The ‘NOT-SO’ Dirty Picture

Heaving bosoms, a plethora of pelvic thrusts, and untamed dialogues that would put even the wildest of all to shame; but the Dirty Picture is dirty just at the outset-only the title being dirty. If you have seen the movie and found more dirt than that, then you should be applauded for thinking from your penis (well, I thought if Vidya could shed all her clothes, I could shed my inhibitions and write something imprudent). I am no saint, I agree. And those who surround me would agree more that as a regular 20 something, I am as perverse as a guy my age should be (what sets me apart though is- that I agree to the perversity). All said and done, I had gone to The Dirty Picture not for the orgasmic ‘oohhhs’ and ‘aaahs’ or the omnipresent cleavage (well, to some extent, maybe), but for a story. And story it had! This is not a review, but a piece on my understanding of the woman-kind and  the delineation of an unconventional and uninhibited woman, fighting with men who loved and disgusted her at the same time.

A few weeks ago, I was actually observing that the world had become overtly kind to the fairer sex. EG. In colleges, male teachers were always kinder to the females and so were the female teachers (under the pretext of feminism). At work, women got a more patient ear from their seniors; separate queues for women; separate rakes for them in the commute system, and so on. But after the movie I felt a great amount of sympathy for women. The Gen X we say is an ancient term now. We call ourselves the GEN Y. Yet, I find a melancholic anachronism with regard to our general attitude towards women. If a guy flirts with a thousand women, he becomes the cool Casanova; whereas if a woman earns herself the commonplace sobriquet-slut. Why the dichotomy? In our mythology, Gods are shown to have many wives, even liaisons with multiple women; yet a Seeta is asked to undergo the Agneepareeksha.

The character of Silk that Balan portrayed eased her way to the top with a lot of sleaze. But then should she be blamed for craving a successful career or the men who crushed her aspirations with their carnal desires? At the end of the day, she was getting her share of fame and the men were getting their share of the bargain and both were quenched. It was barter; the men thought they were using her, while she clambered the ladder of success. But the moment she landed on the pinnacle, the men realized they were being played and she became a DIRTY, FILTHY woman.

Being a guy, I know, it can be difficult sometimes to find yourself in the company of strong, independent women. But you have to have the balls (pun intended) to appreciate women. I am appalled at the hypocrisy of our social structure, where on one hand we are in India, the only country where female deities are worshipped (even by men), and on the other hand we have such capricious attitude towards women where we want  them to be goongi gudiya (a mute doll that critics called Indira Gandhi). I think in Silk’s case it was not the sex or the oomph that bothered people, it was her mind that scared them- a free and bold mind! I think we have grown to love beautiful women, but not Bold and Beautiful!

To all the guy readers - in the long run, what lies between the ears (the brain) is what you will love more than what lies between the legs! As for the female readers-the world will bring you down even when you are not doing anything ‘dirty’, so why not do it and then be blamed.

“Zindagi ek baar milti hai, toh do baar kyun sochna”

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No Inhibitions!!!

For the past few days, I have been wondering about how we really live out our lives-in fear mostly. On the first day of pre-school, I was worried about leaving my mum’s hand. During my the first chance I got at public oration, I was scared about the 1000 or so pair of eyes ogling at me and the ears listening intently to what I had to say. When I grew up, the fear to succeed engulfed me; the fear of not living up to the expectations of others. Even with friends, I was always worried (read concerned) about their feelings towards me. And this is how, I turned 21. Yes, just like that. All the time gone! WOOOSH… Oh hold on, I am sure you’ve had your fears too, right? Show me one mai ka laal (son of a mother, an odd Indian expression) who has led on an intrepid life. And even when I have entered adulthood have fears disappeared-NO, they haven’t! They have just transformed from one into another.

As working people, you are constantly on the watch of what you say-as a small snide remark that you make (even at a party) might set the course of your career. If you see the larger picture, one is alarmed at the choice one makes even when joining the career track. Whether is it the large choice? Whether you will get what you had set on to achieve? Too many questions…

So I have decided to leave intrepidly, fiercely and more importantly uninhibitedly. The challenge is tough, but then for the next whole week I will post about how I fared in my life saying what is on my mind and doing what my instincts tell me to.

For instance, a senior at work had an emergency at home and when he returned back (happy), no one extended a polite greeting-“I hope all is well!” Did I want to? YES! Did I? No. Why? I wanted to fit in. But fit into what-a world of conundrum and abeyance where people are droids who are divested off emotions! I was chagrined at the mere thought-and this is what has compelled me to do this for a week. (The time for writing something out of my experiences has come) I will do what I feel (of course, in the realm of propriety) and I will urge you all to do so. Let’s all experiment. What could be the worst thing that could happen? People would be intimidated by your fearlessness. Who knows, you might inspire some people along the way.

So, here’s the deal. Say what you believe in and do what you have always wanted to do- you want to bunk college for nothing-DO IT; you want to tell your school bully how much you detest being bullied-DO IT;  you want to tell your colleague to stop taking credit for your work- DO IT; you want to tell your friend how much you have loved them-DO IT; you want to change your career and want to be a ‘ROCKSTAR’-DO IT;  you want to propose to a guy or a girl-DO IT; you want to tell your husband how you really feel about them-DO IT; you want to tell your wife how you really feel about her-DON’T DO IT (well, some things are inexplicable)

You will feel liberated. Trust me! And you owe it to yourself to do this much at least. I mean you will DIE one day (yes, no euphemism) and then you will look back on your life, and you know what you will have-regret. Remorse -of living cautiously; of not taking risks; of a calculated life; of a conventional role; of not LIVING!

So to avoid the travesty of ‘not living’-let this be a week of being bold, a week of NO INHIBITIONS! Life is too short.

Please share this with your friends on Facebook by clicking on FB icon below. And don’t forget to leave your comments on how you plan to be uninhibited or if you have done so in the past!

Single and NOT Ready to Mingle

This is strictly for those who have been single for a large part of their lives and/or are planning to be single i.e contriving a nasty break up and/or are surrounded by people who claim to be happy in a relationship making them want to be in one; more importantly it is for people who run-away from commitment and pee in their pants when they even hear the ‘M’ word-Marriage.

