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

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

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

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

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!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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.