Neil's Random Ramblings

Time for a change

2012-01-23T10:58:00.003+05:30

Location, location, location. In this global economy where business is driven by the perpetually connected using a laptop + data card / wi-fi crowd, the golden location rule might not really apply too much but in good old fashioned retail its still all about location. Companies are jostling for advertising space and are becoming increasingly innovative in the spots they capture.

Just last week I noticed that Life Insurance Corporation (LIC) of India (for the benefit of the gazillions of readers from across the world, LIC is the largest provider of insurance in our country and a behemoth that has long considered to be a bit behind the curve in terms of being aggressive and cutting edge) had advertised on the back of the drivers and passengers seats in Bangalore's most popular chain of cabs. Surprisingly smart, extremely effective and yet ever so simple. However it isnt all good news though.

Last week I had gone to LifeStyle, one of big city India's more popular retail chains to make full use of the half yearly sale (blame my Indian roots on this mentality) and had picked up a few trousers given that my wardrobe can accomodate no more shirts. Off I went to the trial room optimistically hoping that I could squeeze myself into size 32 trousers and not the size 34 ones (which is my correct size, shhh dont tell anyone). I placed the pieces I wanted to try out on the stool and dropped my pants when I realised there was someone else in the same trial room with me! With a fright, in my half naked state, I turned around and there in all his glory was the gentleman in the picture below. It took me a second to realise that it was just a full size print advertisement of an apparel retailer that was placed on the back of the door of each individual trial room but the person in charge of advertising and marketing at this company must be one sadistic sonovagun.

Seriously, who would ever place such an uncanilly realistic picture inside a trial room in which 3 sides have full length mirrors (which only serves to makes things worse because from whatever angle you look in the trial room, you can always see the guy)? Jittery, I went to another set of trial rooms where I was afraid to remove my shirt given the way the guy on the back of this door was looking at me (picture below). I almost wanted to ask him 'Why so serious?'.
Needless to say this time I ended up buying clothes without really trying any of it so I will have to put on or lose weight if I have to fit into 2012s shopping. All because of that twisted, demented advertising head .....

This reminds me of a Jay Leno classic - " According to a new survey, women say they feel more comfortable undressing in front of men than they do undressing in front of other women. They say that women are too judgmental, where, of course, men are just grateful"

Wish you a smoldering 2012

2012-01-09T12:30:00.002+05:30

I might have missed the date by a bit but then again it never is too late to wish all you troglodytes and hermaphrodites a very happy and prosperous new year. Now I've never been too much of a New Year eve person and true to form I had a sound night’s sleep as the world sweated and drank their way to 2012. I’m not really sure what there is to celebrate, January 1st is just the same as all the other days except that most people would have a massive hangover and not much recollection of the previous night's revelries unlike the remaining 364 days of the year.

Nothing changed overnight. The Indian cricket team is still getting a butt whipping the likes of which would make any self respecting cricket fan switch channels and start following golf. Or snooker. Anna Hazare is still in the news for his protests but still most people don’t know what he is fighting against. The condition of roads in Bangalore which has always been on the verge of going from bad to worse is still unchanged for the most part but it is inching perilously close to the worse zone.

I've never been too much of a New Year resolution person either because my resolutions last a month at most and then get consigned to the history bin never to be brought up again. This time I’ve got a longer list than usual and I do hope that i can carry forward my good form into February. And March. And April. I've got two books to write (that explains the lack of too much writing on this blog, apologies to all faithful readers, yes all two of you) and while one of them is shaping up nicely (39k words and counting) the second one is a different story. It is something I know I definitely should write and I've received guidance from an anonymous person who has helped shaped some of the most crucial characters. I’ve got the story in my head but all I’ve managed to write is one page. A perfect case of writers block if there ever was one.

I’ve also decided to reawaken the guitar maestro that has enjoyed a really long slumber in me and I am on the guitar (the best Christmas gift I’ve given myself) for anything between an hour and two every day and I’m thoroughly enjoying myself. The only flipside is that the fingers on my left hand are terribly sore at the end of it and I have a torrid time typing once I’m in office. Exploring Bangalore's theatre scene is another item on my list for 2012. All thanks to Cyrus Broacha's incredible performance in the hilarious play One Out of Six that I saw in December. In Cochin. Who would've thought that? The bustling metro in the making staging some really good plays.

And finally, after years of watching MMA bouts and becoming a black belt arm chair expert I’ve decided to go sign up for martial arts classes. I recently bought 4 MMA training books and I’m looking out for martial arts training centres in Bangalore. Good luck to all those who want to mess with me 6 months down the line.

I firmly believe that a new year should always start with a good movie and I began 2011 with the hilarious Bheja Fry which remains one of my favourite Indian movies to date. 2012 deserved as good a start as last year and I decided to try something different with Disney's take on the Rapunzel story - Tangled and I was pleasantly surprised by how good it was. For years I’ve been successfully using my melt even the coldest of women's hearts with my sad look that I was never able to christen. Tangled has the hero pulling off the exact same look which he calls the smolder. Perfect name.

Have a great 2012!

Seasons Greetings !

2011-12-25T11:58:00.002+05:30

I like how everyone gets in the festive mood at this time of the year !

Loving to hate

2011-12-15T13:55:00.006+05:30

It is nice to talk about progress and society's rising acceptance levels but the world unfortunately is still filled with people who love to hate. I find it rather ironic that there are churches that take an extreme stances against homosexuality when it is the Bible that says we need to love our neighbours and so on and so forth.

Case in point the Westboro Baptist Church (WBC) in Kansas that travels across the US to picket the funerals of gay victims of murder, gay-bashing or people who have died from complications relating to AIDS and other events related or peripherally related to gay people. Yes, there are people who do that.

Now some might say the best way to address such nutjobs is to ignore them but I like the rather tongue in cheek manner in which people have made their disapproval of the the anti-gay picketing by the WBC known.

The picture below proves that humour is a much more potent weapon when it comes to getting a message across.

Probably the sign of the year 2011

2011-12-13T14:47:00.002+05:30

The sign says: “Leave already, my arm is hurting.” From a protest in Egypt.

The End

2011-12-03T22:55:00.001+05:30

Now Im not the biggest fan of the Harry Potter franchise but if there is one movie series that I really detest, it has to be the Twilight series. I think this accurately sums up my feelings ....

The Golden Shower

2011-11-16T09:58:00.003+05:30

To say that my interest was piqued when I read an office email that invited bloggers to compelete a scary story starting with "It was a dark and stormy night ...." would be an understatement. Since I had some time on my hands I decided to check out the details which was when I realised that the word limit was just 500 words. Give me 5000 words and I'll have you trembling in fear. With 500 though, I wasnt so sure. Clocking in at 499 words, this was the best I could do.

It was a dark and stormy night. The rain showed no signs of letting up and I was soaked to the bone. I looked around in despair but my eyes could only spot the flickering shadows that toyed with my imagination. My bike had a flat tyre and I was far away from any sort of human contact. I could push my bike down the dark village road bereft of any lighting except from the headlamp of my bike. Or I could wait for a good Samaritan to give me a lift to the next village. I hadn’t seen anyone in the last half an hour and didn’t fancy my chances. Exhaustion overcame me. I sat down by the road waiting for glimmer of hope.

I had difficulty opening my eyes. Groggily I lifted my head and found myself in a strange house. Bright sunlight was streaming in through the window and I lifted my hand to check the time but I realised that my watch was missing. I was suddenly aware of the excruciating pain that was tearing at me from my insides. I reached down and my fingers ran over unfamiliar stitches. My hands were trembling by now and I tried to get up on my feet but it was no use. My legs seemed to have a mind of their own and they refused to move forward. I collapsed once again onto the floor. Summoning all my strength I crawled towards the window and looked outside. I saw an Amaltass (also known as the Golden Shower) tree resplendent in its golden yellow flowers in the middle of a beautiful garden. My strength deserted me and I slowly fell again as my mind drifted away.

I woke up to a loud honk. I nearly jumped out of my skin and saw an old man in a car parked next to my bike. “You look like you could use some help. You need a lift, beta?” I regained my senses and realised I had dozed off leaning against my bike. I shuddered and jumped into his car as I apologised profusely for getting his seats wet but he laughed it off. Dr. Avinash explained that he once a pretty famous doctor in Bombay but had given up the big city life to become the local doctor in a small town in rural Karnataka. ‘Big fish in a small pond’ he explained.

The more he spoke the more I marveled at the sacrifice he had made to move to a small town but something kept gnawing away at the back of my mind. He looked familiar and I racked my brains while making polite conversation. Suddenly it struck me. Illegal organ transplants. A famous doctor who suddenly disappeared. I tried not to panic as he drove into his large compound. In the dark of the night I could make out an Amaltass tree in full bloom in the middle of a beautiful garden.

8 days a week

2011-11-14T18:55:00.003+05:30

For 5 days every week, I try to balance the conflicting demands of oscillating work, ridiculous traffic, my reinvigorated reading habit, a season of a particular TV show (currently Season 4 of Spiderman: The Animated Series but shhhh don’t tell anyone) and God knows what else. Sometimes this gets extended to 6 days. If Im really unlucky it stretches across all 7 days. Which is why I like my weekends neither shaken nor stirred.

Come Saturday morning and my plan for the weekend is to have absolutely no plan at all. That way I can curl up with a book for as long as I want and not feel guilty about it. Or I can treat myself to endless episodes of my new found favourite – Dr Who. Or I can take an afternoon nap and put my phone on silent mode and sleep like I have never slept before. Or I can dig up an old Carry On movie and enjoy the campy humour. Basically a little bit of everything that doesn’t really amount to anything. This weekend however, was different.

Growing up in the 90s in Cochin meant that your comic reading was restricted to
a. Asterix & Obelix
b. The Adventures of Tintin
c. Archies series
d. DC and Marvel comics but that was only for a select lucky few

Now I’ve read the complete collection of both Asterix & Obelix and The Adventures of Tintin several times and to be honest I was always more of the A&O fan but the Tintin comics weren’t really that far behind. And now Tintin has made a rather dramatic entry into the movie world. I’m not one who enjoys too many movies these days but I did thoroughly enjoy watching Tintin & Captain Haddock (with the beloved Snowy of course) lay the foundation for what is going to be one very entertaining movie franchise. Of course Thomson & Thompson are as funny as ever. An added 100 bonus points to whoever added the Captain Haddock line – You two timing troglodyte (which is my favourite word of all time)!

Everyone who is a sports fan knows of Lance Armstrong’s incredible battle against testicular cancer and how he came back to win the gruelling Tour de France an incredible seven times in a row. However it was only after I started reading his book It’s Not About The Bike did I realize how easily life can turn upside down in an instant. Lance doesn’t deep dive into his struggle against cancer but he takes you along on his physical and emotional roller coaster ride that will make you question the way you live your own life. As he struggles and fails, you realise that he is after all human. And then he rises. From the deepest of lows Lance rebuilds his life and in turn inspires you. His battle makes you realise how inconsequential your life’s problems actually are.

Ive been a wrestling fan since 1992 and I’ve seen quite a bit of it to say the least. From mainstream wrestling that was the WWF / WWE and WCW on TNT (remember the days when Cartoon Network used to switch to the TNT movie channel at 9PM and once a week they used to air WCW on Indian television) to the underground cult phenomenon that was ECW (thanks to the internet). However my exposure to the hotbed that is Japanese wrestling has been limited to a few matches and it took a review of an event called All Together in Budokan to get me to revisit it. Now Japan has had a particularly tumultuous year and the main promotions got together for one night only to put together a wrestling card that would donate proceeds to the organizations helping in rebuilding the country. The Japanese wrestling industry is very competitive and hotly contested and the Indian equivalent of All Together in Budokan would be to have all of Bollywood’s actors and actresses coming together to act in one huge blockbuster.

And so I spent the weekend watching wrestlers who I don’t know putting up a stellar show that brought happiness to the fans in the sold out Budokan stadium (and those of us in front of our laptops) while listening to Japanese commentary (of which I could only identify the names of a few moves). It was enjoyable to hear the commentators go Shyyyning Wizardo (for the move Shining Wizard) and Byainbustaaaaah (Brainbuster) with the respectful Japanese crowd oohing and clapping in appreciation (a far cry from our rabid cricket fans in India) and soon enough I too was oohing along with them. Of course all of this would not mean a thing if it were not for the hard working Japanese wrestlers who work a very stiff (read realistic) style that made me cringe as I watched them tear into each other. I couldn’t understand one bit of the language, I didn’t know the wrestlers names but I most certainly enjoyed the storytelling.

Which was the story of this weekend now that I think about it. Now to get back to my 5 days of drudgery.

P.S - At the end of the show, the three biggest wrestlers in Japan (the champions of the corresponding organizations) stood outside the stadium after having worked their butts off with boxes in their hands to collect further donations from the people leaving the stadium. Will SRK, Aamir Khan & Salman Khan would do something like this for our country? Think about it.

Sigh! Some things never change

2011-11-14T10:39:00.001+05:30

Khardung La, here I come

2011-10-13T15:44:00.004+05:30

As far as new years resolutions go, this was one that I was determined to follow all the way till the end of the year. Yes siree, 2011 was going to be my year of travel. No roads were going to be spared and no destination was too far away for me. All I needed was a map, a camera and a debit card.

As with all other resolutions, my determination fizzled out soon and I havent done too much travelling this year. I have done a solo 1200 km round trip on my bike in the summer & a very memorable group biking monsoon trip to the very wet Wayanad as well a solo high speed car run to Madras but thats been about it. I still have hope though cause I am planning a week long holiday in November followed by my mandatory fortnight off in December. Mile crunching will happen for sure, just how much of it is something I'm not too sure about.

What I am sure about though is that come hell or high water, cranky bosses or broken limbs, next year I will be biking to the Himalayas. Last year I really wanted to do it but could'nt make it due to logistic issues. This year for some reason didnt seem right and I pushed the thought of hitting the Himalayas to next year. Or the year after that. All until I read about the Red Bull Racing team taking their 2005 Formula 1 car up to Khardung La which is regarded as the highest altitude road in the world.

As a publicity stunt, it has done wonders for Red Bull. It has also inadvertently reawakened me from my corporate world slumber. Within the next 364 days, I will be be taking a picture of myself next to the very same board you see below. And as far as mid year resolutions go, this is one that Im definitely determined to follow.

I guess bosses were created to be hated

2011-10-05T12:22:00.006+05:30

Live (and exclusive!)

2011-09-30T14:43:00.008+05:30

Who says the most popular music artists are the most talented?

In the end it took one song from Robbie Williams to get me to finally sit down and write this post. British boy band Take That's biggest ever hit Back For Good always has been and was always meant to be a slow romantic number. Its just that somebody forgot to tell that to Robbie Williams (ironically a member of the same band) at one of his concerts when he performed the rock version of what is a ballad. Surely not the most gifted of vocalists, with that one song Robbie Williams showed what really makes a singer special - the ability to experiment with & perform songs differently at live performances.

Robbie Williams

Take for example a band as popular as the Black Eyed Peas. They have had their share of hits over the years & they have ventured into solo careers to a fair degree of success. On the airwaves, their songs are reasonably catchy & appeal to a broad base but try watching them perform live and you will be left sorely disappointed as they fall flat on their face without the assistance of technology to mask their true lack of talent.

Why do I like albums from concerts? For one, the cheering of the crowd makes you feel like you've been part of the whole experience even though you were nowhere close to the real thing. The intro to an AC/DC song from a live performance has the crowd chanting for Angus before he launches into one of his typical long solos. There are also times when you want to chant along with the crowd as the band goes into the chorus. The examples are too numerous to list.

Secondly, live performances afford musicians creative liberties which they cannot take when constrained by studio recordings. Garth Brooks has an additional verse for his monster hit Thunder Rolls that he performs only at concerts. Several musicians also use live events to showcase the talents of their band members usually the guitarists who often get overshadowed due to the world's unhealthy obsession with lead vocalists.

DMB: The Central Park Concert

One of my personal all time favourite albums is The Central Park Concert by the extremely talented Dave Mathews Band. The album has several fantastic songs but Cortez The Killer and All Along The Watchtower are two standouts for me. Not only are these extremely well done covers, the band has also used the platform to thrill the audience (and the listeners of the album) with lengthy (not a bad thing in this case) songs. Which means you have an extremely entertaining 2 hour 44 minute long album with just 20 songs.

Jack Johnson: En Concert

The album En Concert by Jack Johnson is probably my favourite live album with some lovely songs including What You Thought You Need, Country Road (with Paula Fuga) and Home. It helps that Jack Johnson is incredibly talented but the fact that it is a concert album makes it even more special. It also is a very good documentary, definitely a must see if you're a music fan. Other notable inclusions are Home: A live concert recording with the Atlanta symphony youth orchestra by Collective Soul and Live 1975 - 85 Disc 1 / 2 / 3 by the evergreen and ever enjoyable Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band.

As for my all time favourite live song, it has to be Bryan Adams' acoustic version of Heaven. Great lyrics, a distinct voice & a live version. Who says Summer of '69 is his best work?

I need a Doctor

2011-09-29T17:40:00.006+05:30

Being a book worm wasn't easy in the 90s (ok, stop back calculating and trying to figure out how old I am) in India as your reading options were limited to the usual Hardy Boys, Hardy Boys: Case Files, Famous Five, Three Investigators, Bobbsey Twins, Secret Seven and Five Find-Outers series. And when you were done with all the books you could lay your hands on and were waiting for someone else to buy a new set of books, you quietly read the odd Nancy Drew book (I can so imagine someone commenting on this).

That was until I laid my paws on my first Dr. Who book. For those of you who have never heard of the Doctor, he is a Time Lord who is able to move across time and space with the help of his extraordinary time machine called the TARDIS (Time And Relative Dimension(s) In Space) usually with a human companion. To escape detection, the TARDIS looks like an ordinary blue police box from the outside but in truth, is much larger on the inside. The books that our school library was filled with were based on episodes from the long running BBC show (started in 1963!) that unfortunately never made it to Indian airwaves.

The TARDIS

The best part about the books was that they took you to different fascinating planets (with the occassional earth adventure thrown in for good measure) and pitted the ever witty Doctor and his faithful companion against some truly formidable foes that included the dreaded Daleks & the Cybermen. The Doctor would regenerate on occassion to signify the arrival of a different actor to replace the existing one on the TV series which meant that the series continued across the years. The morally upright Doctor ensured that no fight for survival was ever boring even though the challenges quite often seemed insurmountable. Unfortunately I lost touch with the good Doctor and with that an integral part of my childhood.

An old school Dalek

All until I managed to get all the episodes of the Doctor Who series that starred Christopher Eccleston as the effervescent Doctor. The books had set the bar so high in my younger years that I was certain that the TV show would be a disappointment and I prepared myself for the worst. Boy, was I wrong! I'm 8 episodes into the adventures of the ninth doctor & I just cant get enough of it. The story lines are as good as ever, the visual effects are amazing (considering it is a TV show & not a Hollywood blockbuster) & Christopher Eccleston has added a whole dimension to the Doctor.

New school Cybermen

Research tells me there are a ton of old episodes out there on the internet. Which means I need to take a break from downloading MMA fights, wrestling matches & seasons of Top Gear (What? Its not like you dont have a hard disk full of illegally downloaded stuff). I also need to bring a temporary halt to the Everybody Loves Raymond episodes that I watch in the evenings now that I have the excellent company of the Doctor. Work however has increased which means I have to sleep less if I have to be able to catch the Doctor in action. Being an old school guy isnt easy in the 21st century.

The quote maketh the movie

2011-09-28T14:07:00.006+05:30

He had a voice that could make a wolverine purr and suits so fine they made Sinatra look like a hobo. In other words, Ron Burgundy was the b**ls.

With the inclusion of that single line, the movie (if one can call it that) Anchorman automatically got upgraded from being an insufferable waste of time to a terrible waste of time. As I watched the movie drag on, scene by extremely painful scene, I realised that mercifully 6 months down the line, the only thing I would remember about the movie was that solitary 10 seconds of awesomeness. The agony of watching the remaining hour and a half of the excuse of a movie would not even be distant memory. Which got me thinking, what really makes a movie memorable?

Brilliant acting? Not really, we have too many talented actors these days. A great background score? Not when Hans Zimmer and co do an excellent job in so many movies. Great direction? Hard to say. A fantastic plot? Too many 'unknown' movies come with better plots than the industry pushed biggies. For me, it all comes down to a single quote that steals the show.

Intentional or not, Casablanca for all its greatness will always be remembered for its closing line

"Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

We performed the stage version of Casablanca a few years ago & as the co-director (Hey Abhinava, how you doing?) I had memorized nearly every line of the script. I have a ton of fond memories from the play (including the one time when our actors who were supposed to sit in the background and play a game of cards without uttering a line in a scene arguing during rehearsals over what game they should be playing while sitting on stage) but the one moment that will stick with me is that final line before the curtains came down.

So what makes a movie quote fantastic? I really have no clue how to explain that but I can list out a few off the top of my head.

"Ask any racer, any real racer. It doesn't matter if you win by an inch or a mile; winning's winning"

With that one line, Dom (Vin Diesel) was made. From being a movie that was made to provide adrenaline rushes to countless teenagers, the Fast & the Furious became a cult movie that made a star. Suddenly boy racers around the world wanted to be Dom while the real racers grimaced in disapproval.

"I really like you, but I can't be the invisible man. I'm tired of being the shoulder .... I'd like to be somebody's Gerry."

I am the sort of person who prefers to read a book before watching the movie only to see how well the movie director has been able to capture the vision of the author. Honestly, when I read P.S. I Love You I was shocked that such a lousy book could have become a best seller & I made a vow not to watch the movie. Fortunately I forgot my about my vow. The movie was really nice and the show stealer was the monologue leading upto I'd like to be somebody's Gerry. Im sure the silence in movie halls around the world would have been interrupted by Awwws after that classic line.

"The first time someone calls you a horse you punch him on the nose, the second time someone calls you a horse you call him a jerk but the third time someone calls you a horse, well then perhaps it's time to go shopping for a saddle."

Lucky Number Slevin was a sucker punch from nowhere. A movie I picked to watch for no apparent reason became a quick favourite of mine. Not difficult considering it had lines like this.

"You dont need your mouth to pee!"

Unintentionally hilarious moment from The Transporter when the struggling victim tries to scream indicating that she wants the tape across her mouth removed when Jason Statham loosens the knots that have tied her legs to let her use the facilities.

"Do I really look like a guy with a plan? You know what I am? I'm a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do with one if I caught it."

The Dark Knight ushered in the era of the dark villain as the Joker showed a maniacal side that terrified the audience & stole the show from Batman. Long time fans are used to the more light hearted & consequentially less dangerous Joker that was never a serious threat to Batman but this version truly showed how evil he could get. And this perfectly explained the mindset of such a formidable foe.

"Chicks like scars. It's like a roadmap of the soul."

I probably will never understand what that means but kudos to the scriptwriters of The Air I Breathe for coming up with it.

And finally from the very enjoyable movie The Holiday, probably my all time favourite movie quote from the incredibly talented Jack Black

Iris: Miles, you really are an incredibly decent man.
Miles: I know. It's always been my problem.

Save my readers campaign !

2011-09-20T23:25:00.005+05:30

For some strange and inexplicable reason, middle class India seems to find it acceptable to drink and drive. I guess I missed the part where invincibility and sharpened senses come complimentary with a drink. Unfortunately as educated and street smart as they are, this is one lesson they will only learn the hard way. Which is scary if you know someone who does drink and drive. And I'm sure most of you do.

Sadly the only reason I see people not driving after drinking is if they know that the cops will be out with their breath analyzers (and very stiff fines) on a weekend night. The fact that their own safety (and worse someone else's) is on the line does not seem to bother them.

I could give you the ridiculously high number of people who die because of drunken driving on Indian roads but it isn't going to be of any use. Those who want to drive even after drinking and knowing the facts will do so. The numbers don't lie but in this case they don't mean a thing to anyone unless something tragic has happened to someone near or dear.

So the next time you or your friend is going to drive after drinking, think about it. My blog hardly has any readers, I certainly don't want one less ....

****** Madrasis !

2011-09-20T22:54:00.003+05:30

Introduction: For all the non Indians reading this post (highly doubtful that given that this blog has only 3 readers and I know all three of them) it is imperative that I provide a snapshot of how Indians view the rest of the country. North Indians seem to have not the best of impressions about south Indians (also known as Madrasis to them) and do an excellent job of stereotyping them (negatively of course). South Indians in turn do their best to return the favour. In kind. But not too kindly.

Of course you might wonder what about the other 2 directions - East and West? Well, the only thing about west India that these two sets of people know is Bombay and the infamous Narendra Modi. East India, well noone really cares about east India least of all the Indian government which probably thinks its part of the next country.

And while an instant and fleeting claim to blogging fame can be mine for the taking if I launch into a scathing attack on my brothers and sisters from the northern half of this glorious country (cough cough letter to Delhi boy cough cough) I will not be traversing that path today. All because I have some not so flattering things to say about the wonderful people in Madras.

Bloody Madrasis!

The 2 words are forever on the lips of every north Indian (for no apparent reason) that pays to visit to what actually is a glorious city. A city drenched in history and culture, arts and sports, education and corruption. Each time I have heard these sacrilegious twin words been uttered by my friends (and foes) from the other side of the country, I have faithfully told them that the city isnt half as bad as they make it out to be and given an open mind (I'm not being sarcastic here ... I swear!) they probably would like the place. Of course my comments have always fallen on deaf ears but that has never stopped me from trying to help eliminate the racial stereotype that everyone is fond of nurturing. Until 3 days ago that is.

3 days ago all hell broke loose. I had driven down to Madras from Bangalore and had thoroughly enjoyed the 300+ kms of blissful highway driving with my able companion from Fiat. My happiness however came to a screeching halt as things took a surprising turn for the worse once I entered city limits. Suddenly all sorts of maniacs on two wheels and four continuously kept hurtling towards me from all directions while seemingly defying the laws of physics (Rajinikanth shtyle). It was almost as though they all wanted a piece of me or my Fiat and I had to do my level best to avoid contact with all of them.

As I drove into the heart of the city it grew worse. It was almost like going deeper and deeper into a cancer that relentlessly keeps enveloping you whatever you do. I am not the religious sort but I certainly did send up a ton of prayers over the two days I was driving around that forsaken town. There were at least half a dozen times I thought I was certain to run over someone who had just cut across my car with scant regard to his life and limbs. The best part is almost all the people riding bikes were doing it without a helmet so death is but a heartbeat away for them.

Driving through peak Saturday night traffic was the probably the worst driving experience I have ever had as my heart was perpetually in my mouth. The idiots truly are homicidal, suicidal and genocidal (trademark Sabu) and it took all of my driving skill and the blessings from the man up there to keep me, the people in my car and my set of wheels safe and sound. I certainly don't like to swear but two words were perpetually at my lips while I was behind the wheel - Bloody Madrasis ....

Sometimes a picture just describes life perfectly

2011-09-20T16:22:00.002+05:30

The missing piece

2011-09-20T15:45:00.003+05:30

Mouth watering home food. Check. Meeting a bunch of friends. Check. Hitting the road for a very enjoyable road trip. Check. Visiting family and having an excellent time. Check. Weddings to attend. Check. Good old fashioned non stop Kerala showers for company. Check. Rest & relaxation. Check. I had all the ingredients for the perfect holiday but there was still something missing that inexorably gnawed away at me that kept it from being the quintessential week long holiday.

That was until I stopped flipping channels when my eyes spotted a repeat telecast of a match from the ongoing rugby world cup. Now I’m no expert on the intricacies of the sport but I have been watching rugby for years and do understand and rather enjoy watching these matches. Actually modern day gladiatorial combat is how I prefer looking at it. Rugby combines the physicality aspect that a MMA fan looks for and the teamwork and skills that make soccer so popular. Plus there is no hiding behind layers of protective padding like cricketers do. I’m a big fan of MMA and soccer and find cricketers to be wusses. Which means I fit the bill when it comes to the requirements for being a rugby fan.

And so over the next few days I was glued to the tele whenever they aired the matches. Unlike cricket, the underdog story is very much alive in rugby as countries that were not in the esteemed top few list challenged the established order and put up a fight in every match that I watched except one. Now I know all 3 readers must be grimacing thinking it is a blood thirsty sport with men built like mountains crashing into each other while chasing a ball that isn’t even round. Misconception at its finest.

Rugby matches can actually be beautiful. Of course you do get the odd scrappy game and the occassional stomach churning tackle but more often than not there is a sublime grace that isn’t usually associated with large men who you would assume have the nimbleness of tractors if you were to see them off a rugby field. Besides which other sport lets you say words like Crouch, Touch, Pause and Engage before two groups of men rush into each other as part of a scrum (as pictured above) ? As an added bonus almost every team had a member with an atrociously long flowing beard. And I like long flowing beards.