I lived a happy life with all my single-best friends who would be at my beck and call and i would be at theirs. Everything was hunky dory in my sugar sweet life, until a cupid, or actually a bunch of them, went out and bit some of  my perfectly sane friends and they fell in a dreadful 4-lettered word L.O.V.E. Every now and then i would get a call from one of my baboons telling me how crazy they were about their respective boyfriends or girlfriends. I always egged them on as any supportive friend would and showed them my not-so-cynical side. One of them deserves a mention (although i would not reveal his identity). The guy was madly and famously in love with a childhood sweetheart. He called her his best friend. I told him that please don’t tarnish the role of a best friend and ask her out. Little did i know that he would take me so seriously, that he mustered the courage to do so; poor shy-guy got a royal rejection! Lucky me, i had never been turned down in my life (which is probably owing to the fact that i never did ask anyone) but now i was feeling terrible for my friend and completely guilty as it was my encouragement that had led to this complete discouragement. I helped him move on telling him that he was better off without her (how much of it was true, i cannot reveal as i am a convincing liar when it comes to keeping my pals happy). But this was not it. On an abominable night, i don’t know what was going on in my devious mind, i said to my Neo Devdas the unthinkable—‘’dude, i think you never really loved her. I always felt you and Emily(name changed on request) belong together.’’ Emily was his new best friend. i slept peacefully that night knowing that i had consoled him well, at least that was a way that had least bloodshed and/or tears. Just like how your tiny bhatija/bhatiji/bhanja/bhanji takes to the new toy you got him or her in no time, my friend took to his. And viola-i was the cupid who had just sung a romantic ballad in the virtual world of Emily and her new boyfriend...

 Another story is of a different couple. They had, i am assuming, accomplished everything that a couple does (or does not) by maintaining that they were ‘’just friends’’. These are the types i detest the most. They will canoodle and cuddle in front of the entire world in broad daylight, claiming that this is what friends do. Oh to hell with such people. I have a million friends and if i do anything of this sort with any of my female friends, they would stick a slap on my cheek. But later, lighting struck this couple and they came out of the closet (punt intended)!

Then i am just reminded of a different couple-the geek-nerd special combo. These are the funny types. I mean they are not funny, but being around them is. They discuss equations over the phone and write lovey-dovey notes when they exchange their books and world maps et al. Conducting mock vivas is their ideal date and out ranking each other in the exams is simply orgasmic.

Then there is the master slave couple. No, no, i am not referring to any sexual act, but i am referring to the behaviour of this kind of a couple. The girl uses her boyfriend to fetch her anything and everything she needs ranging from water to nail paint remover. I am sure he must be swabbing the floors whenever her maid fails to show up.

So that leaves us to this conclusion that we all, who are alone, are lucky and should not take this for granted. If you are nauseated by the love around you, then call me...trust me i will give you a 100 more reasons to be single.

PS- Any resemblance to real life is purely co-incidental.

An Email to God

This is an article of mine published in my college magazine after I left college...Well, I edited (updated)it a bit. SO I took on the onus of writing am email to God to make him a little happy. I mean after all the anarchy around us, he too needs a little cheering up now, doesn't He? Read on to find out how to write an email to the actual Boss-GOD...comment on this post, as God, too, will be reading.

Dear God,

Hi! I hope it is not inappropriate to say ‘hi’ to the Omnipotent. But then if there are bollywood dances being performed at the Royal Wedding, in front of the Firm, the equivalent of you in the Kingdom of the west, then propriety needs to be redefined. You would wonder why an email? Well, with all the clamour of worldly noises surrounding you, it has been difficult reaching to you using the mundane methods- prayers, pujas, havans, etc. And I thought if man could progress from wired telephony, to cell-phony (and even to plain ‘phony’, You would agree), why could You not switch to more convenient media? You would be wondering why I am blabbering without any rhyme or reason, as You must be having a lot on Your agenda. Well, I have no favours to ask of You, and I don’t say this in a manner a certain angry young man from the movie-biz said. I am here to take care of You. I know, I know, You are the Caretaker, You don’t need one. But in troubled times like these, where a certain old man called Anna Hazare pulls off a Gandhi (almost a Gandhi); where chief minister after chief minister is declared to be a plunderer; where countries are still trying to see the light of freedom; where discrimination on the basis of caste, creed, sex is still rampant- you sure deserve a little entertainment. Do I promise a paisa vasool entertainer? Well, I am at least sure that you will get your money’s worth unlike the audiences of Ra.ONE.

So here is the plan. I have surveyed a few of my friends, foes, kith and kin, and asked them what they were happy about in the last year or two. With this I am trying to send you positive vibes that you  must be devoid of in this ‘Apple’ age, and yeah, I aint talking about the fruit of wisdom. So please keep up. Well, let me begin then. Something that you should know is that even in this sullen world, there are people who are partying hard. And with people, I mean my fellow TSECites. They partied, God, for various reasons- placements, last DJs in the festivals, farewell and mostly Goa. You can afford to live in a paradise, we cannot afford a 1BHK in the far off suburbs of even Navi Mumbai, but we can sure go on a trip to paradise. Off they all went, to goa, but on different dates and did a few devious things there, but I won’t mention them to you as they might upset you. But just watch Dum Maaro Dum for details. I can send you a pirated torrent link if your internet is fast enough!

Dancing, goa, partying and all must seem quite frivolous to you, I agree. But, God, when these just about to pass out BE s were and still are saying their parting words, you can see true friendship surface. It is amusing to see the college jocks, who would otherwise be stoic and never display any emotion, do an uninhibited Shabana Azmi and letting their expressive side out. The relief students had on their faces when their final journals were certified, was a moment I hope you did not miss out on. If you did, then go on to facebook and check out a few of IT students’ photos, theirs was a battle worth watching. The other refreshing change was that no one played papa kehte hai bada naam during these last few days. It has become extremely hackneyed, if you have it on your ipod, please remove it!

It was a proud moment for the country to bring home the World Cup. For that, we all owe you one! People were running down the streets and were making merry as if there was no tomorrow. Sachin Tendulkar is the new you, if you read the local dailies. Please, don’t be jealous of all the attention he is getting. He deserves it and you know it! Although I do have a petition to make- please give the poor journalists some sense so as to not abbreviate Dhoni’s name as MSD, sounds more like LSD! It is very denigrating and an unfortunate combination of alphabets to form someone’s initials.

