Coming Soon in a theater near you

Office Chainsaw Massacre

This will not really be a film but a documentary of sorts which will capture real-life events on camera. The anti-hero in the movie would be a masked 26 year old (with  really really terrifying looks) who enters an office in broad-daylight and brutally murders a few pre-identified fugly individuals using his chainsaw. The movie is instant block-buster material and has the potential to spawn multiple sequels (you guys are welcome to send in suggestions for locations... and can act as the anti-hero in the sequels should you exude the much needed awe)

Chal Sanyasi Mandir mein

  

No this post is not about Bollywood. But yes, we do learn lessons from Bollywood. That goodness always wins in the end. That you cannot break away from your roots - that the Sanyasi has to eventually return to the Mandir.

And yes, I never thought I will find myself saying this, but I will, indeed, miss Bombay. And in particular, I will miss:

- The amazingly overcrowded local trains: I guess my body will take some time to adjust to the lack of full-body massage that I get twice everyday here. I will miss the squabbles, the rush and the push, the madness and well, the madness.

- The tapori lingo: I fear that I might just hug the autowallah in Calcutta out of affection if he addresses me as 'aap'. No, Sir, don't you think that I am being paranoid here because this is after 3 years of being subject to 'tereko kidhar utaroon mein?'

- The Mahangai: Being an aam aadmi, I am very concerned about how much I have been shelling out of my pocket for bare necessities of life. Calcutta would see some more money, hopefully, in my Bank account. Hopefully. 

- The Works: Ah, well, I know I have been bitching about my job so much already. So, I need not go down that road again. I will really really miss being treated like a rotten piece of shit. Okay okay I stop right here!

But is there something that I will not miss? The bestest friends that I have made and the memories that I will always cherish? Nopes. For I will be carrying them with me :)

But something tells me it ain't over yet. Or is it?

PS: The picture is there only for marketing value, so don't fret over it. 

Happy Ending

You know when they say that Happy Endings happen only in movies... now I wouldn't say that they are totally wrong. But then often, once in a while, just as if God forgot to throw in that random twist of fate, you do end up being happy in the end. And though it is not really the end, but merely a halt, such happy endings are what we all live for.


So yeah I am happy. But then it is not in my nature to feel good and talk good about others. So I shall crib as usual. I just wanted you guys to know .. you know just in case you guys feel that my cribbing lacks quality today, that's only because I'm happy!

So yeah I have been going through a lot of turmoil these days. And it doesn't help when each and every person you meet on the road / office / train / at the chaiwala's / facebook / Gtalk asks you the same question- 'Weren't you supposed to be in Calcutta already?'

Yes, I was supposed to have fled from this godforsaken city long back. In fact, I shouldn't have come here at all in the first place and taken jobs that promise to suck the last drop of blood outta my body. But then since I did come and now have monsters around me who wanna make my life miserable, all I can do is patiently wait. At least now I know that it's just another two weeks of pain.

So yeah, there, yes you, the moron looking at me from across the road - just know that I will be in Calcutta soon. Very soon. And that should wipe that smirk off your face!

Bringing Sexy Back

I don't think I wished you people Happy New Year. I was too busy making plans for my Calcutta escape. Now that that is settled (almost), I am back *dhinchak background music*

A lot happened in Bollywood in 2010. But I want more. Much more. And some more of the old. Here's a list of what I would like to see in 2011:

Mamta Kulkarni: *Background Music: Gupchup gupchup*
Sheila and Munni may have impressed you to no end. But here was someone who could look sleazy without even trying. Whether dancing to lewd item-numbers or romancing Mithun-da, this Bholi-bhali ladki could set the screen on fire effortlessly. If Yana Gupta can make a scandalous come-back, Mamta can do much better. Let's root for MK's comeback. Yay.

Baba Sehgal: *Background Music: Aaja Meri Gadi mein baith ja*
The first pop-star (erm.. rapper?) of India deserves better than been forgotten. While you may remember classics like Dil Dhadke because of Pooja Bedi and not Baba Sehgal, still Baba has many more under his belt like Thanda Thanda Paani. So, we want the best rapist of India (as someone's comment on youtube calls him) to be back. And this time Long drive jayenge, full speed jayenge, kahin rukenge na hum :-P

David Dhawan-Govinda-Karishma Kapoor: *Background Music: Meri pant bhi sexy hai*
I need not tell you why. If you have read even one of my earlier blogs, you would know how much I adore such drama. Senseless, baseless, mad comedies are my thing. And even better if they have lewd, suggestive songs. Pure bliss.

Tum to thehre Pardesi and Desi Remixes: *Background Music: Ila Arun and Usha Uthup fighting*
I mean you didn't grow up in India if you didn't go to school humming that hideous Altaf Raja song and then silently praying that he never sings again (he tried and failed, that's another story). He was the Himessss of those days - every autowala and paan-dukaanwala loved him. He set such standards which years later only Himessss could break. I want him back. Not only because I love tragedies but also because I want Himessss to go.



