Lux wala Shahrukh

It's been a while that I have written anything on Bollywood at all. And every time this happens, I start getting all panicky. I loiter around the house, lost in thoughts (making Sonia anxious) and also my bowel movements suffer (making me anxious). So, let me get this out of the way like it should be done, by blogging about all the recent stuff Bollywood has made me sit through.


Garmi wali Thand

In Garmi wali Thand, girls wear overcoats
with short skirts

Student of the Year was made with a purpose. To boost sales of pharma companies: by sending an entire generation of teenagers into depression about how their school isn't as cool as the one shown in the movie, about why the guys can't have those rippling muscles by the time they are sixteen, about why the school-girls can't go on holidays with friends to exotic beaches and strut around in flimsy bikinis, about why if their parents had to be poor, they could at least be able to afford designer clothes and sports bike, like in the movie. Of course, the movie had other agendas too: like launch the next Arjun Rampal (with, possibly, the shadiest ever double-meaning song playing in the background).

In the movie, Kareena kept waiting
for a policeman with a dead son
and a mad wife

Aamir wali Movie

Like all movie-goers, even I was looking forward to the next Aamir movie. Kuch to alag hoga, for sure. Little did I know that it will be baap of all alag movies. It was like Paris Hilton inviting you for a date and then when you reach the venue, you find Uday Chopra sitting there with pink roses in his hands. It was like you showing all answers to the pretty girl sitting behind you in the exam and then during the bye-bye moment, she saying 'Thank you bhaiya'. I mean the performances were good and all, but who the fuck goes and watches a Bollywood movie for performances. Only saving grace was Kareena looking like million bucks, even in the devastatingly KLPD climax.


Lux wala Shahrukh

Sale of Lux Soap dropped sigficantly after
the release of JTHJ

It is perhaps the worst kept secret in India that men use Lux Soap and Fair & Lovely cream (not the mardon wali, but the original one). The sale of Lux Soap had actually skyrocketed after Shahrukh Khan was shown on TV using it, kind of legitimizing what men had always done anyway. But much to HUL's chagrin, Shahrukh plays a 25-year old with wrinkles in Jab Tak Hai Jaan. Men came out of the theater wondering if the same would happen to them if they continued using Lux. The movie also starred Katrina Kaif's wax statue and Anushka Sharma, who was dressed in Lux (different from the above Lux) underwear and banyaan.

Sridevi taught viewers how to speak with
a French guy in Hindi

Sridevi wala Back-with-a-Bang

Midst all the madness, there was a no-nonsense, light-hearted, simple tale of love, respect, dignity and pain, that tickled your funny bone and tugged at your tear-ducts at the same time.

Ok, ok, I am a big-time Sridevi fan (as all those who read this blog already know) and my reviews are normally biased. But this was one good movie, and no one can take that away.


Next post on Bollywood only after I come back from my little vacation and then having seen Mr. Chulbul Pandey in his new avatar *Giggles*

The curse of Rani Mukherjee

We all have these moments of truth in our lives, when we realize that we actually aren't as awesome as we've always thought. And these moments can hit the narcissist in us anytime, anywhere, without much of a warning.

So, I was working my ass off as a treasury dealer, hating my job to the core, but being the nice guy that I am, putting in every bit of me into it. And then the fateful day arrived.

We struck deals with our clients on phone. And because these deals involved obnoxious sums of money, all calls were on recorded lines. So, we could refer to the recording anytime there was an issue on any deal. So, yeah, there was an issue with a particular deal of mine, and my boss and me, went to the back-office to listen to the taped conversation between me and the client.

The recording started playing. There were two people talking. And I was in shock.

Hang on a second. Which one is my voice? Not this one! No, No, No! I sound cracked, a little like Rani Mukherjee!

That was a day I died a thousand deaths. I realized that I speak in a coy (like am scared), kiddish, lame, subdued, cracked (this was the most irritating bit) voice. I hated the tone, the pitch, and everything that sound is supposed to be made of. I can't possibly sound like this! I mean, why me!

I was in depression for a few days. I prayed to God, please make my voice more manly, heavy and tough. Amitabh Bacchan? Ok, I am willing to settle for Arjun Rampal. Ok, maybe, thoda baritone? But that wasn't supposed to happen. I am pretty used to my voice now and have resigned to fate.

As if I ever wanted to participate in Indian Idol. Hmph.


PS: Make no mistake. I am still pretty much in love with myself. The eternal type. Just that there is no harm in laughing at one's own fallacies. Makes life a little more bearable :-)

Ladke ki chaal mein khot hai!

It's been two months in to my new job. I usually take the Metro to and from work. Today a colleague and I left from office together, and we were walking towards the Metro station. Suddenly, out-of-context, he asked, 'Tum modelling karta tha kya?'
I pompously gave him a 'oh-I-get-this-so-often' look and asked with a twinkle, 'Kyon?'
He did not tell me what I wanted to hear.
"Your walk... it's.. weird", he said, while looking at my legs.
"What do you mean weird?"
"You walk as if you are walking on a ramp."
"Huh?"
"Not in a bad way, it's nice, but it attracts others' attention" he added, now that I was visibly upset.

I was taken back to my childhood days when my dad would scold me for not walking properly. I don't walk, I hop, he would say. Maybe, I should have listened to him then. Is umra mein aake yeh sab nahi sun na padta.

Among peers and family members, many have always told me that I walk faster than the rest. But no one, ever, told me that I walk in a weird way. I mean, I have made fun of so many of my classmates on how they walk. No one ever made fun of me! But then, they also had to borrow my notes for studying.

I was brought back to the present by the sound of the Metro's arrival. My colleague was still looking at my legs. "Maybe one of your legs is shorter than the other" he said thoughtfully, as I contemplated pushing him in front of the arriving train.

Are you the new random person in my life?

My LinkedIn profile has been bombarded with 'Invitations' to connect of late. 90% of these are people I don't know. No, nothing spectacular at all has happened in my professional or personal life, which could have catapulted my popularity to new levels. Initially I thought maybe it's my cute-boy-next-door display pic, but nah, honestly, I just have no frigging clue why I am getting these invites. Maybe LinkedIn is the new Facebook, where more 'connections' matter. Just like I was getting these Facebook friend requests some years ago, before I got married that is (*fondly remembers*).

So, I sent this message to a few of them, asking them if I knew them, and also telling them, in a brotherly sort of way, that it would have been polite if they'd sent me a message introducing themselves before sending an invite. That must have scared them I guess, for none of them replied. Now I've stopped sending those messages to random people who add me.

A lot of juniors from college, school, tuition classes (!) add me all the time. Initially I used to do a thorough background check before adding them. Then I simply started accepting all requests, too lazy to investigate. But, now, when I figure that half of my Facebook friend list is people I don't know, I reject any random request that comes. Don't care if the person thinks am rude anymore.

Most of these 'friends' are content at just adding me. And they never bother me, send me no messages, never 'like' any of my pics or status updates. So, I was pretty convinced  that it's just a numbers thing... having more friends! But then there are some weirdos too. So, this chic added me on Facebook a few months back.. had a marwari name, and I thought must be some relative or junior.. and I accepted the request, without bothering to check who she was. She pinged me a few days later-
'Do I know you?'
'I don't know.. you added me two days back I guess'
'Excuse me, I don't add strangers!'
'Funny, because I don't add strangers either! :)'
Two minutes later ...'Now that we are friends, no harm in knowing each other. What do you do?'
I removed her from my friend list.