Another thing that would please you was that this few weeks there was no or very little of Rakhi Sawant on television. I am not bad-mouthing Rakhi, but then it was becoming too much of her everywhere. She had become Omnipresent and considered herself Omnipotent, I am sure. Then again, Dolly Bhindra filled in her shoes, socks and what not, and kept us in splits with her antics. She has inspired many a scientist to find the missing link between apes and humans. But kudos to her, it was brave of her to come on national television without any make-up. It sent down chills down our spines. 

There were many more things that made me and people happy-Natural ice cream’s new flavours; the sale at Vero Moda; the Galaxy tab, I pad’s cheap cousin; the drops of rain water across my face when I first drove my bike in Mumbai; my father’s face when I wrote a story book for him; me and my best friend rejoicing on being part of the same company (2 of them); my neighbour when she realised she was cured of breast cancer; and the list is endless. I hope you did notice that happiness is found only if one sets out to find it. It is not God-gifted (pun intended). I regaled in these small, unassuming things and smiled everyday not worrying about the problems and tribulations that engulfed me. Because you know it, there were many! Isn’t that what it’s all about at the end of the day- the self-realization that no one but you yourself is the cause of happiness or sadness. So buck up old man, and go on a vacation (Goa). The world will rotate around its own axis without you. Forget about the corruption scams, recessions, global-warming and rejoice in your own name. You are God and you can do anything. If you are happy and mirthful up there, it will surely reverberate down on us!

Love to the kids and missus!

Rohit...(surname is too big L)

PS- Where did i get your email id? Let’s just say I have my sources! Don’t worry, I won’t publicise it!

:-P

 

To my Late Father- Steve Jobs

Yes, I consider Steve Jobs my father. “Why?”- You ask. Well, duhhhh, one-for he created me, meticulously and ingeniously, and two-for he held me dearer to him than his actual family. So, today, with my heart full of grief, I speak to you all about the man I loved the most. It is my eulogy to my Father-a hippie, a geek, an artist, an innovator, a techie, a visionary, actually a TECHNISIONARY! I am iPad 2, and this is my ode to that very man who redefined ‘I’nnovation.

First of all, I know my voice is sounding funny, actually very catty, but that is because I am talking through Talking Tom (TM)! This is will all sound very ridiculous in the voice of a Cat I know, but then what options do I have- to talk like a dog, hippo, or a funny little creature who’s species is not clear to me. Anyways, let me not digress. So, Steve, or iPaa as I and my siblings, iPhone and iPod address him, was a crazy person. Well, I wouldn’t lie- his craziness was sometimes good and sometimes bad. I mean hitting people and firing them for not being able to pull off a certain design after 48 straight, sleepless, working hours- is a little barbaric I know. But what people don’t know is-that with every such engineer hired by iPaa, the man himself spent sleepless nights in presenting to the world avant-garde products. He was like what Armani or Cavalli are to the Fashion Industry-a pure artist. So people, I know iPaa’s short temper is much talked about, so is his weird ways of handling things, but what is not talked about is his humane side-that he was a regular guy (although under irregular circumstances) made of bone and flesh. Why is it that accomplishments of people are always over-shadowed by one little vice that they might possess or display on an odd occasion, I would never understand.

iPaa has always proved to be a fighter- he battled cancer, his lull period in his career, his personal distress and emerged victorious-if not in all but at least in some. He was a dreamer-a big one. I remember him telling me how he had a vision of changing the way world listens to music before the inception of my brother, and how gratifying it felt that he had actually achieved it. I mean c’mon in the music world there were those big, bulky, records, then the cassettes and CDs, and then was the era of the iPod. He was always dissatisfied with his achievements; I think all great men are and that is what propels them to such great heights. Laptops everyone had-iPaa knew it. He wanted to make the slimmest and most beautiful laptop ever-a thing of beauty and was born my sister the MacBook Air. I am sure that was what Picasso had on mind when he was creating Les Demoiselles d'Avignon-something that was not drastically different, yet, something that was impactful. Picasso gave birth to Cubism, Steve gave birth to ‘I’ism.

The last few days, when he was fighting his last battle, his doctor advised to take him off electronics. But so adamant was iPaa, that he wanted me and he got it. This was the time I was closest to the Tech-Titan. I was there when I saw the man succumbing to his illness; losing the battle that he didn’t want to embark upon. He knew he was going to die long ago and he had given up-he wanted to leave with dignity. The last words he said,”Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow!”. Perhaps, another vision; or perhaps, the white light that engulfed his soul! The genius bid adieu in a mystical fashion that was expected of him. May he rest in peace! I am sure other souls in heaven would want to benefit-may be a few gadgets he would create for them! As for us mortals, I am not sure how much more of the Wisdom Fruit (APPLE) is left to be bitten!

The Death of a Princess (Part 2)

Mohammed Al-Fayed was anxious as it seemed he had knowledge about the imminent accident. Whereas, someone mysteriously called the Balmoral Estate of the Queen about Diana and how she won’t be of a problem! Read on as the mystery unfolds…(Please read the first one if you haven’t.)

2 months ago, Mohammed Al-Fayed was tipped of about an imminent possible attack on Dodi and her l’amour Princess Diana. Fayed ignored it as mere rumor. But then Paul, who was also the driver, came up to him with specific intelligence on the planned murder of the Princess. Since then, Mohammed appointed Paul on a suicide mission. Though Mohammed was not too fond of Diana, he had asked Paul to protect her and his son with utmost care. But he had failed in the mission. Dodi was dead…and so was Diana.

The Queen groggily got up to see the news in the Balmoral Mansion. Charles was already awake-he looked stoic, even it was the mother of his children who was battling for the last few moments. Charles was anyway waiting impatiently for time to pass so that he could marry Camilla Parker Bowles, the woman towards whom he had always had a soft corner. Diana had reported in an interview, “My husband is contriving to kill me!” He was worried that the world would suspect him, but at the same time he was sure that by being overtly-concerned and emotional about the whole “incident” of Diana dying, he can take the entire media glare in his stride; as the proud father grieving at the loss of his ex-wife-for the sake of his sons.

“Where are the kids, Charles? I don’t think they should know about their mother from the TV. You should tell them.”-said HRH, The Queen of England, Elizabeth II.