Rakhi ka Swayamvar Season 2: *Background Music: Episode 1 of Rakhi ka Insaaf*
Ever seen a kid these days watching Pokemon or Doraemon? It is with similar fascination that I watch Rakhi Sawant. I mean even her goddamn serial has its own Wikipedia page! (What's wrong with humankind?). I want season 2 - since she is single and ready-to-mingle again. And I want more masala this time. I want the world to end and I want Udai Chopra to act again. Phew.

Khooni Kabristan ki Jung

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 looked around into the eerie silence. This was his only chance - to escape from the Khooni Kabristan - where he had been kept captive for the last two years by Takla Shaitan - the most dangerous of all evil wizards, the only one who had learnt the art of necromancy from the Lich King himself.


Today, Takla Shaitan was busy partying in the beaches of Pattaya, and YogiMan was making plans for his escape. The only obstacle now was Zingalo - Takla Shaitan's trusted servant and the gatekeeper to the Kabristan. He was slimy, evil and crafty, with a fetish for weird smells. But YogiMan knew Zingalo's pulse - his mortal fear of cats. And that's what will help him escape today. YogiMan had already sent SOS messages to Puss In Boots and Dobby the House-Elf. They would have already taken care of Zingalo. Now all YogiMan had to do was sneak out.


He ran towards the big mettallic gates. Suddenly there was huge roar and darkness all over. And a manic laughter. "Buddy, you thought you will escape? I can easily get another prey but this is wrong timing" - Takla Shaitan's massive head loomed over him. YogiMan felt as if his knees will crumble. But then he remembered.

The Sword of Gryffindor presents itself to any worthy Gryffindor in time of need. He closed his eyes. And felt the sword's hilt in his hands. He slashed at Takla Shaitan.

And Suddenly there was light. YogiMan could see his home. He was running towards his family and there was happiness all around.

End of Story

And I am going back to Calcutta! :)

Bechu babu?

A group of CA aspirants sit in a tutorial deeply engrossed in solving complex accounting problems. Their tuition Sir intermittently cracks witty one-liners that lead to loud guffaws and hoots from the entire bunch.

Have you ever seen geeks laughing? They take even laughing pretty seriously.

Then, the Sir asks the class - 'Do you think there is any other profession which requires such skill and sharpness of the mind?'
Not knowing that this was a rhetorical question, one poor soul replies, 'Umm.. MBA?'
'Aha' Sir exclaims and the whole class jumps. 'Bechu Babu banoge? Tie lagakar sabun bechoge?' (Do you wanna become a 'Bechu Babu'? Wear a tie and sell soaps?)

Years later, I have understood the irony in those words. Yes, I was part of that geeky gang of students. And today I wear a tie and sell, well.. not soap, but banking products.

Everything you hear (and laugh) about a Sales Job is actually frigging true - evil bosses, ungodly targets, wicked clients, sad life.. and the fact that you start hating your job from day one.

You do a good deal, your boss takes the credit. Your boss fucks up bigtime, you face the shit. You meet your targets and are told you should have exceeded expectations. The Hot Chic gets accolades for merely existing. One more Hot Chic joins office, your workload doubles. And Boss seems happier than usual.

Look pretty, talk smooth, lick asses of everyone around you, keep brain dead for most of the times, and use it only to contrive new wicked ways of projecting what a brilliant salesman you are.

But then once you are in Sales (and did not have the sense to run away within a month of joining the job), you will realize that you crippled for life and are now good-for-nothing-else. You cannot do a desk-job anymore (too boring!), you cannot do anything intellectual (Umm.. what?), your only hope is to reach a level where you can start giving shit instead of taking it. It isn't tough if you have the talent, or if you are a hot chic (refer above).

But what's with all the glory then?

I will conclude with one of the shadiest jokes I have ever heard. It goes something like this:

When the judge asked the plaintiff, "My dear lady, why did you do nothing when the defendant raped you again and again over several days? Do you think you could have done something about it - told someone, raised an alarm?", the young lady giggled nervously and whispered "Yes - But I was enjoying it".

Sharm hi Bhartiya Purush ka.. umm.. Gahana hai?

I am so totally against discrimination of any sorts. I know you must be thinking if I wasn't awesome enough already, but yeah, this is how I am.

I have always wondered why it is ok for men in India to roam around clad only in vests and lungis while women have to be covered from head to toe. Ok, this may have changed today - that is, I have seen chics in clothes that ideally should be worn by toddlers.. but yeah, that is restricted to Mumbai / Gurgaon / Bangalore and maybe 10 other cities? Men, on the other hand, get away with a lot of things.

Anyway, what prompted this post was this - We had gone to this new multiplex to catch a movie. And I had to use the men's room to take a leak. When I entered the place, I was amazed at the decor - it matched that of a five-star hotel loo I had once used. Brilliant lighting, modern fittings, amazing colour combinations and no separators / dividers between the stalls. Wait a second - no dividers? Only a bevy of pans placed next to each other!