Kids!

Tittle Tattle

Slight tickling in the ribs,
hiding a smile behind lips,
knuckles feeling light,
head spinning left and right.


It's not anything new,
and no, not something old,
Nothing worth nothing,
and no, not precious like gold.



No more she walked,
she hopped, skipped, and jumped,
No more she talked,
she sang, whistled and hummed.

The longing in the eyes,
and giggle in her pout,
Tittle tattle was all he did,
And she waited, day in and out.

It roars, whether you like it or not

It will not make you roll in laughter at bawdy jokes or PG-13 innuendos. It does not have dhinchak songs that instantly get added to any DJ's playlist. The action sequences are not out-of-the-world like Wanted, Dabangg, Ready or Bodyguard. And, well, okay, it also has the same-ole story rehashed a hundred times in Bollywood already.

And yet, Tiger roars. Roars in its simple humor. Roars in music that slowly grows on you. Roars as it avoids easy traps of melodrama and mushy romance. Roars in amazingly beautiful cinematography. Roars as it rides as much on Katrina's petite shoulders as on Salman Bhai's machismo.

When you put two of the best looking stars in Bollywood together on screen, you don't ask for much more. But Ek tha Tiger offers more, and offers everything that Salman movies these days don't. Take that from a fan who has seen every shitty movie that ever starred Salman, and has adored all of them. 

It's a simple story, told simply. With some subtle, unadulterated fun.

And, talk about screen presence. Fucking screen presence. Just leave Salman on screen, yeah, and all is taken care of. Mashallah.

Bring out the Gunda in you

There are very few things in life that I am really touchy about. Actually, I can consider myself pretty much emotionally dead otherwise, but some topics get me talking.

Calcutta has always been one of them.

It's laid-back, but it's warm, I would argue. People are nice, I would tell anyone who is willing to listen. Men are lazy, but they are progressive, I would coerce them. And most importantly, women are safe here, I would make them believe.

Not like Mumbai where passers-by don't care if you lay writhing on the road in pain, where your neighbors don't even know you exist. Not like Delhi where even women spout abuses in every second word, where the men consider raping any woman they see as their birth-right. Not like Bangalore and Chennai where the auto-wallahs can make you repent why you were born in the first place, where the local populace's antipathy towards North Indians will make you squirm.

But time had to catch up eventually. And it did.

Women are raped, and then they are mocked by the Govt and police for daring to lodge a complaint. Anyone trying to act as witness is also molested, and officers trying to investigate the case are transferred.
Co-passengers turn their head the other way as a child falls off a speeding auto.
People on a busy street in the heart of the city couldn't care less as a gang of rowdy auto-wallahs molest a lady and beat up her husband for daring to protest against their rash driving. Even after the media highlighted the issue, the auto drivers walk free due to political clout, whereas the couple is being tormented.

Ask any person on the road, and he would seem worried. Calcutta is not the same anymore, he will tell you. He is scared, worried and anxious. He is concerned about his own safety and that of his family's.

So, if we have become more and more like the other cities in India, does that mean that we have re-arrived on the commercial landscape as well.. and that like Mumbai, Delhi and other cities, we too will see growth in industry and employment.

The answer is a big fucking No.

We never deserved that, and we don't deserve even now, as I found out today when I tried to enter my bank's premises in the morning. It's an All-India strike called by some union of bank employees. Funny thing is neither me nor any other employee of my bank is member of the union and yet, we were not allowed to enter office by flag-bearers and slogan-shouters. Colleagues in other parts of the country found it funny, it's a fucking strike of PSU bank employees... why is your branch shut? And then they would themselves answer with a smirk, that's Calcutta for you.

Soak No More

She felt it on her cheek,
tiny, wet, stinging,
Her parched skin revolted,
in spasms, short and quick.


Then, there was another,
And a wayward one more,
Her nails dig in her palms,
Of pain, she would not bother.


The drizzle gave way to shower,
And then, rain, ruthless and fierce,
Her clothes clung to her pale skin,
Head sunk, her feet knelt lower.



Then something inside, deep,
Exploded through her eyes,
The rain would soak her no more,
As tears would run, streak, creep.



This poem has been written as part of IndiBlogger's "The Surf Excel Matic #SoakNoMore Contest".

Of Kajras, Chummas and Mungdas

Item numbers have always formed an integral part of my movie-going experience. And I, for one, take them seriously boss. But then this post is not about the over-the-top item numbers of today.

This is about those songs which made you shamelessly dance away in drunken glory at some point of time in your life, songs which you have karaoke-d with your chaddi-buddies when you were young and innocent, with suppressed giggles and an eye on the lookout - you wouldn't want grown-ups to hear you singing them, songs which when played today seem like a forgotten tune, but then you hum along nevertheless, remembering fun that was of yesterday.


Confused?

Lemme make it easy. Imagine a group of drunken men dancing - late 20s, early 30s, middle-aged. Drunken men dance like.. umm.. drunken men. But, then, at times, the dancing attains a different level of totally mad frenzy.. when the DJ plays certain item songs. This post is about such songs.



Saat Samundar - Clearly one of the reasons why Vishwatma shouldn't be labeled a forgettable film. No, the song's not on the list because of a gyrating Divya Bharti alone. The lyrics inspire some of the most imaginative dance moves ever.

Jhuma Chumma de de - One song that makes every guy on the dance floor think of himself as Amitabh Bacchan out to woo the Kimi Katkar dancing a few feet away. The flirtatious undertones of the song provide perfect cue for discarding all sanity, and sensibilities.

Mungda - Without exception, all songs of Helen are pieces of majestic art. However, Mungda surpasses all of them in its sheer sensuality. Helen wasn't exactly very young when this song was shot.. and yet, she could easily have given the Sheilas and Munnis of today a run for their money.

Oye oye - If there was one thing that Rajiv Rai got right in his movies, it was to have peppy numbers in place, and make cute looking actresses maro latkas and jhatkas on them. Not surprising then, that a lot of songs from his movies feature on my list. For Oye Oye though, it wasn't Sonam (who Rajiv Rai later married) alone, it was also Nasiruddin Shah's rustic nautanki that made the song what it is. Tridev had other good item songs too (in particular this one where Sangeeta Bijlani seduces the entire theater), but nothing quite compares to Oye Oye.

Tu cheez badi hai mast mast - Clearly Mohra was the one movie that highlighted Raveena Tandon's career in Bollywood. No, she did not play a very important role in the movie. She only danced to rapchik songs like Mast Mast and Tip tip barsa pani.

One two ka four - The only male item song that deserves a mention here. I can't say whether it was Anil Kapoor's moustache (as if he needs any more body hair), a demure looking Madhuri, the sheer narcissism portrayed in the lyrics or some unknown mystery that makes the song a favorite.

Ek do teen - Tezaab could have been a cult movie. Many say it already is. Not me. And I can't decide on what shouldn't have been there in the movie - Chunky Pandey? Mandakini's hamming? And if it is indeed a cult movie, then it is only because of Mohini and her counting abilities.