“Yes, that would be correct Mummy. It will be difficult for them to understand, but I will be there with them. I think I should get Diana’s body here. If we are not careful, the world will suspect us of murdering her!”

The Queen said through her gritted teeth, ”Why on earth will they think that? She was a Royal. She continues to be the mother of the future King of England and will continue to be the mother even in her death. You thinking so, disgusts me! Do what you have to!”

Charles went to the kids’ room to tell them about their mother. He intended to fly the first thing in the morning, but he was sure that the night would not be so kind to him.

Somewhere from the alley ways in Paris, an anonymous caller, dialed the same number, “No one will suspect you. I had drugged the driver. It was as natural as it could be. Just transfer the remnant of my payment to my Swiss account.”

“Yes, it all shall be done. And you don’t need to call here again. I have paid you a hefty price for the task.”

“Well, it was a cruel a task, after all. Wasn’t it, Your Majesty?”

The monarch hung up, and hushed a tear. Some things you have to do, even against your will, she thought.

No One Killed the Princess! (Part 1)

Lady Diana, “The People’s Princess”, was loved by one and all. She died in a fatal car crash. Or did she? Read on…

“More Champagne, Madame?” asked the Maitre’d himself. Of course, these were the 2 most important guests at Paris’s most expensive and exuberant hotel- the Ritz.

“Oui, Si’il vous plait!”-said Diana, in her graceful French. She always thought of herself being French- she adored them; their style, the haute-couture, their sophistication. And very much so, she was just like them.

“Cheers!”, said Dodi Fayed, the scion of the Ritz. It was a reason to celebrate after all. He had found love in the most delicately beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. And he was happy that she too was enamored by him-passionately in love with him.

In his eyes, Diana could see herself-at peace, calm and serene. This was quite a contrast to what she had become after the abysmal divorce and the consequent events that followed. From binge-eating, to bulimia, to severe manic-depression- she had seen it all. What had she done to deserve all this? A fairy-tale wedding with a Prince and a Princess had come crumbling down after a few months of blissful marriage. However, she had held her head up high-faced each day with unwavering courage and dignity.

But it was not about all that today. It was about a life that she was going to share with Dodi. With “Dodo”(she would lovingly call him) she had envisioned a future of peace and calm. But little did she know that lady luck, just like the Royalty, never favored her.

Somewhere, in Paris, Mohammed Al- Fayed, was frantically trying to reach out to his son and his beau. He had made a mistake, a grave one. He called the hotel and asked the Manager to hold Di and Dodi in until he arrived. He wanted to talk to his son before it was too late-the clock kept ticking at its usual pace, but to him it seemed as if it were moving at a lightning speed. He called his chauffeur to take him to the Ritz. Outside the window of his Limo, he saw a young man with his little kid in the hand, strolling on the pavement of Champs Elysees. In that he saw a vivid image of him and his son, a long time ago. A tear rolled down and window rolled up! He composed himself and was determined to rectify what was about to happen.

Somewhere inside the Balmoral castle, a phone rang.

“She won’t be a problem anymore!” said the caller.

In Paris, Diana and Dodi tried to escape the paparazzi mania by making a quick back door exit. The manager tried to stop Dodi, but he was in no mood to discuss anything with his father. The strain that he had been feeling from his family, especially, his father, was too much to handle at the moment. Moreover, he wanted Diana to have one evening of peace, at least, that much he owed to the Lady he loved.

Mohammed reached the hotel but missed the couple by a few seconds. Paul, whom he had trusted with a lot of things, was dying of cancer. He had given him a huge amount to protect his family after he was gone. Mohammed was a generous man, but he feared Paul’s loyalty today. He sat in his office, held his hand in his hands and waited, hoping for nothing to happen.

The rented Mercedes S280, registration number "688 LTV 75” was immediately occupied by the 2. Sitting inside was Trevor, head of security for the Fayed family and driving the car was Paul. Even though feeling a little light headed, Paul stepped on the gas. The car sped through the brightly lit streets of Paris. In an attempt to escape the paparazzi, Paul detoured and decided to go through the Place de l’Alma underpass.  Diana held Dodi’s hand and smiled elegantly. And then the world around her spiraled out of control! It was 31^st August, 1997-the night Diana died.

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Lost Innocence

“Mumma, I want to go the far off boarding school”, said the light-eyed, fair-skinned boy of 13. The mother wondered why a kid would make such an unconventional demand.

“Did anyone say anything to you, Naman?”-asked the woman, who had lost her husband a year ago. She was staying with her widowed mother-in-law and a younger brother-in-law, and strained every nerve and fiber so that her son got along with the other 2 in household and never missed his father.

“No, I just want to go! I am tired of staying in this gloomy house where you and daadi lament about my dead father,” said the boy scornfully.

All he got in reply was a slap. Naman did not speak with his mother for a whole week, until it was time to go. Her mother wept inconsolably, less for her son’s departure but more for his devious behavior. Naman had always been an obedient boy, rooted and well-behaved, who “loved his mother more than salt”, as he would say. What had gone wrong with her precious, little son?

“Uncle will drop you to your new school. I have packed all that you need. Be good! You won’t be treated like a prince there, you know! I am glad that your father is no more…” and she burst into a sob.

Naman wanted to hug her and tell her everything. He hated not being able to console her; he hated for being the cause of her sorrow. But for a boy of his age, he was so mature that no one could imagine. He withheld within him a secret so dark, that had it been out, it would have destroyed the lives of the mother-son duo. So, with eyes welled up with tears, he left.

He didn’t mutter a single world to his Uncle, neither did he look him into the eye.

“You will be back home for Diwali, you know? We will have a lot of fun together. I will buy you crackers, clothes and everything that you won’t little namoo!”- said the Uncle, as he left Naman with the Principal. The boy tried to smile back at him, but his smile didn’t meet his eyes. He left with the matron towards his room.

4 years passed by. He became quitter and quitter. Naman would go to his house as infrequently as possible. 67% was all he managed to score in his H.S.C. School was over and it was time to go back home where now lived his mother and his uncle. Grandma had succumbed to old age. Naman thought of being an electrician as that would enable him and his mother to live peacefully, and independently.

