Jab main chota bachcha tha

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

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

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

Anyway.

Main Sasural Nahi Jaungi

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

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

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

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

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

Why I am such a Fashion disaster!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why Blogging is bad for health

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

You see - this a vicious circle!

Anyway, random updates as of now:

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

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

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

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