Kajra Re - It is with a lot of self-control that I have included this song here. My antipathy for the femme fatale who danced on this song is not unknown really. But this song is legendary, alrite, and I couldn't have not included it in my favorite list, in spite of her and a nauseating Abhishek Bacchan. As consolation to myself, I will put up a pic of Rakhi Sawant dancing on this song instead.


Choli ke peeche kya hai - When I was really really young (not too young to not understand what this song meant though), my uncle had gotten this recorded in an audio cassette and would secretly play it when no one was around. To his bad luck, the cassette was soon discovered and promptly thrown into the dustbin. It's tough to decide what makes the song so vulgar (and hence, so interesting to drunken men) - the lyrics, Madhuri's dance, Neena Gupta's suggestive looks or the lust in Sanjay Dutt's eyes. Do watch the video, if only for the hilarious subtitles that I managed to find.

Last Note: This is my list. Your list can be, and should be, different from mine. So Chill, and have fun :-)

The Baap List of all Item numbers!

Coming Soon.

Watch this space for more!

Update: If you really wanna read, just go here.

The land of dragon tattoos, and low-rise jeans

This is not the time of the year when one would typically go to the hills - rainy weather, landslides, foggy view of the landscape and no snow. But then, we had to go somewhere (given that I was massively bored at home).. and decided on Darjeeling and Gangtok. Roped in (read blackmailed) some folks to join.. and up, up and away!

*If Kerala was the land of thick mustaches and split lungis, the northern hills are clearly the land of funky hairdos, dragon tattoos, low-rise jeans, visible underwear and more (my views on this rather eclectic fad here). The ladies in the group could only look wistfully at the hair-styles flaunted by the chinki females.

*They all look the same. No, I mean seriously. No offence meant, but if someone does something to you, and then makes a run for it, you can never, like never, identify him again.

*No vacation is ever complete without the customary fight with the travel agent. Ours was in the habit of asking 'extra' money for everything e.g. 'aap ropeway par chadenge kya?'
'haan... kyon?'
'matlab waiting ka extra Rs. 300 lagega'
'huh? tumko kya sirf ropeway dikhane ke liye hire kiya hai'
'yahan ka yahi niyam hai saab.. kissi se bhi pooch lo'
'!@#$%^'

'Aap log Nepal market mein local taxi mein chale jaana.. I will stay outside. They will charge Rs. 300'
'Tum kyon nahi aaoge?'
'Border Tax lagega'
'Hum pay kar denge tumko'
He paid Rs. 20 as the border tax and claimed Rs. 300 from us saying 'yahan ka yahi niyam hai!'

I will be filing an official complaint against him too. But that's another story.

*On our way back to New Jalpaiguri from Gangtok, we found a massive traffic jam on the highway caused by a landslide. I was amused to find that the driver (of the shared cab we were in) was delighted. He immediately announced - we will have to take a detour - per head extra Rs. 150. Some of the passengers protested - that's a lot all taken together.. the extra distance will not be much. He smirked... do you really have a choice?

*We found the place colorful. The houses were colored in bright hues, beautiful multicolored flowers decorated the verandas and balconies, the clothes worn by folks and their hair had dashes of vibrant colors, and most impressive were the colorful flags put up as a symbol of wish-fulfillment by the localites.

*We went to this place called Chaar Dhaam in Gangtok. Apart from hosting a massive statue of Lord Shiva, this place also had replicas of practically every sacred shrine of the Hindus to be found across the length and breadth of the country. Given how religious I am, I guess am done with my teerth yatra for lifetime.

*I have this new-found interest in Buddhist mythology - in particular, the symbolism depicted by dragons and scary looking devils/men in the murals painted on walls of monasteries. Any suggestions for good reads on this would be appreciated :-)

Idiot in the Box

Read first part of the story here

Chapter Three


Raj was busy working on his computer and Ms. Reva was typing something furiously on hers. She kept throwing nasty glances at Raj of which the latter was totally unaware. He, however, occasionally looked at her lovingly and seemed deeply satisfied about something. He was actually thinking what a wonderful couple he and Reva would make. Not that he thought it was anyway possible now, but he wanted (he himself did not know why) to look at every perspective of this otherwise great idea. So, when almost everybody else had left the office and Ms. Reva too got up from her seat and was preparing to depart, Raj got up hastily, picked up his coat and briefcase and darted through the door to join Ms. Reva.

“So… leaving, Reva?”
“Yeah, I guess it’s about time…” she looked at her gold-plated wrist-watch and replied nonchalantly. Raj began escorting her along the aisle. Ms. Reva smiled and continued to walk. When they reached the elevator, Raj finally asked what he had so long wanted to ask: “Hmm… Reva… D’you… Do you watch serials?”
“What???”
“Television soap operas... Those cozy, mushy, delectable (and outrightly stupid and bugging) serials they show everyday on TV?” It was clear that he was trying hard to hide his strong hatred for the serials, as he spoke.
And, finally, to his satisfaction, Ms. Reva replied in the negative.

***  

Reva wanted to leave early today. But as usual, the pile of work on her desk held her back. When she had finally finished most of it, and was feeling totally exhausted, she got up and filed away all the loose papers. She came out of her cabin and found Mr. Roy coming out of his, smiling at her.

“So… leaving, Reva?” asked Mr. Roy in his peevish voice.
What a dumb question to ask. She wanted to ward him off. She looked at her gold-plated-wrist-watch in the way of expressing extreme annoyance, and replied, “Yeah, I guess it’s about time…”
But emotion had, perhaps, blinded Mr. Roy and he unwaveringly started walking alongside her. Reva didn’t know what to say and she merely forced a horrible smile. When they reached the elevator, Mr. Roy suddenly asked, “Hmm… Sandhya… D’you… Do you watch serials?”
Why would you want to know? “What???”
“Television soap operas... Those cozy, mushy, delectable serials they show everyday on TV?”
Reva loved them. But it was something about the way Mr. Roy had shot the question that she didn’t want to give an affirmative answer.
“No… I hate them.” She added that ‘hate’ part just out of hope that Mr. Roy would be seriously offended and would leave her alone. But to her dismay, Mr. Roy seemed delighted to hear this.
“Hmmm… then what are your interests? Perhaps sports!!!” Mr. Roy was trying to hide his excitement without success.
Reva was too exhausted to keep track of all the lies she had been telling. “Yes” seemed the simplest and shortest reply.

***


Little Tina was having a wonderful time. All day she had been talking to her ‘Barbie’ doll in a language which only she and her ‘bestest’ friend understood. She had talked about how inane grown-ups are, how lovely she’d look when she’d grow up, how interested the baby-next-door was in her when they had met in the park last week - he had literally jumped out of his pram to smile at her.

Suddenly, Nisha came over to her cradle. “Why are you laughing so much? Do you know we may not watch the serials any more?”
Stupid girl. I care in the least. Tina giggled.
This annoyed Nisha a lot. She looked over her shoulder. Sandhya was busy in meticulously putting on nail-gloss. She reached for Tina’s thighs and pinched her. Tina began to wail in pain.
Sandhya dashed to the scene, clearly annoyed at being disturbed while she was busy with her make-up. “What happened? Nisha, what did you do to her?”
She pinched me. Tina began to cry louder than ever.
“Nothing, Mama. She must’ve hurt herself.”
Liar!!! Mama, take me up in arms. Tina let out a particularly high-pitched shriek.
Sandhya seemed to be in a dilemma. She wanted to tend to Tina but that would surely spoil her half-an-hour worth of effort of putting on the nail-polish. “Mama’s here, baby, don’t cry” she almost sang those words, “good baby, mama’s nails are wet…”
Tina tried once more, and then gave Sandhya up as bad job. She shut up on her own and began fiddling with her Barbie.