“The marriage is not something that I am entirely thrilled about. But your Uncle is a nice man. He has always taken care of us, stood by us! See, namoo, it’s for our good only. You will get a father that you didn’t have for so long.” Naman stormed out listening to his mother.

The next day’s newspaper had “Nephew killed Uncle, who was going to be step-father.” His mother cried till her eyes dried up. Since Naman was still a minor, and since they managed to prove in the court that the murder occurred in a state of mental insanity and was not preconceived, he was released after 2 years of house arrest.

For about 2 months his mother didn’t ask him, but then she gave up-“Why?”, she asked, her voice wavering, choked up with emotion.

“He did bad things to me since I was as little as I could remember. I wanted to tell you, I wanted to tell dad, but I was scared. It worsened after papa died. The wounds that I would tell you I got from playing outside, he inflicted them on me. He abused me, abused my soul. So I went to boarding school, away from the mother whom I loved so much.”

 “Last month when I came for Diwali, it was going to be a usual one- the one which was dark for me; the one where I refrained from looking into the mirror. But I mustered the courage and I beat him up. Told him to stay the f*** away from you and me, that I would work as an apprentice, and that we would live far away from him.”

Before he could finish, his mother hugged him dearly. She was so sorry for all that happened; for her son’s lost innocence! In between her sobs she managed to say to the apple of her eye, “I love you, more than salt, son!”

PS: Children are innocence personified. They play, goof around, and get all the attention. Please ensure that the attention these tiny bundles of are getting is pure and unalloyed! If otherwise, be ready to kick some ass! Molestation is equivalent to MURDER. Don’t kill innocence.

Ugly, Why be Pagli?

The womankind is divided into 2 simple parts- those who look good, and those who WANT to look good. (Caution to the readers- if you belong to the latter category, don’t get disheartened read on. Also read my blog on women empowerment; that ought to make you happy!) Now the ones who are hot have it all-a good boyfriend, a great career, and above all, and they get a lot more attention from the humankind in general. If you observe their life closely, everything can be traced back to their looks. They pass in their exams thanks to their male teachers; they get promoted real fast, thanks to their male bosses; they get to break queues for a movie theater too, thanks to the men again. And they lament relentlessly about living in a man’s world. Had it not been a man’s world, these women would not have clambered the ladder of success with such ease!

Whereas on the other hand, the girls who want to look good are generally the slackers. I know this may sound harsh, but if you are a girl, not an ugly one, but just a plain-jane, have you gotten lesser attention even within your close-friend circle, than your other ‘fairer’ female-counterparts? So they start their efforts in ‘making-up’ for what the genes failed to do! These girls are the biggest consumers of cosmetics all around the world. If they are rich, then they are the most gullible of all fashion victims, and they think buying designer wear is a long-term investment. The war doesn’t end here! They are always in cahoots against the hot girls, and are constantly slandering those poor souls’ names. I mean how can all the hot girls be bi***es? If the gorgeous ones get a boyfriend, these unlucky ones call them sl**s; if they reduce weight in an extremely short span of time, the fat ones bicker about them going under the knife. They have excuses for everything and are generally dissatisfied souls. And I don’t blame these women-imagine being subjected to a lifetime of deprecation! They actually deserve to do a lot more derisive and diabolical things, but then life is not fair! In fact it is less than fair for these ugly bettys.

The real problem comes when these women from the lower rungs want to rise higher. Their first step towards achieving that-play hard to get with the guys; the second one-smother yourself in so much make-up that you resemble a porcelain geisha; the third and the ‘ugliest’-skin show. Now time for some veritaserum- 1^st don’t play hard-to-get, you will only get disappointed as no guy will come running after you, except for some loser (but if you are that desperate, then you go gal!). 2^nd make-up is like salt in food, it’s one of the ingredients (that too in a small amount), not the entire main course. 3^rd, well, it might just work sometime, I mean living in a male-dominated society, remember!

So here is the real deal. Watch Ugly Betty and learn from her that being in your skin at all times is important- whether you look good or bad (or plain ugly). Cleopatra wasn’t beautiful either, but she ruled the Nile. Kajol almost looked like Shahrukh, it was like 2 men acting together in Baazigar, but she touched the hearts of millions. Still not getting it? Well, the key is to remain true to yourself! So what if you are ugly, you will do just fine, even better. Just don’t be a Pagli, trying to be something that you are not!

PS-If you like it, share it with your friends. Subscirbe using Networked Blogs or just press the +1 google button. Once, I reach 10000 readers, my blog will feature prominently on blogspot. Thanks for the readership until now, to reach 2500 with just a few posts, makes me wanna write more!

10 things You Should NOT do at Your Workplace (Especially, Campus Recruits!)

Before you read this, it’s pure fiction. I am happy at my workplace.

New hires are like deer in headlights-always perplexed and dumbfounded; they are like chimpanzees in a zoo-up for public amusement; and some are like fish out of water-plainly out of their natural habitat. So here is a simple rule-book. (Open for Suggestions, as I, too, am part of the band-wagon!)

·         Do not trust anybody

Don’t even trust yourself, kill your instincts and if possible sell your soul (if sold to the devil, you will find yourself as the CEO of some big-shot firm). Remember that everyone has a secret agenda and that no one is interested in you or your story. They aint callin it business for nothin!

·         Don’t be over-friendly

It might appear at the start that everyone is so affable and warm. You will extend yourself to them, but remember you have a job to do. Don’t go out of your way and regale in a verbal puke. In the attempt of gaining more friends-you will end up all alone. But that’s not too bad anyways, considering that you are always alone in the corporate world.

·         Don’t say “I didn’t understand”

In a room of 10 people, do you think everyone understands what the boss had just briefed them about? No! Should you prove your smartness by asking a valid doubt? A bigger NO! Why? Please refer the above part of not trusting your instincts and moreover, do you really want a reputation of being the inquisitive one? So just go along with the flow-have a doughnut in the meeting and kick back and relax. When you will have to understand something the knowledge will come to you.

·         Don’t get infatuated to the people at work

In college, it was every day that you said,”She/he is so hot”. It’s not that you can’t say this in office, but it’s just that you can act upon it in office (what with all the CCTV footage!). Moreover, why waste time with something that is looked so badly down upon? Tempts you, right? The forbidden fruit theory does work that means. Just don’t get too involved as your heart and your POCKET both are at stake.

