, its running fast as usual. There goes another Insurance Policy. I get back to counting people.

I reach office.

Same day, same shit.

Of Sex and other passtimes of civilised men

2008-01-14T14:52:00.000+05:30

We are not a people known for our civilised treatment of women. We still remain a country of female foeticide, best food for the male child while the girl child eats leftovers, same for education and everything else that helps you make a life of life! No wonder we are getting better and better at it with every passing year!

How else do we explain women being molested in the "safe" Mumbai (But then is it not the place where the Women's special train is known as "Maalgadi"). Foregin tourists being raped in a place of अतिथि देवो भवः Even kids being molested!!!

The other day "M" was talking about how women bring is unto themselves by their dress and their conduct and their what nots! (Maybe there existence itself M?, maybe they should stop existing cause it may cause civilised men to become lecherous fools!). Incidentally M happens to be a women!

Just because its there, doesn't mean its to be had by anyone whether invited or not. Is it about dogs and bones? I thought men were better than Dogs M.

There is something wrong with our very existence as civilised people. Something wrong with our culture, with our education system where we tend to learn more about the general theory of relativity than about respect for our fellow beings. An education system which teaches us enough about our civic rights but not much about our civic responsibilities.

We are still in the dark ages, India shining notwithstanding. We are going downhill even if the Sensex (The sex that gives you the best orgasms nowadays) is going up. We are in a state of decay and decadence. We are amidst a global warming of far gretaer consequence than any caused by CO2 emissions.

I think women should start smoking! No, don't laugh, I AM serious. After all there are worse ways of dying (or living for that matter) than due to Lung Cancer!!!

The Nano has arrived

2008-01-11T11:09:00.000+05:30

It was with some anticipation that I waited for the birth of a baby conceived in the dreams of a man who, by most traditional reckoning should have stopped dreaming, nay, as the most critical of them all would say, stopped thinking altogether.

Not this man.

Ratan Tata, all of 70 years of wisdom, coupled with a persistence which in any other man, or if you didn't know better, feels so much like arrogance, went on about his business as if nothing else mattered more than to prove the critics wrong.

I remember a day not so long ago, when my father would ride his second hand Bajaj Super with me standing in front, ma holding my kid brother on her lap at the back and the eldest brother taking a bus ride so that we could attend a wedding about 50 Km away from our hometown, Ranchi.

Ratan Tata too remembered, and decided to do somthing about it, in the face of intense ridicule from experts of all kinds. Car manufacturers who were not taught anything about paradigm shifts, environmetalists to whom a single man sitting on a Chauffeur driven, filthily priced car with a fuel efficiency of 7-8 kms per hour is less of a pollutant than a family car, priced at a middle class affordability with Euro IV Norms at 20 Kms to a litre!!! How cheap can you get!

I remember that scooter ride, tears flowing down my cheeks because the wind was too cold and biting. I remember my brother taking that lonely bus ride, when he was all of 10 yrs, I think. I remember my mother and younger brother falling because the roads had humps the size of a minor mountain because some environment friendly guy in the PWD had decided to protect cattle on the road. Cattle which had no business being there anyway! I remember. The same way I will remember Ratan Tata for the rest of my life.

Cheers to you Sir!

When you are going nowhere and reach there on time!

2008-01-09T11:14:00.000+05:30

Ever get that feeling. Of starting on time, to go absolutely nowehere. There is no sense of direction. Nothing to guide you and yet, when you arrive, you realise you are oh so on time!

Life throws different challenges at you, sometimes it thorws them at your head, sometimes at even more delicate parts of your anatomy and you need to be prepared to hang around for the next challenge. It is a little like smoking. Every stick is apparently your last, till the next one comes along!

Why would you try so hard, prepare yourself and pack well, for journeys best not taken. What satisfaction do we get for competing with all those around us in search of imaginary destinations with unknown prizes for our toils.

Any answers?

It's just not cricket

2008-01-08T15:44:00.000+05:30

Once upon a time, in more difficult times, Cricket was a gentleman's game. That was before the chappells and the pontings happened to it!

As I like to say often, there's more to life than just High5's. What use is winning a stupid game of cricket, if you lose friends and admirers in the process. What good is winning a stupid game, if you fail to retain your reputation.

Ricky Ponting used to walk. NOT THIS RICKY PONTING!! Seems like a different man altogether. Halt! who goes there?

Definitely not cricket!