Final piece of the perfect holiday puzzle. Check.

When working out doesn't work out

2011-09-07T13:26:00.002+05:30

It just wouldnt go away. I tried looking at in from different angles but it was of no use. Seeing as I wasn't under the influence I was pretty sure that my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. I tried taking a deep breath which worked but seeing as I could only hold it for less than a minute the plan wasnt of much use. My belt certainly wasnt deceiving me. I well and truly was another victim of the dreaded IT Belly.

IT Belly - eye•tee bell•e

The mass of abdominal fat resulting in an increase in waist size caused by excessive working in front of a laptop and the lack of any exercise except for walking to the cafeteria and / or the pantry. Specific to people who work in the information technology industry. No known cure found for long term patients. As common as the cold.

They say once you fall prey to it, you can never escape its clutches. I was determined not to let myself be a victim of this dastardly dreaded disease. I would not let the fact that I did not have time to hit the gym everyday be a problem. Like everything else in the world, there always is a work around if youre keen enough.

First things first. I had to get rid of the songs on my phone and replace it with 'inspiring' music. So out went Mr Sinatra and in came the OST of Rocky. Yes , the greatness of the music of all the Rocky movies contained in one album. Second, a recurring alarm was set for 07:00. Weekends included. This would ensure I got at least an hour of jogging every day.

Third, it was time to watch my diet. Which meant that my regular lunches were out and it was time to join the line at the salad counter. And no, I cant believe it either. And so from my daily sumptuous lunches of chicken biriyani and ice cream, I feel to the deep depths of eating leaves and fruits from a bowl so small that I would've felt guilty about starving a 2 year old baby had I fed it from that. And to make things worse, the miniscule portions of 'healthy' food cost more than my regular lunch that consisted of biriyani and ice cream. Combined. Ouch! Yes, I was paying more for less. Go figure!

Step number 4, more exercise at office. No more elevators for me. It was time to hit the stairs twice a day. Initially I took the easy way out and used the stairs for walking down but I realised that it would not help me trim my waist so I took the bottom up approach. Step 5, sign up at the gym where I was sure I would be making guest appearances but at least I would feel guilty about having spent so much on it (typical Indian mentality) and force myself to go.

Now all this continued for a month and I could honestly felt the difference. The weighing scale definitely wasnt wrong as it showed that I had lost close to 5 kgs with all the effort I put in. I didn't have to think about updating my wardrobe with new pants either. I could also relish the occasional dessert knowing that I could burn it all off over the next couple of days. Happiness was my new found companion.

Until the day I spotted my friends who hadnt seen me in quite a while. All of them said that I had put on some weight since they last saw me. Which was technically, physically, clinically and medically impossible. So I put it down to the tee I was wearing which probably wasnt too complimentary given the lighting conditions and the time of the day. A few days later I bumped into another friend of mine who also insisted I had put on weight.

Now Im pretty sure there is no global conspiracy to make me think Im fat and when I think about it, I have been missing my regular lunches. How many green leaves can a guy eat for lunch anyways? So I've thrown in the towel and recalled Mr Sinatra. And added Dean Martin as well. I've also got a partial refund on the gym membership. Which I will use to buy myself new pants when I do eventually put on. All because the comments that I have put on just dont go away .....

Married men, bachelors & inevitably trouble

2011-08-31T09:57:00.004+05:30

The thing with being an eligible bachelor (yes I know all 3 readers are doing the roll eyes thing right now) is that you can count on your married friends to give you a call whenever they are in trouble. Its not that they don't call you otherwise but when they do manage to dig a hole for themselves large enough to swallow an entire European country, they will faithfully call their single friends apparently for solace and advice. Seeing as we are, well, unmarried (and hence unaware of how a woman's mind works or doesn't work) Im not sure what sort of guidance they seek but nonetheless that doesn't stop the merry band of bachelors from providing free advice. Which usually results in the digging of holes large enough to swallow entire African countries. Oh well, its the thought that matters.

Take the tragic case of my friend who was recently married (poor chap) which coincided with the decision of his boss to send him on business trips across the world (lucky chap). Now this meant that he was home for less than a handful of days each month but this also meant that he had to be on his toes while he was within the confines of home sweet home. The reason being his wife would go to great lengths while he was away to make some changes and like any other woman would expect admiration and approval for all the effort that she put in.

The thing is women don't seem to realise that men dont realise such things. If the sofas have been rearranged, we don't notice it. If the plates are new, we don't notice it. If the curtains are new, we don't notice it. Its not our fault. We were born this way. Now this leads to enough trouble for married men of all races, religions, colours and creeds. There is only way that they can put themselves in more trouble...

Last Month

The last thing I needed at 8 AM on a saturday morning was a phone call to wake me up from my blissful slumber. And the first thing I got on saturday morning was a phone call that woke me from my blissful slumber. I picked up the phone and listened in half attention since my eyes refused to open and my mouth refused to move.

"So what are you doing today? Do you want to catch up for the football match in the evening? How bout a movie in the afternoon? Whats your scene for breakfast?"

I would've answered if I knew who I was talking to. Managing to open my eyes by just the bare minimum required to identify the caller, I realised it was my globetrotting friend who apparently was back in town.

"When did you get back?"

"Yesterday"

"So why do you want to hang out with me?"

"Have you forgotten our decade long friendship so easily?"

"No I haven't but you're married now so you ought to be spending time with your wife. The fact that you're trying to make plans with me means you did something stupid. What did you do?"

"Errr its a long story."

"Its 8:15 on a saturday morning. I have all day you know ...."

"So does that mean we're not making all day plans?"

"Good to see you're as sharp as always. So how are you in trouble?"

"Its not my fault . I came back late last night after a tiring 20 hour trip that included a long stop over at Heathrow. I was exhausted and glad to be home. I would've given an arm for a tasty home cooked dinner and the smile on my wife's face. But do you know the first thing I hear from hear when I walk in? 'So do you like it?'. Blimey, I knew I was in a royal pickle right then and there. The last time I came home she asked me this & I failed to realise she had got the hall painted. How am I supposed to figure out the colour of the blasted walls has changed since the last time I was in my house when I am severely jet-lagged?"

I grunted in response. (For all you women out there who are reading this, the grunt is a male sound that signifies so many things that it cannot be defined. It is possibly the only form of communication that has carried on unchanged since the stone ages)

"Anyways I paid dearly for not noticing the repainted walls. So I frantically scanned the hall for any changes but everything seemed to be the same. Then I realised she had lost weight and must've joined the gym without telling me. So I said she looked ravishing now that she had lost weight and extended my arms waiting for a big hug. The only thing I got in return was a look that would've had lesser men trembling in fear."

" 'I spent 4 hours yesterday at the parlour and got myself an expensive haircut thinking you will like it. But you didn't even notice my new look. You think I've lost weight? I dont need to lose weight! I look fine as it is. The dinner is in the fridge. Warm what you want and you can sleep in the guest bedroom after that.' With that she walked into our bedroom, slammed the door and left me standing there tired, hungry and speechless."

Another grunt. This time of sympathy.

"I honestly thought she had lost weight by having gone to the gym. How was I supposed to know she got a new haircut? You have no clue how difficult married life is, what with you being an eligible bachelor and all ....."

Last week

@#$*!^#@^ Why was my phone ringing at 10 AM on a sunday morning? "So you wanna head out for a Sunday morning drive?"

Grunt. An angry one.

"So I take it that you dont want to head out on a drive. Well the weather is awesome you know."

There was only one person dumb enough to call me at an unearthly hour while I was lost in my dreams and still expect to have a 2 way conversation.

"What did you do this time?"

"Errr how did you guess?"

"So maybe Im not as dumb as I look. Im all ears, go on."

"Well so you know how I didnt realise my wife had got a haircut the last time I returned to India? This time I was prepared as I walked in my home after another month long trip. Yesterday before she could ask me whether I liked the change or not, I told her that I loved her new haircut."

"So why are you making plans with me today?"

"Turns out she had joined the gym and lost weight since I inadvertently brought it up last time. And she hadn't gone for a hair cut. You wouldnt understand how lucky you are. You're so much better off, being an eligible bachelor ....."

Save us from SSFF !

2011-08-06T16:02:00.001+05:30

I’m in big trouble. I have with me massive discount coupons from all of India's leading apparel outlets. Way too many in fact. Actually they aren’t really discount coupons; they are take what you want for free coupons which I was gifted by the retailers themselves. Why do I have here take whatever catches your fancy coupons and why am I in trouble, you ask? Permit me to narrate the strange turn of events.

So there I was, on my usual Sunday morning jog, wearing a cap that was pulled down real low and ill fitting clothes that meant even my close friends who were passing by the park wouldn’t identify me if they saw me. The park wore its usual seasonal deserted look and hence the only other people who were around were old uncles out for their daily morning walks and pretty young things burning off the calories from another unhealthy Saturday night. My Sunday morning oblivious to the world while I jogged serenity was however interrupted by the arrival two rather odd looking gentlemen who parked themselves on one of the benches and were obviously not there for the exercise. The fact that one of them was pretending to read a newspaper while holding it upside down didn’t help their case either.

Figuring that they were one of the usual we are sitting in the park because we have nothing else to do types I ignored them until they started jogging at a steady pace right behind me. Their bulging biceps and extremely heavy panting were a dead giveaway that they only spent time lifting weights in the gym & stayed as far away from the treadmill as possible. I started to get a little concerned and upped my pace to a steady trot before my attention was diverted by the arrival of some exquisite machinery just outside the park.

Jaguars, Porsches, BMWs, Audis and the odd Merc pulled up as one by one, men in rather dapper suits stepped out of the rear seats of their cars. Safe to assume that it wasn’t the usual Sunday morning jogging crowd. I wondered who these people had come to meet since they obviously weren’t here to burn calories.

I didn’t have to wonder too long as my unwanted jogging companions picked up the pace and were suddenly by my side. Before I could do anything the 2 burly thugs were escorting me, not too rudely mind you, to the contingent that was waiting in the parking lot. I turned around to shout for help but all I could see were 2 pretty girls who didn’t seem to have noticed anything out of the ordinary (honestly, they would’ve created trouble for themselves and more trouble for me had they intervened so it probably was for the best) and an elderly gentleman who would’ve taken half an hour to walk across the park and rescue me (slightly doubtful that).

Seeing as I wasn’t a MMA fighter or a Bollywood hero who could’ve sent the goons flying through the air with all the might of a single punch, I resigned myself to my rather unpleasant fate and let them take me to the parking lot. Rather uncannily, it seemed straight out of the typical Friday night gangster movies that I was used to watching. The ones in which the guy being escorted to a group of well groomed men in swanky cars gets beaten up even though he did nothing wrong. At least in the movies he wins the sympathy and affection of a beautiful lady as compensation for the beat down. I wasn’t so sure I would be so lucky.

"Don’t be afraid, we're not going to hurt you. We just want some answers."

What the hell? Were they reading off some script or something? I looked for the bulge of guns beneath their suits. For a fleeting moment I wondered if I was on Candid Camera. Maybe not. All I had was 2 pretty women and an old man who had by now dozed off. Great!

"Do you know who we are?"

This really didn’t seem to be the time for over smart answers, so I curbed my urge to say something stupid.

"Errr no"

"Why don’t you tell us your name?"

Seeing as they outnumbered me 101 to 1 (more like 15 to 1 including the hired thugs but in that frame of mind I could be pardoned for not counting properly) I don’t think I was in a position to give them an alias.

"Errr Neil"

"So tell us Neil, where have you been the last few weekends? In fact, where have your friends been the last few weekends?"

Gulp! The questions were flying in from all sides. Was this my first brush with the underworld? They seemed to be much too classy for that though (no offense to any murderers, extortionists, thieves, bone breakers and other members of the underworld that might be reading this blog). Now they wanted to know details of my friends as well. Some other Neil must have really done something to get these guys mad and now they were after me and my friends.

"Errr nowhere."

"How can you be nowhere? Surely you must’ve been somewhere. We just want to know where that is" said one guy who I am sure was wearing an Armani suit.

"I’ve been really busy. Who is asking anyways?"

Trust me to ask something stupid at the most inopportune time. Fortunately the question also saved me a lot of stationary sweating due to excessive worrying as they explained that they were the owners of large retail apparel chains in India. After a round of introductions, my heart managed to extricate itself from somewhere next to my jaw and the eagles that were flying around in my stomach quickly settled down. Me and my vivid imagination .... After explaining my initial misconception we shared a few laughs and they even allowed me to check out all their cars before settling down to business.

"So here's the thing Neil. We are a really worried lot. Its sale season time which means we expect a major footfall for each of our stores. This obviously translates into more sales and we are able to clear out our existing stock in time for the new season. It’s a fool proof formula which has been working for years. Except this time"

"So what’s the problem this time?"

"Well this time, we have seen high footfalls but the problem is, it’s all women. It’s almost as if Indian men disappear from the face of this earth on Friday night and reappear on Monday morning. The only men that seem to be visiting our stores on weekends during sale season are elderly dads and husbands who are carrying the kid (s) as the wife shops. That’s it. There are just no other men around.”

Was it just me or were they turning pale as they spoke. Their voices seemed to quiver as the spoke and the others hung their heads and nodded in silent agreement.

“Which means sales in the men's division have dropped drastically. Of course we do find the occasional woman picking up a shirt or a tee from the men’s section but honestly how many women do you think would actually spend any money (theirs or their husbands) on men if it’s a sale? So Neil, we really need to know. What is happening?"

They were putting me on the spot here. I wasn’t really sure if I could and should reveal the answer to their question. I looked around once again. The 2 girls were still jogging around the park blissfully unaware of what was transpiring and the old man seemed to be in a very deep sleep. I pulled my cap a little lower but I realized I couldn’t see anything. After readjusting it and looking around once more to check that no one I knew was around, I decided to take a chance.

"Why are you asking me? And what’s in it for me?"

"Well we sent our guys out yesterday to find a normal guy off the street who we could talk to. Seriously. We sent them to malls pubs, restaurants, you name the place and we sent them there. However we could hardly find any guys and even the ones that we did were not willing to talk. It was the strangest thing. They all pretended that everything was normal and that there was something wrong with us for asking them questions on where they have been on weekends. The ones who were with their sisters / girlfriends / fiancés / wives etc: were the weirdest. They tried their best to shoo us away before the women could understand what we were asking."

"But we would not be denied. As they say ‘If you want to get something done right, you need to do it yourself’. So we decided to roll up our sleeves (Neil’s note: figure of speech obviously), get our hands dirty (Neil’s note: you guessed it right, figure of speech) and get to the bottom of things (Neil’s note: errr figure of speech, mercifully). Which is why we decided to forgo our Sunday morning sleep and find someone to talk to about it. Do you know that we spent the last half an hour driving around Bangalore looking for a guy to talk to and we had almost given up till we saw you in the park."

"Ok, so that answers why me but I am more interested in what’s in it for me."

I’m not the greedy sorts and I wasn’t really expecting anything but hey, there was no harm in asking now was there?

"Which one do you want?"

I didn’t really understand their question at first. The possibility that they might be offering their cars to me crossed my mind and I was amused by the incredulousness of my thinking.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t really understand. What was your question again?"

"The cars. We figure you like them. Which one do you want? If you can give us the answer and help us solve our problem, we are more than happy to give you a car. Or do you want two?"

The thought of a Jaguar XKR in my driveway seemed mouthwatering but there was the slight matter of explaining to the income tax department how I ended up with the gorgeous set of wheels. It was sure to attract the attention of the underworld as well. And I sure as hell couldn’t handle them.

"What would I do with another car?" I asked even though I knew the answers all too well. Sigh!

"Ok, so you don’t want a car. What is it that you youngsters look for these days? Hmmm we could arrange for weekend companions if you want and for as long as you want"

I think it’s best not to type what crossed through my mind for the next few minutes.

"What would I do with more women in my life?" I asked even though I knew the answers all too well. Sigh!

"We could give you free shopping coupons" one of them offered hopefully.

"I'll take it" I said before they could tempt me further.

"So what is it? What’s the story?

I took a deep breath and wondered how exactly I should frame my answer. After all I was about to reveal to these men one of middle class India’s most closely guarded and well kept secrets. But who was I to deny a man an honest day’s labour? And they did offer me their cars. And women errr companions. Sigh!

“Ok but you can never tell anyone that I was the one who told you about this. The reason that you don’t find any men anywhere these days is because of the SSFF”

Before I could proceed I was interrupted by stereo questions.

“The what?”

“FSFS who?”

“Is it a virus? Like SARS?”

I proceeded “Hold on, hold on. You guys definitely don’t know about the dreaded SSFF. It’s the Sale Season Flip Flop. It’s absolutely horrible. No make that terrible. It’s a terrible terrible disease that’s hit almost all of middle class India’s women. And even though they are infected by it, we, middle class Indian men, are the ones affected by it. It drives us up the wall. It makes us question our sanity. We aren’t the stronger sex. Everyone knows that. But add SSFF to the equation and we men really must do everything to save ourselves from an impending implosion.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

They were exchanging glances. The ones you exchange when you have a That was really weird moment. I decided to change tracks.

“Ok let me try and explain. Now I love my sister a lot. If she were to ask me to do anything for her I would. Without a moment’s hesitation. Except during sale season. And here’s why. When sale season comes around, she gets excited because well she’s a woman. And women get excited about such things. But then she starts feeling a little guilty about spending so much money on buying clothes and shoes when she has so many already. So she makes me promise her that I won’t let her buy anything. Which as a brother I would promptly do.”

“I on the other hand would actually need to buy stuff. Like maybe a pair of jeans. Or formal shirts. So I take her along to help me pick stuff for myself. Now once we are there she obviously wants to check out the women’s section. Quote “Just to see what’s on sale” unquote. Now who am I to tell my little sis that she can’t look at women’s clothes? So I follow her as she starts checking out what’s on sale. Soon (or rather immediately) she has a change of heart”

“What sort of change of heart?”

“The shopping sort. After seeing how nice the stuff in the women’s section is, she decides to pick up some stuff. More than some actually. And I, the dutiful and ever looking out for my sister’s interests brother that I am, remind her that she herself had decided not to buy anything this time and that she should probably keep it back. Which is not something that she likes to hear. And she does an excellent job of making her displeasure known. ‘Who am I to decide what she wants to do with her money and so on and so forth’ ”

“So now I’m stuck. If I let her buy it, I know there will be repercussions. If I don’t let her buy it, I know there will be repercussions. So I cave in and watch as she buys all of them. And since we have spent so much time looking for her clothes, it’s time to leave and I obviously haven’t bought anything that I needed.”

“We never knew that. No wonder men have been missing from our stores these last few weeks”

“Hold on, you guys have only heard half the story. There’s more to this torrid tale of woe. So my sis & I get home which is when she realizes that she didn’t really need to buy any of that. Now she feels bad for having spent her money and bought so many tops and shirts, some of them indistinguishable from the clothes she already has. But, and this is the best part, it’s my fault …..”

“Why is it your fault?”

“It’s my fault since I let her buy the clothes. Since she had told me not to let her buy anything I should have stopped her.”

“But she scolded you when you stepped in, didn’t she? So how is it your fault?”

“My point exactly! And that is the SSFF …..”

I could see that they were reeling as they tried to unravel the puzzle that was the SSFF.

“Now take this scenario and multiply it across thousands and thousands of middle class households in India. For me it was my sister. For somebody else it will be his girlfriend. For yet someone else, it will be his fiancé. For the unfortunate lots, it’s their wives. All of us are victims of this. We dare not discuss it with the women because you know what it is like to argue with women on logic. You never win. The more logical your argument, the greater your chances of getting a cold shoulder for the next year.”

“So we discreetly discuss it with other victims. In offices. In buses. In waiting lounges. In cafeterias. With friends. With strangers. With family members. With guys we despise. The topic obviously changes when a woman enters hearing range but the fact is everyone is suffering. Which is why when the weekend comes along we suddenly find ourselves ‘busy’. Suddenly all of us have to go to the bank. Or the lawyer. Or the mechanic. Or we are feeling ‘feverish’. Or, and this is the best one because it elicits sympathy, we have work. There’s nothing to pull a woman’s guilt strings (if she has any) like saying you’re working hard when she shops.”

I could see that they were still trying to take it all in.

“You see this cap and these baggy clothes? I wouldn’t wear this even if my life depended on it. And that’s why I’m wearing it.”

They obviously weren’t getting it.

“It’s my avoid detection mechanism. I have a few women friends who stay nearby. Some of them have asked me if I was free over the weekend because they wanted to go shopping. Which means they will make me promise them that I will not let them shop. So I claimed that I was loaded with work and had a ton of errands to run. But if they see me running contently with all the time in the world on a Sunday morning, I’ll be in trouble. So I have to disguise myself like this. To avoid detection.”

The rest of what happened is self explanatory. They were pleased as punch to have received some answers even though I didn’t have any solutions for them. Men around India are starting to see light at the end of the tunnel because sale season is winding up in a couple of weeks. And things can go back to normal.

Except for me that is. I am sitting on a ton of coupons. And even if I did pick up whatever I liked and maybe some of what I didn’t like, I would still be left with a whole lot of coupons. Which means I will have to gift them to my sis and my women friends who will would more than happy to receive them. But it also means I will have to explain how I ended up in possession of these coupons. And I am a terrible liar. I should’ve taken the Jaguar XKR. I think I would have an easier time explaining to the Income Tax department why I had it in the driveway compared to the Guantanamo Bay interrogation I’m going to receive on the coupons. I really am in big trouble …..

Flushing away Harry Potty

2011-07-20T14:41:00.004+05:30

Hate is a strong word so I will stick to the word dislike. I dislike Harry Potter. There I said it. Not because it is fashionable to be anti-establishment these days but because I genuinely dislike everything associated with the franchise. It's a money making marketing gimmick that has spun a web around kids who don't read anything else and parents who dont encourage their kids to read anything else. Which effectively means that the loyal 2 readers of this blog will stop reading anything that I write from now on but it is the truth. Permit me to take you back in time and explain before your blood pressure gets the better of you, dear reader (and unfortunate Harry Potter fan).

I love reading. I was a major bookworm in school and had a voracious appetite when it came to anything that was fiction. Often i would go back home after school and spend the entire evening curled up with a book and return it back to the library the next day much to the disbelief of the librarian who was certain I wasn't really reading the entire book. My reading habit took a bit of a breather during my college years but it has picked up again ever since I've started working and I currently have a huge backlog of books that I am planning on covering before the end of the year.

Now I'm a guy who makes sure I read a book, irrespective of the quality of it's contents, from cover to cover and I don't recollect ever giving up on a book. Except for Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone which I found to be mind-numbingly awful. How could the world be ga-ga about a book which made my head ache each time I completed a page, I wondered. But I bravely soldiered on, page after miserable page, waiting for the book to rise from the deep depths of its mediocrity that the world seemed to be oblivious to. Eventually I just gave up. Yes, I succumbed to the horror of a success story that was the first Harry Potter book and threw in the towel. It dawned on me that most people who were reading and talking about the book were victims of good ol' fashioned peer pressure. How could they not discuss in detail, the various aspects of J. K. Rowling's yawn inducing book when everyone else was? I vowed never to read the Harry Potter books again after my disastrous debut.

I figured that maybe the Harry Potter franchise was the opposite of the legendary Lord of The Rings trilogy where everyone ranted and raved about how good the movies were, when in fact it was the book that was the showstopper. So with a clean slate and high expectations, I went in to watch the first installment of the movie series which grossed $974,733,550 worldwide.

And I slept through it. Honestly. It was, rather unbelievably, worse than the book. The closest I had ever come to sleeping in a movie hall was when I went to watch the Incredible (or rather Incredibly Boring) Hulk after having not slept a wink the previous night. The combination of a distinct lack of any sort of excitement despite being a massive comic book fan and my brain being in shut down mode could not put me to sleep. But incredibly the first Harry Potter movie did. I woke up during the interval, had some pop corn and went back to sleep once the lousy movie restarted after the intermission. I vowed never to watch another Harry Potter movie again after my disastrous debut.

As time passed, whether I liked it or not, with each book and movie release Harry Potter became an integral part of pop culture and I realised the world was the victim of one massive marketing machine that was designed to make millions off the veritable sheep that were blindly following the rest of the flock. The world could not get enough of J.K. Rowling and everyone knew about her made for the media rags to riches story that was so touching that she could have released a 5 page blank book and still made millions had people known about her struggle to the top. People queued up for hours outside stores to be the first to get their hands on the latest book to be released which to me bears more than a passing reflection to the world's extremely unhealthy obsession with Apple products. Which is why I am overjoyed that the movie franchise is finally put to rest.

But as much as I dislike the Harry Potter series, it provides hope to someone like me. I would not go so far as to call myself a struggling writer but rather a writer struggling to over his inherent laziness despite having some (admittedly questionable) talent. I do have an idea for a book that i feel is good enough to get published someday but my laziness has kept pen from paper. It may not make millions without the backing of the PR machinery of a massive publisher but if it ever does capture the attention of the right people at the right time, I could make a pot-load of money from the book sales and movie rights. Since I'm pretty sure that my book is going to be better than all the Harry Potter books combined, more people will buy my books since the exciting plot and the fascinating characters will actually make my book worth its price and its weight. I'm also pretty sure that when it does get made into a movie, the audience is not going to be snoring away to glory but will instead spend sleepless nights thinking about how awesome the movie was.

So there. The fact that the books which deserved to sell all of 20 copies combined instead sold millions & made an astounding $6,369,345,142 at the box office, is reason enough to ensure that as much much as I dislike the franchise, I do like the Harry Potter series as well!

She (Part III)

2011-07-12T11:06:00.004+05:30

We tooak things very slowly for the first couple of months. We were both aware that we came from different places and had different upbringings and consequently different lifestyles; we viewed things from very different perspectives and yet when we were together none of it mattered. All the troubles and worries of my work life seemed to fade away into oblivion when I was with her. It didn’t matter where we were; on a Sunday morning bike ride or a walk on Marine Drive in the middle of night or just sitting on her balcony sipping coffee and watching the rain, every moment with her was memorable and often at the end of the night I just lay in my bed thinking of all the time we spent together that day before falling asleep with a smile on my face.

I was distinctly aware that my expenses had gone up quite a bit but I didn’t want to be the guy who didn’t split the bill when he took a lady out for dinner. Sometimes we went to places that I frequented which meant getting a ton of stares and people occasionally coming up to her and asking if she was an actress. To whom she would reply in such a perfect south Indian accent that no one would suspect a thing. Often we went to places which were more to her liking, hardly anyone disturbed us in such joints. Just a few of our friends knew that we were meeting each other once or twice a week but as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end.

It all started when a suspicious tabloid reporter spotted us at a couple of restaurants and tipped the waiter who spilt the beans. One fine morning, I was woken up from my sleep by my usually nocturnal roommate who kicked me out of bed and shoved the tabloid section in my face. Well, there I was sitting at a table with India’s leading lady in a photo which actually made me look quite good. The write-up though was less flattering as they had employed their journalists who were more suited to writing fiction and made me look like some glory hunting gold digging nobody. I wanted to take the rest of the week off and go hide in a cave till everyone forgot about me but Jennifer’s publicist called me before I could pack my bags and disappear for a few days.

‘Let’s make the most of this opportunity and bring you out in the open’, he said as he did he best to convince me to see the brighter side of things. My parents were predictably shocked since I hadn’t really told them the name of the girl who was spending time with me and like all middle class Indian parents they too thought that all actresses did was dance in skimpy outfits and sleep around. The guys at the office proved what jerks they always have been by pestering me with questions on how she was in bed. My phone kept ringing all day as journalists kept calling me for quotes. I was in way over my head.

Mr. Publicist insisted that I be seen with Jennifer for all big promotion events from then on and I’m not sure how but he managed to ensure that there was a photographer waiting for us every time we went out for dinner. Overnight I had become one half of India’s most captivating love story with everyone and their grandmothers wanting to know what was happening. I could no longer go to my favourite bakery for some tea and egg puffs without people asking me a 101 questions. I couldn’t walk down the street without someone or the other pointing at me as they passed by. I’m not really sure how celebrities handle the fame. I guess, they need to get the attention to continue to remain famous. Me, I’m just an ordinary bloke.

I realized that just as I wanted her to be a part of my admittedly ordinary life and circle of friends, she too wanted me by her side for events that were important to her. I started joining her for red carpet events, film premiers, launch shoots and pretty soon I was a known face on the film party circuit. It was a world I had read about in newspapers and magazines and one that I never expected to be a part of. Everyone was friendly and welcoming but there was always that nagging feeling that I just didn’t fit in. When every guy at the table talked about buying a new SUV or picking up a new flat, there was a level of awkwardness when I mentioned that I still rode a bike and stayed in a rented flat with two other guys.