***

The elevator was gliding down unusually slow. Reva was getting impatient. Mr. Roy continued with his badgering.

Reva had a feeling that if Mr. Roy didn’t stop within the next minute, she’d have no other way than slamming her hand-bag against his face. But all she did was smile and smile.

Finally, they got out on the ground floor. “Should I drop you off, Reva?” asked Mr. Roy rather politely, still jumping on the balls of his feet.
“No, thanks; I guess I’ll get a cab.”
“Oh come on, Reva; you need not be this formal. We are friends, after all.”
Yes, Lecher. “But you really need not take all the trouble, Sir.”

Ten minutes later, Reva was seated on the front seat of Mr. Roy’s car, with a rather serious expression on her face. Mr. Roy was merrily steering the car, feeling excited and conscious at the same time. When they finally reached Reva’s Apartments, Mr. Roy gallantly got out of the car and opened the door for her to get out.

“So...”
“So?”
“Ah, well... bye then.”
Reva understood only too well what Mr. Roy wanted, but she would rather kiss a donkey than invite this lecher to her home.
“Sir, I would have invited you for a cup of coffee but my boyfriend is probably back by now. He doesn’t like visitors. I hope you understand.”
“Your boyfriend??”
“Yeah, he moved in only last month.”
“You never told me, Reva” spluttered Mr. Roy, and upon discovering the questioning expression on Reva’s face, added “I mean I didn’t know.” Raj was totally distressed. Reva had a live-in boyfriend. He got into the car and began driving back home.

Reva was walking up the driveway, smiling to herself. The idea had struck her while she was seated in Mr. Roy’s car. She had no boyfriend.

***


Chapter Four

Raj parked the car in the garage, rebuked the Durban without any reason and climbed up the stairs like a zombie. No sooner had he rung the door-bell than Sandhya opened the door, dressed in a cute pink dress and carrying a lavish smile. This was a bit surprising, for usually he had to stand for at least ten minutes before the door opened up, and surely Sandhya has never been this happy to find him back.

“You are back, darling. How was your day?” Sandhya made way for him to get inside.
Flustered at this sudden change in Sandhya’s attitude, Raj almost fumbled into the sitting-room. “Yeah, OK.”
Raj looked around for a reason that could explain the weirdness of the situation and caught sight of Nisha lurking in a corner, looking thoroughly anxious and apprehensive.
“Hey Nisha, my baby, come to papa” he called out to her and to his amazement, Nisha, instead of running into his arms, looked at Sandhya, as if asking for approval. He could sense Sandhya giving a short nod. Nisha glided towards him, still not her natural self. This all was driving Raj crazy. He wanted an explanation. And then, he remembered!! All the events of the morning came, flashing, to his mind and his teeth gritted themselves in anger.
Okay, let’s play it your way then…


He turned round to Sandhya, and almost imitating her peevishly cheerful tone, said, “Darling, do you mind making me a cup of coffee? By the way, they are showing the re-telecast of some cricket match today. I can’t possibly afford to miss it.” Raj was sure that had it been any other day, Sandhya would have straightaway refused to make him a cup of coffee. But she smiled in an indulgent sort of way and went towards the kitchen, followed by an evidently shocked Nisha.

Raj settled on the couch and switched on the TV. (A news reader’s face flickered on the screen)… click… (Two dancers were bumping their bottoms against each other’s)… click… (One of those talent-hunt contests)… click… wait a second, the sports channel was supposed to be somewhere here. He went through all the channels once again.
It had to be Sandhya. She must’ve changed all the settings. He began re-setting the channels, while assuring himself that vengeance would be his very soon.

“Coffee is ready, darling” Sandhya entered the room carrying two coffee mugs and her now fading smile “How’s your cricket-match progressing?” she looked at the TV screen and smiled, “Oh, actually, I had to change the setup because of Nisha… she was insisting on watching some stupid wrestling match. Of course, I couldn’t allow her to watch those. So I put a lock on all the sports channels.” Nisha, who too had followed her mother into the room, nodded vigorously like a poorly trained actor.
“Oh really… what's the key?”
“Oops… I forgot” Sandhya faked an expression of extreme remorse, “I’m sorry, darling.”
“No wonder.” Raj could easily re-set all the channels. The only thing was that had Sandhya given him the code, it would have been much faster. “Sandhya, if you think that with all this drama, you’d be watching your stupid serials then drop it. I’ll make sure that you keep your word.”
“Not that I expected anything else from an insensitive person like you, Raj” Sandhya suddenly turned emotional. For the second time that day, Raj admired how quickly Sandhya could change her expressions. Sandhya rubbed her invisible tears on her sleeve and rushed towards the bedroom, Nisha again following her. Normally, Raj would have gone after her to console her, but not today. He continued with fine-tuning the channel.

About two minutes later, Sandhya again entered the drawing-room, looking perfectly normal, as if nothing had happened a few minutes back. She came and sat on the couch next to Raj and suddenly began to sob or rather pretend to sob.
“Raj, oh Raj, why do we do this to each other? I love you, Raj? But I don’t know what gets into me. Please, Raj, forgive me, Raj.” She edged closer to him and put her arms around him. Raj was totally taken aback.
Sandhya started whispering, and apparently forgetting to sob, “Oh, Raj, tell me you have forgiven me.”
"Hmm... "
"Thank you! You know Nisha is also upset about the serial thing. Let's watch it together today, shall we?"
“Sandhya, I must say you have talent.”
Sandhya moved back her head and looked at him.
“But, sadly, none of your tactics are gonna work today, for I’ve realized what sort of a scheming woman you are.”
Sandhya could not take this. She pushed Raj away from the couch, seized the remote-controller and hurled it straight at Raj. Raj ducked just in time, and the gadget crashed right into the TV screen smashing it to smithereens.

The crashing noise brought Nisha into the room. She looked at the smashed TV and raised her hands to her mouth, apparently shocked. Sandhya, too forgot that she was angry at Raj and merely looked in horror at what she had done.

Raj decided that it wasn’t safe anymore for him to stay in the room. He quietly sneaked out of the room, leaving a distraught Sandhya and a distressed Nisha behind in the room.

The helluva noise had woken Tina up. She was whimpering in her cradle. Raj walked up to her and asked lovingly, “What is it, darling?”
One can’t even sleep in peace in this place. Tina let out a last moan, rolled over and fell asleep again.

***

Undo

If there was just one wish,
that could come true,
which one would you choose,
among the thousands that swarm your mind?


Leave it to the heart,
and it will fly around,
like a carefree bird,
hoping for the special, and the absurd.


The pleasures of the flesh,
royal wealth that's envy of the world,
beauty that inspires,
and intellect that wows generations to come?

Or to know what lies ahead,
in the realms of future,
the fate of those who are dear,
and enemies, far and near?

Or to simply erase,
misdeeds, errors and follies,
Undo and heal?
If there was just one wish.

