Phata Poster, Nikla Hero

Ok, maybe not quite a Hero. This is what I am referring to - but then, I had asked for it!

So, any learnings?
No Sir -just let me nurse the wounds (mainly to my pride) - will be back soon!

*evil laughter with appropriate sound-effects in the background*


PS: This masochistic brainwave was an inspiration from Mini.. err.. Maini.

Tu bhi Disco, Main bhi Disco

Ok, so the off-site happened (they call it the Business Meet), and it wasn't all that bad. For three days, we were parceled to this luxury hotel in Goa where we had marathon presentations (which were boring to the point that you almost strangle yourself), team activities (read 'physical torture'), and random conversations with bosses where you are repeatedly reminded how fortunate you are to be part of this elite gang! However, to redeem it somewhat, met so many new people, gulped gallons of free daaru, and treated myself to the luxuries that such a hotel could offer (err... only the free ones!).

I shall not forget:

* how the DJ was playing my favouritest songs like I am a Disco Dancer, 1-2-3, Jumma Chumma and many more. 

* how, after maroing three Long-Islands and a couple of shots (I could barely stand), I realized that I will be called on to the stage for receiving an award (They obviously couldn't let me know earlier!) And then you have kamine friends who suggest that you have another shot to soothe nerves. I didn't trip and fall, I didn't do anything stupid either - but people complained that I was dead serious when receiving the award!

 * how I ran for my life after seeing my naked boss coming out of the sauna (accidentally, instead of entering the showers, I came out of the wrong door into the corridor. And I was wearing only a towel!)

* how we had a fight with the irritating  lifeguard at the beach - who gave us fake excuses like "there are snakes in the sea" to send us away after nightfall.

* how I couldn't sleep at night (even after being completely drunk) because my room-mate was snoring loud enough to wake up Kumbhakarna. 

* how, during the physical activity session, a Bong from Calcutta and a Sardar from Delhi broke into a fight. Watching the show from the sidelines was pure bliss.

* how there were hot, skimpily-clad, firang chics on the dance floor. But, as a poor desperate soul from Chennai got to know the hard way, they were reserved only for senior management.

From Bollywood with Love

I have developed this one bad habit of late - of reading movie reviews before I go and watch them. Maybe this is because I seldom go for movies now and so have to really decide which ones to watch. Earlier, it was simple - one on Saturday, one on Sunday - if three movies have released the same week, then maybe one on Friday as well. Bachelorhood had its own share of fun!


But reading movie reviews before I watch them kills half the fun. Also, you are annoyed when you read these idiots dole out crap saying how the movie didn't do anything for them at an intellectual level. Right! You are watching Bollywood - let it remain Bollywood-like. As it is, Bollywood these days has lost much of its charm. What with all the 'different' plots and 'contemporary' movies!


I desperately want those days back when you go and watch a movie because you want your grey cells to rest for 3 odd hours, where you can laugh at silly jokes like this one, and jump in your seats at scenes like this one, and throw chawannis on the screen when Katrina Kaif dances like this.


So, here's a list of 5 things that I miss about Bollywood:


1. Bhagwan ke liye mujhe chod do:
These scenes used to be the highlight of any villain's career. Higher the number rape scenes he has done, larger would be his bargaining power with the producer. Small-time villains would try to rape the hero's sister. Stalwarts got to rape the heroine herself. And super-villains would get dialogues like "Itni acchi cheez ko Bhagwan ke liye kaise chod doo". 
For the actresses, it was double-bonanza. Their blatant over-acting would get passed off as brilliant histrionics. And they got to expose sans raised eyebrows from the moral police. Sigh, those were the days.


2. Maa:
The Original Bollywood Maa was teary-eyed, overflowing with emotion, ever-sacrificing, pitiable creature. She was the one who made the women burst into tears and made the men feel guilty for the torture that their kind was inflicting on the Maa onscreen. Then, times changed. Moviemakers realized that they need not have a separate Helen as Item-girl. The Maa could double-hat (see here). 