Sometimes I really wished that I could just spend a Friday night sitting with my friends and discussing, as always, how much life sucked because of the 2 evil W’s that middle class Indian men cannot run away from – Women and Work. Of course I was seeing a lot less of my friends these days since Jennifer had to be seen at all the social dos and I couldn’t afford to not be there lest the gossip mills get into overdrive.

Some of my long time buddies were understanding and were ready to meet up whenever I had a free weekend which was when Jennifer was out of town on work. Others weren’t so and honestly I don’t blame them. I was caught in a veritable no-man’s land and there just didn’t seem to be any simple solution to keep everyone happy. Which had me asking myself some tough questions – Was I really happy? Life wasn’t as simple as being transported to another world when you were with someone, was it? Did I fit into her world and she into mine? Were we just being blind to what was staring us in the face?

As I dealt with these doubts, Jennifer’s movie career had hit something of a rough patch as movie offers stopped coming in. India’s fickle audiences had seemingly had enough of their golden girl and were clamouring for a change and there was no dearth of actresses to take her place at the top of the movie industry. She was obviously upset about the whole thing and became a little difficult to deal with on occasion and I did my best to cheer her up. Elvis Costello’s timeless classic She became a song which I played over and over again each night and it almost seemed as though Elvis had managed to pull the words straight out of my heart and showcase them to the world. All this was until the day she showed what I now know to be her true colours.

( Read Part IV here )

She (Part IV)

2011-07-12T11:06:00.003+05:30

We were at a Sunday brunch and the host had ensured that the drinks were plenty which predictably loosened tongues at the table. Jennifer had again drunk quite a bit more than what she usually did, an act that was becoming something of a regular feature, which meant she started mouthing off a couple of people at the table who she felt weren’t supporting her in her time of need.

Not wanting the scene to get uglier, I interrupted her and suggested I drop her back which is when she turned her ire on me. Nothing I had ever seen prepared me for the onslaught that battered my sense as she proceeded to rip me to shreds. I was at a complete loss for words as I was comprehensively overwhelmed and devastated by what she said. How could someone I had done so much for turn around and attack me with a vicious ferocity that was hidden deep under what I always thought was a calm and pleasant demeanor? I’ve had friends get angry and take out their frustration on me but nothing was ever said that couldn’t be mended over a hug and a drink. This was not the same. It was on a whole different plane altogether.

Even if things would ever get back to normal, I would always live with the knowledge that she would someday lose her temper again and that I just wasn’t cut out to handle it. I excused myself from the table and walked away with my head hung in shame even though I had done nothing to be ashamed of. The stark realization that I just wasn’t ready for a woman like her, and probably never would be, stung but it was a bitter pill that I knew I had to swallow for my own good. A sea of emotions threatened to engulf me as I realized she wasn’t coming after me to apologise for what she said. This wasn’t a movie. This was real life and about as real as it gets.

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I woke up with a start and wiped my face which was drenched in sweat. I looked around in the dark and realized that I was in the familiar confines of my bedroom. I got out of bed and took out my phone to dial Jennifer and see if we could sort things out but I couldn’t find her number. I scrolled through the messages but strangely there was nothing there either. I sat down and tried to make sense of the whole thing.

I looked around my table for the photo frame which had what the both of us felt was our best picture together but I couldn’t find it anywhere. All I could see were files of loan application forms from different banks for a Suzuki GSX 1000R. Confused I switched on my laptop and again all I could see were different folders filled with wallpapers, videos and price details of various superbikes available in India. I tried doing a Google search on Neil + Jennifer but all I got in return were linked in profiles. I shut down my laptop and I walked back to my bed in a daze and tried to return to sleep which predictably was not forthcoming.

The pieces just didn’t fit in together. How could I have deleted her number? Why didn’t I have any messages from her on my phone? Surely I couldn’t have deleted all traces of her from my life. Even if that was possible, why couldn’t I find anything on her on the internet? What was happening? Was it all even real? Eventually I realized the truth and fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. She was the best and the worst thing to have never happened to me. And not one person on this planet knew her.

She (Part II)

2011-07-12T11:05:00.005+05:30

Friday. 18:45. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. No pressure whatsoever. Its ok Neil, it’s not like you haven’t gone out for dinner with a smart attractive woman before. Nice and easy. Just be yourself and everything will be fine. What could go wrong? The worst thing I could do was make a royal arse out of myself which wouldn’t really matter since no one believed that I was going out for dinner with a big movie star in the first place. My roommate popped his head into my room to see why I was talking to myself before I chased him away.

I looked at myself in the mirror for what possibly was the hundredth time and carefully examined my cheeks for the slightest hint of facial hair. Nothing seemed to have grown in the five minutes since I had last checked myself. I still had a lot of time on my hands and decided to get ready early and wait downstairs rather than making her wait for me. The first impression you make is a lasting impression and this is something that is especially true when it comes to women. I put on a CD loud enough to ensure that I could hear it and sing along while showering which is something that does wonders for calming my nerves.

You better lose yourself in the music, the moment

You own it, you better never let it go

You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow

This opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo

The perfect song for the perfect occasion. Mr. Marshall Mathers was asking the right question - if you had one shot or one opportunity to seize everything you ever wanted in one moment would you capture it or just let it slip? Half way through my shower I decided that I wasn’t going to let this chance slip and decided to shave but I just couldn’t find my shaving kit anywhere. I didn’t bother to dry myself as I wrapped a towel around my waist and stepped into my room to locate my shaving kit. Still no luck.

I walked into the hall asking my roommate if he had seen my toiletries kit when I stopped in my tracks as I spotted Jennifer sitting on our sofa with a mile wide grin on her face as she looked at me standing in the middle of the hall, dripping wet with just a towel around my waist. An unfortunately pink towel that too. Which matched the colour of my cheeks as I turned around after mumbling an “Excuse me” much to the amusement of my roommates who by now had gotten over the shock of seeing Jennifer standing outside our door to pick me up.

I was certain they had a pretty good laugh about the pink towel scene. 5 minutes later I was ready and avoiding eye contact with my roommates, I left with Jennifer who thoughtfully, and much to my evident embarrassment, did remind me about the pink towel incident several times during our dinner at the rather plush restaurant we went to. Again I don’t have a clue about how time flew that evening and before I knew it, it was time to pay the cheque. Which to be honest was rather steep and several times more than what I usually paid for my usual Friday night outings with friends. Then again, my friends weren’t as funny or good looking as Jennifer. Plus they weren’t single. A small price to pay for scintillating company.

As I waited for her to return from the restroom before we left the restaurant, I caught a reflection of myself and paused to ponder. Maybe I was reading too much into the dinner, maybe she just thought of me as a friend, which surprisingly brought a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Could it be that the usually poised and collected Neil was starting to like a girl? I dismissed the thought. It’s way too early for that & besides I still hadn’t seen any signs yet from her which should make me think that she was looking for anything more than a friend.

As we walked back to the car, my mind split into two warring factions yet again. She took the initiative and got your number and asked you out for dinner. Now it’s time for you to do something. She’s going to think that you’re too nice and that you’re not interested in her. Don’t be stupid, she likes your company and she could probably do with a friend. It’s not like the movie industry is filled with nice people. She hasn’t done the least thing to make you think otherwise. Don’t be a fool and spoil anything. As much as I didn’t want to, I knew I had to listen to the voice of reason.

“Are you in any hurry to get home?” I asked and did everything I could to stop my hand from smacking my forehead in disbelief.

“No, why?”

“I was thinking maybe we could go for a drive or something” I replied and this time I did everything I could to stop myself from hitting my head on the dashboard. What had come over me? Where was my voice of reason?

“Of course we can” she replied and flashed her winning smile that made me glad to have thrown the voice of reason out the window. She dropped me home at my gate a couple of hours later and before saying goodbye I asked her if I could call her. “Only if I don’t call you first” she said with a smile and drove off. Now I’m no expert but I think she was flirting with me. As I walked up the stairs, I knew my roommates would be awake and waiting to interrogate me. Predictably though they didn’t believe a word of what I said when I told them about what happened that evening.

( Read Part III here )

She (Part I)

2011-07-12T11:05:00.004+05:30

It is safe to say that every guy in India knows who she is and deep down, however many times they deny it, each one of them wishes that she in turn knows them. An extremely attractive young lady blessed with a smile that could make your heart melt in an instant, Jennifer made anything but a low profile entry into the hearts and minds of India by bludgeoning the established pecking order in the ever burgeoning movie industry by starring in one huge hit after the other. Every major company wanted her as their brand ambassador and with no known godfather or industry contacts to boast of, her rise to super-stardom was meteoric and at the same time puzzling to those who failed to realize that God given talent coupled with a unique look certainly can take you places in an industry obsessed with a casting couch.

And yet despite all her success, people knew next to nothing about her other than what stories the vivid imaginations of stoned and/or inebriated film journalists churned out in the tabloids. Truth be told, I’m not the biggest follower of the Indian movie industry and had only seen one of her critically acclaimed movies in which she did an excellent job of proving to the world that heroines in Indian movies need not be relegated to just looking pretty and playing dumb. Which was all I knew about her.

Life as I knew it, took an unexpected twist a couple of months ago when I dropped into a friend’s place for a dinner party of sorts to celebrate his first wedding anniversary. As fate would have it, I didn’t really know anyone else there and as I stood out there in the balcony waiting for dinner to get served, I was joined by a very familiar looking lady who as it turned out was an old school friend of the happily married first anniversary celebrating bride and happened to be in town and coincidentally didn’t know anyone else at the party either. For once I actually thoroughly enjoyed my conversation with a stranger and as I went to get her a drink I bumped into the host for the evening and asked him who the pretty girl on the balcony is.

“That’s a good one, man. You think I don’t know that you know who she is? I’m not as drunk as you think I am.”

“Honest to God, I don’t know. I’ve been talking to her for a while now and she’s really swell. But I kinda didn’t get around to asking her her name. And why does she look so familiar?”

“You daft idiot! You really don’t know who she is? Guess what’s common between the 3 Khan’s of Bollywood?”

“Errrr, their last name begins with K and ends with N?”

“Moron! She was the lead heroine in each of their latest blockbuster releases. You, my friend, have been talking to THE Jennifer that India has been talking about for the last few months. Every guy in here, single or married has hit on her without any success and you apparently have something that none of the other guys in here don’t. Now be a good boy and have fun! I have to get back to my other guests”

With a pat on my back, he moved on to meeting and greeting the other guests and I walked back to the balcony with my usually indolent mind racing while trying to comprehend what I had just heard. Taking a deep breath, I shut out everything else and over the next couple of hours proceeded to talk and laugh about everything under the sun with a lady who didn’t even know my name.

As much as I didn’t want to accept it, it was eventually time to leave and as I walked her back to her car, I wondered over and over again whether I should ask her for her number. If it was any consolation, by now she at least knew my name and I hers but that was all that was exchanged in terms of an introduction. Well of course I should ask her for her number, said one side of my brain, when was the last time you actually had such a wonderful time? I was also distinctly aware of the other side of my brain that kept reminding me that even though Notting Hill was my favourite movie, it was after all a movie. Make believe. These things don’t happen in real life to ordinary people. For all I know, I could just have been a conversation partner for someone who was bored at a party and who met people smarter, funnier, better looking and wealthier than me every day.

This is it, take a chance, you idiot, screamed my mind as I shut her door with a smile and watched her car pull away. As I walked back to my bike, I turned around to see if she had stopped her car and had returned to get my number. Of course she hadn’t. That happens only in the movies. Predictably my roommates didn’t believe a word of what I said when I told them about my company for the evening.

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“You ******* ****! How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Now don’t play I don’t know what you’re talking about, you lucky ******! She called my wife and wanted your number and my better half has given it to her”

“Who?”

Of course I knew who he was talking about. Why else would my friend call me during trading hours to shower abuses on me when he could be making lakhs off the stock market instead?

“You ******* know who I am talking about. She’s going to call you. Soon. Looks like she fancies you. Not sure why. Thought she was the smart kind. Word of warning though, don’t get too involved. Remember she’s high class; you’re a commoner like all of us. She could dump you with the snap of her fingers and walk away with any of the big industrialists or movie stars who are vying for her attention. Just like that. And you’re the one that’s going to be nursing a broken heart. There’s a reason nice guys finish last mate. It’s because they attract the wrong sort of women. Have your fun but don’t get too involved.”

Not that he knew anything about women, he ended up marrying his college sweetheart and hence had no clue what women other than his wife think. But I had to admit, the part about being sensible about the whole thing did make a lot of errr sense.

She did call me later that day and after talking for a while asked me if we could meet up for dinner. Thankfully this time my brain decided not to play devil’s advocate and we agreed to catch up on Friday. Finalizing the location though, proved to be a bit of a bother because she wasn’t used to going to the places that I frequented and vice versa. I offered to pick her up but then I realized she probably wasn’t going to be too comfortable on the back seat of my bike and so we finally decided that she would pick me up by 8 in her car and dinner was to be at a place of her choice. Predictably my roommates didn’t believe a word of what I said when I told them about my plan for Friday evening.

( Read Part II here )

Top Gun !

2011-06-23T19:16:00.003+05:30

“Almost all my friends are married and many of them have kids. Which to be honest is terrible! And my friends haven’t even turned 30 yet. What is wrong with them? To be honest, as much as I like these guys, I don’t think I can go through another weekend session with them discussing which playschool is the best & how difficult it is to wake up their wife when the baby starts crying because they don’t know what to do when their kid begins wailing so loudly that it disturbs the grateful dead. How does that change my life?"

"Whatever happened to discussing soccer and cars? How do I make these guys un-boring? Don’t they remember the good old days when all of us used to go to a pub and strike up conversations with women we found interesting? Oh, I just remembered, the wives probably wouldn’t agree to that any more. Argh!”

I didn’t even know all that frustration was pent up and quietly folded away hidden in some crevice deep within me until a long lost friend of mine, henceforth referred to as Mr. C (since he was a bit of a Casanova in our college days) brought up the topic of weekends since he was staying over at my place for a few days and wanted to know what the plan was for Saturday night. As I struggled to come to grips with what I had just said Mr. C burst out laughing. “You lucky idiot” was all he could say for the next few minutes as he proceeded to fall off his chair laughing while I was trying to get my blood pressure under control.

“You do know youre sitting on a goldmine, don’t you”

“Don’t be daft! Considering I’m young (sic), single and eligible, how could having dinner with family guys with their wives and kids on a Saturday night be good?”

“Watch and learn Mr Neil, watch and learn”

On that cryptic note we ended our discussion and I was left shaking my head confident that the once smooth talking suave woman magnet had lost it now that he was on the wrong side of 25.

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As we made our way from the parking lot towards the fancy restaurant, I was a little tense. I knew I had to ensure that Mr. C didn’t do anything stupid which he was more than highly capable of. And considering that he thought being single and hanging out with married folk on a Saturday night was some sort of hidden oil well, I had more than fair reason to suspect his sanity.

“Ok I know you despise kids and you can’t stand domesticated husbands or their good two shoes wives but please keep in mind that these are my oldest friends and I have virtually grown up with them. I like them and more importantly they like me. There aren’t too many people who like me and I would at least like to keep that number a constant. So be nice! I really mean it.”

“What on earth are you talking about, Im always nice” he said with a devilish smile that had my gut plunge through the floor as if it had just dropped anchor. Like a lab rat that’s been dropped into a snakes pit for dinner I accepted my fate and started saying my prayers.

The next half an hour or so passed by pretty smoothly and I was relieved that nothing outward had happened. Mr. C regaled us with surprisingly funny stories that didn’t embarrass anyone at the table which was something new for me as the stories I usually heard from him would’ve turned even the roughest and toughest of sailors pink. Eventually the parents stopped paying too much attention to their kids and started relaxing a little when one of the moms realized her kid was missing. Before she could get into panic mode Mr. C jumped out of his seat and offered to go find the kid. Like the true gentleman that he wasn’t.

“He’s such a great guy, do you think he will be interested in my sister?” asked one of the women as I did everything to prevent rolling my eyes and uttering a sigh of disbelief. What in the world? Everything just seemed so wrong! Why wasn’t I good enough for her sister who was very cute but unfortunately equally dumb. A couple of minutes later I excused myself as I realized that everyone was back to having a good time and had totally forgotten about the missing child and child hunter.

I spotted him quite a few tables away engaged in deep conversation with 3 more than pretty women with the kid on his lap. Knowing Mr. C I put my detective hat on and slyly made my way to a nearby table and covered my face with the menu and proceeded to do my level best to eavesdrop. I figured he probably knew the women and I was glad I could put my conspiracy theories to rest when I heard his asking for one of the women for her number. Maybe she was an old friend and they had lost each other’s number. Had it been anybody else I would’ve accepted the explanation. Maybe something was cooking. I had to get to the bottom of this and quickly retraced my steps almost all the way back to my table before walking up to him and saying

“There you are. I was worried where you were. Are these your friends? Have I met them before?”

(I was distinctly aware of the fact that I was mumbling and making a royal fool of myself but it didn’t matter. The fact that he was getting the phone number of an attractive woman, old friend or not, bothered me because, well I don’t know why.)

“Oh no, I just met these lovely ladies. (Neil’s note : Cue blushes all around) Our little champ, David, wandered to this table and just wouldn’t leave them. You know how stubborn he can be. So I had to sit down with him for a while and got talking with these very nice young women. Michelle here works with ….”

“I really think we need to go as David’s mom must be getting worried. It was nice meeting you ladies” was all I could say as I led Mr. C away by the arm as he tried his best to ensure ‘David’ was also following us. I’m not certain but I think one of the women made the call me hand sigh to Mr. C and gave him a wink. There definitely was a wink.

“First of all the kids name is not David. I don’t know what his name is but I am sure it’s not David. Second of all, did you use the kid to flirt with those women? Shame on you! I thought you had some morals.”

As the three of us headed reached our table we realized that my friends had paid the bill and had gone outside to grab an ice cream from the next door shop. Great! They forgot about the 2 of us and come to think of it, they had even forgotten the kid. I explained to Mr C that everyone must be outside and we should also go get some ice cream if we wanted but was stopped mid sentence by the return of the wicked grin.

“Listen, you remember how I told you that you were sitting on a goldmine? Well this is it (Neil’s note : while pointing to the little kid who was looking extremely lost).Can you tell me a more perfect wingman than him? He won’t say a word and yet he will melt the hearts of women and give you the perfect chance to start up a conversation with anyone that you want to. And best of all he isn’t drunk so he won’t do anything stupid."

"But keep in mind you need to make it clear to them straight off the bat that you aren’t the dad and that you’re just a regular bloke who likes kids. Women have a soft corner for guys who like kids. Trust me on this. It’s got me a lot of phone numbers. Ok maybe a little more than phone numbers. (Neil’s note : There’s that grin again) And don’t worry, you can’t get caught because no one knows about it. I’m not stupid to reveal my secrets to the world by telling everybody or blogging about it. ”

I didn’t know what to say. Using poor innocent kids as bait seemed terrible. Then again if I never got caught I wouldn’t be wrong, would I? And I am not as bad as Mr. C, at least I would ensure that I got the kid’s name right if we going to be my wingman.

As we walked out to the ice cream munching and blissfully unaware friends of mine, I had to nod in agreement with Mr C’s closing statement “Bugger, to cut a long story short - Almost all your friends are married and many of them have kids. Which to be honest is wonderful!”

The greatest movie .....

2011-06-09T17:26:00.003+05:30

The worst movie ever made was unfolding right in front of my eyes. Admittedly it had one of India’s hottest box office superstars who was fresh off the success of his recent blockbuster but that was no excuse for the disgrace of a movie that was bankrolled by his brother’s production house. This was one of those movies for which you wished you had long hair only because you would have an excuse to pull it out in sheer frustration. If the lead actor was smart he would’ve kept a punching bag covered with the posters of the movie outside each theatre and charged the people unfortunate and / or dumb enough to watch the entire movie, for a chance to take out all their pent up rage on the bag.

Surely no movie can be that bad you say and that it’s just a case of this writer being cranky because he spent Rs 175 on a not so great movie. Of course it was as bad as I am making it out to be. The storyline had so many massive holes that you could have flown a full strength squadron of our Indian Air Force right through it and they could’ve done so blindfolded. The effort that was put in by the actors compares to our cricketers when they play anywhere except the IPL. I wish I could say the music was the saving grace but then again I’m not a very good liar.

What makes a movie great is well fleshed out characters, a reasonably strong plot
backed by some powerful script writing, a good background score and a little of that mysterious X factor that will leave the movie lingering in the minds of the viewers long after they have walked out of the movie hall. I know of one such movie that fits the bill perfectly and I’m pretty sure that none of you have watched it. The plot treads the fine line between being really good and great and the characters are built into it marvellously. The emotions that they go through as the story progresses brings to the fore the element of storytelling which seems to have become something of a lost art in this age of visual effects. The musical score is a strangely overlooked component of movies but here we have one that rivals that of the artistic The House of Flying Daggers and even the epic Dark Knight.

Now I’m the sort who prefers to be surprised by an awesome randomly picked ‘unknown’ movie rather than a mainstream box office hit that everyone says is a must watch. Green Street Hooligans and This Is England are two out of the blue movies that have left me spellbound and if you see the movie which I am talking about I am pretty certain that you will added it to your personal faves list. There’s just one problem.

You can’t appreciate how the lead actors have done justice to their characters nor the incredible production value which includes some stunning panoramic settings which are a visual delight. The same hold true for the plot and in fact everything else. And it’s all down to laziness. You see, it’s the greatest movie that’s never been made. And it’s right between my ears.

Cant get no satisfaction (with perfection)

2011-05-27T09:38:00.002+05:30

"Its the perfect job, I think I should go ahead and accept it. I am making the correct decision, right?" asked my more than moderately excited friend as we were munching on some popcorn at a fast food outlet during one of our regular weekend lazying around doing nothing sessions. I ignored the raised eyebrows of the people sitting next to us who suddenly started straining their ears to catch our conversation and asked my friend what makes the job so perfect.

"Well, first of all there is the work, it’s exactly what I have been wanting to do for a very long time. It’s definitely a huge step up from my current job profile and I'm sure that even though it will be challenging, I will be able to manage it rather well."

My Ok was a little more dragged out than usual which made my friend suspicious. "Plus there's all the other stuff. To be honest, saying that you are working in that company gets you a lot more respect than when you mention the name of our beloved employer. And then there are the perks"

"What perks?" I grunted while trying to chew on a mouthful of popcorn. "Well, there’s the taxi service that offers a free pick up and drop from your home and the timings are pretty flexible as well. And you don’t have to pay for anything that you want to eat within the campus. Which means that you get free fruit juice, soft drinks, chips, short eats and just about everything else. Add to that the fact that the work culture is great, you don’t need to come to office if you don’t have any work and you can hit the spacious gyms anytime you want to. The H.R team does a phenomenal job as well, they frequently organize team outings and actual fun filled sessions. Oh and then there’s the big incentive - the women there are rumoured to be prettier and smarter than in any other company. Now does that seal the deal or does that seal the deal, huh? So what do you say?"

"Don’t take it" I replied and had less than half a second to duck under the incoming popcorn that my friend spat out of his mouth in disbelief. "Bu... bu... but why?" he stammered in disbelief as more popcorn kept falling out of his mouth. Not a pretty sight to say the least.

"Its the perfect job. Hence you shouldn’t take it." Rather surprisingly he had some difficulty in comprehending what I was saying and I deliberately chewed on my popcorn in slow motion for added effect as I watched him wait for me to shed some light on the matter. Just as I was about to grab another handful he pulled the box of popcorn away and asked me to explain.

"So you join the company and you find the work is good and that the company is doing just about everything to make you happy. You know what happens if anyone is happy for too long. They get bored. That right, B.O.R.E.D. There's nothing to look forward to, is there? And what’s going to happen when you lose interest?”

In the manner of great orators I paused, waited and continued, ”You can’t switch again because you already have the perfect job. Let’s be honest, any new job will seem like a walk in the park with an obedient dog and nowhere close to challenging. You’re not going to get the same perks anywhere else and each time you put your hand into your pocket to buy lunch you will be left with the bitter taste of your memories. I will guarantee that a guy like you will end up taking vows of chastity when you realize that no longer will you be able to meet such wonderful women day in and day out. You will have to take a major pay cut as well since everyone knows that you were overpaid and underworked in your dream company. We need to get more popcorn, do you want some?”

I’m not sure why my friend suddenly wasn’t in the mood for more popcorn, I even offered to get him the one with additional butter which he was extremely fond of. I sat for a couple of minutes and pretended to be extremely interested in the menu as he closed his eyes and seemed extremely engrossed in thought. Alarmed by what seemed to have become his permanently furrowed eyebrows, I asked him to relax a little which he eventually did. “This is true for everything isn’t it? If I find the perfect woman I should drop her like a hot potato, shouldn’t I?”

“Uh-huh, you need to stay away from anything that is perfect. Once you reach there you have nothing left to achieve or look forward to. You cease to ask yourself that important question – What next? You need to strive for perfection but you should always remember that if you do find it you should never do anything to attain it. You always need something that is out there just beyond your reach. It is our pursuit of happiness that makes us happy.”

Frankly even I was astounded by the wisdom of my words. Profound! My friend, on the other hand, seemed at ease with the whole concept that I had unravelled in front of him and had a smile plastered on his face. Slowly he started muttering to himself while rocking himself back and forth. People at the next table started eyeing us with extreme suspicion and not without reason. One of us (read me) looked like he had just had a moment of revelation while the other looked like he was slowly losing it.

“Will that be all, sir” asked the waiter as he realized we were making the rest of the customers extremely uneasy.

“I’m not going to accept it.”

“What’s that sir? I was asking whether I should get the bill”

“"I’m not going to accept it. Don’t you agree?”

“Not accept the bill? I’m afraid I don’t completely understand, sir.”

“Sit down, sit down. Let me explain how it’s the perfect job and why I’d be a fool to accept it …..”

Why the myphone is better than my phone ....

2011-05-24T18:31:00.007+05:30

I am not a person who gets irritated easily. If you do decide to sit behind me in class and throw tiny paper balls at my head, it would take several hundred such paper balls to get me to turn around and give you a piece of my mind and several thousand such paper balls to get me to kick you sorry arse all over town. If you decide to park your car at the office parking lot in such a way that it eats up half of my usual parking spot, I would happily go park somewhere else and carry on with life while not pondering on your lack of parking skills which would be understandable if you are a woman and inexcusable if you’re a guy. Basically it takes a lot of effort to get me out of my unflappable state but it takes very little effort for me to irritate people to an extent that they want to toss me out the window. Even if they have only just met me. Like the tragically birdbrained myphone messiah I met last week.

Apparently first impressions are supposed to be lasting impressions. I have heard my friend talking about this girl a fair bit and she seemed interesting enough, which falls somewhere between being as boring as a documentary on the physics behind drying paint and as interesting as a full fledged, all out, edge of the seats, stand up brawl between two top MMA fighters. The initial weekend plan was to head out for lunch and watch a movie and my friend had invited this girl for reasons that are still not clear to me. Why he is her friend is a bigger mystery but Im jumping the gun. We decided to meet up for a light lunch (the seats in theatres are extremely conducive to sleeping which means you have to go a second time to watch the parts which you missed) and then catch the movie and unfortunately just after introducing us to each other, my friend received a call from his bitter err better half and vanished before I could ask him to at least hand over the tickets.

Our conversation was as light as our meal and I couldn’t really complain until I made the mistake of asking the girl what the time was. In a flash she had pulled out her myphone and a couple of swishes later she told me the time. In my defense I had asked her the time only because she had a watch on her wrist. Since she seemed rather proud of her little techno gizmo and was probably the type who didn’t know anything more than dialing and sending sms’s on such a complicated phone, I asked her how good the phone was and whether she had any apps on it. Cardinal error!

“Of course it’s got a load of apps on it” she exclaimed as she pulled her chair closer to mine to show off her phone. Now being something of an annual occurrence, I usually am not one to complain if a girl would like to sit close to me but this time warning bells were going off like air raid sirens. “Check out this application, it shows me all the different footprint marks of wild animals and it can even tell you how old and heavy the animal is depending on the depth of the foot mark”. An animal lover, looks like my spidey senses were wrong this time. I asked her “So I take it that you’re an animal lover. How often do you go to wildlife sanctuaries?” I could’ve sworn she shuddered a little when she said “Im terrified of wild animals, I just like watching them on the tele.”