So I just had to go there, whip my thing out, do what I was meant to do, with all and sundry free to stare? Forget the hyginene bit for a moment (I mean what if droplets get splattered and land on the hand/body of the guy standing next to me?), even otherwise, why was it okay for men to be nude in public? And noone other than me seemed to be bothered in the least. I rushed into one of the cubicles and did my thing - but this episode left me scarred for life.

Maybe I am more shy than most other men. But, there are some things that are meant to be private. Anyway.

Decoding the mind of a Serial Cribber

I always believe in doing good to others. In fact, at times, I even surprise myself by being this amazingly generous guy who would go out of his way to help the losers of the world. This Diwali, in line with my awesomeness, I help you petty mortals understand more about the Cribbo psyche. Frankly, there are too many poseurs around, and we need to make people understand more about us, so that they can tell between an amateur cribber and a seasoned one. So, here we go:

We crib. Therefore we are - Asking us "Why do you crib / why are you cribbing?" is like asking us an existential question (Why do you live / breathe?). It's the way we are. Deal with it.

Don't worry, we are normal - We don't need a reason to crib. We really don't. It could be something as life-shattering as getting ditched by three girlfriends in a row to something as trivial as your friend lighting one extra candle on your birthday cake. It could be the weather, the neighbor, job, boss, you, me, movie, cricket, more of anything, less of anything, how things are boringly perfect.

We don't need your sympathy - No, not even your empathy.

We don't like competition - I was once enthralling my co-interns with some of my choicest cribs when this lady butted in. She didn't look the cribbing type - but then I have never been so wrong about anyone in my whole life. What followed was a nasty game of oneupmanship between us "Our mess food sucks - our mess food sucks even more; we have n loser profs - we have n+1 loser profs; there are no hot chicks in office - there is a greater dearth of hot guys". Goes without saying, I shall hate her forever.

Cribbing takes style - It's an art. You need to keep it interesting and novel. Sadly, no one notices the hard work we put in. Sad losers.

I am done with my Good Deed for the year. Sigh, it was tough.

Happy Diwali

Wishing everyone a very Happy Diwali :)

A Neighbours' Nightmare

Nothing else could have spoiled the mood any worse than it did. It was all we could expect from her when everything was going so well. We had just gotten into the party spirit when Simple, as clumsy as always, managed to get her dupatta entangled with the table-lamp which in turn fell on the table with the water-jars - thus spraying water all over the switch-board and off went the room into darkness. And although Mr. Raichand hastily called the electrician, with everyone stepping on each others’ toes, nudging each others’ arms and patting each others’ wives in the dark, the party was surely not in shape.

It was a party in celebration of the Raichands adding a Pomeranian to their already long list of pets. They took pride in the ownership of two of the most irritating cats, one smart-ass parrot and one Labrador which would stare at you with its sinister looking eyes wide open and the menacing canines bared. It was only last month when they organized a puja (followed by cocktail dinner) on the birthday of Chink, the Labrador. Everybody looked forward to the Raichands’ parties but this one turned into a nice little hullabaloo.

And of course the one to feel all the more worse was Simple. She kept making sighs of grief and remorse and when she apologized to Mrs. Raichand for the eighth time, the latter really meant when she said “It’s OKAY Simple”.

***********

It was typical of Simple. She managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents, always. She was the type of girl who would coax you into letting her do your chores and then spoil them for you. She would run madly across the road, almost causing a traffic hitch, to just say ‘Good Morning’ to you. She would ring you in the middle of night to apologize for a mistake she’d done weeks earlier. But there was something about her which restrained everyone’s ire at her irksome acts. Perhaps, it was the feeling of guilt which showed through her deep and immaculate apologies. Often a time she had broken into hysterical tears at being playing the spoilsport.

So in a way no one really resented her acts. Mrs. Raichand never complained, not even when Simple broke her favourite hibiscus pot nor when she sprayed tomato ketchup on her new sari. The hag next door, who barked at kids for storming into her lawn, never fussed when Simple broke her crockery. So everything moved smoothly, at least apparently, with Simple being ever so ham-fisted and the neighbours being ever so understanding.

But I guess I knew Simple a little too well. And, so I could see things which others couldn't. And I was shocked to know that Simple knew that I know too.

*********

We were sitting in the park that day when Simple pointed towards the road and announced mischievously, "Watch". It was Mrs. Raichand coming with a heavy packet in one hand and holding the chain of the Pomeranian with the other, the puppy trying its best to break loose. Apparently, she had taken her pet on a stroll and had shopped on the way. While I still tried to make out what Simple wanted me to look at, she darted briskly towards the duo. She was just one step from them when she stumbled, one gracious fall and Simple was lying in the lap of Mrs. Raichand, the latter slumped flat on the footpath. The peaches in the packet had sprawled on the path and the Pomeranian had dashed into the road swarming with vehicles.

“Dilbert, Oh my God!!!!!!” yelled Mrs. Raichand in fright. The vehicles skidded to a halt, Dilbert gazed about in horror and Simple had already assumed an expression of utmost remorse. The lady fetched her pet quickly, didn’t look twice at the peaches and hurried home with Simple following her with tear-streaked cheeks and long explanations. However, she did turn and wink at me. 

Women!!!

*********