3. Black Vs White:
I don't have the time or the patience to analyze who is good and who is bad. The bad guy should look really evil and hatred for him should come naturally. He can try being bald or having long, bushy mustache. He should use only foul language and look at all the female characters with gandi nazar.
I hate shades of grey. I don't like anti-heroes.


4. Rita Bani Sita - In the same line of thought, the mashooka should be hot and the wife should be dressed like sati-savitri. Thus, when the hero and the heroine get married, the heroine's attire needs to be changed. (this to this). 
First, actors don't get married at all in today's movies! And when they do, the girl still pirouettes around in skimpy clothes, not caring for our sanskars. Me not likes at all. 


5. Ek Ladka aur ladki kabhi dost nahi ho sakte: 
This should be crystal clear for all. I am fed up of all the 'we are only friends' stories. Show them love stories. Btw, watch the legendary scene here


Though, even today, Bollywood does occasionally surprise us with classics like Prince and Ek Second - Jo Zindagi Badal De. But these are far off and in-between. As a hamming Shahrukh Khan would say, Yeh dil mange more!

Because God doesn't like me

Yes, I have arrived at this conclusion after a lot of deliberation and debate. It is high time now that I confront him, to put an end to all this madness. 
And this post ideally should be in Hindi - the drama just comes out better. But then my laptop sucks and typing in English itself is an ordeal. Also, you will soon be enlightened about my paranormal translation skills. So, here we go. 


*deep breath*   
God, 
You must be so happy today! 
All through my life, I have never uttered a word. Ever since I was a kid, your world has doled out atrocity after atrocity on me – I always took everything to be your wish. 

(Aaj to bahut khush hoge tum!


Bachpan se lekar aaj tak, tumhari is duniya ne zakhma par zakma diye hain mujhe, lekin main sab kuch tumhari marzi samajh kar chup chap sahta raha)


- Guys are supposed to be good at cricket. Period.
But I was always beyond being pathetic. Evil laughter of all the para-boys (para = locality) when I got out for a duck again or when I dropped a lopa-lopa (slang for 'too easy to miss') catch, still rings clearly in my ears.
I said nothing to you. I never prayed that I should be the star player in the para tournament.


 - My world was shattered when I found out that Sridevi had married a motu and taklu Boney Kapoor. I mean, come on, I looked so much better! And I even remained faithful to her through atrocious movies like Nakabandi and Chandramukhi.
Maine tab bhi tumse kuch nahi kaha.


- In a world where girls go all gaga over brawn (and caring little for brains!), I was always lanky, all skin-and-bones. After all, which girl would want to date a guy who would give her competition in the waistline category? I was the favorite rakhi-brother material.
Still, I waited, patiently, for my time to come.


- Even in IIMB, you tortured me with Quant! What were the professors expecting? That we are  mutated maniacs and that we have mini-orgasms while solving super-complex mathematical problems? Ok, maybe some of those weird engineer-geeks do get all ecstatic while solving Double Integration of a differential equation or some such shit! But I don't. And, it was third degree torture to me.
I took the C in Quant to be my fate. Quietly.  


- When I joined work, you gave me evil super-bosses. Evil means really evil - descendants of Sauron, devotees of Mugambo, minions of Voldemort! I never fought back, never spat in their face or pushed them in front of a speeding car. I satisfied myself by gossiping about their extra-marital affairs instead.


- You gave me a paunch and white hair. You made college-kids call me 'uncle' in local trains. But today the lakshman-rekha was crossed. 
Main ab chup nahi rahoonga .
While having a bath today, when I found that the drain is completely clogged because of my falling hair, and the naked truth stared at me, I was livid.


Aisa kya bigada hai maine tumhara? Itna bhi zulm mat kar ki duniya mein sabka tujhpar se bharosa uth jaye. Please, please, please!