While I wondered how she would use the app, she excitedly moved on to the next application which was called G-Park. “This is like the best application ever”, she exclaimed, ”when you park your car all you need to do is turn this application on and when you want to go back click on ‘Where did I park my car’ and it will guide you back to it. Isn’t that amazing?” I had to agree, this seemed to be like a pretty nifty little app. Just to try it out, I clicked ‘Where did I park my car’ on her phone and after several minutes of analyzing the directions I came to the conclusion that she had parked her car in the men’s restroom.

I’m not sure if the puzzled look on my face gave me away but she seemed to realize that I wasn’t really buying the whole myphone story and so she decided to further try and convince me by showing off the next application which was meant to capture the first letters that a baby writes on a myphone and captures it for posterities sake. “I didn’t know schools have given up on handwriting” I cheekily mumbled “In our time we used to get a rap on the knuckles for not writing our letters properly. How times have changed ……”

As my voice trailed and I tried to keep a straight face, she realized that it would really take something to get me onto off the skeptics list and onto the myphone bandwagon.

“Do you know to make a reef knot”

“A what not?”

“A reef knot!”

“Of course not!”

“What if you suddenly had to make a reef knot”

“Why on earth would I want to make a reef knot?”

“Assume you did ….”

“Ok but before I do that could you explain to me what is a reef knot?”

“Argh! It’s a knot. And stop asking questions and assume you need to make a reef knot, do you know how to do it?”

“Of course not”

“Well the myphone has an application that teaches you how to make any knot in 10 easy steps”

I will admit it, I had to agree that the myphone was useful for something. Even if the only knots I ever needed to make were the ones on my sneakers. She insisted on demonstrating how anyone could make a reef knot and proceeded to take two straws and attempt to make the knot. After about a minute she had to let go of the straws and pick up the phone to check the next step. After starting from scratch she managed to complete 2 steps and had to drop the straws again and check for the third step. Again she had to start from the beginning and each time she put the straws down they managed to completely disentangle themselves and in the process raise her blood pressure a couple of notches.

Not wanting her to feel worse, without a single trace of sincerity, I agreed that the app was a pretty useful one and that the phone was a good buy. Now there is nothing in the world that you can do to a myphone owner that is worse than that because we all know that they have paid more than a bundle for bragging rights and an ego boost and a phone that is perpetually behind the competition in terms of features.

To settle the matter she pulled out what she thought was her ace card. “Check out this app, it can tell you whether it is day or night and where the sun or the moon is at that particular time. Can your phone do that?” she said with a silly victorious look plastered all over her face. “Of course not” I replied nonchalantly. “I just look out the window if I want to know where the sun is …..”

She stormed off without a word and with a rather disgusted look just as my friend returned back from his phone call. “Where did she go?” he enquired quizzically as he watched her disappear into the crowd. “You’de better go after her and help her find her car, I have a feeling she’s not going to be able to find it” I remarked in all innocence.

“But why did she leave?”

“You’ve done it this time. Can I at least have my ticket, the movie is about to start”

“Here take your ticket, at least tell me why she pulled a Houdini on us”

As I got up I said “You and your phone. It was pretty rude the way you disappeared like that. I think you managed to irritate her …..”

Yikes! A Hike!!

2011-05-20T16:28:00.000+05:30

"Why so serious?" I asked my usually glum looking colleague who was sitting with such a morose look on his face that it looked like he had just got word that the world was about to end and he hadn’t completed even one of his top 100 things to do before he moves to a better place (Neil’s note: Here better place refers to the other world and not another company as many of you would expect). All I got in return was a blank stare. “Come on, cheer up. Didn’t you see the latest email on the hikes that have been announced? Looks like we will get a 14% hike this time! This calls for a mini celebration, let’s go grab some tea” I said, trying to infuse some semblance of happiness into the still way down in the dumps colleague of mine.

“I did”

“So why the long face?”

“Because I did”

“Because you did what? And don’t you know youre not supposed to start a sentence with because? Didn’t you pay attention to your English teachers?”

“But you did”

“Did what?”

“Start a sentence with because”

“Who?”

“You. Why?”

“What?

“Start a sentence with because?”

“I didn’t start a sentence with because, you did”

“Of course not. But why did you start a sentence with because? I thought you paid attention to your English teachers”

Suddenly it felt as if the room was spinning around me at an extremely dizzy pace and I tried to get back to the matter at hand. “So aren’t you happy about the pay hikes?” I asked wondering to myself why I had asked such a question when the answer was pretty obvious. “Of course not” he replied with a steady firmness that was more than a little worrying. “But why?” I asked with more than a hint of incredulousness in my voice.

“Its my HIIKES (pronounced hi-i-ke) theory, one that no one has been able to dispute. HIIKES stands for Hopelessly Inadequate Increments to Keep Employees Satisfied. “

I wondered what was so inadequate about the hike, after all a 14% hike did seem to be quite substantial. Add to that the fact that not many this was the only company that deemed me to be employable, it seemed more than generous.

“You see, as an employee you always lose. First the company gives you a hike and you happily think you are going to get more money. Unfortunately the fact that you are getting a hike is not a secret. The government is obviously out to ensure that you don’t earn too much and further widen the gap between the haves, the have a little but think they are the Indian middle class and the have not’s. So the government goes ahead and increases petrol and diesel prices by a percentage higher than what corporate India is giving its employees. This in turn makes food and all other products that get transported by road more expensive. Not only does it cost you more to reach your local supermarket, the prices on just about everything have gone up as well. Double whammy! So you earn more but you have to spend even more to maintain your same lifestyle …..”

And then there was silence. It took me a few minutes to digest what was explained to me. It seemed so simple and yet so blatantly wrong. There obviously was something faulty with his theory and I was determined to find out what it was.

“So the government makes more money on taxes? That’s it? It’s all about the money?” I asked as I started to make some sense of the entire situation. “Of course not, it’s about the numbers as well” he replied which had me hurtling down the path of confusion even faster.

“It’s a win-win situation for the government. They raise petrol prices and rake in the moolah. And if you think about it, the only way out of this predicament as an employee is if you slog so hard that you perform exceptionally well & get a higher pay hike than everyone else. Now since everyone is working extra hard, this means that the output of our industries is shooting up and more trade means better numbers for government statisticians who don’t have to resort to high levels of fudging to make you feel good. So you read your newspaper and feel proud when in reality for every step the country takes forward in terms of GDP and other 3 letter acronyms no one understands, you have taken two steps backwards with your family and loved ones as you try and outdo everyone else by working harder and harder.”

This time the silence was prolonged as things slowly began to sink in. Since it took me so long to understand and accept the problem, I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to be able to figure out a solution within a reasonable timeframe. “So what’s the way out?” I asked. “There isn’t any. Either you keep working harder and harder to make more money but give up all hopes of seeing you family for days together or be the family guy and stop running the rat race.”

And then it struck me, the answer to the problems of all employees in corporate India. “Jump!” I exclaimed. “What? Why?”. “No, no, don’t jump now. I meant jump from one company to the other. Get a substantial payhike in the process and I guarantee that you will be able to make enough to overcome the hikes in prices for everything else and hence make more money. Am I right or am I right?” I asked as I sat back with a triumphant grin on my face.

“You’re right. And wrong.” Said my fried as he slumped further into despair. “You see, if you shift companies once you would be able to beat the price rise for a while. But jump a second time and you will definitely move into the upper tax bracket which means you pay more taxes…..”

Dejectedly I threw in the towel. If someone would have told me earlier that the more I earned, the poorer I would become, I would’ve laughed and said that he was off his rockers. But it is true. Feeling down and out, I resigned myself to my fate and stared gloomily at my laptop for what seemed to be an eternity. That was until another colleague of mine cheerily came up to me and asked “Didn’t you get the email on the pay hikes? Why so serious?”

Watchs wrong ?

2011-05-04T18:33:00.003+05:30

There must be something wrong with my watch. How could I explain the fact that despite leaving for office at the same time every day, I find that my office floor is rather full when I arrive as compared to what it was a couple of months back? Even more surprisingly, these days there are more people in office when I pack up and leave at the end of yet another arduous day than what there used to be. Being a stickler for routines, I come and go at the same time every day and this change in office occupancy really did puzzle me.

Was my boss not happy with my work and hence giving me a lighter load? Did I accidentally delete an internal company email saying employees had to put in an additional hour of work? Was there a new policy of getting paid more for spending even more hours in office? Were people spending more time in office to avoid peak hour Bangalore traffic? Were they trying to ease me out by reducing their dependency (whatever little was there) on me?

I had a ton of similar questions that worried me no end. I was fretting, worrying, anxious and tense as I noticed that for the third week in a row I seemed to be the last to arrive and the first to leave. Is it any surprise that I couldnt get a proper night's sleep? As the days passed by, I grew more irritable and short tempered. Slowly people started avoiding me at work and took the longer route around the office floor just to avoid passing my desk. Those were gloomy days indeed.

And then one monday morning, all my fears were put to rest as I read the latest email from our H.R. team. People were giving me second and even third looks as they noticed that I had smiled for the first time in weeks. It even made a few stop in their tracks when they saw me. Suddenly it seemed to me that it wasn't just a monday morning. It was a nice bright sunny monday morning.I took a walk around the office floor exchanging pleasantries with people who hadn't made eye contact with me for days. More than a few of them were surprised to see my smiling face as they looked up from their laptop screens.

I eventually made my way back to my desk and read the subject line of the email again - Appraisal Season is here, time to fill in your goals and objectives. Obviously there was nothing wrong with my watch. Its just that time of the year ......

P.G Warning !

2011-02-09T15:51:00.002+05:30

In this post you will find the contents of the speech made by a leading industrialist to leaders of our Indian economy at a secret meeting last week and the incidents that followed it. The participants will of course deny the occurrence of this event but I felt the need to give my massive reading audience the complete picture.

“Fellow businessmen, retailers, shopkeepers and members of the industry, I stand before you a worried man, a man who sees a paradigm shift that is happening as we speak and like many of you I too am helpless & am looking to you for suggestions and advice. For decades, we businessmen have held the upper hand as we have dictated prices of everything from soaps to cars, from movie stars to chocolate bars. We decided what the right price for everyday & non-everyday items was and customers remained ignorant without that blasted thing called the internet.

Nowadays we have to deal with Disturbingly Informed Completely Knowledgeable Shoppers (Note from Neil - This is an acronym friendly blog but in this case I must make an exception to the acronym that was used by this ignorant gentleman). These D**** do all their research on the internet, analyze offerings from different competitors and then go to buy what they want armed to the teeth with knowledge. You cant pull a fast one on D****. You cant lowball them with a substandard product or services. D**** will make life miserable for you if we try doing such regular unscrupulous activities by publishing all our shenanigans (Note from Neil - surprising that he uses words like shenanigans but is ignorant about the usage of the acronym D****) all over the internet or taking it up with the media.

My colleagues and I have thought about it a lot, we have hired consultants to figure a way out for us but it is of no use. We can probably hold out for a while longer but eventually we need to cave in and herald the age of the D****. That will be a sad day for all of us indeed. I urge you to pull as much as possible from the pockets of these customers while you can because our good times wont last.

(On this solemn note, the speaker sat down & the crowd settled into an unsteady silence)

An old businessman stood up and took the microphone and said "What rubbish! I have been running my business for 40 years and have never once met a customer like what you described. You people are making a big hue and cry about nothing !"

(A young man slowly stood up and asked for the microphone)

" I’m afraid uncleji, that you are wrong. Let me give you a perfect example of what a pain in the you know where these D**** can be (Note from Neil - Is it just me that finds what is being said at this meeting errrr imaginative?). I am a salesperson for one of India's largest car manufacturers and just a few days back a young gentleman came in to book a car for himself. I thought I would give him the customary schemes and with that I would have the booking completed and another easy sale in the bag. However the customer refused to sign saying he wanted more. He insisted that he wanted free mudflaps, carpets, sunfilm and a car cover. It appeared that he had done a bit of research before coming and I had to go and get the necessary approval from my manager."

"Even after getting this the customer refused to sign and said that he wanted even more stuff. By now I was beginning to sweat profusely. He was walking around the showroom nonchalantly and saying he wanted this accessory & that freebie. By now I realised he had done his homework thoroughly & was making me work for my deal. Meanwhile my manager appeared and was watching the customer literarily wring my neck as he extorted (Note from Neil - funny how the customer has started extorting businessmen these days!) more and more accessories from me. Finally I had to almost plead with him to stop & eventually he relented and signed the papers. I was never happier to have a customer finalise his order and walk out the showroom.

(A gloomy silence descended the group until a smartly dressed man in his mid 30's stood up and said)

If only we could go back in time and shoot those blasted men and women who made the internet! Nowadays you have information on anything and everything on the net, from user reviews to contact details to prices. How are we expected to get away with our arbitrary pricing policies? Earlier if our kids wanted the latest technological device all we had to do was overcharge the next few customers and that was it. One new iphone ready & paid for. Nowadays I cant even overcharge my customers enough to get my mobile phone recharged!

(And so one by one participants stood up and narrated their sad stories until they started dispersing slowly and steadily).

Note from Neil - The next time you are tightening the screws on a sales guy and making him sweat (both literarily and figuratively) cut him some slack, he probably has gone through a few customers like you already. And how did I get all this insider information? I too am in sales and was a sad participant at the meeting you see .....

2010 - The year that was

2011-01-31T14:14:00.003+05:30

Yet another excellent email forward that had me in splits.

January
Jyoti Basu dies at 11.47 a.m., yet again almost making it to P.M.
UPSC increases civil services intake from 580 to 965. Ouch. 385 more bureaucrats each year. A real Babulation Explosion.
Kerala gets 3G services. Now they can call themselves “GGGods own country”.

February
Kishenji announces his phone number : 9734695789 . Now we don’t need the army to fight him. ICICI will finish him off.
Lok Sabha meets. Noise. Confusion. Lok Sabha adjourns. It’s time we rename our parliament the Joke Sabha.
India says no to Bt brinjal. An auberginity lost?

March
What’s common to Iceland & Abhishek? Both are wondering what to do with ash.
Sania Mirza announces that she’s going to marry Shoaib Malik
Thank God, Sania doesn’t have to do 7 pheras with Shoaib. She’ll never get past the first round.
Anagram of “Sania has a Malik” – “Asli aman ki asha”.

April
ND Tiwari may have to take DNA test. Ha. So far for him, a double-helix was just an interesting position in bed.
Sachin Tendulkar’s birthday today? Let’s celebrate it as "Runmashtami."
The good thing is that Sachin has turned 37. Which means, for the next 365 days, he will be in his prime.
IPL-3 happens with much glitz, glamour & goris.
Definite Punjab victory over Mumbai today. Mumbai may have the X-factor in Sachin. But Yuvi gives Punjab the XXL-factor.
Matthew Hayden to change his name to Matthew_Hayden. After all he is a chronic under-scorer.
If Vijay Mallya had his way, after the quarter-finals, IPL would have the half-finals & full-final.
And the post-IPL party starts.
Unfortunately, all the recent happenings only go to prove that an honest politician is the exception rather than Tharoor.
If an aquarium can have water and a planetarium, planets, why can’t a consortium have a consort?
Lalit Modi possessed drugs as a teenager. What?! No way we’ll let him run a cricket tournament. Let him go stand for parliament instead.
BJP, RJD & BSP want JPC probe into IPL so that NCP will get caught & UPA will be in trouble. Acronymous scenes in parliament.

May
If India were a gym, Delhi would be the sauna, Chennai, the steam-room & Bangalore, the a/c reception. Mumbai will be the pool in 2 months.
The IPL saga continues.
I’ve heard of “suspension of disbelief”, but LKM’s behavior suggests that he’s experiencing “disbelief of suspension”.
LKM gets threats from the underworld. Looks like organized crime doesn’t like competition.
Kasab gets sentenced
Like all sentences, Kasab’s too ends in a full stop.
If he’s sentenced to death, Kasab will be 51st in the queue. “Capital” punishment just means your file is stuck in Delhi.
Subhash Ghai was ahead of his times. He introduced 4G in 1989. A-G, oh-G, lo-G, suno-G.

June
FIFA World Cup provides a lot of kicks
Hope Greece is not given a penalty. They’ll say they have no money to pay it.
I don’t think Mexico will make any attempt at the Argentinian goal. A Mexican can’t take a shot without salt and lemon.
I think Italy should be allowed to have an extra player on the field. After all, Azzurri usually comprises 12 people.
The feeling of having heard a damn irritating noise before – Deja Vu-vuzela
On the offside, first there is God, then there is Ganguly. And then sometimes Argentina.
If India had qualified for the World Cup, Chetan Bhagat would have been goalie & Mamata the forward. He can block, she can strike.
Germany, Uruguay, Netherlands & Spain. So the big G.U.N.S. have made it to the semis.
TN may free 500 convicts to mark Tamil conference. Why, may I know? Did classical Tamil have shorter sentences?
Ahmedabad to celebrate World Blood Donation day. Hopefully, this time around, they’ll keep it voluntary.
Karunanidhi turns 87 today. He will henceforth be called Dravida Munnetra Kazhavan.

July
Bopanna & Qureshi to play tennis match with Wagah border as the net. Thereby showing that there are faults on both sides.
Petrol price increased again. An optimist will now look at his tank as half fuel.
Just realized that M.S. Dhoni’s wife will be called Ms. Dhoni.
CWG fun begins
Now I understand why the CWG mascot is called Shera. They want a Shera this, a Shera that, and a Shera everything that makes money.
New HR rating scheme- 5: Exceeds Expectations, 4: Meets Expectations, 3: Average, 2: Needs Improvement, 1: Kalmadi.
Suresh Kalmadi plans to give us the Common & the Games. The rest, he’ll keep.
The latest form of humour: Stand-up Kalmadi.
So Amit Shah is behind the Sohrabuddin fake encounter, uh? Makes sense. His name is, after all, an anagram of “a sham hit”.
If Sherlyn Chopra met Rakhi Sawant, would the CBI call it a fake encounter?

August
Manmohan becomes third PM to hoist flag at Red Fort for 7th time. Sigh. So many hoisters, so few pearls.
If life gives you lemons, be very happy. They’re now Rs.100 per kg.
I’d like to start a paper factory that supplies clean chits to the CBI. Big business potential.
Congress to have elections to decide its President. Ha. That’s like Robinson Crusoe conducting interviews to select his assistant.
It’s a great day for our planet. All the top places in Miss Universe are bagged by earthlings.
Spot-fixing controversy hits Pakistan cricket. Pakistan is the world champion in book cricket.
There’s actually a website that does nothing but spot-fixing. It’s called Foursquare.
I’m looking forward to Arnab on spot-fixing tonight. I bet that he’ll interrupt his first guest on the third word of his second sentence.

September
CWG action continues
Finally some positive news about the CWG – 5 athletes test positive for dope.
1.6 million meals to be served during CWG. Oh. No wonder they have created such a big mess.
Delhi gets hit by Dengue.
What Delhi needs is some Ram Sene folks. They won’t let the mosquitoes breed till they get married.
I propose that we make mosquitoes our national insect. Then the government will try to protect them and they’ll become extinct.
Kasab case drags on
Sentenced terrorists have a good time in india – They are footloose and phaansi free.
UID launched. The first person gets an aadhar number. The second gets anaadhar number. And so on.
I guess, in Jalandhar, people will soon be bidding lakhs of rupees for a premium UID number.
Ayodhya verdict happens. Seems to be on the basis of Share-ya law.
This Ayodhya issue is quite complex. Hindus want a temple, Muslims want a mosque, while Mayawati actually wants a statue.
Off to Google Maps to mark Nungambakkam as Rameshjanmabhoomi so that there’s no confusion in 5510AD.
Raymonds wants to sponsor the Ayodhya verdict, because it turned out to be a 3-piece suit.

October
Obama’s goal seems to be to see as much of India and as little of Indians as possible.
In TN, a million more TV sets will be distributed. Our whole country seems to be in an alms race.
Advice to Arundhati Roy: if at first you don’t secede, cry, cry, cry again.
Mukesh Ambani is not the first to stay in Antilla. Centuries back, Valmiki used to hang out in one.

November
Today is the day Krishna slays Narakusara, Rama returns to Ayodhya, Mahavira attains moksha, and Airtel makes a killing. Happy Diwali.
The more the number of Diwali sweets in your house, the faster they get spoilt: Burfi’s law.
Raja scam explodes
A. Raja is living proof that there is a pot of gold at the end of the spectrum.
In India, scams have an alarming frequency. And now, with Raja, frequencies have an alarming scam.
Dear Manmohan Singh, it would be apt if you could sack our telecom minister using radio language: Raja. Over and out.
Manmohan Singh continues to do nothing about anything
Manmohan Singh’s First Law of Motion: Everybody stays in a state of rest unless
acted upon by Soniaji.
Manmohan Singh’s Third Law of Motion: Every action has an equal and opposite inaction.
One day there will be a movie made about Manmohan Singh. And the director will go, “Lights. Camera. Inaction.”
Manmohan Singh’s personal integrity is unquestionable. Mostly because he never attends question hour.
Yeddy allots land to his children:
My name is Yeddy.
I’m a great father, a cool deddy.
Politics has been bleddy,
but be happy I am steddy.
Cos else you’ll be stuck with Reddy.
The nation finds out that Radia : Government :: Sonia : Manmohan
Q : How do you fit 1000 media people in a hotel? A: 998 in 499 double rooms. And Barkha & Sanghvi in the lobby.
Why does phone-tapping make India a banana republic? Isn’t tapioca republic better?
There was a lady, Radia.
Whose contacts could fill stadia.
But to get stuff done,
She’d trust no one,
Except the helpful media.

December
Wikileaks threatens national security, or rather politicians’ security
What with wikileaks & payback, the governments of the world will now unite to face their common enemy – the public.
TIME had a difficult choice for Person of the Year. Assange, who attacked governments’ privacy. Or Zuckerberg, who went after people’s.
Sarkozy is a VIP Frenchie, right?
To protect against hacking, DRDO instructs all government officials to change their password from sonia123.
India has got an old, rich and glorious tradition in hacking. It started with Parashurama.
MMS & team are busy blowing balloons for Sonia’s birthday. They’ve told their staff that they’re tackling inflation.
Many bills were passed in the parliament session: Travel bills, food bills, etc.
We should also fix China by issuing visas that are attached by mere gem-clips.
Obama, Sarkozy, Jiabao & now Medvedev. If india can’t get to the Security Council, at least the Security Council is coming to india.
There was this guy called Manian.
Very very fond of onion.
He ate ‘em till it hurt.
So he lost his shirt.
Now he roams around in a chaddi & banian.

Honeymoon and James Bond (stop getting ideas ! )

2011-01-28T23:40:00.004+05:30

To all my devoted readers (yes, all two of you) I ask, is there anyone out there who doesn't like James Bond ? The truth is we all love James Bond. The guys all wish they had the charm, voice and the looks of a James Bond (Sean Connery not Pierce Brosnan) while the women wish they met a guy like James Bond to errr play chess. Im sure everyone has at some point or the other wondered what it would be like to be a super spy with voice recorders disguised as everyday objects and cars loaded with missiles and machine guns with a back seat to errr play chess with the women.

Unfortunately life doesn't give us the chance to play super spy for real. (Well actually it does give me the chance but if I tell you about it I will have to kill you). That was until the advent of Facebook. Now Facebook for all intents and purposes is a marketers unadulterated dream with millions of people (including myself) putting up all their personal details out there for the FB guys to sell to marketers and get rich. Ill informed people (99% of FB users) think that it is a social networking site. But the beauty of FB was that up until recently it allowed people to snoop on just about everyone else and find out what they were hiding in the closet. Then people started making a hue and cry about privacy settings and they fixed it.

But by some strange unwritten code people have apparently started feeling bad for their fellow spies and have now started putting up pictures of their honeymoon (the politically correct term is 'holiday') on FB so that everyone can talk about it. Probably in the hope that the fellow spies would in term put up their pics when their wedding comes along. Or maybe they just want to show off that they could afford to go to a fancy place after an extravagant wedding.

Which of course, we as friends wouldn't know about since people have stopped inviting their friends to their weddings. Strictly family only these days. Cant blame them, if they have to afford a honeymoon to a fancy unpronounceable place then they have to cut costs. And what better way to cut costs than to invite less people for your wedding ?

But seriously, of all the things you have to put up on FB, does it have to be your honeymoon? Why not more pictures of your wedding? Why not the pretty bridesmaids who I would've tried to woo had I been invited to your wedding? Why not your dog? Or the plants in your garden? Or your underwear on your clothesline? Not that I'm complaining, it gives me and the rest of the world more than enough to talk about in our idle time.

Come to think of it, being James Bond isn't really going to be too difficult. All he has to do is follow the baddies on FB or Twitter. Imagine the scene, the bad guy slips into a back alley & Mr Bond runs past unsuspectingly. Meanwhile the baddie takes out his mobile & tweets "Slpd into back alley. JB is a fool. Hahahaha". And 2 seconds later Mr Bond shoots him in the head. A super spy beating the bad guys with technology. How could you not like James Bond ?

Happy birthday !

2011-01-28T13:10:00.003+05:30

Im not much of a birthday person but this is by far the best birthday song of all time. Adam Sandler is credited with the song, though I dont know how true that is. Its up on youtube. The next time you have a friend's birthday coming up you know what song to sing !

Once a year we celebrate with stupid hats and plastic plates,
the fact that you were able to make another trip around the sun.
And the whole plan gathers round' gifts and laughter do will bound,
we let out a joyful sound and sing that stupid song.
Happy Birthday, now your one year older.
Happy Birthday, your life still isn't over.
Happy Birthday, you did not accomplish much.
But you didn't die this year i guess that's good enough.

So lets drink to your fading health, and hope you don't remind yourself
your chance of finding fame and wealth decrease with every year.
Does it feel like your doing laps, and eating food and taking naps,
and hoping that some day, perhaps, your life will hold some cheer.

Happy Birthday, your starting to get fatter.
Happy Birthday, it's downhill from now on.
Try not to remind yourself your best years are all gone.

If cryogenics were all free then you could live like Walt Disney and live
for all eternity inside a block of ice.
But instead your time is set this is the only life you get,
and though it hasen't ended yet some times you wish it MIGHT!

Happy Birthday, you wish you had more money.
Happy Birthday, your lifes so sad it's funny.
Happy Birthday, how much more can you take?
But your friends are hungry so just cut the stupid cake.

Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday, Dear ...

Magic drawer, show me your power !

2011-01-28T12:43:00.002+05:30

"Dude I read your blog & saw that you wanted to start cooking. Stop having junk food all the time. Why don’t you come over to my place & I'll show you how to cook home made food". An innocuous enough statement from a call made by a long lost friend resulted in even more cullinary misadventures (much better word than mishaps) that I must share with the world.

A week after the call was made, I dropped into my friend's place and after talking about the good old days we got down to the cooking lessons. Now I am sure some of you men out there must be thinking - 'What sort of guy learns cooking? That is a woman's job. So what if it is 2011?' Apparently women like men who cook and seeing as women definitely don’t find guys like me funny, good looking or charming, cooking seems to be the last resort (on second thoughts, that sentence kind of makes me sound like a desperate man which I assure you I am not).

Back to the story. My friend was always known to be a little absent minded & I was pleased to see that time had not changed him one bit. 'What we are going to do today, is to create a feast. One that the contestants of Master chef Australia, America and Tunisia would be proud of.' I was a little hesitant when I heard this because I was assuming I would learn to swim by trying out the kids pond but this was like throwing me into shark infested waters. 'What we need is a dash of this, a sprinkling of that, 2 tea spoons of this and a generous dose of that to make the perfect dish (I must apologise for the prodigious use of the words this and that when it comes to the ingredients, I had no clue what my friend was talking about and have inserted the words this and that for each ingredient). He opened the main drawer below the stove and looked carefully at it for a few minutes. All I could see were a few bottles of common spices and a few pots and pans.

'Never mind, we can use this and that instead' he said cheerfully as he tossed in a handful of spices into the boiling water. 'You know what would make this perfect? A dash of this'. He opened the shelf above the stove this time and looked at it intensely. Since my friend was ummm adequately heighted (apparently short is such a mean word to use these days) I offered to help him take out the items which were just out of reach of his hands 'Do you want me to get the salt or pepper or the sugar?'. I wondered why he was looking at the shelf when the item he had mentioned was clearly not in it but I decided to keep my mouth shut.

'It appears that I don’t have it, will use that instead' he said as he opened the drawer below the stove and looked at it with perfect concentration once again. I’m no chef but I knew for a fact that the drawer did not contain the above mentioned spice. And yet my friend moved about a few items in the drawer and finally convinced that it was not there he said that we might have to ramp down the scale of our extravagant cullinary experiment for the evening (how can you not love the way an Indian MBA speaks?). With my visions of pork roast being dashed, I resigned myself to a slightly less satisfying dinner when my friend said "How would you like a vegetarian dish?" I’m no full blooded carnivore but vegetables aren’t exactly my idea of a sumptuous meal. I looked around and noticed that there weren’t any vegetables. In fact there wasn’t any chicken or pork or any other four legged animal either.