Idiot out of the Box

Chapter One

Nothing at all was unusual about that Saturday. Raj parked his car and climbed the stairs to his second-floor office. He entered his cubicle to find a smiling Ms. Reva waiting for him.


“Mrs. Roy has already called twice, Sir”, she informed, with the sort of sparkle in her eyes that Raj always found so absorbing. She was again wearing the same navy blue skirt Raj had so often admired.
“Thank You Reva. I’ll talk to her. By the way, looking gorgeous today.”
Reva went out without a word. By now she was quite at home with the way married men often behaved. Raj settled on the armchair and started dialing home. He knew what was in store for him.

***




That morning he and Sandhya had had one of their routine squabbles.

Little Tina was wailing loudly in her pram, Kushal was creating a ruckus with his toy gun and Nisha was into one of her tantrums for a reason known to nobody. Amidst all this, Sandhya somehow managed to sit before the TV all engrossed in her favorite serial.

Raj walked over to Tina’s perambulator and immediately flinched. With a wistful look at Sandhya, he started changing Tina’s nappy. He was no master in this art & Tina cried all the more louder.

“Shh…” Sandhya murmured, trying her best not to miss anything of the serial she adored beyond description. She was watching the re-telecast of some soap, the fact of her having watched it the previous night notwithstanding.

Raj didn’t say anything. He had come to accept several things in course of nine years of his marriage, like he would have to admire the new hairstyles Sandhya would flaunt every now and then, however disgusting she might look; he would have to regard every matter related to his in-laws with utmost esteem & behave as if his own errands were of no consequence at all. But one thing in which he felt he closed a fair deal was control over the Television. Perhaps it was his bargaining-flair as a sales executive which came in handy. It was decided that every alternate weeks they would have supreme authority over the TV (However Sandhya somehow found a way of cajoling Raj into letting her watch her serials everyday nevertheless). He quietly went into the bedroom and started looking for his towel. But he couldn't find it anywhere.

“Sandhya, where’s my towel?” No Reply.
“Sandhya….?” No Reply still.
He stomped his way to the drawing room. By now, Nisha had seated herself beside her mom and was murmuring, “Mom, why don’t you wear a bindi like that?” Day by day she was growing more and more like Sandhya, thought Raj.
“Sandhya, my towel?”
“Oh Raj, look yourself no” Sandhya replied without the least stir.
“You have already seen that yesterday” Raj reminded.
“Oh no, I missed some parts of it” Sandhya replied, her eyes still glued to the idiot box.
“But… Look, I’m getting late; they show the same thing a hundred times over”
“Clearly, that’s not the case when you watch the repeated telecasts of your stupid cricket matches” Sandhya sounded a bit annoyed.
“Now, what does my cricket matches have to do with…?”
“Ok, fine, don’t let me watch my serials... as it is you’ve always got something against them,” Sandhya finally got up and marched into the bedroom, “You have just one motive in life – don’t let poor Sandhya see her favorite serials, as if that’s harming you in any way…” she went on with her tirade while apparently looking for the towel and actually bringing the whole house to shambles.
“Now, Sandhya, why do you say that? Don’t I let you watch…?”
“Yeah, that’s a great favor really… now what I am supposed to do – wait on you head and toe?” she flung his towel at him.
Raj opened his mouth to retort but was stopped short of saying anything by a bloodcurdling scream which came from the drawing room. They both rushed outside to find Nisha staring at the TV screen with a horrified look at her face.
“What happened???” Sandhya embraced Nisha.
“Mom… she… that hag… she’s conspiring to kill her daughter-in-law and the poor bahu has no idea of it”, Nisha narrated among sobs.

It took a while before realization dawned on Raj. He could make out that Nisha was talking of the ‘serial’ she had been watching, which must have ended with that ‘revelation’ about the mother-in-law’s character that had ‘shocked’ her so much.

Once Nisha was assured that the bahu was in perfect health and nothing would happen to her till she returned from her honeymoon, and she had gone out to play with her friends, Raj turned to Sandhya, fuming.
“Look what impact your serials have on our children”
“Raj, there’s nothing wrong with Nisha. She’ll get over this within minutes. She usually reacts to such stuff in a similar way…”
“What??? And still you continue to watch these? What sort of a mother…”
“I think I know my responsibility better than you…”
…and as usual it had continued for the next fifteen minutes, with both of them flinging accusations at each other and it had ended in the usual way with Sandhya flinging different objects (comprising of vases, table lamp, Kushal’s toys and other potentially harmful items) at Raj until one found its target.

But usually it actually ended with Sandhya calling Raj in the office over phone to say sorry.


***


Chapter Two

Tring… Tring…


Sandhya hastily put on the dressing-gown and rushed out to pick up the phone. She glanced at the caller-ID-display and smiled, “Oh Raj, I knew you’d call. I’m so sorry about what happened today. It was only after you went away that I realized that you had been right. I should not have…Raj?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Are you still angry with me?”
“Angry? No, not at all (I forgot being that long back)”
“(Good, that makes it a lot easier) So, honey, say something sweet to me.”
“Sandhya, are you all right?”
“Of course, I am. Why?”
“Hey, I’m just asking like that. By the way, it seems you’d been thinking about me?”
Sandhya noted the flirtatious tone and smiled triumphantly, “Actually I was in the shower...”
Raj imagined her absentmindedly running her fingers through her wet hair as she usually did and felt a stir, “I have an idea. Why don’t we go out for lunch today? Then perhaps we could watch the new…”
“No, darling, actually today I’ve got to go shopping with Mrs. Mehta.”
“Oh.”
“And darling, you know I just seem to have run short of cash (And I was foolish enough to have picked up a fight today). Perhaps I could use your credit card…, mine is out of balance” she hastily added without waiting for a reply “I looked around but couldn’t find it anywhere.”
Raj suddenly realized where this conversation was leading to and felt strong repulsion for Sandhya. “Actually... I’m afraid...”
“Oh, I have to do only a bit of shopping. And I can’t afford not to go because Mrs. Mehta is an expert in swapping rumors. As it is, she’s always trying to…”
Raj could make neither head nor tail out of her blabbering. He just knew one thing – he was not falling for this one this time, “Sandhya, didn’t I tell you I have surrendered the card long back…”
“I’m quite sure you haven’t,” her tone suddenly changed “(This is not going to work, time for the trump card) Look, let’s make a deal.”
Raj could only admire the different facets of Sandhya’s personality. She changed colors faster than a chameleon, “What deal??”
“You tell me where the credit card is and I promise to pick up Kushal from school everyday, you won’t have to waste your precious time anymore…”
“…”
“…and I won’t go shopping for the next whole month…”
“…”
Sandhya was growing impatient, “…and I’d also bring you your towel in the bathroom whenever you forget to take it and…,” her nose screwed up, “…not mind when you leave your dirty underwear on the bathroom floor. Now tell me where the card is.”
“(In your dreams) I don’t think that is good enough.”
“What???” Sandhya yelled, “Okay, tell me what do you want?”
“You won’t be watching your serials for the next whole month.”
The thought itself of the dilemma Sandhya must be in gave Raj immense pleasure. Sandhya kept quiet. How could he do this to her? She wanted to shout at the top of her voice, curse him and abuse him, but this was not the time.
“Okay, I won’t watch the serials for the next month, happy? Now tell…”
“Look among my ‘dirty’ underwear in the cupboard. Good bye.”
“Bye” Sandhya said bitterly.