Relief! *deeper breath*

Randomness.... all over again!

*My office people have been  planning a team-offsite in Goa. They tell me it will be a lot of fun. And then they tell me that we have to make powerpoint presentations and participate in fruitful discussions and team-building exercises and a whole lot of other crap! Am lost. And am already sure I will hate it.

*'I hate Luv Storys' was time-pass. The pair looked good onscreen. Songs were hummable. PVR seats were extremely comfortable. And caramel popcorn was pure bliss.

  

*I have got this cool little gadget on my Blog which tells me who all have been visiting my blog, as in from which country, which state, which link, which website. It also offers me uber-cool analytics and reports and stuff. I found that many visitors arrived on the blog from Google. Here is what they searched for -

Life at IIMB (After reading all my cribbing, the person would have the most distorted view of life at IIMB!), yogizone blogspot (I danced for half an hour when I found that someone actually googled for my blog!),  if sabzi mein namak zyada ho to kya karein (this got thrown up in results!),  yogi zone (this time it was the hula),  are Indians smelly? (!!!!),  bachelors not allowed Mumbai (I was amused),  Flute Player (All smiles),  Kaam wali bai ko ragda (And I died) 

*Toy Story 3 was pure awesomeness. It's not for the kid in you - it is for You, if you have ever been a kid that is. And if, as a kid, you have ever had stuff that you treasured!   

Randomness

* During monsoons, Mumbai attains a new level of menace altogether. Ok, except Marine Drive - its beauty during the rains can completely mesmerize you. But, overall, its painful. Local trains get dirtier and more crowded. People poke each other in various body parts with umbrellas. In fact, if you are those types who relishes causing pain to others, you should carry these really huge umbrellas (which are also handy if you have to clear way for yourself in the train).

* Our colony's kids' favourite pastime during vacations has been splashing in the water that got collected in the complex's swimming pool (which otherwise remains dry due to water shortage in the area!). Suddenly felt so grown up, so old. Those were the days! No, not the ones  that I remember - but the ones when I was so very young, the days I don't have even a sliver of memory of.

* Saw the new Fair & Lovely for men ad on TV. And rolled with laughter for half a minute. I thought they had come up with something called 'Fair & Handsome' for men. Is that product out of the market? Or do men prefer to be 'lovely' over 'handsome'?

* Sonia (my wife) has been having these weird nightmares. She gets up in the morning all worried and tells me that she had had the worst nightmare of her life in which her kaamwali bai was threatening to quit the job. And then I make the biggest mistake of the week by saying that 'It's just the two of us, you can sure manage by yourself'.

* I have listed my blog on all these blog directories on the net (in the hope of getting the most coveted of all prizes for bloggers around the globe - traffic!). Read some of the blogs listed there - and I suddenly feel so humbled, so dwarfed... so miniscule *sigh* But I will continue blogging for sake of my own stupid vanity. And will write on more random topics in the future *evil grin*

* I am petty sure I need a new laptop as mine one simply refuses to work (this is a blatant hint if someone is looking at cheering me up by buying an expensive gift)

* This post is made up of random topics. Randomness is the flavor of the season.

The Flute Player

This is a repost of sorts. Had written this way back - before college, seems like before time. Don't know what had inspired this - but when I think of it now, various inspirations come to mind - The Solitary Reaper, Braj Ki Sandhya (one of the bestest Hindi verses I have read), The Pied Piper...


Can't write such stuff anymore, back then I used to write for myself, only my own self. There was no need for acceptance. No greed for praise and accolades. The innocence is now lost - I am myself no more.