Sensing my unease my friend suggested that I go to the hall and watch football instead. I feebly protested, more from not wanting to see what he was making given the extremely limited resources than anything else. I occasionally peeped into the kitchen and each time I saw him standing there staring intently at the open drawer almost as if he was trying to conjure up some spices or herbs or even complete dishes by magic. A half an hour later he walked in triumphantly with 2 plates laden with food that smelled delicious.

As he placed it in front of me my smile vanished as I realised that he had prepared rice and daal! Yes, just rice and daal. To give the devil his due, it was tasty but seriously, rice and daal without any vegetables / curries? 'Isn’t this a lovely meal?' he asked and I replied that I hadn’t had a meal like this in years. Which brought a huge smile to his face. Well I didn’t lie, the last time I had only rice and daal was several years back when I was so sick that the only food which would go down my throat was (you guessed it) rice and daal.

On my way home that night, I recollected the events of evening with a smile until I spotted the sign outside the nearby midnight meal preparing roadside vendor, which said 'Budget meals - Rice, daal & potato Rs 10 only'. 2 seconds later, my far from being a chef friend called me up saying "Dude I just got off the phone with this really pretty girl from my office & I’ve offered to cook her dinner. Yay! (I never understood why he does the Yay!) Can you come and help ....". I didn’t get to hear the rest because I had switched off my phone & was walking home to snack on noodles & chips.

How Do You Enjoy a New Years Eve Without Company

2011-01-10T15:25:00.003+05:30

PROLOGUE

"So Neil, what big plans for New Years (eve)?". I was rapidly getting sick and tired of the blasted question as the new year approached. Everyone was either heading out of town, arranging small get-togethers for their family or going out with the better halves. The problem with not making plans in advance is that you suddenly reach that day (usually halfway between Christmas & Jan 1st) where everyone has made plans without you and you don’t want to shamelessly invite yourself and spoil their plans.

The highlight of this as yet unnamed day is that for all the days prior to that, just about everyone would be in a constant state of confusion - 'I’ve not made plans, have you? Let me know if something comes up' etc: And then out of the blue everyone assumed you would be making plans with your other friends and you are left high and dry.

********************************

Well not having company (unless I wanted to sit at home with a bunch of guys and watch yet another mindless fashion show on TV that treats women like commodities) was not the end of the world and I decided to do my bit to push the Indian economy and splurge a little by attending some party at a good place. After getting ready and dressing up (a not too frequent occurrence) I made my way to a fancy joint where I was told in no uncertain terms that stags were not allowed. I argued that I had seen the advertisement for the party in the papers only yesterday & that they were selling passes for stags at a not altogether reasonable rate. The rather stupid reply which I got was that stags were allowed entry only if they were in a group that included women. Flabbergasted for the first time.

Not one to waste time trying to understand the lack of logic of their reply I decided to make my way to a nearby pub that was renowned for the rock music it played. My friends and I occasionally visit the place and bringing in the new year in the company of AC/DC, Led Zep and Collective Soul among others seemed to be a good bet. Outside the pub, the otherwise friendly bouncer and manager suddenly seemed to have developed a serious case of amnesia. The pub is full, there no place to stand, its really crowded were the standard excuses that they bandied about. I explained to them that I don’t drink & that if they were worried I would create trouble in my drunken stupor they were sadly mistaken. Pat came the reply "But if you don’t drink, why do you want to enter a pub after paying the cover charge?". If they had any sense they would have realised that they would have made maximum profit on a person like me who wouldn’t drink & use up the cover charges but I decided against explaining it to them. Flabbergasted for the second time.

Checking my watch I realised that if I rushed home I could still catch the end of the mindless aimless pointless fashion show with half clothed (sounds so much better than half naked) women walking around. 200 meters away from the pub I had to stop because the police had setup a roadblock and were checking everyone with breath analyzers. 2 policemen came rushing to me only to be disappointed by the zero reading on the machine.

Meanwhile a large queue of vehicles had formed behind me and the cars that had pulled over and people were impatiently honking. As I got dressed (fear not, dressed involved zipping back my jacket, putting on my helmet and strapping on my gloves, activities that take a combined 3 minutes 15 seconds) the cops came back angrily asking me "Where do you think you are going?" (at least that’s what I think they asked me seeing as I don’t speak Kannada). "But the reading showed zero" I said in all innocence. "License, registration, pollution under control certificate and all other papers". Meanwhile the honking was getting louder as the line had grown longer. "Aren’t you guys checking only for drunken driving? Here are all my papers, can I go now?" I asked. "Sir, 100 rupees" said the junior cop. I gave him a blank look. "Sir after all its the new year and you ride a nice bike and can afford to pay us this small amount .....". Flabbergasted for the third time.

Tired and annoyed I landed at home just before 12 and switched on the tele to catch the end of Victoria's Secret Fashion show which featured some very attractive women (with the collective IQ of my 5 year old nephew) walking down the ramp. Who is Victoria? What is her secret? Why does it involve half clothed women? Why in the world are Akon & Katy Perry performing on the same show? Mercifully sleep overtook me before I could get flabbergasted for the 4th time.

********************************

EPILOGUE

Ive learnt my lesson the hard way. I have resolved to start making plans for Dec 31st starting now itself. If you have something interesting lined up let me know. We will plan early and finalize. At least that way I will have an answer whenever someone asks me "So Neil, what big plans for New Years (eve)?"

The 2011 look

2011-01-08T19:15:00.002+05:30

Its 2011. Pardon me for not celebrating like a madman and bringing the roof down (for starters, my landlord would not approve) because like most other people I too have realised that yet another year has gone by and not much has changed. I will spare you the incredibly boring and long speech on how fate conspired against me over the last year and the other 101 reasons as to why status quo has been maintained. What has changed though is the design of this blog. After 4 1/2 years of that prehistoric green theme, I finally decided that it was time for a change. Fear not dear readers (yes, all 2 of you, don’t worry I know who you are, its very sweet that you 2 to occasionally keep reading this blog and ensure that I’m not the only one reading my own posts) I will continue to be funny, insightful, thought provoking blah blah in my posts and will ensure that I don’t get into the writers block too often.

My hope is that I do enough of good blogging (questionable to say the least) throughout the year so that it will provide the necessary kick up the proverbial arse to get me started on my book which currently resides between my ears. Sell a few million copies, quit my job, buy Fiat Puntos in all the colours I like, donate a bit to charity, pick up a LED TV so big that I need to sit in the next room to be able to see both ends of the TV along with a microwave to make popcorn, kick back and relax is what should happen after that. Sounds good to me.

Plus the world is supposed to end next year. Technically it was supposed to end in 2000 but people have rather conveniently forgotten about that. Maybe there is a lot to look forward to after all, in 2011.

An almost 100% merry Christmas

2010-12-27T00:02:00.002+05:30

I am a Christmasy person. But its just another holiday, why are you making such a big deal out of one day? you ask. Here's what I love

1. Christmas shopping (go on, call me a girl),

2. putting up the Christmas star (minimum effort required) and decorating the tree (not really, its too effort intensive),

3. munching on sumptuous lunch (duck, chicken, pork, prawns) followed by the most amazing dessert ever made (Pandhal in Cochin is where you need to buy it from, if anyone from Pandhal is reading this do I get a free dessert for openly recommending your stuff?),

4. sweets to savour (chocolate balls, marzipans and a whole lot of others),

5. rich plum cake and a dash of good old fashioned family made wine (sinfully heavenly),

6. visiting relatives (who doesn’t love them)

7. Santa Claus

8. and much much more.

The only thing I worry about on Christmas is my phone. The thing is every year I end up getting sms's from a lot of unknown numbers wishing me a very merry Christmas. Since most of these messages have my name in them, the sender obviously knows me well enough to have sent me a sms on this wonderful day. I on the other hand don’t know the same person well enough to have his / her number stored on my phone. Which sort of leaves me in a fix as I ponder on how exactly to reply to these sms's. I usually send a unisex reply that does the trick in most cases that doesn’t encourage further sms contact. Sometimes people, God bless them, in the spirit of the holidays respond with further questions - so what’s happening / what big plans etc. Now since I don’t know who I am messaging I am conscious about the amount of information I divulge so I usually respond with eating n sleeping and say I’m just about to doze off (good conversation ender) even if it is 9 AM.

The only thing worse than this is the kind hearted souls who decide to do away with sms-ing and call me on Christmas instead not knowing that I do not have any clue who they are. I am terrible at identifying voices & the conversations I have are deliberately bland and lack in detail (don’t want to give out too much information, what if the sweet sounding unknown woman is a stalker?) & I usually end the short calls with "Hey someone from the U.S is calling me, might be from the office, Ill have to call you back". And proceed to store the numbers as Unknown Christmas 1, Unknown Christmas 2 etc: So every year I have Unknown Christmas n calling up & talking to me about life while I am blissfully unaware of who I am talking to. And since the same people have been calling me year after year I think its too late to ask them their names.

Next year I think Ill leave my phone switched off. That way the same people will have to resort to emailing me or pinging me on Facebook. At least then I'll know who they are. Which means I can call them the following Christmas and spread the holiday cheer. Which would add another point to my Why I love Christmas list. Which would make me even more Christmasy & make the day a perfect Christmas.

The low point of low waist jeans

2010-12-26T23:10:00.002+05:30

They say fashion is constantly evolving, that what’s 'in' this season is a far cry from what was 'in' a few months back and that you need to keep changing with the times. I, for one, am not the most fashionable person around, primarily due to the fact that my fashion sense hovers perilously close to zero. What I do know is that low waist jeans have been 'in' in India for the last decade & a couple of recent incidents have made me pen down (misnomer really considering that I’m typing it out) a few thoughts on this perpetually 'cool' style statement.

Before I get to that, permit me a few minutes of nostalgia. Around 10 years ago when I first decided to try out low waist jeans it wasn’t because of an enhanced sense of dressing. It turned out that I was rather scrawny for my age & getting a pair of jeans to fit me was about as easy as topping my class in the annual exams. So I was left with jeans that would dangle somewhere below my waist line (held up by a belt) at the mythical NELWJP (Non Embarrassment Low Waist Jeans Point). Which is the exact point at which the jeans are low enough to pass off as low while not being in danger of falling off with the next gust of wind but succeeding in scandalizing your extended family by its lack of proximity to your waist line. Of course I never stepped out without a belt, wasn’t daring enough but I do know of a lot of people who did. Gutsy buggers. Nowadays they aren’t the rage anymore but it isn’t surprising to spot someone sporting the low waist look and carrying it off well.

What is surprising though is the fact that people still think that it is acceptable to walk around in low waist jeans that display more than a hint of their undergarments. We were at a movie hall recently when we spotted guys from a large group sitting in front of us moving out to grab some popcorn. All of them were flaunting their boxers (most in checks, i think one of them had Mickey Mouse if my brief (pardon the pun) glance serves my memory correctly). And the best part is that none of them bothered to make any attempt to pull up their pants which led to much grief and shock for the rest of the audience.

In fact, I was thinking I should approach these right wing extremists in our country (we do seem to have plenty of them) & use their money and / or muscle power to launch my automatic low waist jeans lifting contraption which is rather self explanatory. All you have to do is walk up behind a person who is unsuitably attired in low waist jeans and clip the device onto his jeans without him knowing it. Then from a safe distance using the remote control, select the intensity of the upward pull and watch as it pulls his pants up using the combined effort of its tiny twin motors. Please do remember that the motors are pretty strong so please do think twice before putting it on the highest intensity. Lets just say the consequences could be long lasting. In fact I could and should patent this device. I’m sure parents would lap it up. This could be my goose that lays golden eggs. Swiss banks, here I come!

Of course, defenders of all things fashionable will say you cant impinge on someone’s fundamental right to dress up the way he / she wants. Which I agree with as long as they don’t display their boxers to the entire world each time they decide to cross the room. They might say ..... you know what, forget it. It doesn’t really matter what they say.

The question that has no answer

2010-11-28T00:59:00.004+05:30

"Does this dress make me look fat?" The dreaded devious question hung menacingly in the air. Like Damocles sword, its razor sharp blade ready to drop at the slightest hint of a mistake. Dumping whatever clothes we had picked up we rushed towards the changing rooms of the store from where the fiendish question had arisen. Pretending to carefully check out the stuff on the racks near the changing room (never mind that it was all womens wear) we carefully sized up the situation while preparing ourselves for the impending massacre. None of us had ever laid our eyes on this guy before and now that the question was popped, we honestly weren’t expecting to see him alive again.

To be honest, the two of them made a cute couple. One of those picture perfect duos that you would probably spot on the walls of a photography studio. That is if the bugger managed to wriggle out of the predicament he was in right now. Highly improbable but we sent up a collective prayer for the poor sod.

Educational Lesson 1 - Hesitancy. Of all the things you should never do when a woman asks you a question, hesitancy is number one. Especially if she asks you a sensitive question. Even more so when it is about her weight. Remember that, fellow lads, never hesitate. It makes you appear as though you have to think before replying. And women don’t like men who think. Especially men who think before replying about their weight.

"Does this make me look fat?" This time there was a noticeable difference in the tone of the girl’s voice. Like rivers up in the mountains that slowly begin to freeze as winter begins its gradual descent upon us all, the sentence slowly increased in iciness, word by word, second by second.
"Blimey, has dead meat" said my friend (henceforth F1).
"Err (pause) I didn’t get what you said" replied the soon to be carcass of a friend / boyfriend / fiancé / husband.
"He paused. He is soooo dead" pitched in another of our guy group (henceforth F2).
"How could you not hear my question? I repeated it twice. What is your answer? A simple yes or no." came the frigid reply.
"She wants a simple answer. Poor guy" I said as we watched the guy wither away under the steely glare of the girl.

Educational Lesson 2 - When a woman says she wants a simple reply, do not, I repeat, under any circumstances give a simple reply. When a woman says she wants a simple yes or no, you are expected to give a long winding, elaborate and eloquent speech that is both yes and no and does not commit yourself firmly to either a yes or a no. Examples of questions that are a prelude to the "It’s a simple yes or no question" are
a. Have you done the work that I’ve been asking you to do for the last 3 months?
b. Have you bought anything for me on the occasion of our upcoming anniversary?
c. Do you find your attractive secretary attractive?

The reason why men find the "Does this dress make me look fat" question highly revolting is because the question rapidly descends into either one of the following scenarios
Scene 1:
Guy - Of course not sweety, that’s rubbish. You don’t look fat. In fact you look extremely pretty in that dress. I think you should pick it up. (Internally congratulating himself for having handled the situation with poise and diplomacy)
Girl (about to descend into tears) - You think this makes me look fat (descending into tears)
Guy - What? No, I never said that. Why would you think that? Please stop crying, I don’t think you’re fat.
Girl (sobbing) - Is it too much to (sob) expect you to (sob) be honest with (sob) m(sob)e? Why don’t (sob) you tell me (sob) instead of (sob) trying to (sob) hide it. (Big sob) You think I’m fatttt ....
Guy (thinking to himself) - WTF?!

Scene 2:
Guy - You know what sweety, this isn’t really a good dress. The stitching is all weird. It’s a bit loose here and tight in other parts. It doesn’t really compliment your body. Why don’t we get you another dress. (Internally congratulating himself for having handled the situation with poise and diplomacy)
Girl - You think I’m fat (in a tone akin to someone saying 'You think Im racist') !
Guy (panic beginning to set in) - What? Of course not! I just said there was something wrong with the dress.
Girl - So you think I’m stupid as well as fat. Something wrong with the dress it seems, didn’t have the guts to tell me straight! You know what, there is something wrong with you! You can go to hell .... (Storming off)
Guy (thinking to himself) - WTF?!

Needless to say, the two of them pretty much stuck to the script (Scene 2 in this case) and as we walked away shell shocked from witnessing the verbal dressing down of a lifetime, we realised that we had to do something about it. All 3 of us were sure that we would not be able to handle such a cataclysmic event (not having a bitter errr better half helps but unfortunately all our parents are keen on rectifying that). And so we made a pact. Not as dramatic as the pact as the one made in the Lord of The Rings or in the United Nations but it was close enough.

F1, F2 and I thus created the Helpline for Evacuation of Languishing Pals (H.E.L.P), an organisation that has the following rules
- A member of H.E.L.P will always assist a fellow H.E.L.P member, whatever the circumstances the rescuer is in
- Any guy who is a member of H.E.L.P and has been asked the dastardly question "Does this dress make me look fat" will immediately send the following sms HELP to our secret number
- On receiving his sms, our systems will track down his location (God bless technology!) and send instant sms alerts to all other H.E.L.P members in the vicinity
- All nearby H.E.L.P members will rush to the location and assist in the immediate evacuation and rescue of the victim
- It is recommended that the rescuing H.E.L.P party uses one of the following excuses to enable the rapid escape of the unfortunate victim
a. Your uncle has died, I’m sorry. You need to come to the hospital immediately
b.Thank God I found you. The boss has been trying to get in touch with you for the last few hours.
c. Do you know (insert name of high sounding official), then come with us without a moments delay. This is a matter of national emergency.
d.Your dog has died. You need to come to the vet clinic immediately.
e. That critical assignment is due in 2 hours, come immediately.

Be prepared my fellow brothers. One knows not when the cursed question may befall thee. Pay a minimal joining fee and ensure that you are safe and sound every time you go shopping. So that instead of having guys discreetly watch you getting dissected, you can instead have the very same guys help you escape nature’s wrath with a single sms. Remember, we at H.E.L.P are always there to help.

Too grey or not too grey

2010-11-22T16:33:00.003+05:30

In a solemn tone that would have been more appropriate for a doctor about to tell the dashing hero of the movie that he had life threatening cancer or a sidekick telling the above mentioned hero that his house along with his dog was going to be blown up by terrorists, or both, my friend slowly said me "You have grey hair!". It sounded like the curse of our forefathers was upon me, the end of the world was near, the sky was falling blah blah.

"Of course I do" I replied nonchalantly, "I’ve had greys for quite some time now. Ive just stopped getting rid of them". I watched her eyes grow to the size of saucers and worried they might pop out I proceeded to explain "It gives me a distinguished look. And women these days like men who have that sophisticated air. Right?"

"I don’t know who feeds you all this drivel. We women like nothing of that sort. Grey hair does not make you look smart at all. All it does is make you look old. Like our uncles. We don’t want to be seen with old men. Except our Dad's of course .... You should dye your hair or cut those grey hairs off ASAP if you want to find yourself a woman. Otherwise you can continue to remain single!"

As I pondered on the benefits on continuing to stay a bachelor for the next few years, it dawned on me. "What about George Clooney?" I enquired. "Oooooh, I’ve had a crush on George Clooney since like forever. I could go on a romantic dinner date with him followed by a walk on a moonlight beach and .... "

"But he has grey hair and hence looks old" I interjected before the details became too embarrassingly mushy. "Rubbish, he is perfect. He's so smart, so handsome, so so so what is the word I’m looking for ummmm yummy." Gross! "But he is old enough to be your Dad" I added, trying to fuel the fire. "Nonsense, we would make a perfect couple, George and I. Neil, can you imagine the perfect wedding George and I would have, our sons would be so handsome and our daughters would be so beautiful ...."

"But hes got grey hair!" I exclaimed as I realised logic had made a hasty exit a few minutes back. "How can he be perfect?"

"Shut up, you’re just jealous" she said as she walked away with dreamy eyes as visions of little Georges running around her filled her happy mind. My mind, on the other hand, was still reeling from the conversation. It was almost as if I’d been sucker punched by Mike Tyson. Was I better off with grey hair? Or was I supposed to not have grey hair. None of it made sense any more.

I ran my hand through my hair as I looked at myself in the mirror. Maybe I could go bald. Like Andre Agassi. I’ve never tried that. Im sure women would dig that. I think I should talk to my friend about it. As long as she doesn’t start dreaming about pushing Steffi Graf out of the picture and starting a family with Andre ….

To Be A MMAHN .....

2010-11-22T16:26:00.002+05:30

"Aaaaaargggghhhhhh !". The blood curdling scream wasn’t exactly my idea of an ideal alarm but out here in the wild I guess I couldn’t really complain. Jumping out of my tent (read slowly making my way out as I fought drowsiness) I half expected to see one of the guys battling a big bear or fending off a tiger or chasing away some cheeky monkeys who would've tried stealing our food. Instead all I saw was Mr. X (name withheld due to the embarrassment it would cause him if this incident became public) with his travel kit in his hand looking pale as a ghost. Fish! Maybe he spotted a snake or a scorpion or something. The thought of a snake in your campsite sure does leave you wide away in an awful hurry.

"What happened?" I asked as I ran towards him (after making sure there weren’t any creepy crawlies in the vicinity). "My stuff, where is my stuff ??" shouted Mr. X, the displeasure becoming more and more evident with each passing second. By now the others had slowly woken up and had made their way out to the clearing. "What stuff?" one of them asked. By now, Mr. X's breathing had become more laboured and his face was turning red, ostensibly with anger. “I want to know, where my skin cream, my sunscreen lotion, my face wash, my hair gel and the rest of my essentials have gone!".

"Is that all?" one of the others replied as he made his way back into his tent and plonked back into his makeshift bed, more from laziness than from exhaustion. Realising that it was close to 7 AM and that we city slickers were out there in the middle of nowhere, the others proceeded to silently follow suit until someone said "Neil, tell him how to be a MMAHN". "How to be a man?!" Mr. X exclaimed indignantly as he proceeded to stomp towards the other tents but he stopped when he heard the sound of snoring.

"Relax, they wanted me to tell you how to be Mildly Metrosexual And Hence Normal i.e. a MMAHN. The night before we left on this week long outdoors camping trip away from civilization, the guys realised that we had packed too much. Actually they realised that you had packed too much. So while you were sleeping, they opened out your suitcase and dumped everything that you didn’t need into the back seat of the car."

"But but but ….." sputtered Mr. X in disbelief, "I need all those products! I use them everyday, why in the world did you guys think it was not essential? Just because you guys don’t take care of yourselves doesn’t mean that others shouldn’t. Who said only women have to look good?". Mr. X was becoming rather cross, I would have to step in before he blew his top.

"So here's the thing. You use all these products, you go for a pedicure and a manicure ever so often and get yourself waxed every month, is that as painful as they say it is, ok doesn’t matter, my point is all this is actually not necessary. Being metrosexual was so last year. No one is saying don’t look good. But don’t become a victim to the evil conspiracy that has been hatched by all these companies that make you want to buy more and more of their harmful products that offer only psychological benefits. Which is why you should be a MMAHN."

"This means looking good but with less effort. No long waits in the parlour, no yanking off your manly chest hairs while stifling the urge to scream like a little girl, no spending hours in front of the mirror wondering if your skin looks a tone fairer and glows more than it did last week. Instead use a limited set of products that achieve the purpose with minimal time and effort. And that is exactly what being a MMAHN is all about. Think of all those hours you spend grooming yourself. Would you not have benefitted from working out in the gym instead?" I had to pause to take a breath. More importantly it looked like he had cooled down.

"Hmmm, you might have a point there". So he wasn’t totally convinced. Time to drive the final nail in the coffin. "Think about this, do you really need all that girly (extra emphasis on girly) when you are going out for a week long camping trip. With guys. In the middle of the freakin' jungle. Its not like we are surrounded by women out here."

"Maybe youre right, if I had a fiancée I am sure that she would keep complaining that I spend more on cosmetics than her. And I could do with a few extra hours in the gym every week (involuntarily flexing his biceps in while he is talking). Maybe you guys are right after all. Thankfully there are no women around". Phew! Mission accomplished. I didn’t know what was more difficult, get highly metrosexual men to understand that they need to take it easy or getting normal men to realize that they need to take care of themselves.

We proceeded to have a glorious couple of days of fishing, trekking, lazying around, cooking and swimming. A campfire was the perfect way to end our second day as we recalled old stories and laughed heartily at incidents and jokes, some funny and others not so funny. We finally retired to the not so comfortable confines of our tents and just as I was in the transition from light sleep to the glorious deep slumber that follows a perfect day, I was awakened by one of the guys who had scrambled into my tent.

"Dude I think we have a problem" he said. I asked, "What is it?" while my brain was furiously trying to scramble itself out of its deep sleep shutdown mode. "Shhhh, listen" he said. All I could hear were crickets (of the multi-legged kind) and assorted insects chirping away to glory. And then ever so faintly, I heard the sound of women laughing. It couldn’t be. I turned to the intruder in my tent. He nodded without me even asking. "I took a walk and checked. Looks like it’s a group of 30 women on an office outing. And they have camped 5 minutes away from our site. Mr. X is going to throw a sissy fit tomorrow morning when he finds out. What will we do ??"

All of us, with the exception of Mr X with a new found hideous stubble courtesy his MMAHN bliss snored away all night, barely slept a wink. And the next morning we all pretended to be fast asleep when he woke up and walked around and spotted the women’s campsite and let loose his trademark "Aaaaaargggghhhhhh !"

Winner take all .....

2010-11-18T13:05:00.004+05:30

It’s been brewing for years. Below the surface the opposing undercurrents have been strongly clashing with each other, neither side ready to give up, neither side ready to back down. On occasion raising up a storm but mostly restricted to the awe inspiring sound of the thunderous crashing of waves. A battle in which both sides believed that they were right. A clash of ideologies that would have continued for years to come but for the fact that leaders on both sides
believed that the time was ripe for the final blow to be struck to their opponents.

And so it happened that on the seventeenth day of the eleventh month of the year two thousand and ten, both sides laid it all on the line. No more unfriendly jibes, no more below the belt comments, no more going for the jugular. One representative from each side would step up in a verbal joust for the ages. No draws, no timeouts, no mid sparring coaching, no pausing for your breath. There would be only one winner. Only one side would walk away with their heads held
high saying "We were right all along" while the other side would hold their heads down in shame. The stakes, were well and truly, high.

But before such a history altering battle could commence, both sides realised the need for a fair arbitrator. The leaders on both sides had too much pride to win through a tainted victory. They knew they needed a man of great wisdom & intellect. A man who could slice and separate the nonsense from the core of the issue with ruthlessness and without favour. A fair and just man. A man whose judgement is without question. So they chose me.

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I woke up this morning to the drone of an angry mob. The police are always jittery when crowds begin to emit that steady drone which signifies that the crowd is talking animatedly amongst themselves. And an animatedly talking crowd almost always descends into pure, unadulterated chaos. I walked up to the hotel window and tried to rub the sleep out of my eyes. As my eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight, I saw a mass of humanity that was split down the middle by a heavily armed police force. Men and women, people of all shapes, sizes and colours constituted the two equal halves. They were all here to be a part of history. The camera crews were setting up the giant screens outside. I looked at my watch. 45 minutes to go. Lets do this.

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4 minutes to go. I’ve been sitting on stage for the last few minutes. The air-conditioning is on but I can see people sweating profusely. I close my eyes for a moment and smile. A battle like this ought to have been settled in a Roman arena. Scenes from the movie The Gladiator flash across my mind. Instead here we are, like civilised men and women, in the conference hall of one of the world's plushest hotels. Both sides have been given an equal number of seats and a police cordon stands guard in the middle. I don’t expect trouble but with such sensitive issues, you never really know till the fat lady sings. I scan the crowd. There is not an empty seat. People shifting uncomfortably in their chairs. I nod at the front rows of either half. 2 men stand up and make their way up the stage from opposite ends and take their places behind their microphones.

I step up to my microphone which is right in the middle of the stage. My eyes blink from the popping flashlights. I should’ve worn my sunglasses I think to myself. Crap ! Don’t smile now because of your stupid joke and spoil the whole thing. This is history in the making. I manage to keep a straight face. I take a second.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am sure all of you know why we are here and what is at stakes here. But just in case you have avoided newspapers, television, radio and other people for the last one month and have decided to switch on your television set or radio, let me inform you that you have tuned in to the final battle between the vegetarians and the non vegetarians that will decide once and for all which side is correct and justified. My ruling will be fair and final.

I have a simple scoring system, akin to a tennis match. Either side can bring out a point and the other side will have a chance to reply. The winner of the exchange wins a point. The first side to reach six point with a two point lead wins the debate. There will be no tie breaker system, the
debate will continue till you have a two point lead after you reach six points. Parliamentary language (Crap ! Don’t smile now because of your stupid joke and spoil the whole thing. This is history in the making.) will not be permitted and will result in disqualification. To my left we have the vegetarians represented by Mr VG and to my right we have Mr NV." I look at both participants and ask them if they have any doubts. I’ve been through the rules with both sides backstage several times. I look at my watch, 10 seconds to go. I pause for the added drama. "Fight!"