Raj was jubilantly putting down the phone when something caught his eye and he almost slipped from his chair. In the cubicle directly across from his, Ms. Reva was bending over her knees to adjust her sandals. There was nothing remotely enticing about her posture other than the fact that the strap of her top had slipped off her shoulder. Raj looked hungrily as Reva regained her composure and stretched like a young bird trying to fly. Suddenly her eyes caught his; she stared for a moment and then smiled at him. He smiled back and looked away.


***

Reva wasn’t used to sitting in front of a computer. But now she had to as her job demanded it. Her eyes hurt if she stared at the screen continuously. But today she had just seated herself and her eyes began to itch. ‘I must visit an optician’ she told to herself. Something else was also bothering her – her new sandals. She bent over to adjust them only to find that her skirt had entangled itself with the clasp on the sandals. After five minutes of struggle, she finally freed her skirt. She felt exhausted as if had just gone through an ordeal. She yawned, and stretched and found Mr. Roy looking straight at her. He looked like a greedy dog salivating for a bone.
‘Bastard’ she muttered. And then gave him a smile.

***

Sandhya replaced the receiver and turned. Nisha was watching her thoughtfully. She asked, “Mama, won’t we be watching the serials any more?” She looked clearly pained at the probability of her missing out on her favorite serials.
“No, dear, who said so?” Sandhya consoled her.
“You just told Papa that…”
Sandhya interrupted her with an indolent wave of her hand, “Oh, don't worry about it.”
And Nisha watched as Sandhya hopped into the bathroom again, with an unmistakable smirk on her face and an old tune on her lips.

***

To be continued...

Pyaar mein kabhi kabhi

It was the summer of 2006 jab we met for the first time.
It was love at first sight.

It's been six long years, and we have stood by each other. Those were great moments we spent together - studying, playing games, and generally having fun. Days and nights, hours together, non-stop - with little care for the world around.

I got married, and my wife, erm.. accepted you as my first love.

On my 26th birthday, you fell ill. And I was livid. Then you had this amazing makeover and life was back to normal again.

I have fought for you. And loved you in spite of your tantrums. I would not let anyone else touch you.

But, now, it's not the same.

We need to talk. The fun is lost. The novelty is gone. I don't blame you - maybe, something within me has changed.

Laptop, it's true. You don't interest me the same way anymore.

Growing vegetables is no fun!

Being the workaholic (the milder breed) that I am, I never enjoyed taking days off from work. I mean unless it is something as life changing as getting married or when I am really really sick, I have actually never taken off at all. I did take some leave when I had to go holidaying down south, but that was like once in my working career of four years!


And imagine me being put on two months of paid leave! Those of you yelling 'Yay, that's awesome', drop dead already. I just don't know what to do with all this time. Agree that there have been times when I had wished for some more leisure & pleasure in my life, but this is total overdose boss.

Yeah, planning that short trip to the hills in July. And yeah, did pay some more attention to my blog of late. There have been suggestions galore (and my reactions to them pretty varied)
- Do what you enjoy the most (*evil grin and then a mild sigh*)
- Koi short term course kar le (sari zindagi padhta hi rahoon kya be!)
- Use this time well (and how? tell me *with a gun on your head*)
- Beta come to meet us - your relatives in other end of the world (If I really wanted to do that, don't you think I would done it already?)
- Help your dad in his business (I will be more of a nuisance than help - he would throw me out of not only his shop, but also the house)

All that I have been actually doing is lazying around the house, watching saas-bahu serials (blog to come soon), sulking in general, and getting bored. I have already scanned the Facebook profiles of all my friends for gossip, called up random friends (even the ones I don't like) and chatted with them for hours, fought with wifey on silly things which I otherwise wouldn't have cared about, put on a few kilos of weight around my tummy (isshhh), pestered friends who are in Calcutta to meet me (so much so - they have started declining my invitations!), ate too much and then took medicines for stomach infection.

Life was never less exciting. You wouldn't agree with me. But then, you wouldn't know.

PS: Those of you, who are not aware, and thus missing the context - I am changing jobs and have been put on 'gardening' leave for 2 months by my old organization. Too much fun, no?

Search

Looking back isn't easy these days,
For the toys are of no more interest,
And yet, I miss the fun that I had,
while playing with them.

Not easy to look at old photographs,
For the friends in them are no more around,
And yet, I miss the bizarre connect,
that I had with them.

The comic books give no more joy,
And yet, I hoard them like a treasure,
For I miss the playful excitement,
of reading them.

Nothing has changed, and yet everything has.
For what is lost cannot be found,
midst old memories and tokens.
Search for innocence, is an unending quest.

Till it goes all numb

It creeps up forlorn lanes,
like shadows gaining shape,
scary,
after sunset.

It trickles down mossy walls,
like droplets of water,
tiny,
after a quick drizzle.

It sweeps the brazen fields,
like wind with its own mind,
hoarse,
after rushing down the hills.

It laps up the shores,
like waves, tall and high,
mad,
after flowing for miles.

It slowly pervades the heart,
like needles piercing the skin,
sharp,
till it goes all numb.

Popcorn tub, large coke and ample tears

Tears ran down Rani Mukherjee's cheeks as she spoke to her father on the phone. The father is evil and he wants her to earn money, at any cost.

P reached out for R's arm and held her tight. It was then I realized, that sitting in between two girls in a movie like 'Laaga Chunari Mein Daag' was a bad bad idea.

So, yeah, P was crying. And R consoled her with these endearing words, 'Men are like this only re, we are destined to suffer!' The fact that both of them will soon graduate from IIMB and actually bring many a men to tears in the corporate world clearly didn't matter. Also, they totally forgot that I, another 'evil' man sitting in the middle seat, could hear them. I was only supposed to look repentant on getting dirty glances from them every time a man made Rani Mukherjee suffer on the big screen in front of us.

End of part one.

The mother-in-law was at her best, hurling choicest abuses at the meek bahu. The entire confusion was actually a big misunderstanding - however, it was clear that, for now, the bahu has to suffer.

Thus ended a maha-episode of one of the most popular serials on TV, leaving the women in the house close to tears. The daughters-in-law (DIL) at home immediately burst into a tirade against the evil mother-in-law (MIL) on screen, also pointing out how in reality too the MILs don't understand the DILs at all. The MIL of the family, on the other hand, sided with the on-screen MIL and also took this opportunity to lambast the DILs in general. It does matter, of course, that the MIL and DILs at home are actually at peace, with no warring tendencies at all.

End of part two.

So, yeah, we, Indians, love drama. And we take this seriously enough. Be it Bollywood, Ekta Kapoor serials, IPL, Satyamev Jayate or anything else that can tug at our tear-ducts - we lurrrvve the drama.

The only problem I have with this whole nonsense is how people forget that what they are watching is scripted, fabricated, meant to entertain and not to be emulated or learnt lessons from. For example, all the male characters in these serials are pansies, with no dialogues, who cry like a girl whenever their girlfriends / wives are angry / upset, do not seem to have to work for a living and can be seen at home all the time showering praises on the women - such cutie pies they are! Now if all women start believing that this is how men should be, tab to ho gaya na!