“The Flute Player”

~~~~~

The ‘fireball’ was sinking low;

And darkness swept o’er the vale;

And the villagers awaited eagerly –

Him – who makes their hearts sail.

Then was heard a distant tune –

Soft like love, Soothing like prayer –

Which grew louder every moment;

He came, at last, the Flute Player.

He walked down the hamlet lane

Playing the most lingering tunes;

A surreal aura evolved, and,

The listeners forgot their haunting pains.

A maiden slipped into the world of dreams,

Oblivious to her worldly part…

Enchanted and mesmerized she sang –

‘Oh, oh, the Flute Player of my heart!’

The young ones also took a ride

To joys of bliss as the music loomed.

He weaved magic with his flute –

And they merrily danced to his tunes.

But still with all his lust ’n charm,

The Flute Player remains all alone.

He swaps our sorrows for divine joy,

Yet, pines for something, to us, not known.

He plays his flute with burning zest,

Perhaps to make his pains flow

In tunes that fill thy heart with Joy –

Wherein may he find his secret cove.

~~~~~~

Mr. Beautiful

He welcomed me with a gleeful smile. Most salonwala bhaiyas I have known are never happy to see another customer. At least in Calcutta, they never are. Bored with work, they just want to sit idle, pick at their noses and listen to Himessssh songs on Radio Mirchi. But this chap was different.


Me: 'Baal kaat do yaar'
Dude: (running his fingers through my hair) 'Sir, shampoo kar doon? Aapke baal bahut dry hain'
Me: 'Nahi yaar. Main ghar jakar shampoo kar loonga. Tum baal kaat do - aur chote mat kaatna' I warned him.
Dude: 'Normal cut ya style mein katoon?'
Me: 'Normal. Baal kahan hain style karwane ke liye. Duh'
Dude: (again tousling up my hair) - 'aap spa kyun nahi karwate. Baal ekdum mast ho jayenge'
Me: 'Nahi yaar. Tum zaldi baal kaat do'
Disappointed, he got to his work. And I started dozing off. Then he jerked me awake.
Dude: 'Aapke baal girte hain?'
Me: (irritated) 'Bahut'
Dude: (perhaps sensing the bitterness in my voice) 'Sab dandruff ki wajah se hai. Aap spa karwa lo'
Me: 'Arey paise nahi hai bhai. Karwana hoga to bolunga main'
But he was just too enthu about his job. After the haircut, he offered to do a facial with some 'special gora banane wali' cream. I gave him a flat 'no'.
Dude: 'Sir aapke sare dark marks chale jayenge. Girlfriend khush ho jayegi.'

I was amused. But I didn't give in. Paid him Rs 60 for his shitty haircut (in Calcutta I would have paid only Rs 25!) and came out of the salon.

And I don't actually blame him for peddling these products to me. The modern day metrosexual man goes to the spa, gets facial done, gets pedicure, manicure and what not cured. He is increasingly trespassing on what used to be female-only territory in the bygone days. Companies are launching beauty products targeted at men - to make men fairer, softer and possibly, more girly. Kudos to Shahrukh Khan for starting this madness - he told the whole world that his beauty secret was actually a Lux soap.

But some of this is also getting out of control. If my 'male' superboss can announce that he is addicted to pedicure & manicure and start taking tips on the same from a 'female' colleague of mine, I know that the world is spiralling out of its orbit.

It's not that I don't take care of myself at all. I am very concerned about my falling hair and I get repeated nightmares that I have gone bald. And just like I would do if you bring a cockroach all of a sudden in front of me, I flinch on seeing an ujda chaman. So I have started getting head massage where I make the salonwala bhaiya apply smelly nariyal oil on my hair whilst he keeps pleading that I opt for its super-costlier version hair-spa instead.

Maybe this would stop soon. Or, maybe the day is not too far away, when men would be 'beautiful' too.

Once upon a time in the 21st century.....

.... man stopped talking or writing. Because he found out that he can tweet instead.