·         Don’t over eat at your office party

The whole free food-drinks thing is very lucrative, I know. But think of Big Boss/Big Brother/ Just as someone is constantly watching over the inmates, the same holds true for you at your office or at the parties. You are being monitored constantly and everything you say/do matters. But then again, if you feel that after all, you are slogging just to put a meal or two in your belly, and the free food is the best thing that could happen, then forget it all and binge happily. Burp and fart!

Suggest some don’t’s! I will put them in the next part!

Shakti, Thy Name is Woman!

My previous posts might have given the readers an impression that I am devoid of respect for women. But, that is quite the contradictory impression that is harbored! So to clear the air, please read on!

The Navaratri is the season that symbolizes womanhood. It makes you realize how important, powerful, benevolent, mystical and, of course, beautiful women can be. A woman surpasses men in every regard- intelligence, emotional strength, contentment, hard-work, commitment and dedication. She takes up several roopas (9 mythologically) when need comes and fulfills her role to the fullest. Durga slayed Maishasur with a dexterous ease that could not be achieved even by The Trinity (Brahma, Vishnu and Mahesh) goes on to prove that the fairer sex, though fair, is not fragile after all.

And it holds true even today. There are a million sob stories about women. Agreed! But then I feel they may not be accomplished women, because there also are exemplary women who have proved what a woman can do! The regular office going girl, who commutes in trains that are inundated with testosterone and are subjected to eve-teasing, raise their sandals and give the hooligans a taste of Kaali. She is the woman I hold in the highest regard. She goes to office and rubs shoulders with equally (or lesser) talented MEN, only to find her struggle harder than the ‘tougher’ sex. Her battle doesn’t end here as she has to equally juggle her family commitments, her friends and her other small little things that no one else would do for her.

Women are different than men. For example, ask a man why he loves her woman-he will come up with a reason; ask this to a woman and she will have no reasons. She loves whole-heartedly-as a lover, as a sister, and as a Mother, and she gives until she is exhausted, both physically and mentally. As a daughter she cares for her parents and never ceases to do so during her entire life; as a lover, she loves unconditionally and puts your life/career/success in front of hers; as a wife, she shares her joys, sorrows, and happiness; and as a mother, she truly becomes a WOMAN. I think the biggest joy of womanhood is motherhood- the ability to bring another life puts her to a pedestal next to God’s.

I feel that every man who has/had a woman in his life, has been awestruck by that woman at least once. He may not have acknowledged it (read male ego), but deep down inside he truly believes in the force that is “woman”.

 The women, who crib about being “abala” (crippled) in this male-dominated society, have no right of calling themselves women- they are plain cross-dressers! Because if you are a woman, stop sobbing over that fact that you are one. In fact, rejoice in the fact that you are one and invoke your true potential! Get over the fact that the world is indeed a terrible place to live in, especially for women. Be the Laxmi, Durga, (or even Kaali if you have to be) as inside each one of you is Shakti, the energy that drives the world!

PS- My mother has been a big influence in my life. Without her, I wouldn’t even be, right? So this one is for you-for being the best woman I know!

The Boy-Who-Wanted-to-be-KNOWN

I have always claimed that my blog contains everything imaginative (except for my personal story -The Connection, which was well read and appreciated, thank you!). But I faced a lot of flak over the authenticity of my other posts and its resemblance to people’s real lives. I don’t know why they would think that MY world (and my blog) would revolve around them (sigh)! But neither am I denying that Art Imitates Life. So if you think my blog mentions you, sleep well thinking that you are going to be famous, (as it is not even a month old and already has 2000 reads and counting) and stop bickering!

So this was about the people who don’t want to figure on my blog (But you never did, anyway!). But then, I have a friend, who is as weird ass as I am. And he comes with this sincere request- “Can you post about me?” How could I decline! Someone, even if from a different planet altogether, thought that my blog, my HUMBLE, stupid blog was a place where he could be written about, I was going to oblige, open heartedly. Moreover, it would be very useful to shut the gossip-mongers.

Oh, what should I say about him! I am sure when he meant that I should write good things about him, but did he say that explicitly? NO! So, I am going to write nasty, yet endearing things about him. You can either love him or you can really, really HATE him, there is no middle-ground. He is loud. LOUDER than my blog; louder than pandemonium of a 1000 drum rolls; even louder than Kareena’s lipstick in Chameli (I paused for about a min or 2, imagining Kareena’s lips and more :-P). But the best part about him is that he is unapologetic about it! Tell him he is loud, he will show you that he can take it to the next level; tell him that he is crass and he will display such behavior that you will forget all the sophistication. He is a simple man-happy and always smiling, and laughing. At first when I met him, I gave him the most disdained and disgusted look that I could manage with my facial muscles. This is what normally people feel-electrocuted! But then you get used to it and stoop down to his level of mediocrity.

People always claim to be honest, kind, peaceful and content. He has no such pretense. His assurance about being “jealous of you even if you are my best friend”, ”I am not going to tip the waiter, isn’t that his job?”, ”Listen, it’s just white lies (even though the lies are so blatantly colored that even he forgets the truth)!”, ”Why should we spend 200 for that movie, if we can watch this for 60?”, ”I should get half a mark more for this answer!”. You must be thinking what a whacko he is! But then it is in such peculiarities, I find a person who is honest (at least to me), generous and vaguely content.

There are people who live ordinary lives- they go to cool restaurants; they wear branded clothes; they dance to house music; they brag about how expensive they are. But then there is he-he goes to restaurant where you get Chinese Thali; he wears branded clothes (I think if I write otherwise, his girlfriend will ditch him :-P); he goes to a club and does garba; he brags about how cheap he is!

There are people who are not even worth writing a sentence about, but such a b*****d he is that I can’t stop writing. He is a friend to behold; he is the Boy-Who-Wanted-to-be-KNOWN.

(Readers please note that you can click on the +1 google button to like it, or share with your friends. I am just trying to publicize (I know it’s cheap) because it is an assurance of some sort.)

The Three Loveless Friends (Part 2)

One night, they sat on the seaside along the Queen’s Necklace-Marine Drive. It is something that sea does to you that you feel like sharing all that you can. So the three did too; shared until there was nothing that could be talked about. While doing so they realized that they had all loved and lost in their life. And this is what brought them the closer-the feeling of being lonely amongst friends; the feeling of being loveless.