Mr VG - Don’t you non vegetarians know that animals are living beings with feelings? They go through the same cycle of life that we humans go through. How can you people be so heartless and cruel? All animals deserve to lead a full life. It is inhuman to butcher them just to satisfy your greed.
Mr NV - You’re right, animals are living beings that go through the complete cycle of life and ultimately death. Just as plants are living beings that also follow natures cycle of life and death. Take for example that salad you had for breakfast this morning. All those vegetables would have grown on the plants they belong to and died on those plants had it not been for the greed of you people. And speaking of greed, I admit our greed might result in the loss of lives of animals. But tell me, how many vegetarians seated here are wearing leather shoes and carrying leather wallets and bags? Aren’t animals killed for that?

"1 - 0 non vegetarians" I announce into the mic. The last couple of sentences sealed the deal.

Mr NV - And speaking of natures cycle of life and death of plants. Tell me something, is it not your selfishness and insistence on eating fruits and vegetables that is depriving herbivorous animals all across the world their natural source of food. Here you are telling me about what is right for animals. Is it right that you take away their only source of food? What if you vegetarians swell in number and deplete all our food resources? What will our animals do? Do you want them to become cannibals?
Mr VG - Err that is a frivolous errr ummm ....

"2 - 0 non vegetarians"

Mr NV - Is it not true that with all our scientific advances in agriculture, man has been depending more and more on the use of fertilizers, pesticides and insecticides to increase the productivity of crop? And is it not true that digesting these is harmful to the body? And is it not true that if a person were to digest an animal that has eaten this chemically treated crop, the chance of contamination is less because it has already been processed once by the system of the animal ?
Mr VG - (mumbles something into the mic)
I - Could you repeat that louder for the benefit of the audience and the judge ?
Mr VG (Stammering) - Yes, yes and yes ....

"3 - 0 non vegetarians" There was a steady murmur throughout the crowd.

Mr NV - Is it not true that most vegetarians also eat eggs? And is it not true that in order to ensure that the eggs do not get fertilized chickens are injected with several hormones that result in them becoming egg laying machines and nothing more. Is it right to play God with these poor animals just so that you so called clean vegetarians can eat eggs while justifying your actions saying that there is no life in the egg and hence it will never fertilize?
Mr VG (dipping his head) - Yes, yes and no.

"4 - 0 non vegetarians" The excitement levels were rising and the mood in the crowd had changed perceptibly. The non vegetarian speaker paused and turned to me asking "O wise and honourable judge, it appears that we do not have a level playing field. Would you allow one round with a little back and forth questions and answers, your holiness?" It appeared to be a fair request and I agreed. It was after all turning out to be rather one sided.

Mr NV - " Tell me, Mr NG. Do you like to travel ?"
Mr VG (taken aback by the unexpected direction of the discussion) : "Yes, yes I do. My wife and I like to travel a lot."
Mr NV - " You looked like a travelling man to me. The moment I saw you I knew that I was pitted against a man who has seen the world. Am I right?"
Mr VG - " Well I wouldn’t go so far as to say that but yes I have seen several countries and cultures."
Mr NV - "Rome ? Paris ? Milan ? The Niagra Falls?"
Mr VG - "I have been fortunate to visit these wonderful places in my lifetime. But why do you ask?"

The audience by now was also visibly intrigued. After the rapid fire first few minutes, they could sense the seemingly innocuous questions were leading upto something big.

Mr NV (ignoring the last question) - "What about India? Have you been to the Taj Mahal?"
Mr VG - "It is most beautiful. My wife loved it. But I really don’t see where you are going with this."
Mr NV - "I’m sure you have been to the lovely city of Cochin, in the state that is called God's own country, Kerala. What memories do you have of that place?"
Mr VG - "Why yes, we have been there. It is gobsmackingly beautiful. But they did have dreadful mosquitoes. We used to wake up covered in mosquito bites. I used to sit up and swat those mosquitoes for hours on end and they still kept coming. It was terri ...."
Mr VG realised he had been setup.

"5 - 0 non vegetarians"

"This is ridiculous, my statements were taken out of context. There was nothing we could do" he protested.

I could see Mr NV smiling. He was going for the kill. Like a lion in the savannah, he had played with his prey and was now tired. Let it be swift and painless I prayed. Already one side of the hall looked disconsolate.

Mr NV - "Imagine you are on a safari through a jungle. Somehow you get separated from your guide and the rest of your team. You have no weapons, no compass, no food and no water. You come across a clearing and suddenly you see a male lion and a pack of female lions. Would you turn around and run ?"
Mr VG - "Of course I would."

They both turned expectantly to me waiting for my judgement. I unfortunately had no clue what had just transpired. I looked at Mr NV quizzically.

Mr NV - "So when confronted with a lion you would turn around and run. But when a mosquito comes towards you, you would jump up and kill it. Why don’t you run instead ....."

My ruling of 6-0 non vegetarians could hardly be heard over the commotion and the celebration. The jubilation of the crowd outside had to be heard to be believed. I walked up to the winning speaker who couldnt wipe the smile off his face and shook his hand and said "Congratulations. No pun intended but it was a bloodbath."

(H/Cr)appy Holidays !

2010-11-15T21:08:00.003+05:30

"Incoming !" yelled the guy next to me as we ducked just in time to see a rocket whizz past us and crash into the wall. I was picking myself up while dusting off all the dirt on my clothes when the world stopped for a moment. BOOM ! An explosion that was loud enough to get my ears ringing all over again. "This is not good" I muttered to myself as I regained my temporarily lost senses and tried to gauge what was happening. Rat-tat-tat-tat. The sound of gunfire. No point in ducking this time. More explosions. My ears were taking a battering by now and crying for some relief. I looked up and saw another rocket take off and burst into a gay riot of colours. Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, not to a battlefield, but to India celebrating Diwali, the festival of lights.

Call me old fashioned or boring but I prefer the type of Diwali which involves lighting of diyas and sharing of sweets and the sensible use of fireworks. Fireworks that do not include bombs (the deafness inducing firework) that will wake even the dead from their eternal rest or the 10,000 (a headache inducing type of firework that has 10,000 individual crackers that go off one by one). Give me a fountain, sparklers and the crazy spinning fireworks any day which make hardly any noise and don’t cause the dogs to head for cover.

Which got me thinking, has the true essence of festivals been lost in India? No longer do people want to head home and spend quality time with their families for the holidays. Instead people seem to look forward to the holidays only because discounts are available everywhere. When did this commercialization take over? Whatever happened to being happy and hence nice to others during the holiday season?

Take for example the situation every Christmas. Roads are clogged as last minute shoppers are on the hunt for stars and decorations. In the ensuring traffic jams, people stick to the whole season of giving mentality by giving each other the bird accompanied by a healthy dose of abuses as they jostle for real estate on our roads. During Diwali, people take over our roads to burst crackers (often late into the night) while not giving two hoots about pedestrians or commuters. I remember seeing an old man fall off his cycle because he was struck by a rocket that was set off by a boy who was placing them parallel to the ground and lighting them instead of pointing them to the sky.

How about it people? Why not take a small little vow to be more responsible and thoughtful the next time the holidays come around? Spread the word. That way I won’t have to jump behind the nearest tree every time a dimwit kid fires off a rocket at me. And considering that I’m losing more and more of my hearing with each passing Diwali, the next time it happens I just may not hear the shout of “Incoming!”

Viva La Raza

2010-11-14T16:19:00.004+05:30

Today is the 5th death anniversary of one of the greatest wrestlers and entertainers of all time, Eddie Guerrero. The man who made "Latino Heat", "Mamacita" & "I lie, I cheat, I steal" familiar to millions of wrestling fans around the world. The man who had his demons and overcame them to get his life back on track. The man who literaly stole our hearts with his passion, dedication and enthusiasm.

R.I.P Eddie

Looking or searching for an extra roommate?

2010-11-01T21:47:00.005+05:30

Looking or searching for an extra roommate?

Did your roommate perform so badly in the last quarter that his boss decided to ship him off to Timbuktu?
Did your roommate foolishly go find the girl of his dreams and promise to marry her soon?
Did your roommate get tired of the big city life and decide to home and look after his dad’s collapsing business?
Did your roommate think that he is going to make a pot load of cash by working abroad?
Are you left without a roommate and the entire rent to pay by yourself?

Come find others like you who are searching for a roommate at the next “Looking or searching for an extra roommate?” meeting at Abcd Hall on the 1st of April. Contact us at 098652xxxxx.

‘Bloody ‘ell, this is it’, I said to myself triumphantly as I finished reading the advertisment. No more scanning through the classifieds every 6 months as yet another new roommate of mine packs his bags and moves out. Usually to get married. In a couple of cases, before my new roommate could finish unpacking he had to start packing because his folks had found him a suitable match out of the blue. I’m not making this up! In fact it has reached such a stage that no longer am I breaking my head about having to settle down myself. Instead I have to keep worrying about how I am going to pay the next months rent if my possibly soon to be ex - roomie decides to do a Houdini on me. They said marriage was tough. I don’t think they were talking about the difficulty people like me have to go through each time someone decides to bite the dust.

“Gentlemen, welcome to the first ever ‘Looking or searching for an extra roommate?’ meeting in Bangalore. My name is John Smith (name has been deliberately changed to protect this persons identity) and I have created a startup - “Looking or searching for an extra roommate?” after my MBA.” I groaned internally. Not another I think I’ve hit the magic jackpot because I’ve done an MBA nut. But I had to admit his idea was good and he seemed enthusiastic enough. Wearing a rather dapper suit he did stand out though the pink tie wasn’t to my liking. But, what do I know about style anyway?

“… while doing my MBA I remember so many of my seniors telling me that they faced a tough time finding flat mates because they came and went with the speed of the batting lineup of the Indian cricket team on yet another insipid collapse. And so I thought to myself …”. Another groan. This time it isn’t a silent internal one. When will he get to the point I wonder. People sitting next to me turn and look disapprovingly.

“ …… and so all you need to do is to tick the boxes on your application form which will help us identify the sort of roommate you want. Our propriety software will then pick the best possible roommate for you. Sort of like a dating agency” My hand involuntarily smacks my head as his last sentence runs through my mind. Male roommates. Dating agency. Gulp! Is this for gays? I desperately try pushing the thought out of my head. I scan the ad again. I re - read it. I put his dating agency quote down to him being a schmuck with an MBA degree in hand.

“Being the first ever “Looking or searching for an extra roommate?” meeting, we have a special contest for the members of the audience. Whoever can come up with the best name for this startup group gets a wonderful prize”. Highly audible groan from me this time. I hate the wonderful prize gimmick. Unfortunately it was within the earshot of our hotshot MBA who turns to our direction. Using my old trick, I turn and look accusingly at the rather innocuous chap sitting next to me who in turn gets a cold stare from Johnnie boy.

“Lets have a demonstration for the benefit of those present here. I would like to invite 5 volunteers onto the stage to list out their requirements from the ideal roommate. Then see how our system matches their requirements and finds the perfect roomie”. Hands shoot up everywhere. As always mine stay firmly rooted down. The 5 selected volunteers trot up and the first guy is given the mic.

“Hi, I am looking for a roommate who should be highly presentable. I have a lot of relatives staying in Bangalore and my parents keep flying in regularly. Hence the house has to be spic and span all the time and my roommate has to be presentable at all times. The last time my mom and sister flew in on the midnight flight they saw my half asleep roommate walking to the loo for a piss dressed only in his underwear. And to make matters worse he didn’t shut the door. It was embarrassing to say the least. And then there was that one case when …”

“Thank you sir” said our young gun interrupting the first volunteer, obviously not expecting to have gotten off on such a note. “How about we try the next volunteer?”. “Hi, I am new to Bangalore. I have never been away from home for more than 2 days at a stretch and I really miss my Mummy & Papa. I am looking for a roommate who will provide a shoulder to lean on and be a true soul mate for me. He should compliment me perfectly and ….”

“Thank you sir, thank you” said our man with the MBA as he jumped in rather hurriedly. Strangely I relished his discomfort. “How about we try the next volunteer?” he said as he turned to the man who had taken possession of the mic. All his marketing and HR sessions couldn’t help him mask the fact that he wished the 3rd volunteer wasn’t on stage. Cause the man was visibly drunk. Or stoned. Or both.

“Hey. I’m working the graveyard shift most days so my potential roommate doesn’t have to worry about me getting in the way. In fact today is one of the rare days that I’m awake at this time. The only problem is that since I’m awake only at nights I cant get any work done since everything is shut. So my roomie will have to help me a bit. Like taking my clothes to the dhobi. And buying groceries. And occasionally dropping my vehicle for servicing. And getting me some booze once in a while. And he should like heavy metal. And ….”

“T – tttha – thhaank you” stammered Mr Smith who obviously realized he was in over his young head. “How about get some responses from the audience for the naming contest?” in an obvious attempt to prevent further embarrassment. Awkward silence. It was time to put the young man out of his misery. And so my hand slowly went up.

Visible relief. “The gentleman in the last row. Yes sir, you have a suggestion?”. “Why not an acronym?” I ask. “Acronym? Of what?” asks the young man. ”Your tagline. Its everywhere. Its your motto. Its your signature. It defines your startup” I reply. He turned to the large poster behind him and read out slowly, “Looking or searching for an extra roo …… LOSER ?!”

He turned around with what I was later told was a murderous look on his face. But by then I had already disappeared. As I strolled down the street I realized there was only 1 thing left to do. I pulled the flyer out of my pocket. I read the tagline one last time “Looking or searching for an extra roommate?” before tearing up the flyer and dumping it unceremoniously in the next dust bin. Losers. Now to find myself a new roommate ....

Red, White Or Blue ?

2010-10-30T19:29:00.004+05:30

Being so sure of something, that you know come rain or sunshine, nothing is going to change your mind is a lovely state of mind to be in. Its like you've flipped a switch somewhere. You've made your decision and that is it. You’re the master (or mistress, in case you’re a woman) of your destiny and the 4 knuckles of doom (read a closed fist) to anyone who stands in your way. A feeling you wish you had more often in life. Right now I am sure of one thing, when I do get around to buying a car, it’s going to be the Fiat Grande Punto.

For once I’ve decided to stop pretending that I know the solutions to the world's problems and cribbing about life in general and instead blog about the one thing that been on my mind for quite some time. I can’t help it, after all it’s a Fiat. And my family loves Fiats. We've had the pleasure of owning a good old Fiat (the Premier Padmini), a Fiat Uno and a Fiat Palio over the last few years.

Why the love affair with a Fiat Grande Punto ? For one, it’s gorgeous. I do my best not to be shallow but I cant help it in this case. I could just buy one, park it outside, pull out a chair and just look at it all day. And feel happy. Two, its breathtakingly beautiful. And three, I love the way it looks.

Which is important because the interiors are nowhere close to the best. And the engines are mediocre to put it mildly. And Fiat India has apparently fired its Quality Checking team because they were convinced that people would buy the car based on its looks alone. Which explains why parts fall off all the time. Which is also why you need to keep checking the rear view mirror to see if any bits and pieces have decided to bid you a fond farewell after the last pothole. That is assuming the rear view mirror hasn’t worked itself loose and fallen down. Fiat lovers like to describe this tendency as 'character' when their Puntos are compared to the soulless tin boxes on our roads.

The point is I’ve made up my mind. There just seems to be one tiny problem. I can’t decide which colour I should go for. The red is extremely catchy but is a little too bright for my nature. The black is subdued and regal but a little too sober. The white is gorgeous but will be a pain to keep clean. The blue is definitely not me. The silver is so corporate that I can’t even think about it. The dark grey is an uncle colour. And yet it looks amazing in all these colours. Looks like I haven’t made up my mind after all .....

The happy SAHD man

2010-10-28T22:34:00.002+05:30

For most people happiness in life stems from that one golden rule - Always be the best at what you do. If you’re in school you have to be a class topper. If you’re in college you have to be dating the prettiest girl. If you’re working you to have to get the highest rating and consequentially the highest pay hike. If you’re getting married it has to be the grandest and fanciest few hours that you can (in most cases cant) afford. And then you have a family and your kid starts from scratch cause you want him to be the class topper ....

So here we are, India's middle class in their 20's men looking at fancy degrees, dreaming of high paying jobs, hoping to meet the perfect woman who will take care of our kids (as and when they arrive) and settling down happily ever after while enjoying a super successful rise to the top career while faithfully following the one golden rule. All except for me that is.

So why do I not subscribe to the golden rule that has been so successful for so many people that it should be christened a platinum rule, you might ask? Here's what you need to do - take out a piece of paper or click on Start -> Programs -> Accessories -> Notepad if you’re technically inclined and list out 25 things that you want to do before you move on to the afterlife. If your friends have you certified as boring then you need to jot down only 20 and if they think you’re filled with too many dreams, aspirations and non stop nonsense then you get 30 (Just so you understood, the guys get 20 and the women 30). Now sit back and think how many of those you actually have a chance of doing in the next 15 years if you were to follow the one golden rule. A prize to whoever crosses 10, seriously.

The answer lies in being a Stay At Home Dad (SAHD). I’m sure that by just reading those 4 words, half the men reading this would’ve collapsed, another 20% would’ve had breathlessness leading to palpitations and the remaining 30% would’ve thought "This is nonsense, how can a well educated Indian man be a stay at home dad. It’s against all that is right in our society. This guy is off his rockers. I’m closing this blog". The truth is its so simple and sensible that I don’t know why nobody thought of it earlier. There's only one ingredient to the wonderful recipe - 1 successful career oriented and flexible wife. The way things are going finding one isn’t that tough these days.

The concept of being a SAHD came to me last year when our team was discussing the fact that women get 3 months of post delivery maternity leave while men get nothing. That’s right nothing. Welcoming the most adorable baby into the world today ? Congratulations ! Make sure you’re not late tomorrow and don’t expect your work load to reduce. Why should men not enjoy their release from the dreaded 9 months of pre delivery slavery (much worse than the 5 minutes of pain women go through during the actual delivery) ? And the fact that their wife has delivered a lovely healthy baby ? When my time comes I’m going to take a month or two off for sure. Which got me thinking, why only a month or two?

Think about it, most Indian middle class newly married couples are the double income sorts which means that when they do find the time to have kids, they are asleep when the kids get ready and go to school and reach home so late that the kids are already tucked in and snoring. All thanks to the maid who substitutes as a mom. And dad. Most of these double income no care (DINC) parents are so shameless that when asked at the what is their kids favourite colour they stare intently into their Blackberry's while pretending not to hear because they didn’t even know their kid had a favourite colour in the first place. Of course they feel guilty for not being there for their kids so they end up spending a big portion of the latest salary hike on the kids at the nearest mall. Guilt erased they go back to their worlds of not caring.

Which is why being a SAHD makes so much sense. You get to be the only dad who actually drops his kid off at school as compared to all those other drivers who are employed solely for the purpose of ferrying the kids around. You get time to have breakfast and more importantly a conversation with your spouse before she leaves for work and you get to drop her off to the office as well. Once you come back you have to take care of the laundry, gardening, grocery shopping, supervision of cleaning and cooking. In the evenings you get to spend quality time with your kids while ensuring that they complete their homework and listening to all their school adventures. And you get to know what their favourite colour is. And the biggest bonus of all – you get to play the perfect supportive spouse to your hard working wife.

Plus you have time to follow your passions - always thought you had a hint of Michelangelo in you, painting away to glory is what you should be doing. Feel J.K. Rowling made millions on a crappy set of books, prove you can make billions by writing a better book. Secretly thought you would be good at stitching but were too afraid to take it up for fear that you might get spotted and ridiculed, this is your chance to develop the budding stylist in you. As a kid ever felt that the perfect life involved playing video games all day, this is the answer to your gaming prayers to Duke Nukem and Super Mario. Wanted to walk around the house in nothing but your jockeys all day (don’t ask why but guys find this appealing), just make sure to close the windows and live out your dream. Missed out on all those TV shows and movies while you slogged your butt off for the last few years in the hopes of making it big, treat yourself to a nice big sofa and rent out DVDs day in and day out.

Of course it all comes down to how you spin the whole thing. You just can’t go tell your better half 'Sweetie I always thought I would make a better gardener than a supply chain consultant. I’m quitting'. Instead what you need to do is tell her 'Sweetie, I’ve done a lot of thinking and I’ve realised that you seem to have a more promising career than mine (free brownie points for saying she is superior) and I don’t want to hold you back with the kids and so much responsibility. I will make a courageous sacrifice and give up my career and bring up the kids to the best of my ability. Of course, I cannot hope to be half the perfect parent you would be (more brownie points for more lying) and I will need your support but I think if we are in this together, we can pull it off'. Watch her melt before your very eyes and judiciously make use of the fact that she will never say No to you again.

Which is why I am sure that I will be extremely happy by being SAHD !

The Highlight of Twilight

2010-10-14T15:40:00.003+05:30

Horrendous! That’s the first word that came to my mind when the credits started rolling. I spent a little more time thinking but there didn’t seem to be a more appropriate word. Actually the word was bouncing around my head throughout the time I was watching the movie Twilight but I kept giving the movie makers the benefit of the doubt thinking that they would add some major twist in the end that would somehow make the entire exercise meaningful. Was I wrong or was I wrong?

On the face of it, the movie seemed promising for a Sunday night watch. After all the Twilight series of novels has sold over 100 million copies worldwide as of march 2010. Add to that pirated prints and ebooks and you have a massive reading audience. Gross revenues of $ 1,747,822,231 from the 3 movies made so far sealed the deal. To me any movie that is made based on a best selling book is usually good because the author would have taken time and effort to build a plot and characters and weave a story that will have you hooked.

Unless you are a best selling Indian author who has achieved critical (?) acclaim for writing books that are to put it modestly a bucket load of horse crap but seem to fly off the shelves for no apparent reason and ultimately get made into movies. Coming back to twilight, the formula seemed to be pretty straight forward, how could you mess up a teenage love story with vampires and werewolves?

Apparently it’s pretty easy to do so. The heroine Isabella is drawn to the mind reading vampire Edward who used to eat only animals for decades but now that he has smelt Isabella's scent, he lusts for her blood and fears he cannot stop himself. This of course would convert poor Isabella into a vampire as well and being the normal sensible American teenager that she is, she falls in love with him and cannot keep herself away.

Waitaminute, why would a normal sensible American teenager fall in love with a vampire who wants to take a drink from her bloodstream? Guess I forgot to read the memo about leaving my brains outside while watching the movie. If you are still are confused as I am check out these quotes from the movie.
Edward – “My family, we're different from others of our kind we only drink animal blood, but you, your scent, it’s like a drug to me you. Its like youre my own personal brand of heroin.”
Isabella – “About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was a part of him, and I didn't know how dominate that part might be, that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him."

Hah, free brainfreeze !

It seems that the lead pair was half way through the acting course of some fly by night operator on Broadway when they started shooting the movie. Consequently it looks as if they have under acted (if it was done deliberately, then its even worse) and they have no chemistry whatsoever. So you don’t really want the two of them to end up together (even if it appears that he would love nothing better than to dig his fangs into her neck in the 1st scene of the next movie) which defeats the whole purpose of adding a love story to the plot.

Did I say plot? So here's what 5 minutes of thinking when you have nothing better to do in life can get you as an excuse for a movie plot
Girl moves to small town - Vampire saves girl - Girl and vampire fall in love - Bad vampire chases girl - Good vampires kill bad vampire - The end

Compare this to a movie with a proper love story like Notting Hill where Hugh Grant turns down Julia Roberts and you automatically think - Bollocks! William Thacker, you are the daftest guy in the history of movie characters. And when he realises that he’s made the biggest mistake of his life you feel incredibly happy and want him to somehow reach Julia Roberts before she leaves England for good. With Twilight, all I kept thinking was is she really that stupid? Why would she trust a vampire who wants her blood? Or am I stupid for still watching the stupid movie with a stupid storyline?

It’s been 3 days now and my head is still hurting from trying to figure out the movie. I’ve heard the sequel to Twilight is rather unbelievably, worse. In fact I’m already wondering what will be the first word that comes to my mind as the credits start rolling for The Twilight Saga : New Moon. Terrible? Atrocious? Appalling? Abysmal?

Have you joined CRAP ?

2010-10-14T15:15:00.003+05:30

Gentlemen & ladies, I request your assistance, time and well wishes for the next few months as I set off on my endeavour to bring equality to the sexes in India's workplace. I have decided to setup the Committee for Removal of Apparent Partiality (CRAP) which will ensure that men have equal rights as women in offices all across our glorious nation.

For the last few centuries Women have been considered the oppressed sex as men have garnered the glory and honour associated with the most important events in history. Men have gone on to become leaders of nations, sporting icons, deal makers and breakers and all along women kept a low profile knowing that their time would eventually come. And so they plotted and planned and waited for men to fall from their high horses so they could grab the reins of history writing from the unworthy hands of men. And trust me, this modern capitalist era is their time.

I have to give it to women, they prefer to wield the scalpel as compared to us men who prefer using a sledgehammer for any and everything. Their rise to power has been done ever so subtly and most unsuspecting men think that they are still in charge. If you don’t believe me, consider this - women have ensured that they don’t slog late into the nights citing kids, cooking and feeding the dog (?). In certain companies, women have to leave office by late evenings while men keep working not just to complete their work but also the work that women haven’t completed since they left early.

The other reason cited for women leaving early from offices is it is unsafe for them to travel in the nights. Well if the thieves don’t get their hands on women then it is natural to assume that they will end up taking money out of the pockets of men who are working late and returning home.

In Kerala, one third of the seats in the front section of public buses are reserved for women. A couple of years ago, there was a major accident involving one such bus and a number of women died as the front of the bus bore the brunt of the collision. The government then decided to shift the reserved seats for women to the back of the bus. A few weeks later there was another accident with the back of the bus getting rammed in this time resulting in more women dying. Hence they shifted the reserved seats to the front again. Almost makes me feel that men’s lives don’t matter.

Ok, so you’re not a conspiracy theorist. Fine look around and spot the smaller signs. I’ve tried getting an extra papadam for lunch at the office cafeteria for months but all I get in return is a dirty look. The other day a woman standing in front of me asks for an extra papadam while flashing a winning smile and gets two extra! 30 seconds later I try flashing the same smile and ask the guy behind the counter if I can have an extra papadam and I get the same dirty look that I’ve been getting all these days. I’ve got loads of examples but I think you get the picture.

And so here I sit, typing out this blog entry as I urge you, my brothers and sisters to take up this noble cause and fight for what is right and help bring men to a level playing field. Let us not ask for concessions, reservations or freebies. Let us not ask for special treatment. Let us educate and empower. All we will ask for is to be on an equal footing with women.

So that men and women will together lead the way to a bright and glorious future where gender does not play a role in your success. So that the next generation is not dominated by one particular sex and men and women can work hand in hand to shape our destiny. So that we no longer need to be members of CRAP and we can go our separate ways knowing that we have been a part of history. So that one day men would be able to go home and play with their kids in the evening (on a weekday) and not have to worry about being mugged, stabbed and looted on the way back. And so that one day I can get the &*#@$&%^*% extra papadam !

Chick flicks vs BroMos

2010-10-09T02:54:00.003+05:30

"Suddenly, a familiar song. And, you're off your chair in one, exquisite movement... wondering, searching, sniffing the wind like a dapple deer. Has God heard your little prayer? Will Cinderella dance again? And then, suddenly, the crowds part and there he is: sleek, stylish... radiant with charisma. Bizarrely, he's on the telephone. But then, so are you. And then he comes towards you... the moves of a jungle cat. Although you quite correctly sense that he is... gay... like most devastatingly handsome single men of his age are, you think... what the hell. Life goes on. Maybe there won't be marriage... maybe there won't be sex... but, by God, there'll be dancing."

Those rather amazing couple of minutes of film making have to rank second on my list of awww movie moments. Of course all you chick flick lovers out there (read women) will be jumping out of your seats to list out another half a dozen but I have probably havent seen those movies so they dont count. Come to think of it, there really isnt too much behind writing a script and converting it into a chick flick. Its a simple recipe really. You need one good looking hero and one adorable but not too attractive heroine and make them best friends who never think of getting married to each other (that makes them stupid and good looking). Instead they both look elsewhere in the world and surprise surprise one of them finally finds their not so perfect match. Now make the other person realise that he / she is losing the best thing to ever happen to him / her. Add a handful of funny wedding related incidents. Preferably including the in laws. The story ends happily ever after with hero and heroine together (while someone gets ditched at the alter, how come nobody feels bad for that person) or the wedding doesnt get interrupted ( a la the above mentioned My Best Friends wedding). Dont forget to intersperse the movie with the mandatory 5 - 6 classic love songs that will definitely bring tears to the eyes of the women in the audience. Ok, maybe a few men as well.

