Crib-Post # 1

This is not to say that I don't crib in my other posts. But cribbing is never the focus and only a by-product.
So I thought of starting this series where I could crib with a focussed approach and complete, undivided attention. So, yeah, here we are:

I have always wondered at how bad I am with roads and directions. I mean you can't even imagine how exactly bad. If the directions involve anything but a straight line, I am bound to get lost. This holds true even if I have been to the place frigging 'n' number of times. It gets quite embarrassing at times, but I got to face the shit if there's a problem with me!

And worst part of the deal is when you get into a taxi and tell the cabbie to take you to a certain place and the cabbie asks you which road should he take. Since you are this God's gift to mankind otherwise (except for this small flaw of being bad with directions), you decide to act smart and tell the cabbie to take the road that would take you faster to the destination. In 9 instances out of 10, I can make out a smirk on the driver's face which reads 'Aaj accha murga fansa hai, lemme take the longer route!'

Then there would be friends and relatives who are visiting your city and who assume that you are a free tourist-guide. They would repeatedly call you for directions and random questions about how to reach a certain restaurant / monument from some godforsaken place they were stuck at. Needless to say, you are in for a lot of taanas should you tell them you don't know the way.

Sigh. Life sucks.

And my heart makes a secret wish

The problem with our generation is that we grew up watching Chopra-Barjatya-Johar movies. So we get senti about almost anything in this world. So yeah, I was senti when I was leaving Calcutta for IIMB... and I was super-senti when leaving Bangalore for good. And this blog has indeed seen those maudlin posts from my keyboard.

But this time, it was different.

Maybe because I was coming back home to familiarity. Or maybe because being the cribber that I am, I could see only flaws in the city which so many others would swear by. I never liked Bombay and I have no qualms admitting that. So when people around would ask me 'Wouldn't you miss Bombay?', somehow I could never get myself to say 'Yes, I will'.

But it was in the last few weeks of my stay in the city of dreams that I finally started getting that familiar old sinking feeling. And I didn't really know why. My friends had taken it upon themselves to make sure that these weeks form a memorable part of my stay in Bombay. And they did - making me aware of all the things I will miss about Bombay. So when I took one last look at Bombay through the clouds after the plane had taken-off... I found my heart making a secret wish.

So yeah a new beginning. Once again.

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.