I need to be paid more, because I put up with Mr. Grumpy

I have dealt with a lot of weirdos in my long life of 28 years. And most of them in my short working career of last 4 years. But then there are some people who clearly drive you to the brink of your patience.

So this colleague of mine thinks he is God's gift to mankind and the whole world is out there to make his life miserable. Here's what I want to tell him and yet, being the nice guy that I am (*sniggers*), can't, so I am venting it all out on my blog instead:

*You can't complain about 'work-life balance' when you come late to office, leave early, and play the whole day on your iPad. I mean have you ever looked at people around you and realized that each of us is slogging our asses off, while you sit on your over-sized bottom doing nothing whole day?

*Has there ever been a day when you have come to office and said, 'Wow, what a beautiful day! I am feeling hale and hearty'? I am amazed at the amount of creativity that goes into coming up with ailments such as 'involuntary spasms at the back of my upper arm' - use some of that on work-related things and I may actually like you.

*Are you really that gullible that everyone around you wants to cheat you and you have to have heated telephone conversations with them, demanding compensation, reversals, alleging mental harassment, wanting to speak to seniors of call center employees and what not. And all of this while you are in office. I mean why is that everyone from mobile operator, to credit card company, to doodhwala, to kaamwali bai, to insurance company, to retail chains, to local kirana store, wants to defraud you - within a span of a few hours, and this goes on in a loop?

*If you are walking with me on a crowded pavement, and people nudge past you, you cannot screech like a schoolgirl. No you can't.

*If you do decide to come with me for client meetings, don't expect me to ferry you around in cool-cabs. And if I have managed to cajole you into one of those yellow taxis, don't crib about heat and pollution. I have enough worries in my life that to tend to a 35 years old baby which throws tantrums every other minute.

I have a tough life at work. But then, I sometimes think, wouldn't life at work be boring if I didn't have people like you around.. 

Bollywood, you have sinned!

If you want to get into my bad bad books, you don't really have to try that hard. Try any of these things and I will run after you like a mad bull:

1. You make fun of bald men: Yes, I find such stupid jokes to be in extremely bad taste. I mean why single out bald men - make fun of those fat men, those short men, those Bihari men who hold each others' hands while crossing the road, those hippie men with long hair, that John Abraham strutting around in undies, Uday Chopra getting another movie, Shahrukh Khan doing... anything (haha, really weird!), Arindam Chaudhury, Saurav Ganguly - there are so many options. I just don't like such silly banter about bald men - and no, it's got nothing to do at all with the fact that I am losing hair at a crazy pace.

2. You say Harry Potter is meant for kids. I just have one word for you. Muggle!

3. You mess around with anything that's related to Sridevi. And Bollywood, you are testing my patience on this one. I mean why can't you leave some things alone. Just, just leave them alone, my memories of Sridevi included.

First it was Tusshar Kapoor - who's an example of everything that can horribly go wrong to a star-kid born without looks or talent - trying to bump bottoms with some female (who agreed to act opposite him!) and rendering irreparable damage to one of the bestest Sridevi songs that ever was.

Then it's that John Abraham, whose career has quickly gone down the chute (in spite of him stripping for filmmakers who are known to appreciate such things) trying to pull a fast one here. I mean, how lame does it sound! ... whoever thought it was a brilliant idea to twist around with the lyrics of the song is an ass!

And then we have some ghostly-white belle from south impersonating Sridevi herself! If you guys have run out of original ideas, fine, I can tolerate all of that. But, don't mess around with things that are too sacred to touch. Get it this time...

Relay

"Rafique, please understand. We serve pure vegetarian food in 'Krishna' restaurant. Your appearance... ... ..
...our customers don't feel comfortable walking in when they see a Muslim attendant.. hope you understand... "

Rafique was seething with anger as he maneuvered his bike through the crowded lane, cycling furiously. He almost threw the bicycle in the alley next to the staircase and rushed upstairs. How would he feed his family now? He entered his kholi to find Ayesha adjusting the cushions on the diwan. Her dupatta wasn't covering her head. In a fit of rage, he slapped her tight across the face. "Begairat!".

***

Her face still smarting, Ayesha peeled the skin off the potatoes and dropped them in boiling water. She didn't even realize that tears were welling up in her eyes. Sarika's arrival diverted her attention.

Sarika looked glad and content. She had a notebook and pencil in her hands. Ayesha's eyes widened. In a quick movement, she snatched the notebook away with one hand, and pulled Sarika's ear with the other.
"How many times have I told you not to touch your brother's things?"
"Ammi, I want to go to school too"
"I will send you to school! ..." shrieked Ayesha as she forced Sarika's right palm in the pan filled with boiling water.

***

"Come play with us Sarika"
"No I am not in the mood", Sarika sat on the stairs nursing her bandaged palm, as her friends played with clay dolls in the aisle. She could see Amruta limping in the distance. A wicked smile appeared on her face as she got up and hopped towards Amruta.

Amruta saw her and stopped in her track. Her eyes were fearful. Sarika pinched her on her arm.
"Don't" shouted Amruta.
"Why? What will you do otherwise? Run after me and hit me?" Sarika's laugh was maniacal.

***

"Why do you go out to play with that Sarika, baby?"
"I don't mummy, she comes to me and hits me" Amruta was inconsolable.

She finally felt better after her mom gave her a chocolate bar. As she limped into her room, Amruta found her grandfather sleeping on the cot. She hated sharing her room with this old man, who irritated her with his stories. Even her mom and dad didn't like him and were waiting for the day when he would die and leave them alone.

Balaji woke up and looked at her polio-ridden granddaughter with extreme sadness.
"Come to me, beta"
Amruta made a contorted face and sat down to play with her dolls, ignoring her grandfather's call.

***

Balaji Rao was proud of the way he had raised his sons. Even though he was a man of little means, he had ensured that both his sons studied in English medium schools. And what a gem Shrikant had turned out to be. He worked in a reputed bank, had a beautiful wife and a lovely daughter. Only if polio hadn't affected poor Sarika. Balaji let out a sigh.

Neelesh entered the room with hesitant steps.
"Papa, do you want anything from the market?"
"Yes, get me some poison, will you? Better to die than have a son like you"

As Neelesh left, Balaji gritted his teeth. What sins of his previous birth had made him sire a gay son?

***

Neelesh sat on the ledge, staring blankly at the waves breaking at the rocks. It wasn't his fault.

"Neelesh, you are sitting here! We have been looking everywhere!"
Neelesh turned and saw Ashok and Kalpesh running towards him.
"What happened?"
"You forgot? Today is our rally!"

How could Neelesh have forgotten! These asshole Biharis needed to be taught a lesson. They'd come and defiled their precious city, made it dirty with their filthy ways and worse, undercut them to take up their jobs.

But things would change soon. Rana Saheb had taken up arms against these infidels. Only today morning, his party people had bashed the owner of 'Krishna' restaurant in a North Indian locality, for refusing to put-up a signboard in Marathi.

***

Five years

They stood there, together
Like strangers,
Who knew each other too well.

Feeling claustrophobic, in the open park
He finally let go,
Letting the silence tear his heart apart.

He looked back, after they bid goodbye
polite and curt,
This wasn't meant to end. Not like this, anyway.


****

It had been just five years. No. It had been five fucking years. And it felt like they had met each other for the first time.

****

'So, you will call me, right? I don't have money to call you in London', he chuckled.
'No, I won't, fucker' .... he rolled his eyes, snatching the cigarette from his hands, and laughing madly. 'Stop talking like a kid, it's just London'.
'I am gonna miss you man'
'Abbe saale, internet hai na'....

****

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.