Tweeting was after-all a far more evolved form of communicating. Once you have tweeted, people all around the world can see it, and do random things in response (apologies, I don't yet know what all you can do on twitter). On facebook, for instance, once you had posted a status update (e.g. 'I just farted!'), your friends can 'like' it, comment on it (e.g. 'Is it one of those smelly ones?'), share the update with their friends, have a conversation around it and someone sitting in Prague who you don't know at all will see the update when they log into facebook simply because his friend's friend's friend is also your friend and this might just make his day ('OMG, Indians have smelly farts!'). See the magic yet?

Thanks to Orkut, Facebook, Twitter and now Buzz for Googlomaniacs, losers round the world can have a thriving virtual social life. E.g. I never forget my friends' birthdays, anniversaries, weddings anymore - I facebook them! He may eventually never know that I wished him because he would have 250 other 'friends' also facebooking him the same day, but I will have to live with that. I am now in the know of all my friends' minute-by-minute activities like A is at the airport tweeting around, B is getting bored in office and is hence, facebooking, C is watching Kites in a theater and has buzzed about how pathetic the movie is. The only downside is that I don't get any brownie points for supplying gossip anymore as everyone knows everything. But, ta da, I save money as I don't need to call / visit anyone at all.

Truth be told, I am somewhat scared. I am scared when I see how willingly people share their lives on a public forum. How easy it is for someone to find out anything that he wants to know about you, your appearance, your thoughts, your daily routine, your likings, your fears, your relatives, your hobbies! Websites like facebook, google and many others, in order to supposedly 'enrich' your surfing experience, track what you do on the net. So, don't be surprised if next time you notice an innocuous car ad on your google homepage if you have been doing online research on cars. You realize how far this can go?

The other day I received a facebook prompt - "Mr. A visited your album". Here, A neither commented on my album nor 'liked' any of the pics. A was not even in my friends' list. Still I know that he visited my profile and looked through my pics. Next time facebook might tell me that B likes visiting a particular porn-site or that he's been googling on schizophrenia purely based on his online activities and without his knowledge.  Scary, no?

Ok, I guess I am done. Now, let me post a link to this blog on facebook and also update my gtalk status message telling the world that my blog is updated. I also think I should finally start tweeting. How else would my friends know about my stupendously interesting life!

Ass you like it

It used to amuse me earlier. But now my reaction borders on that of disgust.


I have actually seen all types - fair or dark, smooth or hairy, bony or muscular, tight or lumpy, guy's or girl's. A good view used to get an appreciative nod. A pathetic one got only a chuckle. But I am bored of the show now. So I will blog on this topic instead.  


Indians catch on to a fashion fad like fire to fuel. Ok, maybe a little later than the rest of the world. But they also overdo it to crazy levels. 


First, we were supposed to show off our underwear. We only had to wear our jeans a little lower than where they ideally should be. Then, we thought, what the heck, a little bit of ass-crack would do no harm. Now, everywhere around we see asses on display. Guys', girls', uncles', aunties', kids'!, the sabziwallah's, the electrician's, the cobbler's, the receptionist's, the courier boy's, the chaiwallah's, my friends' and their friends'. One of my earlier kaamwala boys had his ass-crack on show with panache. John Abraham has done it on screen. I am sure than Shahrukh Khan will do a personal show for you if you pay him enough money (he may already be doing such shows - you may want to check if interested)


Since I have decided to dwell on this at an intellectual plane, let us wonder why would one want to resort to such an antic:


1) Mini-striptease:  Peacocks dance to attract peahens. Maybe, for modern-day man, showing one's ass is a mating ritual. Maybe, lust at first sight (of a cute ass) can finally transform into eternal love.
2) Maybe the clothing brands don't make right sizes anymore. Or like true Indians, we buy our clothes one size bigger just in case we put on weight later :)
3) For making a statement like 'Meri underwear teri underwear se mehengi (aur choti) hai'
4) Maybe to show the world that you have lost weight. And, you have lost a lot of weight real fast. So fast that you didn't have time for buying new clothes
5) In the hot Indian summer, we prefer air around our sweaty asses. 
6) Maybe this is the way members of a secret cult identify each other?