Look at people from South India for example. Arrey, take these movies and these stars a little less seriously na?

End of random rant.

Khooni Kabristan ki Jung - Sequel

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

YogiMan was happy. He was with his family, diligently working on assignments given to him at work, and at peace with himself. Little did he know!

He made only one mistake. He aspired to grow from the post of an apprentice to that of the leader of another guild. And that didn't go down well with the leaders of his current guild.

There were rumours that they had learnt their stuff from the Black Widow and Loki. They were scary, control-freaks and gossip-hungry.

And they wanted to hit YogiMan where it would hurt the most - his pride! An assembly of the guild was called. And the apothecary blamed YogiMan for imaginary delays and 'gaps'. YogiMan was told that he wasn't an 'able' apprentice anymore - in fact, never had been. He was made to share his trade secrets with another apprentice. And they wanted to banish him from the guild. But, hang on, didn't YogiMan want to leave the guild anyway, and join another guild? There was a smile on YogiMan's face. And the one on his detractors' face vanished. At times, even the thought of the Sword of Gryffindor works!

Middle Finger. And graceful exit.

PS: The original Khooni Kabristan ki Jung can be found here.

In which Kaalia kills Gabbar

Because Basanti had two left feet; 

Because Jai just wanted to get lucky with Radha; 

Because Mausi was jealous of the gypsy dancer; 

Because Sambha moonlighted as a male stripper; 

Because Kaalia wanted glory, but was lazy; 

Because Ahmed was actually killed by Imam in a property dispute; 

Because Veeru was a paedophile; 

Because Thakur's hands were cut-off in Kuwait for shoplifting; 

Because Jailor & Hariram shot porn films with the inmates; 

Because life is not a movie script. And God's factory churns out defective pieces with 95% accuracy. 

Path, known and forgotten

Unknown fear, little known desire,

Never has the path been clear

A jump here, a hop there,

Those who passed, come back to sneer

There were hints, that deceived,

And foes, held dear

Self-made rules broken without mercy,

Sought smile, found leer

It was never meant to be simple,

And never, has the path been clear.

Facebook for dummies!

Life is unfair as it is. On top of that, what if none of your Facebook friends ever 'like' any of your pictures or status updates? Scary.

Do you feel lost while checking random status messages / pictures from your friends, telling everyone about their latest exotic vacation, while you have nothing at all to post? Do you just end up staring blankly at the Facebook home page, wondering what should you type, to attract that much coveted 'like' from your friends, or even better, that elusive 'comment'?

Worry not, you aspiring facebook celebrities, because Yogi Baba has come to your rescue now. I will tell you, the step-by-step process, for taking popularity on cyber-space to the next level.

1. Choosing the right DP (display picture)

You can take a few days off from work before you decide on this. For females, it is easier: you can post a picture of some pet, or some cute kid (preferably with a love quote), or Katrina Kaif. And the guys will hound you, assuming you are hawt. Should you want to put up a pic of yourself, make sure it is mysterious looking, like half-side-face or only your eyes (with deep kajal). And the guys would hound you, assuming the rest of you looks slightly better. For guys, something like a broken guitar or torn jeans works. If you want to put up your own pic, you should have a fancy beard or goatee or funny hair, or at least wear goggles. Plain pics are just not cool. Sissy boys can put up pics of Shahrukh Khan.

2. Choosing the right friends, Hell yeah

Ok, get this straight. Send friend request to every goddamn profile you come across. Be shameless about this. You need not know them. And you need not even introduce yourself. Just send the requests. For every snooty tight-ass who rejects your request, there are at least a dozen other losers who will accept it. Remember, you need to have friends first, and only then they can 'like' what you post. If someone ever asks, 'do I know you?', you can give any silly reason, like this one I got from a guy who had sent me a request - 'we have 12 common friends, we must friend each other' !

3. Beg. Borrow. Steal

Now, coming to what you should post. Don't rack your brains, use Google instead. Young girls can post random love quotes, or about sufferings of love, or the agonizing wait for prince charming or how some Bollywood star-couple looks so cute together. If you can't think of anything, just post - I am sad or I need a hug. That always works. Since women refuse to believe that they don't fall in the category of 'young girls', they can do the same. Guys can post about cricket, the eternal favorite. Or alcohol.
You can always 'share' nice stuff someone else has posted, without giving due credits of course (you are not here to do charity, always remember!).

4. A picture is worth a thousand comments

Post as many pictures as you can. Eating at McDonald's with your friends? Click pics and upload. Movie with colleagues? Click pics and upload. Mom forced you to go to mandir with her? Click pics and upload. Vacation? Ooooh.. the bestest opportunity. Click pics and upload. And many of them. And tag all your friends, even if they are not in the pic. If you live an absolutely boring life, just upload 'Happy new year' wallpaper and tag all your friends.

5. Live commentary is fun

Cricket match? Soccer? Tennis? Parliament proceedings? It is your solemn duty to provide live commentary to fellow Facebook addicts who may not be able to watch the TV themselves. Or maybe they are watching, but you don't know. And often, these updates can lead to cyber war of words, which will help your cyber popularity like anything.

6. Stalk others. And they will stalk you in return

We are all parasites after all. Make your own gang of back-scratchers. And you are good to go!

Now, if you have found any of the above dope useful, please do 'like' this blog. And if you want to absolutely make sure that I know of your gratitude, please do leave a comment. And only should you want, you may share the link to this blog on your Facebook page. And, yeah, do tell your friends about it. *sheepish grin*

Will trade forks for sanity (a little?)

B-school is a funny place. And the students who get selected into the top ones are, without an iota of doubt, a weird lot. So, when we at IIMB got to know that IIMC students were being tutored in 'table manners', there were some of us who madly giggled, and then some of us wanted a similar course to be floated in IIMB as well. Thankfully, that never happened.

During my summer internship, I would have lunch with all the other interns from various B-schools. And I noticed with interest that, while the rest of us ate like barbarians with our hands (licking fingers, gravy dripping from our chins, food spilled all over the table), the guy from IIMC would neatly fold his rotis into small cones, take some sabzi in a spoon, fill the cone with the sabzi, and gracefully eat it like a true Banker. That was when I started having doubts about my career in banking. That was also when I realized how too much education can kill all the fun in your life.

But then, if you have been following my blog (get the hint!), you would know that I am not exactly on God's favorite list. So, yeah, it had to all come back to me eventually. So, I was having lunch with my lady boss, and we ordered pizza. Pizza came. I was hungry. I took a slice. Picked it up. Took a bite. My teeth wouldn't cut through the cheese layer. I use my hand to tear the cheese away. So, am kind of trying to tear a bite.. struggling with both my hands.. but enjoying my meal. My eyes dart towards my boss. She had used a knife and a fork to neatly cut a small piece from her slice of the pizza, and was looking at me in horror. I give sheepish grin and pretend that I am not hungry anymore. And hope that the earth would just swallow me up. Imagine! I mean, come on, who uses a knife and a fork to eat a pizza!

I have seen worse.

I have seen people eat dosa with a fork, garlic bread similarly, and a sandwich like it was a small baby being operated upon. A normal person would get into depression, I am telling you, and would seriously start doubting his own existence. But I am stubborn as hell. And I don't even know how to use chopsticks. Die.