Speaking of men, all this mushy weepy stuff isnt likely to go down well with them. What they would prefer instead is a good old fashioned BroMo (taken from BROtherly MOvie i.e. a movie where guys who are strangers in a theatre hall at the beginning of the movie feel like they are brothers at the end because they have witnessed some solid butt kicking together). Of course there are 2 types of BroMos. The first appeals to the suave audience (Oceans 11/ 12/ 13) while the second is targetted at the average joe. Ill explain the latter. The recipe here is pretty simple as well. You can choose between 1 or more heroes. You will need some evil looking and muscular baddies as well. Add a damsel in distress, acting skills not required. Plus a wafer thin story line. The only real effort for a BroMo would go into creating 10 minutes of amazing conversations for the lead characters. Big cars, bombs, explosions and helicopters are a must have. Some kickass background music. And, to borrow a line from the Matrix, guns. Lots of guns. If you are looking for the perfect BroMo, look no further than the ridiculously amazing The Expendables which has knocked the Fast and the Furious off the top spot. The difficult part of being a BroMo fan is that its almost impossible to agree with someone else on the all time #1 BroMo movie spot. For me it has to be the interaction between Bruce Willis, Arnold and Sly in the Expendables. Pure brilliance that is likely to be unsurpassed. Most wont agree.

As for my #1 awwww movie moment, Notting Hill walks away with it with the timeless " After all... I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her."

Put a lid on it !

2010-10-09T01:45:00.005+05:30

Its happened to me more than a handful of times. Attired in my daily riding gear (1 KBC Bulldog helmet 12/10 for style, 1 black DSG Nero jacket which adds 2 inches of shoulder width and makes me look like Im 10 pounds heavier than I actually am coupled with a pair of admittedly catchy black and white Cramster full gauntlet TRG2 gloves) I pull up at a signal alongside a bus full of school kids. The bike has always been the star but with me sitting astride it looking like Im about to join Valentino Rossi on the starting grid of the next race, the excitement level in the bus noticeably increases. Kids by the windows call their friends. I can hear oohs and aahs. I pretend not to notice. A faint hint of a smile creeps across my face. 5 seconds to go to green. I thumb the starter, give the throttle a couple of twists of the wrist. The kids are impressed by the grunty exhaust note. More oohs and aahs. Green. The bus is ahead of me. I can see the kids in the last row staring intently. I get excited waves. I wave back. They have big smiles on their faces. Unsurprisingly, so do I.

Riding gear doesnt elicit the same reaction from other people though. At signals Ive had people ask me whether I was going to participate in a local race. Some jerks take this as an open invitation to indulge in reckless riding to show off that they have more skills and / or a better bike than me. A cold shoulder is all they get and the retards lose interest in 30 seconds. Did I mention that these guys are retards?

A couple of days back I was talking to my office colleagues about the new KBC helmet which I had bought on a closeout sale in the States. Doing some back of the envelope calculations, one of them mentioned that I couldve made the down payment for a mid size sedan instead of buying a bike and spending a lot of dough in riding gear. I on the other hand prefer to look at it as investing in riding gear.

In my 8+ years of riding a bike Ive had a couple of spills that have proved to me that accidents can happen to anyone however careful they are on the road. The first time I was introduced rather harshly to our tarred roads was on a regular ride through traffic way back in 2002 when I was trying to shift my bike into 1st gear (which it stubbornly refused to do) while I could see in my rear view mirrors a honking bus bearing down on me with full speed. All of a sudden my bike decided to be obedient, shifted directly to 2nd gear & up popped the front wheel. 2 seconds later I was sprawled on the road with intense pain shooting up my right leg. I was relieved cause the bus wasnt anywhere close but seeing the bikes piping hot silencer on my leg was a cause for serious worry. I had a torrid 1 month as I slowly recovered from the burn wound but emotionally the scars lasted for much longer as it took me a few months to get my confidence back. Ive still got a scar on my ankle which I look at as a war wound.

Late in 2009 I was on my bike on a rather deserted stretch of road with just a guy on a moped pottering along slowly to the right of me constituting traffic. I spot an incoming truck in my rear view mirrors (habit of mine this, looking in the mirrors) and give way to let him overtake. The truck driver blows his airhorn to get the moped guy to get out of the way & the petrified chap on the moped obliges by cutting across the road and lands directly in front of me. Twin disc brakes and years spent perfecting careful riding techniques cant help me as my handlebar knocks the box that he is carrying on his moped and I fall over. Fortunately I had shed most of my speed and my jacket and gloves get in the way of me meeting Ms Tarmac again and all I suffer is a slightly bruised knee.

To me riding a bike without my helmet at minimum is impossible. In fact, Ive always been super careful about my head since the day I bought my first bike all those years ago. I still recall the guy at the helmet shop trying to get my head into those tiny local helmets & I was actually getting hurt cause the helmets were too small (actually my ears are too big but thats another story). In the end he rather reluctantly took out a good branded black helmet that was my size and told me it was Rs 500 more expensive than the other ones. After years of seeing people penny pinching when it came to helmets, he got the shock of his life when I bought it. A couple of years later it was time to replace my helmet & I had come down to Mangalore to look for a suitable replacement. So I went off to Big Bazaar & found Helmie. Helmie was attractive, to put it mildly. Helmie had all the colours of the rainbow on it (except pink which someone actually threatened to add to it!!) and was an ever so faithful companion. Every morning helmie would be found on the rack outside our classroom & whenever I went out Helmie was given a chair of its own (no being dumped on the ground business).

Over the years, my bank balance has grown and so has my riding gear. Now I do understand that not everyone feels the need to spend so much on saving themselves in case of a fall (not really, but I like to live and let live) but a couple of things do bug me when it comes to this. I cannot fathom why smart educated and normally sensible guys fall for the typical Indian retarded line of thinking - Im just riding my bike to the nearby shop & back, I dont need to wear a helmet for that. Even more annoying is when I see people riding their bikes with their helmets on their elbows and not on their heads.

So is it easy riding around with all this everywhere ? Of course not. But I would rather live life arriving in office with a slightly crumpled shirt and a distinct lack of a hairstyle than be a chocolate hero who rides around without a helmet on so that the ladies can admire my pretty face (the fact that I do not possess a pretty face has nothing to do with it). If 2 dogs were to decide to run across the road in an attempt to reach doggie heaven, Im pretty sure our chocolate hero would have crash landed with a splat. Followed by a trip to the mortuary. While I would probably suffer more from my dented pride. This is not to say that wearing riding gear will save someone in every instance. The fact is they do make a massive difference between a one way trip and a two way trip to the hospital.

If you have read till here, well helmets off to you. You do have some patience. But in all seriousness, if you do know someone who is important to you who rides a bike regularly, ask them to think about investing in riding gear. At least request them to wear a helmet at all times when they are on a bike. Even if they are a pillion. The following ad for Bell Helmets says it best "If you have $10 head wear a $10 helmet".

Da Man

2010-10-06T15:41:00.003+05:30

There's no doubt about it, he is India's biggest movie star. In fact he is more than a movie star, he is a legend, the likes of which India will probably never see again. He is Brad Pitt, Russell Crowe, Mel Gibson, Denzel Washington and the entire star cast of the Expendables rolled into one combustible package.

To truly understand how big a superstar he is, read the following facts:
1. Rajinikanth killed the Dead Sea.

2. When Rajinikanth does push-ups, he isn't lifting himself up. He is pushing the earth down.

3. There is no such thing as evolution, it's just a list of creatures that Rajinikanth allowed to live.

4. Rajinikanth gave Mona Lisa that smile.

5 .Rajnikanth can divide by zero.

6. Rajinikanth can judge a book by it's cover.

7. Rajinikanth can drown a fish.

8. Rajinikanth can delete the Recycle Bin.

9. Rajinikanth once got into a fight with a VCR player. Now it plays DVDs.

10. Rajinikanth can slam a revolving door.

11. Rajinikanth once kicked a horse in the chin. Its descendants are today called giraffes.

12. Rajinikanth once ordered a plate of idli in McDonald's, and got it.

13. Rajinikanth can win at Solitaire with only 18 cards.

14. The Bermuda Triangle used to be the Bermuda Square, until Rajinikanth kicked one of the corners off.

15. Rajinikanth can build a snowman out of rain.

16. Rajinikanth can strangle you with a cordless phone.

17. Rajinikanth can make onions cry.

18. Rajinikanth destroyed the periodic table, because he only recognizes the element of surprise.

19. Rajinikanth can watch the show 60 minutes in 20 minutes.

20. Rajinikanth has counted to infinity, twice.

21. Rajinikanth will attain separate statehood in 2013.

22. Rajinikanth did in fact, build Rome in a day.

23. Rajinikanth once got into a knife-fight. The knife lost.

24. Rajinikanth can play the violin with a piano.

25. Rajinikanth never wet his bed as a child. The bed wet itself in fear.

26. The only man who ever outsmarted Rajinikanth was Stephen Hawking, and he got what he deserved.

27. Rajinikanth can talk about Fight Club.

28. Rajinikanth doesn't breathe. Air hides in his lungs for protection.

29. There are no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. Rajinikanth lives in Chennai.

30. Rajinikanth kills Harry Potter in the eighth book.

31. Rajinikanth does not own a stove, oven, or microwave, because revenge is a dish best served cold.

32. Rajinikanth has already been to Mars, that's why there are no signs of life there.

33. Rajinikanth doesn't move at the speed of light. Light moves at the speed of Rajinikanth.

34. Rajinikanth knows Victoria's secret.

35. Water boils faster when Rajinikanth stares at it.

36. Rajinikanth can throw the Thackerays out of Mumbai.

37. Rajinikanth kills two stones with one bird.

38. Google won't find Rajinikanth because you don't find Rajinikanth; Rajinikanth finds you.

39. Rajinikanth gave the Joker those scars.

40. Rajinikanth leaves messages before the beep.

41. Rajinikanth once warned a young girl to be good "or else". The result? Mother Teresa.

42. Rajinikant electrocuted Iron Man.

43. Rajinikanth killed Spiderman using Baygon Anti Bug Spray.

44. Rajinikanth can make PCs better than the Mac.

45. Rajinikanth puts the 'laughter' in manslaughter.

46. Rajinikanth goes to court and sentences the judge.

47. Rajinikanth can handle the truth.

48. Rajinikanth can speak Braille.

49. Rajinikanth can dodge Chuck Norris' roundhouse kicks.

50. Rajinikanth can teach an old dog new tricks.

51. Rajinikanth calls Voldemort by his name.

52. Who do you think taught Voldemort Parseltongue? Rajinikanth did.

53. Chuck Norris once met Rajinikanth. The result - He was reduced to a joke on the internet.

54. Rajinikanth got small pox when he was a kid. As a result small pox is now eradicated.

55. Rajinikanth’s calendar goes straight from March 31st to April 2nd, no one fools Rajanikanth.

56. Rajinikanth grinds his coffee with his teeth and boils the water with his own rage.

57. The last time Rajinikanth killed someone, he slapped himself to do it. The other guy just disintegrated. Resonance.

58. Rajinikanth once had a heart attack. His heart lost.

59. Rajinikant is so fast, he can run around the world and punch himself in the back of the head.

60. Rajinikanth can run at speed of light around a tree and screw himself.

61.Rajinikant can lick his elbows.

62. Rajinikant once ate an entire bottle of sleeping pills. They made him blink.

63. Rajinikant does not get frostbite. Rajnikant bites frost.

64. Rajinikant doesn’t wear a watch. He decides what time it is.

65. Rajinikant got his drivers license at the age of 16 seconds.

66. When you say “no one is perfect”, Rajinikant takes this as a personal insult.

67. In an average living room there are 1,242 objects Rajinikanth could use to kill you, including the room itself.

68. Words like awesomeness, brilliance, legendary etc. were added to the dictionary in the year 1949. That was the year Rajinikanth was born.

69. The statement "nobody can cheat death", is a personal insult to Rajnikanth. Rajni cheats and fools death everyday.

70. When Rajnikanth is asked to kill some one he doesn't know, he shoots the bullet and directs it the day he finds out.

71. Rajinikant can give pain to Painkillers and headache to Anacin.

72. Rajinikanth knows what women really want.

73. Time and tide wait for Rajinikanth.

74. Rajinikanth sneezed only once in his entire life, that's when the tsunami occurred in the Indian ocean.

75. As a child when Rajinikanth had dyslexia, he simply re-scripted the alphabet.

76. Rajinikanth collects Honey from his private Moon - HoneyMoon.

77. Rajinikanth can answer a missed call.

78. Rajinikanth doesn't need a visa to travel abroad, he just jumps from the tallest building in Chennai and holds himself in the air while the earth rotates.

79. Rajinikanth's brain works faster than Chacha Chaudhury's.

80. Rajinikanth doesn't shower. He only takes blood baths.

81. To be or not to be? That is the question. The answer? Rajinikanth.

82. The quickest way to a man's heart is with Rajinikanth's fist.

83. Where there is a will, there is a way. Where there is Rajinikanth, there is no other way.

84. Rajinikanth's every step creates a mini whirlwind. Hurricane Katrina was the result of a morning jog.

85. Rajinikant doesn’t bowl strikes, he just knocks down one pin and the other nine faint out of fear.

86. Archaeologists unearthed an old English dictionary dating back to the year 1236. It defined “victim” as “one who has encountered Rajinikant”.

87. There is no such thing as global warming. Rajinikanth was feeling cold, so brought the sun closer to heat the earth up.

88. Once a cobra bit Rajinikanth' leg. After five days of excruciating pain, the cobra died.

89. Rajinikanth is a champion in the game "Hide n' seek", as no one can hide from Rajinikanth.

90. Rajinikant proves Newton wrong all the time. Every time he performs an action, he simply eliminates anything and everything that can provide the reaction.

91. Rajinikant is a weapon created by God to use on doomsday to end the world.

92. Aliens do indeed exist. They just know better than to visit a planet that Rajinikanth is on.

93. We live in an expanding universe. All of it is trying to get away from Rajinikanth.

94. If at first you don't succeed, you're not Rajinikanth.

95. Rajinikanth's first job was as a bus conductor. There were no survivors.

96. Rajinikanth does not style his hair. It lays perfectly in place out of sheer terror.

97. When Rajinikanth plays Monopoly, it affects the actual world economy.

98. Rajinikanth is the only man to ever defeat a brick wall in a game of tennis.

Smart politicians at the zoo

2010-10-02T03:27:00.004+05:30

“The monkeys stand for honesty,
Giraffes are insincere,
And the elephants are kindly but
They're dumb.
Orangutans are skeptical ….”

I couldn’t help but sing along as I listened to Simon & Garfunkel’s extraordinarily simple and catchy At the zoo as I was strolling down a nearby lane on my way back from work. Which is probably why I didn’t initially notice the disconsolate middle aged guy sitting on a pile of stones on the side of the road.

“Of changes in their cages,
And the zookeeper is very fond of rum.

Zebras are reactionaries,

Antelopes are missionaries,

Pigeons plot in secrecyowwwwww! “

I was hopping on one leg as I realized that I had been hit on the foot by a stone. Looking around for the miscreant I realized that there was a guy sitting on a pile of stones and throwing them across the road at no one in particular. My rather melodramatic scream seemed to have awakened him from his lost in thought & hence throwing stones mood.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked with apparent concern. “No, I was actually screaming along with the song” I replied, each word dripping in sarcasm. “Oh I thought you got hurt by the stone I threw” he said and sat down again with a glum look on his face.

Now I take immense pride in my sarcasm and if he was a guy who didn’t even realize it there must have been something seriously wrong with him. I looked up and down the lane, there was nobody else around. Sigh! Why do I always have to be the nice guy? I asked him if he was ok. “It’s these smart politicians” he mumbled. “Bud, did you say smart politicians?” I asked him incredulously. “That’s what I said. They don’t let me do my job these days.” He sounded really sad. As in my wife ran away with my best friend sad.

I told him that what these politicians did wasn’t right. How could they stop a man from earning his daily wages? I was indignant and decided to do something about it. I asked him to explain his predicament and this is what he told me.

“My job description was pretty simple. With the upcoming Ayodhya verdict all I had to do was to whip up communal sentiments in this area. The people who hired me told me that Ayodhya issue was on the top of everyone’s minds and that the more trouble I incited, the more votes they would get. And the more I would get paid. So I went to meet the local troublemakers and started talking about the Ayodhya verdict.

But before I could get 2 sentences in, they interrupted me and started talking about some commonwealth games and how our government is bringing shame to the nation with our shoddy preparations. They were using the choicest abuses for one Suresh Kalmadi. Who is this @#%@&^ *%$^$ I asked them. They said he is the biggest crook in India and that he was a bigger thief than Lalit Modi. Imagine that !

Anyways, before I knew it I too was debating the CWG preparation when I got a call from my new bosses. I told them everything was under control & they seemed pleased. I tried one last time to bring the topic back to the Ayodhya issue but I had no luck. I went out on the streets and tried talking to some youngsters about the Ayodhya verdict. They asked me “What Ayodhya verdict?”. I asked them what was the most important issue facing the nation right now. They told me they were worried about whether we will be able to nail at least half the crooks who have profited from the CWG. I tried explaining the Ayodhya issue to them but they said they haven’t seen anything on that in bookface. I didn’t even know what bookface was so I didn’t ask them anything else. I tell you, there is something wrong with a country when the youth of the nation are not bothered about its historical conflicts. “

“But what does all of this have to do with smart politicians?” I asked as I still hadn’t figured out the connection.

“Don’t you see? It’s all been done by the government. I always thought politicians were dumb and out to make money but the current lot is smart. They have smartly made the media give so much coverage to the CWG fiasco these days that nobody talks about the Ayodhya issue. Which means nobody is ready to go out on the road and throw stones whatever the verdict is and however much I am ready to pay them. And that puts me out of work. What do you have to say to this friend ?”

But by then I wasn’t listening to him. My sympathy had vanished and I was already on my way with my earphones plugged in. I couldn’t help but smile at the irony of the lyrics
“At the zoo,
At the zoo,
At the zoo …..”

Cullinary misadventures - Part II

2010-10-02T02:28:00.003+05:30

" Its just salt & spices, no big deal. There's nothing to be afraid of ". Deep breath. Second deep breath.

Sambar rice. Tried it. Paneer butter masala. Tried it. Masala rice. Tried it. Palak paneer. Tried it. Pulao. Tried it. Dal fry. Tried it. Could it be possible that I had tried out all the ready to eat offerings? “There must be something else in some other shelf” I muttered to myself as I set off to find a store assistant. Have you ever noticed how it is impossible to find a store assistant who is free when you cant find something but they always seem to be loitering around when you know where everything on your shopping list is?

“Sir, this is all we have” the assistant said as he pointed out the same shelf I had been looking at for the last 5 minutes. Okay, I couldn’t keep eating the same stuff over and over again & I needed to take the next step if I wanted delicious home made cooking. No, I did not mean getting married. What I meant was, it was time to abandon Project Ready Made Foods & start cooking myself. There was just 1 small problem. I didn’t know how. And I didn’t know what I needed. Ok, make that a large problem.

4 days later I was in a supermarket feeling rather happy. I had convinced a friend of mine to help me pick up all the stuff necessary for cooking. I told her that salt, cooking oil and couple of essential spices was what I needed. "Don’t worry" she said "Ill pick up the essentials only". (Note to self: any time a girl says don’t worry, you need to worry. Even if you don’t know what you need to worry about, remember that you need to worry).

You will need this. And this. You definitely need this. How could you forget that you need this? Pepper. Do you think you need this? Hmmm, you better take it. Chilly powder. Look for the dal, you need the X type not the Y type. I hope you know the difference. Why didnt you take a trolley to put the stuff ? You definitely need one of this. Ok almost done. But where will you put all of these ? You need containers. Lots of them. Do you want the pink ones or the yellow ones? They both look gay so you might as well take both. Phew done !

I believe the above paragraph contains the gist of the rather one sided conversation at the supermarket. The thought of offering meek resistance to the oddly coloured containers crossed my mind but I remembered that you don’t argue with a woman who is shopping (from an earlier note to self). Especially one who is shopping for you.

“Ill email you the instructions on how to make the best curry ever” said my friend who was rather happy to have shopped so much. Never mind the fact that I would conveniently forget my promise of a dinner treat the moment I was out of sight & all the purchased food was going straight to my house.

" Its just salt & spices, no big deal. There's nothing to be afraid of ". Deep breath. Second deep breath. I walked back to my laptop to read (for the n-th time) the instructions on how to make dal that my friend had emailed me. Soak the dal for some time & add it to boiling water. Add 2 spoons of salt & other required spices. Cover it for a while & add coriander leaves for added taste. This shouldn’t be too difficult.

I had soaked the dal in water for half an hour. Waitasecond, the instructions didn’t tell me how long to soak it. I felt half an hour should be enough and put it into boiling water. The problem was I didn’t know how much of water was to be kept boiling. Time to add salt but then I realised I didn’t know whether I was to use a tea spoon or a table spoon. Blimey, this wasnt proving to be a walk in the park. That familiar lost feeling began to envelop me again. The phone!

I quickly dialled my friend's number hoping she wasn’t stuck in office again. (Un)fortunately she picked up. Below is our conversation (this time I managed to get in a few sentences, not that I did myself any favours with what I said)
Me : " Hey whats up ?"
Shopping Friend (SF): " Hey, I just got back. Ive had such a crappy day & my boss took out her frustration on me. Again. Im exhaus ...."
Me : " How much salt to I put ?"
SF : " ...ted. Did you just ask me how much salt to put ? Where ? On my wounds ? "
Me : " Wounds ? What wounds ? Listen woman, for making dal how much salt to I put? "
SF : " Wheres my dinner treat ?"
Me : " What treat ? "
SF : " Neil, are you trying to wriggle your way out of my treat ? Thats it, I want my dinner treat tonight."
Me : " But errr I dont errr tonight"
SF : " Half an hour, Neil, half an hour"

And that ladies and gentlemen is the story of how I started to make dal curry & ended up eating garlic chicken with mixed fried rice and vegetable balls in hunan sauce. As for my cooking, I have gone back to the simple days of scrambled eggs and noodles for dinner ....

My cullinary misadventures - Part I

2010-10-02T02:18:00.011+05:30

"Its just packets of food, no big deal. There's nothing to be afraid of". Deep breath.

All these years every visit to the local supermarket meant that I would skip the one or more aisles that stocked cooking stuff since
a) I have never dabbled in cooking and
b) I have never entertained the thought of dabbling in cooking

All this changed a couple of weeks back when I decided to pick up an electric cooker to do some elementary cooking. For years making noodles & 6 different egg preparations (bullseye, double fry, scrambled eggs, boiled eggs, omelette & juice boil) was all i could manage but hey, it was more than what most guys know. But (for whatever reason) this time I can’t just restrict myself to noodles and eggs I said to noone in particular. It’s time to do something more. To move up the food chain (admittedly bad pun intended) of cooking. All of which meant that I was off to the nearest supermarket with absolutely no clue about what I was going to pick up.

10 minutes later I stopped at the entrance of the food aisle. This truly was alien territory and so I restricted myself to a cursory glance down the shelves as I laid my eyes on rows of pickles, masalas, packets of unknown content and just about everything else I knew neither head nor tail about. It was sort of like staring into an abyss and not knowing what lay in store for me once it sucked me in. Gulp ! Maybe I should go back to noodles & 6 different egg preparations I thought. After all it doesn’t take too much time to prepare. And I could always check on the internet and figure out another couple of egg preparations.

With a smile on my face I made my way to the magazine section to check if this month’s auto magazines had arrived. Instead all I saw were health magazines talking about surprise surprise - healthy eating. Noodles & egg wasn’t the healthiest of combinations I had to admit & grudgingly made my way back to the entrance of the food aisle.

"Its just packets of food, no big deal. There's nothing to be afraid of". Deep breath. Another look down the aisle. Visions of that abyss. I might as well have been looking at medical reports. Or reading the RBIs latest report on the state of the Indian economy. I was a rudderless ship in a stormy sea without its sails desperately looking for a lighthouse. Another deep breath. My first walk down the aisle (no I was not getting married!) wasn’t pleasant & my shopping cart was still unsurprisingly empty. And then I saw it. The answer to my prayers - ready to eat rice & curries. I grabbed a box & searched for the instructions.

Place the plastic packet in boiling water for 5 minutes. Serve hot. I was overjoyed. Talk about tailor made! Hah, who said guys can’t cook? Well technically I was heating stuff & serving but who was keeping track anyway? I grabbed a few packets & headed home. Dinner that night, as expected, was delicious.

Adding this to my C.V

2010-09-20T19:42:00.001+05:30

This is what I call my work !

From the razors edge

2010-08-08T11:31:00.007+05:30

"Dude, again youve got some sort of a beard growing" said my colleague as he noticed the outcome of the previous day’s careful half an hour session in front of the mirror. Of course I did, now that I have settled into my new role in office I didnt see the need to conform to corporate India's highly questionable dictum that only clean shaven guys are professionals.

As I sit back and think I realize that in the since January 2006 there have only been 4 points in time when I have been completely clean shaven and hence deemed acceptable / presentable.

1. While appearing for my MBA interviews in early 2006 : With not a hair out of place and cheeks as bare as a new born baby’s I attended all my MBA interviews. Thank heavens I meekly followed the accepted route cause I would’ve stuck out like a sore thumb if I hadn’t. The interviews actually looked like some sort of cloning factory with all the guys wearing crisp blue shirts and black pants and all the women wearing white / pink shirts coupled with trousers. Things haven’t changed, a couple of months ago I was on the other side of the table for MBA interviews and I noticed that all the applicants were clean shaven with combed hair and nice blue shirts with black pants. Sigh !

2. Placement season - December 2007 : This wasn’t easy because it meant giving up my glorious year long ponytail and indicator sideburns. My professor actually remarked in class that my hair was long enough for me to pull it over my face and use it to ensure that he didn’t know whether I was sleeping or awake. Shamelessly, from his next session onwards that is exactly what I did. I remember what a tough time I had when we it was time to take our photos for the placement brochure. With a heavy heart I had finally shaven off my indicators but my medusa like locks still posed a big problem. But a tub of gel, a mug of water and hair clips from my helpful classmates ensured that the photographer was finally satisfied and agreed to take my picture.

3. 1st day of my 1st job (May 2008) : I suppose I cant complain about having to have gone clean shaven for this. The 1st day of the 1st job is a big day for most people and I was no different. A five day induction meant being part of yet another cloning factory, much to my rather apparent displeasure. It didn’t take me too long to get my little square under the lip back (which for the record I had years before Dil Chahta Hai and Aamir Khan made cool, I’m just saying).

4. Switching profiles (June 2010) : The toughest of them all. Over 4 months of having ignored any sort of contact with a razor blade left me with a gloriously long and super sexy 300-esque beard. Plus there were the lovely little perks (scroll back a few pages to find a post on that). Of course everyone had the same set of questions for me
a. Are you depressed ? Is it some love failure of sorts ? Its ok, time is the great healer.
b. Have you switched faiths ?
c. Have you lost a nut or two ?
d. Are you deliberately trying to make your already not too attractive self even more unattractive to the opposite sex ? And why ?
e. Are you planning on wearing a turban and masquerading as a Sardar ?

The time was ripe for me to switch profiles and I doubted any boss would hire me looking like that. Unless the potential boss happens to be a woman. Anyways, I finally put new razor to hard to find skin and what followed was the most painful 70 minutes in my limited history. Note to self : skin that has been prevented from exposure to the natural elements for an extended period of time does not take kindly to a razor plowing away at its shield. Frankly, It was a battle I thought the razor would lose. But centimeter by centimeter (I’m not exaggerating) I slowly managed to get rid of my prized possession but unfortunately bereft of any facial hair I looked like a kid fresh out of school. The saving grace was that I got the job.

And here I am, back to the good old days of carefully looking at myself from all angles to make sure that there’s not a hair out of place. On my beard that is. The most fitting tribute of all ? My football crazy Manipal roomie Hemant often saying (with just a tinge of exasperation, ok more than a tinge) “Fawlker, you spend more time in the bathroom for shaving than you do for having a bath. Get out !"

Silsila my arse-ah !

2010-08-05T22:31:00.003+05:30

The recent World Cup has proven one thing - its impossible for a bunch of people to agree that they all like one single team or player. They might all work in the same office or hang out together or be related but at the end of the day one persons favourite team will find its way to the despised list of the next. Watching best friends cheering opposing teams while sharing a beer wasnt an unusual sight during the WC.

However one thing that they will all unanimously agree on is that they detest this video - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EOtW1IGoYqo&feature=related . Not just regular detest. Detest as in straight from the bottom of the heart detest. It has to be by far the most hated music video in all of Kerala's history. Its so terrible that its reached truly iconic status in no time and makes for entertaining Mallu discussions the world over.