The 1^st guy, being the charmer that he was, wanted to be in a relationship, desperately. Whether it was the raging hormones, or the need to be one amongst the lot, no one will ever know. He was in a complicated-something-more-than-friendship relationship with a girl. It was all he ever wanted- to be talking incessantly over the phone; to dreaming about her as his wife; to even dreaming about which school his kids would go to. He had figured it out, completely. But the girl was not on board. She disagreed on everything that our puppy-eyed guy ever hoped for. Disagreements turned into arguments, arguments into abuses. Whatever it was, it fell apart. The guy went through the normal break-up routine- grew his beard, slept very little (almost never), watched action films back to back, and then after much persuasion from his friends, cried a little, and finally called her a “sl**” and moved on . But incapacitated he was to the point that he knew he was done with love. He looked at the other two after narrating the above.

The girl dramatically stared at the sky and then went on with her story. She had found him- the guy that she knew was not right for her, but WAS for her. Perhaps, it was the wrongness of Mr. Wrong that attracted the rebel belle towards him. She fell head over heels for him and he ignored her. It was this quality of him that made her want him even more. Initially, he loved the attention that she poured on him, but as time passed, the guy went on to become worse than he ever was. He abused her at the slightest mistake she made. And there was a day when he made the mistake of slapping her. She, being herself, punched him right then and there. This was the first time she realized that she was a woman. And that too a strong one-one who could love unconditionally, but could bring down an entire army of baboons like him. Love had given her this scar that she still bore on her face.

It was the geek’s turn. His life was always about winning and losing. He always wanted to be a winner. And so he embarked on one such quest- that of finding love. Such was the travesty of his situation that he never was able to juggle his priorities. Maybe, he was waiting for love to find him; or maybe he was just too scared to ask any girl out with the fear of rejection-the fear of losing. Since, he was a kid, he had always had proximity issues with people-a feeling which arose out of losing his loved ones. He lost his grandmom when he was born, his grandfather when he started talking and his best friend in fateful car crash. The dog that he loved the most too was poisoned and killed by some nasty street kids. He told the 2 that this was why he never tried his luck at love again. He didn’t want to lose, again!

They were together for a year. And then they did not meet until 10 years!

To  be continued...

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The Three Loveless Friends (Part 1)

There are people who bond over food; then there are people who bond over music; but there are people who just bond. This is a tale of 3 friends who bonded on nothing in common only to discover-they after all had a common thread that tied them together. So let me introduce you to the weird trio and their not-so-docile friendship.

The first one was a black-eyed, dark skinned, narcissistic boy from the land of innocence. (At least that is what appeared at the outset.) He loved himself and this is an understatement. He was fun-loving, happy-go-lucky, but disarmingly charismatic. Everybody loved him. And that was the problem. Everybody loved him, except for that one girl he always dreamed of. No he wasn’t a testosterone driven teenager; he was a tiny man in the 2^nd standard. Yes, it was since then he was looking for love. But was love around the corner? Yes, it was. But the problem was that he was always at the wrong corner. This time, he was at the right place and at the right time.

The second one was a loud, thick skinned girl. Beautiful she was, but then as they say beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder. She was in college and she was almost a he. Hung out with guys, wanted to play cricket; got into fist fights; and when she got to abusing, she could put a boy to shame. She would angry at the slightest and would fall in love at the slightest. It was as if the world was a slippery floor, and she was the only one in that paradise-slipping and tripping, falling in LOVE. Her dreams were big, so big that no guy had the courage to handle them (or her for that matter). But one day, things changed.

The third was a geek, the guy who spent his life in cyber space. He was funny, sharp, witty. Good for him, right? But at the same time was bespectacled, loud and annoyingly successful at whatever he did. He was the horse that ran in a derby for himself, inching towards the finishing line with a gallant pace, irrespective of where he stood in the race. Girls liked him. They LIKED him! And that was the problem in his case. No one fell in love…But then his luck was about to shine. After all luck herself is a Lady, isn’t she? And she was gonna smile bright-not only on him, but on all 3 of them.

These luckless souls hadn’t met until now! And that was for their good, and also for the good of others around them. But then destiny can be an Itch with a ‘B’. By now if you are under the impression that this is a love-triangle straight out of a bollywood movie, then you are in for a rude shock. Because, the time they met, it was obvious that they would be friends and nothing more. (But isn’t this what always happens at the start?)

When the 1^st guy met with the girl, he liked her. But then she was not for him. He wanted better (read hotter), even though he looked like a chipmunk and behaved like one too. The girl, being herself, fell in love with him. It was her habit, a pastime for her. She would meet him again and again with petty reasons. And he loved the attention.

Enter 3^rd guy. In normal circumstances, the guys should have become bitter enemies, but became the best of friends. The girl fell out of love. But weirdly enough, she didn’t fall for the 3^rd guy. She liked this feeling of not mushing over a guy. The three of them were the devil’s children! Always together and always up to pranks, but little did they know that life had played one on them! It was about to unravel. But all in good time!!!

And as always, if you liked it share it with your friends or +1 the google button or register on the blog where you can be a follwer. NO SPAM in your mailboxes. Or you can follow on Network Blog which will be directly with your facebook login. So evertime I write a blog, it will show as a notification!



(Kya) Har Ek Dost Zaroori Hota hai?

Had I been accumulating all my friends since my childhood and had been capable of maintain friendships with them with each and every one of them, my life would have resembled a crowded compartment of Mumbai Local train. Friends are important. PERIOD. How important? If you are asking this question to yourself identify which category your friend belongs to. Then formulate your own POA.

1.       The Fun type- This is the best of all kinds of friends. You will find yourself happy and enjoying every moment of your time with this friend. If you are a couple of guys, you will end up ‘line marooning’ at the nearest hot spot, and if you are a couple of gals, you will end up catching the latest chick flick in town. These type of friends are carefree and you know can count on them for having a good time.

2.       The-cry-baby type- If you haven’t encountered one such friend yet, then probably you have remained friendless for a major portion of your life. These are the cribbers. “How hot it is yaar?”,”Why do I face traffic when I have to be on time?”, ”Why has my girlfriend/boyfriend ditched me for someone hotter? (DUHHH)” They have the answers to all of their questions. But it is their goal to make sure you are involved in their life as much as possible. And it is mostly for complaining and nagging.