So, when a colleague recently chided me on picking the wrong plate for dessert, in another colleague's wedding, I gave him a dirty why-the-fuck-do-you-care look. And later smiled to myself.

I hate you and why

As my wife constantly reminds me, I spend more than half of my day in office, and the other half mostly sleeping. For the time being let's ignore why she painstakingly points this out to me so often - that can be fodder for another blog. Here, I shall talk about the time I spend in office, and the items people I meet there everyday.

In office, I am this sweet little hardworking soul, whose only aim in life is to spread happiness all around. But that is not how others think and behave. This is what they think and do:

You want me to work as well? - He is plain lazy. And he gets away with it too. If you are looking to dodge work, you can learn a trick or two from him, like staring thoughtfully at the computer screen for minutes altogether (doesn't matter what you are staring at), running around the floor talking on the mobile in urgent whispers, give a disgusting look to anyone who offers you work (this one actually works!), tell everyone how you are doing everyone else's work etc.

I am God's gift to himself. Bow to me already - He is always full of stories, about himself and his spectacular achievements. He would tell you how his boss adores him, how his clients drool all over him, how he won the national golf tournament and how he manages to have affairs with all the hot women in office without his wife knowing.

At home I dress like Lady Gaga. At office, I am just myself - She would shove her cleavage in your face at the slightest opportunity. Many mighty men have fallen for her sense of clothing. And things just get better with time.

My hair fall is not the only problem I have in life - She is the cry baby in office. Give her work and she would tell you about how her husband threatened to divorce her because she returned home late. Point out mistakes in her work, and she would tell you how her son doesn't even remember her face because she is always at work. She would make you look like the monster, for all the problems in her life.

I like to Bully. Deal with it - He marks your boss on all emails, and all of them are nasty to begin with. He would give you work that's not yours and then make you do it by throwing hazaar tantrums. He is a man on a mission: to show the world that he can fuck everyone's happiness. Everyone's. And his constipation-induced actions would irritate you to no end.

Do this for me. Don't tell anyone. I am not stealing your thunder, no I'm not - The quintessential credit-snatcher. And without doing any work at all. This variety lurks in the corner, quietly taking in all that you are doing. And the moment something shout-worthy comes up - zing tang bang - it's his before you can blink. He would also come to you often, seeking 'help'. And then conveniently forget to tell people that you did the work and not him.

Everyone (apart me from me, of course) deserves to be sacked - He would keep on cribbing about how everyone in office doesn't work and they should be sacked. For people who work, he would tell you that they don't work enough and don't do it right.

Abe Bh**ch** - He likes to abuse. In every sentence. You got a problem, sissy boi?

PS: Please feel free to replace 'He' or 'She' with each other wherever you like. And don't be disappointed if I have missed out 'You'. I am planning a sequel. Yay!

Going that 'extra mile'...

#This is part two of a multi-part blog post. Read part one here

Delhi airport - I had to take a cab to reach the hotel in Gurgaon where I was gonna be staying. I called the hotel up and they told me that I should take about 20-30 minutes to reach the place from the airport as it is right after entering Gurgaon in Sector (some number). I diligently noted it down and headed outside the terminal.

I hired a Mega cab from the taxi bay and told the driver where I needed to go. I asked him if he knew the way or should I call the hotel up to give him directions. He told me he knows the sector and then we can maybe call up the hotel once we are in that area. I agreed.

Now my road-sense is also out-of-this-world, so I just sat peacefully working on my blackberry. I noticed when we entered Gurgaon and asked him, 'are we near?' to which he replied 'o jee 10 aur minute'. I sat back quietly and started fiddling with my blackberry again. After a good 20 minutes, I asked him again. He told me that we would reach in next 5 minutes. I was getting worried and I called up the hotel to tell them where we were and asked for directions. I told the cabbie the route the hotel guy had told me.. to which he said he knows the way.. and 'bas aage se hum IFFCO chowk pahunchenge aur wahan se sector..'.  I was shocked. 'IFFCO chowk toh Gurgaon mein ghuste hi hai!'... 'Sir, idhar se bhi hai'... 'Do-do IFFCO chowk hai kya yahan?'... 'Nahi Sir udhar se raasta band hai'... 'dude, hum IFFCO chowk se hokar hi aaye hain!'....

I asked him to stop the cab, called the hotel and then gave him specific directions. The meter fare came to INR 650 whereas it should have been somewhere close to INR 300 had he brought me the correct way. I could have understood had it been a normal taxi guy because they are infamous for taking people for a ride. But even Mega Cab? I could have lodged a formal complaint but didn't have the energy. I just went into the hotel and crashed, silently promising myself never to hire a Mega cab again!

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

#This is part one of a multi-part blog post

I never really wanted to vent personal angst on my blog. I mean I have written sarcastic stuff before on here, but have never really made it personal. But I am mighty pissed with what's been happening around me. And I want to call thieves 'thieves' now, and in public.

Work makes me travel to Delhi / Bombay at times. This time, I was flying to Delhi by Jet Lite. Normally I reach the airport way before the customary '45 minutes before flight departure time' and check-in and stuff. This time too, I reached a safe one hour before and stood in the baggage screening queue (yes, they still have these in Calcutta!). The queue was unusually long and it took me a good 10 minutes to get my baggage scanned and tagged. I headed for check-in and the lady at the counter coolly told me that the check-in has been closed for the flight. I didn't really get what she meant and I asked for a clarification. She told me that check-in closes 45 minutes before flight departure time. I looked at both my mobiles - one showed that there were 46 minutes left before flight's scheduled departure and the other showed 47 minutes! I told her so. She said it was 45 minutes as per her watch. I countered that, even by that time, I was bang 45 minutes before departure and she couldn't refuse me. Hearing the commotion, the person standing behind me asked where was I flying to. I told him. He was flying to Delhi too and he too came forward and asked the lady for an explanation. The lady told us that they had been repeatedly announcing closure of check-in for the past half an hour. Both of us told her we had not heard a single announcement and usually in such cases the airline staff is out there helping passengers come forward in the baggage screening and check-in queues. None of that happened. Seeing that we were not to be laid off that easily, she called her supervisor. The fat lady arrived and after hearing us out, she gave an expression of utmost disinterest as if this was a regular affair. She wandered off to another counter and wasted a good 10 minutes looking around stupidly. I shouted across to her - 'now you are wasting time, we were here on time.. !' She came back, made a call to check if two passengers can be accommodated, got a confirmation in 2 minutes.. and asked us to head for security check-in.
We literally ran all our way to the boarding gate. I found that the boarding gate was locked and, for a second, I thought that the boarding was actually over. I spotted a Jet official and rushed to him. He asked me to sit in the waiting area. I thought he didn't really understand and told him that I was flying to Delhi and had to board the flight. He told me that the flight hasn't yet arrived so I need to wait in the waiting area. It then sunk in that the flight was actually delayed because it hadn't arrived yet! I lost my temper and told the guy about the drama at the check-in counter. He coolly told me that it was my fault and that it was for all passengers' convenience ... and walked off, leaving me seething with anger.
It was later that my colleagues told me that airlines often overbook flights and have to resort to such tactics to accommodate the extra passengers they have booked, or that they want to sell tickets at the last minute to make more money by cancelling tickets of passengers who arrive late. But in what manner? In the name of service and customers' convenience, can someone harass so easily and get away?