Ill save you the trouble of scratching your head and wondering what so special about it. Well its got such amazing dance steps that I wouldnt be surprised if I saw Usher pulling off those same moves in his next video. Copycat ! The wardrobe team has done a splendid job & the people appearing in the video look like they have walked staight off the ramp. Truth is, if our Indian fashion designers were to see the video they would undoubtedly make the wardrobe team walk the plank. God bless the casting crew, they really have gone where no casting crew has gone before by hiring smoking hot firangs (foreigners). More like they were smoking something when they hired those ladies.

In fact the only thing better than watching the videos is reading the comments my fellow Mallu bretheren have shared. Most of them are in malayalam so you probably wont understand it. Sufficient to say these comments wont just make a sailor blush, they will turn him beetroot red (similar to the people who keep coming & asking me for shoe sizes). Given the chance, Im sure everyone would just love to kick the makers of video as hard as they can just to ensure that we are spared the pain of watching a possible sequel !

Colour blind

2010-08-03T14:01:00.006+05:30

Like most other guys, the colour pink somehow just doesn’t seem to be right to me. Im fine with all shades and hues of greens, blues, reds, oranges etc: but almost anything in pink seems to be plain wrong. You’re not likely to find guys having pink bedrooms nor are you likely to find them flaunting a pink phone. And unless they still find being termed metro-sexual fashionable, youre not likely to spot them wearing pink shirts either.

In fact, to guys the colour pink is a lot like the rat in the intriguing conversation between Colonel Hans Landa and Pierre LaPadite in Inglorious Basterds (fantastic movie by the way). It hasn’t done anything to harm us but we still loathe it.

However, there is one redeeming thing about the colour pink. Its given the world what is one of my all time favourite cartoon characters. There really is nothing quite like coming back from a really crappy day at work and watching an episode of Pink Panther as he does his best to drive The Man crazy. I can watch the Pink Panther and The Man paint the same house pink and blue all day long and still enjoy it. Add to it the simple but catchy theme music and you have the perfect recepie to drive your blues away.

Now that I think about it, a green or a blue panther wouldve been atrocious. Watch the poor Aardvark in the Ant & the Aardvark to see what I mean. Which begs the question, have we men have been wrong about pink all along ?

Rules for women during the FIFA World Cup

2010-08-03T11:10:00.001+05:30

A little late but here's a hilarious set of rules for women thats doing the rounds on the email forwarding scene.

1. From 11 June to 11 July 2010, you should read the sport pages so you are aware of what's going on regarding the World Cup and will be able to join in conversations.
If you fail to do this, you'll be looked at in a bad way or be totally ignored. DO NOT complain about not receiving any attention.

2. During the World Cup the television is mine, mine, mine at all times without any exceptions.

3. I don't mind if you have to pass by in front of the TV during a game as long as you do it crawling on the floor and without distracting me.
If you decide to stand naked in front of the TV, make sure you put clothes on right after because if you catch a cold, I won't have time to take you to the doctor or look after you during the World Cup month.

4. During the games I will be blind, deaf and mute - unless I require a refill of my drink or something to eat.
You are out of your mind if you expect me to listen to you, open the door, answer the telephone, or pick up the baby that just fell from the second floor....it won't happen.

5. It would be a good idea for you to keep at least two six packs in the fridge at all times, as well as plenty of things to nibble on.
And please do not make any funny faces to my friends when they come over to watch the games. In return, you will be allowed to use the TV between 12am and 6am, unless they replay a good game that I missed during the day.

6. Please, please, please if you see me upset because one of my teams is losing, DO NOT say "get over it, it's only a game" or "don't worry, they'll win next time".
If you say these things, you will only make me angrier and I will love you less. Remember, you will never ever know more about football than me and your so called "words of encouragement" will only lead to a break-up or divorce.

7. You are welcome to sit with me to watch one game and you can talk to me during half-time but only when the adverts are on, and only if the score is pleasing me.
In addition, please note I am saying "one" game, hence do not use the World Cup as a nice cheesy excuse to "spend time together".

8. Most importantly, making love is out of the question during the entire month. It has to be a 'quickie' and that has to be during half-time as well.

9. The replays of the goals are very important. I don't care if I have seen them or I haven't seen them, I want to see them again. Many times.

10. Tell your friends NOT to have any babies, or any other child related parties or gatherings that requires my attendance because:
a) I will not go,

b) I will not go, and

c) I will not go.

11. But, if a friend of mine invites us to his house on a Sunday to watch a game, we will be there in a flash.

12. The daily World Cup highlights show on TV every night is just as important as the games themselves. Do not even think about saying "but you have already seen this...why don't you change the channel to something we can all watch?" The reply will be: "Refer to Rule #2 of this list".

13. And finally, please save your expressions such as "Thank God the World Cup is only every 4 years".
I am immune to these words, because after this comes the Champions League, Italian League, Spanish League, English Premier League, etc.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Regards,

Men of the World

Funny story from yesterdays sermon

2010-08-02T14:35:00.001+05:30

A man found a corked bottle on a beach and out of curiosity opened it. Out popped a genie who was so happy to be free that he granted the guy 3 wishes (side note: how come this never happens in real life ?). The guy wishes for a whole load of money in a Swiss bank account and poof! its done. For his second wish the guy asks for a fancy red car with all the bells and whistles (I think the priest was talking about a Ferrari here) and poof! he finds the keys to his car in his hand.

Finally the guy asks the genie to make him so irresistible that no woman can keep herself away. And poof! the genie turns him into a box of chocolates !!!

Unruly kid or poor parenting ?

2010-07-23T15:55:00.002+05:30

So there we were in one of Bangalore's largest retail stores for clothing when we spotted a young couple and their noisy kid standing next to us. No different from the rest of the Bangalore's Sunday evening shopping crowd except for the fact that the dad was carrying the small kid who was whacking his mom with a rolled up newspaper. My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I saw that. If he could do that to his own mom, I wondered what he would do to strangers who were within striking distance. Which is why I discarded my plan to shop from there.

Half an hour later I was checking the sneakers in another shop in the same mall when I saw the same unruly kid rolling around on the chairs that were there, thereby preventing others from sitting down & trying out different pairs of shoes. 15 minutes later we sat down to grab something to eat when we found the same couple sitting at a nearby table having an argument over how their kid was misbehaving. To make matters worse the kid started kicking the glass wall for no apparent reason. While we were watching the drama, the dad resorted to the age old technique that has put all kinds of mischievous kids in place - One Tight Slap (OTS). And then there was silence. Both at their table & ours.

Excuse me, do you have this in ....

2010-07-23T15:45:00.000+05:30

The first time it happened it was embarrassing for me. The second time it was ok. Now Im so used to it that it doesnt bother me. But it does leave the other person extremely embarassed. And me laughing.

Its probably my 'helpful' face. Whatever the reason, I often get people coming up to me in stores asking me whether this shoe is available in other sizes or if there are different colours that are present etc. And when I explain that Im there to shop just like them they turn beetroot red.

Ive actually noticed that this happens to me irrespective of how I look / dress. Ive been clean shaven with short hair and dressed for the corporate world & still had people come up to me & ask for different sizes. Ive sported a grizzly gargantuan beard that kept almost everyone away. Except for those women who came & asked me if the same pair of shoes was available in pink.

Now Ive decided that the next time someone asks me something like this, Ill ask them to sit & wait while I go get them what they want and quietly walk out of the shop. So the next time you spend over 15 minutes waiting for the sales guy to bring you the same shoes in your size before getting irritated & walking out of the store, you know who youve spoken to.

One Massive Problem

2010-07-23T14:56:00.001+05:30

We men been always been fascinated by the seemingly impossible to sever link between women and shopping that only a global recession could weaken. And now that the recession is slowly lifting we realise that we are, to be honest, helpless.

Today's men believe that they are expected to love their wives, work hard, put food on the table, provide shelter for the family and bring up the kids as best they can. Most women however believe that they were born to and hence, expected to shop till they almost drop. Just like Roger Federer was born to light up tennis courts and politicians are born to be corrupt. And if they dont buy anything they would like to go to malls. To decide on what to what to buy when they do shop.

How many times have men found their women (moms / sisters / cousins / girlfriends / wives) return from what was supposed to be a simple lipstick shopping trip with a car full of bags containing shoes, dresses, stoles, handbags, nail polish etc: ? Of course, women resort to one of the two proven and highly despicable shoe escape routes to explain how going to the mall to buy one lipstick ended up with a massive shopping bill.
Scenario 1 : "I saw that pair of shoes and I knew it would go perfectly with my green dress and so I had to buy it"
(Of course they dont explain why they bought the dress if they didnt have matching shoes in the first place ....)
Scenario 2 : "I saw those shoes and I thought they would go perfectly with a green dress"
" But you dont have a green dress "
" Errr which is why I also bought a green dress and then I saw this lovely top which goes so well with my red shoes and so I had to buy it as well ..."

Men being men have not sat back and let women call the shots. They have tried several different techniques (obviously without much success) in an effort to break this evil nexus between women and shopping. Nowadays if news of a company wide pay hike is imminent, men try to keep women away from newspapers, tv channels and colleagues only because women think that a pay hike means more money to spend. Some men have tried accompanying their women on shopping trips hoping that they will be able to curtail the inevitable expenditure. Unfortunately women see this as 2 extra hands to hold shopping bags which means more shopping. Some men have been trying for years to explain the concept of a shopping budget. Apparently its like throwing a glass of water into the sea. Some rather unwise men have tried confiscating their wives credit cards. Apparently the consequences were so severe that they meekly returned the cards within a few days. But help is at hand (contd...)

The Simple Solution - Neil's 8 Golden Rules

2010-07-23T14:49:00.002+05:30

(Continued ....)

The answer to our prayers lies in few simple rules that I have developed based on my years of experience. So the next time you get invited to go shopping, stop pretending that watching golf on TV is interesting. Readily agree to go and ask them to bring their partners in crime. I mean friends. Initially remember to use discretion while offering your opinion (wont matter anyways). Slowly but surely they will warm up to the idea of you accompanying them & will even start asking you to help them decide. Which is when you bring out Neil's golden rules & follow them to the last letter.

Rule #1 - The most expensive dresses / bags etc: should be met with a "This is nice but it isnt really you"
Rule #2 - Rule #1 is very important since you are going to be footing the bill
Rule #3 - Dont blatantly search for the price tag & then say it isnt really you. Pretend that youre looking at the dress carefully (work your eyebrows a bit) & then casually check the price tag
Rule #4 - Dont just say this isnt really you and walk away. For the first 5 - 6 times, find something else that is equally good but lighter on the wallet. If you are in a stingy mood pretend not to like anything. Not recommended though.
Rule #5 - If you have gotten away with this 3 time in a row, take the initiative & find a nice item (lipstick, bangles, hand bags etc) and insist that you buy it for them. You do this once and they will not pick up anything for the next few shopping trips besides groceries.
Rule #6 - Do not underestimate the power of rule #5.
Rule #7 - Do not let the success of my advice get to your heads.
Rule #8 - Do not let these women get their hands on these rules !

New medical condition discovered - Mental Asphyxiation

2010-07-08T15:48:00.003+05:30

Everyone keeps telling us that we are unbelievably lucky to be staying virtually next door to a fashion college that is reputed to have the prettiest girls in town. Not true (the lucky bit not the pretty women part) I keep telling them but nobody believes me.

The problem is that these girls seem to suffer from what has been appropriately termed as 'mental asphyxiation'. Common symptoms include
- the inability to have a sensible conversation (we have unfortunately overheard enough and more of their illustrious conversations that unfailingly give us a headache each time)
- randomly bursting into a song in the middle of a nonsensical conversation (I am an unfortunate witness to this)
- joining other women who have randomly burst into a song in the middle of a nonsensical conversation
- dressing differently from the rest of the general public every day since they belong to a fashion college
- stand and blink for long intervals despite being surrounded by their friends

There might be other undiscovered symptoms as well but I am not willing to risk my mental well being by spending time observing the behavioural habits of these unfortunate victims. If you feel brave enough to carry on advanced studies in this field, do contact me but dont go around pointing fingers at me if your family kicks you out in 6 months for blabbering incoherently and / or walking around with golden streaks in your hair.

True story

2010-07-08T15:26:00.000+05:30

A relative of mine was admitted to hospital recently and was doing research over the internet on his prescribed medicines . He sent a mail to his family saying " I just found out that one of the medicines is actually meant for horses. But thats ok, I always know I was a stud ..... "

Buzz off !

2010-07-01T22:33:00.000+05:30

It never really was David vs Goliath. We Cochinites have been waging a battle with the mosquitoes (fondly called 'mossies') for decades who have always ended up victorious. Being Indians our bodies have found ways to deal with it. The mosquito bites dont really leave very visible marks on our skin though foreigners have a torrid time here. We often think they have been attacked by a swarm of bees when in reality they have just woken up after a night spent tossing and turning while trying to chase away those darned mosquitoes. Plus our skin isnt really sensitive to their bites (the mossies not the foreigners).

I really have lost count of the number of times that Ive spotted mosquitoes too intent of feasting on my legs to notice my hand inching closer and closer to them until I send them back to their maker. Interestingly at least someone (or rather something) finds my legs attractive but I suspect that one would feel that I digress. In fact a friend of mine still fondly recollects how I was describing my losing battle to those mossies over chat while I was slouched in my chair in front of the computer with my feet on the table while typing with my right hand and swatting mosquitoes with a rolled up paper in my left hand.

The only thing worse than finding mosquitoes feeding off you is hearing their rather annoying buzz as they decide to fly around your ear when you are all tucked in and ready to sleep. This means to have to flail your arms (careful if youre married cause you might end up sleeping on the couch if you whack your better half) in the hope of chasing away those darned insects and quickly cover yourself up with your bedsheet while praying that you managed to keep everyone out (the mosquitoes not your better half, unless you prefer the couch that is).

To be fair the Corporation does spray water bodies and other potential breeding grounds before the breeding season of the mosquitoes. This season they seem to have done a good job as I barely seem to have spotted any mosquitoes and I havent killed one yet ! So there I was content, thinking I could enjoy the World Cup bereft of the company of my not so friendly insect friends when I heard the same annoying buzz come from my TV, courtesy those blasted vuvuzelas. So now I have to listen to that endless drone throughtout all the matches. In fact my ears still ring hours after Ive turned off the TV. Last I heard George Bush II was cursing because he has now found the prefect way to make illegally detained prisoners give up secrets without having to subject them to stripping, barking dogs, intimidation and water boarding. He was heard muttering "If only South Africa had held the last WC, the world would have been a better place...". Now that I think about it David didnt need his sling after all.

Through a looking glass of sorts

2010-07-01T22:13:00.002+05:30

Its early June and each time I step out of my place in Bangalore I look out my window with a furrowed brow and worried eyes. The month of June heralds the arrival of the monsoon in southern India and the last thing I want to do is ride around in the rain and come down with a cold. Need to go get a packet of chips before the start of the World Cup match only to find that its pouring cats and dogs outside ? To hell with the chips then, Im not getting half soaked just to munch on something. People avoid commuting in Bangalore when its raining, the only problem being everyone thinks the same way. Which means that the roads are mucky and traffic is a royal pain the moment the rain lets up. Monsoon in Bangalore isn’t the most pleasant of times.

Its late June now and Im back at home in Cochin enjoying a well deserved break from all the corporate madness that Ive been subjected to. Im sitting by the window curled up with a book and enjoying the perfect setting that the cloudy gray sky provides. I feel the ever so soothing and yet gentle touch of a faint pre-rain breeze (Sadly most people dont even know what that is). I look out the window in anticipation. A flash of lightning in the distance. The eventual thunder roll. I count the seconds between the lightning and the accompanying thunder only to realise that Ive forgotten the calculation Im supposed to do with that number. The book is absorbing. Eventually I hear the sound of the incoming rain. It almost sounds like the rain God is saying 'Shhhh'.

Maybe its all about the window.

Join the Beard Brigade !

2010-05-14T17:06:00.009+05:30

The cliché “If I had a buck for everytime someone asked me that question …..“ is way too overused these days but I don’t think I would be out of line if I used that statement with regard to people asking me whats up with my new bearded look. Apparently the fact that I like the way I look nowadays doesn’t count for most friends. Society says we have to be clean shaven to look professional. Looks like I didn’t get that memo. So in my defense I have listed out a few reasons why you should also attempt the hot new look that is the rage this summer (trust me on this one)

1. No more ducking and hiding behind pillars to avoid someone you’ve just spotted and intentionally not met for months
You can actually walk past people you haven’t met in ages knowing that they will not recognize you come what may. Its worked for me in the past. Of course the flip side is that if you do want to meet that person they wont really belive that its you unless you have someone backing you up.

2. Keeps potential in-laws away
If you’re in your mid twenties and all your relatives are busy convincing your parents that it’s high time you get married (for your own good of course) the smartest form of non cooperation is growing a beard. No self respecting father will want to give his daughter’s hand in marriage to some hooligan, however impressive his details are. And they would be thinking think, at this stage if he looks like this imagine what he would be like 10 years from now? All while you smile and behave at your gentlemanly best.

3. Provides for midnight snacks
Ever felt hungry in the middle of the night while you’re busy watching a movie or curled up reading a book? No more getting up and heading to the kitchen to grab a packet of biscuits. All you need to do is rummage through your beard and you will invariably find some left over crumbs / pieces of biscuits from earlier in the day. Seriously.

4. Turns you into an instant magician
No more plucking a coin from out of thin air or making a card appear at the top of the pack. Smuggle a bird inside your beard & watch as kids believe that you magically made a bird disappear. Enough to make you earn the Favourite Uncle In The Whole Wide World tag.

5. A future movie career

If they ever get round to making a sequel to 300, youre bound to get a role in it. There arent that many people sporting beards these days. Clean shaven, chocolatety, mummys babys are a dime a dozen in hollywood these days. Fat chance of making it big with the competition in that segment.

6. A picture is worth a 1000 beards !

Secret Agent Johnny

2010-05-10T19:12:00.005+05:30

Real Name : Unknown
Nickname : Johnny aka Chung Wung Lee
Origins : Unknown
Description : Medium complexioned with medium height & build

Location : HSR Layout, Bangalore
Mission : To chase down any bike / car that is passing by our lane by charging at them at full speed while barking aggressively to frighten them off the lane as soon as possible
Mission Success Rate : Rather high

Johnny / Chung Wung Lee is our adopted mongrel who stays outside our place and who lives off the food that the neighbours (& we) provide him every night. Why the oriental name ? That’s cause he used to be fed Chinese fried rice all the time by my roomie who used to get a separate dish parceled just for the dog. Honestly. Actually Johnny kinda adopted us considering that he was there much before we started renting out our place.

Johnny is one of Bangalore’s numerous strays who have all apparently signed some secret pact to help protect the houses in their neighbourhood by chasing off any suspicious looking people on bikes or cars. The only problem is that someone somewhere forgot to reinforce the ‘suspicious’ bit. Which leads to these dogs running after anyone on a bike or car (who doesn’t stay in that neighbourhood mind you) while barking madly. Ive seen numerous incidents of guys on bikes almost running their bikes into trees in fright as Johnny has chased them down our lane. Ive even witnessed people in cars swerving in panic as our hero set off on yet another chase. Unfortunately these dogs think that their ‘job’ is a disguised kamikaze mission & are always on the lookout to sacrifice themselves for their food providers. Which is why, if youre riding through Bangalore’s residential areas, you might suddenly find yourself braking in panic as one or more of these crazy mutts decide that you were destined to send them to your maker.

Corollary: And by extension that they were destined to send you to your maker.

Fortunately these dogs aren’t really the blood thirsty maniacs that I might be making them out to be. Fall the hundreds of times he has terrorized motorists, he still gets really puzzled when a regular visitor to our flat leaves on his electric motorbike which doesn’t make a sound. It is hilarious watching him all confused as he knows he should be chasing the bike but he stops after a couple of steps cause he doesn’t hear a sound. Im sure this scene plays itself out on every street when a person on an electric bike passes through. For all you know they could be against motorized transport. They seem to have no issues with people who walk by them. Maybe these crazy dogs just need to rethink their mission statement.

The first rule of Fight Club is: you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is: you DO NOT talk about Fight Club

2010-05-10T15:10:00.006+05:30

Was re-watching the extremely fascinating Fight Club last night and I realized that the movie is packed with amazing dialogues which I probably didn’t appreciate the first time I saw it. I’ll blame the stellar acting, crisp directing & great plot for my earlier lapse in attention. Picked out two of the best IMO, quite possible that someone else might pick different ones, big thumbs up to the screen writers. If I ever get round to writing my book which might hopefully become a runaway success & I am approached to make it into a movie, then I know who to get in touch with first ……

" The things you own end up owning you. "

“God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off.”

Same wine , new bottle

2010-05-05T19:12:00.003+05:30

Isnt it amazing to see that time hasnt mellowed any of our oldest practices. Came across this quote in a book I'm reading

"Just as it is impossible to know when a swimming fish is drinking water, so it is impossible to find out when a government servant is stealing money"

- Kautilya, Arthashastra (The Science of Wealth), c 300BC

This on the day that the media reported how the Karnataka Lok Ayukta conducted raids on seven government officials and found assets worth a staggering Rs 7.86 crores ....

No Comedy Central this

2010-05-04T15:09:00.003+05:30

Its funny how short the public’s attention on events that startle / horrify / shock us, is. I was skimming through today’s news when I saw an article on a cop who said he should’ve been honoured for killing one Sohrabuddin. I had no clue what the whole thing was about and decided to look it up on the net. Turns out this Sohrabuddin was an extortionist and rubbed off enough people the wrong way for someone to green light him. Sohrabuddin, his wife and an accomplice were travelling by bus when cops led by the Deputy Inspector General of Police intercepted their vehicle and whisked them away. Investigative reports have shown that the cops then eliminated Sohrabuddin and made it appear that he was riding a stolen bike and was shot dead in an 'encounter'. His wife Kauser was also killed by the cops and her body burnt. All this by top cops loyal to their Chief Minister, Narendra Modi who coincidentally was responsible for letting the massacre of minorities (read Muslims) happen while instructing the state administration to stand aside and do nothing.

The most fascinating part of this tale is that one of the accused cops, Rajkumar Pandiyan, is now claiming that since he has killed a notorious criminal he should be honoured for this and not hounded. Morbid humour to say the least.

Z for zoo

2010-05-04T14:27:00.004+05:30

The last time I went to a zoo was probably around 15 years back and truth be told I didn’t really enjoy it. Seeing all those animals kept for public display in brutally small cages / enclosures in the Trivandrum zoo left a bad taste in my mouth (for the record, it has apparently improved drastically since then) which added to my aversion to zoos and circuses. In fact I dislike circuses with performing animals more than most things but that’s another story.

However my weekend visit to the Mysore zoo has changed my perception on the whole thing. It is one of India’s better known zoos and for good reason. It boasts of large enclosures for most of the animals & on several occasions I felt like I put was in the middle of a NatGeo episode as I observed the birds, animals and reptiles up close. I loved watching the ring tailed lemur (the Madagascar guys) prancing around almost as much as I enjoyed standing between two cages containing a pair of blue and gold macaws in one and scarlet macaws in the other while trying to decide which pair was more beautiful. Still haven’t been able to figure that one out. There was a giraffe with lovely dark spots which we were fortunate enough to get a good glimpse of, which was truly spellbinding.

The humongous Gaur did cause us to wonder how many pieces of steak we could extract from just one of them(a second Madagascar reference). Probably enough to feed a small village considering the size of those massive fellows. Pictures cannot do justice to . Another contender to the deceptively massive throne was the rhino that was content on munching away to glory oblivious to the milling crowds.

As amazing as the experience was, I couldn’t help but notice that the entire purpose of the zoo was lost somewhere. I believe open air zoos bring people face to face with animals in a replication of what their natural habitat is and more importantly, in the process educates you and me.

What reptile is this ?

And yet, people went “Crocodile, crocodile” whenever they saw alligators or gharials or crocodiles (Did you just realise that you don’t know the difference either?). Every snake that was seen was called a cobra and all the different monkeys were called chimpanzees. You get the picture.

In honour of the Mysore Zoo Ive decided to institute the Neilsrandomramblings blog Zoo awards. Future trips to zoos will result in new winners and possibly new awards. Without any further ado, here are the winners
The awwwww so cute moment of the day : Spotting a baby hippo swimming next to it mom, its tiny snout just about visible above the water. Enough to make even the hardest heart melt.
The dumb schmuck moment of the day : A woman slipping through the barricade to get a closer view of the baby hippo and its mama. Someone should’ve pushed her into the mud pool where the hippos were cooling off.
Roll eyes moment of the day : Hearing the crowd behind us explode and turning around to see that they were buzzing because one of the peacocks flew over them. Hearing the noise one wouldve thought that they spotted an escaped lion or something.
Most enjoyable moment of the day : Watching the truly majestic tiger make a u-turn and walk slowly away from us only to hear a small kid next to me plead to her mom “Ingote veraan para (tell it to come here) ” while pointing to the tiger.

How I got left behind in the social network revolution

2010-04-29T14:59:00.003+05:30

Response 1 : “Hahahahahaha …… You’re joking right. (Pause) You’re not joking?”
Response 2 : “How could you NOT be on facebook ? That’s impossible !”
Response 3 :”Thank God you told me this. Listen, please don’t tell anybody that you’re not on FB. And go sign in at the earliest”
Response 4: “What the **** !”

There are more responses that are along the lines of those listed above which I have omitted. Responses that I have received from friends / family / acquaintances when I tell them that I don’t check my FB account.

It seems that just about everyone has migrated from Orkut to FB and in the process quite a few of them have deleted their once beloved Orkut profiles. Farmville & Mafia Wars are what’s cool and Orkut is well so last year. Or so I am told. I did eventually create a FB profile but I realized that there was just too much happening on it every single day. I got swamped just trying to read what everyone had posted every day & in less than a week I did the smart thing & threw in the towel.

It is rather silly how people waste time on it. For example when it rains, someone has to post that its raining outside (well it cant really be raining inside now can it) to which someone will reply “Don’t forget your umbrella” to which someone else will reply “Good idea” to which the 1st person to will reply “Thanks for your suggestions” (like he/she hasn’t learnt in 20+ years that you need to carry an umbrella if it is raining). Post this a fourth person will ask “Did you get wet” and so on and so forth. Im not making this up. Im all for social networking and all but this is a bit ridiculous.

Yesterday Radio Indigo interviewed a couple of people yesterday who said that they spend at least 3 – 4 hours a day playing the FB games. Finally the RJ asked one of them wouldn’t it be better if you spend the same time growing actual plants & trees? That was funny. Then there is the whole controversy about how FB invades your privacy ( https://webmail.wipro.com/exchweb/bin/redir.asp?URL=http://www.newsweek.com/id/233773 ) and (http://www.newsweek.com/id/238371).

So how long will I continue my FB hiatus ? Probably not much longer, I do realise that I am a bit out of the loop cause Im not on FB. Not world ending out of the loop but probably enough to get me to check it once in a while. Im just worried that by the time I get comfortable with FB some other social network site would have come up & everyone would’ve jumped ship to that …

Dont push that button

2010-04-29T14:58:00.000+05:30

I think it would be a fair assumption to say that that any person (however limited his / her IQ) should be able to comprehend the following
1. Pressing the button of an elevator button will cause the button to be illuminated
2. The illumination signifies that the elevator will be coming to the floor where the person pressing the button is present
3. In case there are multiple elevators that are interconnected, then the lights on the buttons of all the elevators on the floor will light up which means that one of the elevators will move to the floor at the earliest.
4. The elevators are programmed to move from floor to floor with the least possible delay.

None of these 4 points are overtly complicated nor are they mind boggling. And yet every time I wait for the elevator at one of our multiple multi-storeyed buildings I see people pressing the already illuminated button multiple times. Apparently there is some unwritten rule that if the lift doesn’t arrive in the next 15 seconds, its time to press it again. That is unless someone else has just arrived & has pressed it in the 15 second gap despite it being lit up. Is it just me that has understood that the frequency of pressing elevator buttons has no relation to its time of arrival ?

Another thing that Ive noticed is that the buttons of the elevators in our building (unsurprisingly) conk out rather frequently. When they do, people turn to the working elevator buttons which results in the load on those poor buttons to increase which in turn leads to an even faster rate of wear out. The elevator company guys must be rather irritated with having to replace the buttons so often. Maybe I should suggest rewiring the system so that people get an electric shock if they press an already illuminated lift button. But that would be plain mean. Ill suggest a minor shock instead.

All this ranting is a bit unnecessary anyways. Ive found the perfect way to avoid getting irritated by those suffering from the Obsessive Compulsive Elevator Button Pressing Disorder. I just take the stairs.