3.       The wanna-be-cool type- These people generally hail from small towns (Ironical, that I too am from a small town) and they will do everything that is there in the To-be-Cool rule book. From gelling their hair to using then f word as a noun, verb, adjective and I guess sometimes as a preposition too. You are aware of theirs this kind-off behavior, but then it is sometimes just pure entertaining to let them continue and be a silent spectator.

4.       The vulgar type- Oh, you need such kind of friends. They provide you with the much needed relief from the everyday stress. They crack the dirtiest of jokes and, though, you are judging, you are the one who laughs the most at them. They make everything sound dirty-from phone vibrations to the act of getting milk with dexterous ease.

5.       The nerdy type- If you are student, you will miss them the most during tests and exams. If you are working, you will need them when you realize you are devoid of the brains to execute a particular task. These people, however boring they might be, they are necessary. It is vital that you be in their “good” books, as being nerds, they might be having many (books).

6.       The 4 am type- I mean the literal ones-the ones who are always awake. On an odd day you might just be awake in the wee hours and might a need a quick fix of friendship. No rona-dhona, just plain talk. Then these are the people you will turn to. They are caffeine sipping, power-bar munching people who are as sleepless as vampires.

7.       The over-friendly type- They will leave no stone unturned to get your attention. But such friendships are very temporal in nature and don’t last in the long run. Mostly, you will be bogged down by the excessive attention you get from them or they might just become freakishly over friendly that you feel like a contestant in Big Boss/Brother.

8.       The Last Type- They are a few and they are the best. They are the ones with whom you share your deepest emotions and darkest secrets; they are the ones with whom you withhold no boundaries; they are the ones with whom you can be yourself. This type of friendship runs deep. It might not come with an expiry tag, but don’t take it for granted that it will last a lifetime. Live in the moment and hold on to them as hard as you can. If you have even one such friend, you are living a life worth-living. And if you have more than one, then what can I even say?

So, go on. Identify who fits what bill. If you dont like a particular type, then its time for you to act. Post it on the wall of your friend who is on the list and let him/her keep guessing what you think about him/her. Also, if you like it, please press +1 google button.

Simply South

Not one of my best works, but I am publishing it anyways as it is a dedication To all the South Indians with whom I shave a love-hate relationship!

There are so many things that are peculiar about South Indians. You can either hate them for that or love them for that, but can never be of a neutral opinion. I, however, have achieved the feat of swinging between both the ends of the spectrum. For some things, I have loved them and for some things I wish their ‘race’ did not exist.

Let me first be kind- the food! It’s amazing, we agree. The dosas are heavenly and the rasams are delectable. But then you don’t have to teach me to say dosai every time I say dosa or tell me the nutritional value of rasam and sambhar. You don’t have to emphasize on how it is better than most other cuisines, especially better than Punjabi food. According to them, the South Indians have bred perfect logicians and mathematicians due to their disciplined eating habits, supporting the theory that since Punjabi food mostly consists of Paneer, they end up being ‘sardars’.

What’s with the ‘MORE IS MORE’ fixation? They like their actresses plump, always having little more to them than they can handle, or for that matter, more than the viewers can handle. Be it Hema Malini, Sri Devi, or even Rekha in her former years- one thing in common other than the South Indian connection-their waist sizes. They like their men in the movies to have larger than life personas, where the protagonist cuts the bullet in 2 halves with his blade. And then they proclaim to be practical in their approach towards things. They always have a plan that they will never disclose, a hidden agenda.

For them Kerala (Yes, South India is not a big state, but consists of many other states-one being kerela) is God’s own country. Every other place in the damn world is orphaned. Carnatic music is the only music to their ears; rest all is cacophony. They don’t understand the simple rule that when you are in company of people who don’t understand “Anda mudi kotu pudi”, you should try to talk in a language called-E.N.G.L.I.S.H. Heard of it? I am not even going to try and spell H.I.N.D.I.

They might be all this and more. But then they somehow enter your life; carve a place for themselves and leave an indelible imprint. Many such people I have had. I called them names (BSI-Bloody South Indians, Kaaliyaas, Southernerds) and played pranks on them. But whenever they left, they imprinted a certain amount of South Indianess on me. They are to India, what the French are to the world. The world might hate the French, but truth is they are sophisticated, well behaved and more humane than most other nationalities. I love them. Ditto for my BSIs. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them!

The Connection (Part 2)

Find out what happens to Anjali as she battles to live on.

His phone fell from his hand. Everything blurred in front of him. He was going to lose the woman he loved the most; the woman with whom he had been in a relationship for the past 18 years and more-his mother.

He dashed towards his house crying inconsolably. His cousin saw him and hoped that nothing ‘worse’ had happened since the last night. He had got a phone call from his uncle about the heart attack. But he was instructed to keep the news to himself. The boy was packing his things haphazardly. The cousin asked him to wait, but in vain. He was already angry with him for not telling him the night before all that he knew. He was scared about being too late. He hoped against hope and took the first train out.

Anjali breathed silently and gracefully. She looked at her husband with eyes that expected; the eyes that craved for her son. There was one common feeling inside that sterile hospital room-that of fear; the fear of it being the last time. But now she hoped for that last time at least as she knew it would take long for her son to reach to her.

Time was ticking away. He cried almost throughout the entire journey. He was angry with everyone-with his cousin, his father, his God. How unfair could life be? He wanted to know this. But in that moment of desperation he heard Anjali say, “You must not lose faith.” He shut his eyes, and his stoic face now held a grim expression.

The ECG monitor showed unnatural behavior. The nurses and doctors were calm, but Anjali knew this was it. She opened her eyes. He was there. He placed a small ganpati in her hand and hugged her, while she lay on the bed.

She closed her eyes and went into a deep slumber…

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4 years later:

He was talking on the phone to a friend.

 “I will have to hang up on you. I’ve got a call on wait”-he said to the caller. ”I love her more than salt”, and he hung up. It was Anjali-still vibrant and vivacious as she always was. After talking to her, he sat down on his laptop to write-

The Way I See...

Yep, he is I.

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