Friday, October 31, 2008

All that's new(s)

I figured out that I visit around five news sites a day - CNN, BBC, Times Of India, Outlook and Asian Age. I also occasionally visit moneycontrol.com to nurture my longing for becoming a raging bull ( not literally) one day and occasionally stop by Times Now to ensure I haven't missed anything that I shouldn't have. Someone recently asked me why a person like me, who dedicatedly refrains from reading, visits so many news sites and my answer (though slightly cocky) was - Fiction is too far fetched and Facts are oft mundane; News does a good job of mixing the two.

I have to mention though that in spite of my near diligent visiting of these sites I am partial to only certain kinds of content. These include Business, Technology, Arts and Entertainment, some Sports and a few columns that look amusing. Interestingly, I consciously stay away from political news as I don't have any political view point :(

Of these sites I really enjoy BBC's technology section, CNN's money watch and Outlook's columns. I get irked by Asian Age's amateurish layout and have strong opinions against the fact that TOI is quick changing (or maybe it has already changed) from a serious newspaper to an extended gossip column - some of their recent articles include a discussion of fashion mishaps in India ala Jackson style (suggestively titled Peek-A-Boob!), claims that Paris Hilton got a new tattoo on her hind spot and a photo article on the hotties of Indian cinema. However, I am totally impressed by TOI's "print edition" feature which lets one browse through the newspaper as it is.

More news on news will follow - I need to sleep now to wake up in time for my morning newspaper :)

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

The Ugly Indian Man !!!

Some years ago, I was struck by the contrast between the beauty of Hindi film heroines and the ugliness of Hindi film heroes. After researching the matter, I concluded that the explanation was straightforward: leading men in Hindi films were ugly because they were Indian men, and Indian men were measurably uglier than Indian women. You don’t have to take my word for it: cursory surveys of marriages, morchas, classrooms, offices and homes will bear out this observation.

While my observation was accurate and the data I had gathered reliable, I made the mistake of attributing the ugliness of the Indian male to nature. I know now that Indian men aren’t born ugly: they achieve ugliness through practice. It is their habits and routines that make them ugly. If I was to be schematic, I’d argue that Indian men are ugly on account of the three Hs: Hygiene, Hair and Horrible Habits.

Let’s start with their extremities. Examine the nails of any Indian man: the cuticles will be yellow with haldi and the underside of the bitten-off tip will be spotty with accumulated dirt. When you think of where they put those nails, this is not surprising. I’ve seen respectable men conducting conversations with their index fingers two-digits deep in their nostrils, digging with industrial enthusiasm. If you ever see a desi man delicately rubbing the tip of his index finger over the pad of his thumb, beware. Don’t go near him: he’s rolling the bogies he’s mined into little balls.

He uses those same fingers to adjust himself in public. All Indian men do this, without exception. The refined ones do it furtively, but the majority do it openly without shame or embarrassment. A famous Indian batsman does this regularly with the butt end of his bat handle under the gaze of thousands of spectators. You can’t do this and be good-looking, you really can’t. You could be John Abraham (an exception to our ugly rule) and your looks wouldn’t survive this particular habit. And if it isn’t the thumb and forefinger, it’s the pinkie inserted into the ear and vibrated with manic vigour. This generally comes with eye-rolling and little oinks of pleasure. You’ll never see women doing this, only men. It’s an important route to ugliness.

The sounds they make are crucial to the unattractiveness of Indian men. For example, an Indian man with a cold will, in company, try to snort up the congestion and swallow it. He’ll do it over and over again, completely unaware of the revulsion it causes. When he eats, there’s another repertoire of sounds born of the fact that sub-continental men don’t keep their lips together while chewing. If you think this doesn’t apply to you because you do keep your mouth shut while processing food, you’re wrong. A second before swallowing, you part your lips and swipe your tongue over your palate, to juice the last taste out of the morsel, and you make a sucking noise. If you want to test this out, use grapes: they generate the slurpiest sounds.

But hair habits do even more to intensify the ugliness of Indian men than the sounds they involuntarily make. Statistically, some ninety per cent of all south Asian men wear moustaches, their masculinity seems to be critically dependent on this growth. I don’t mean the beard-cum-moustaches style which is respectable, but the standalone moustache. Even here, a bushy, Zapata-style moustache has something going for it, but the styles Indian men favour are a) the twirled moustache and b) the little trimmed one. The first makes its host ridiculous, the second makes him look like a harried clerk or, if the hair has been trimmed into a thin line, like a sexual predator.

Middle-aged men improve on this by dyeing their hair a radiant black then letting their roots show. Or, like General Musharraf, they will dye the hair on top of their heads but leave their side-burns grey because they think they’ve read somewhere that this makes them look distinguished. It doesn’t: it makes them look like unreliable car-dealers.

Indian men wear badly because they look into magic mirrors that hide the changes middle-age brings. For example, they don’t notice the hair growing out of their nostrils in little tufts and, consequently, don’t trim it. Even worse, the hair bristling out of their ears in great wiry jets is invisible to them because their narcissism is so complete, so proofed against reality, that what they see in the mirror is not their reflection but a favourite photograph taken twenty years and twenty kilos ago.

But speaking for myself, the oddest aspect of the Indian man is the things he’s willing to wear, and I’m not talking about his dress sense because that would need a book. I’m talking, for example, about the thick bands of rotting pink threads that north Indian men wear around their wrists. I’m sure there’s some respectable ritual reason for this that requires them to keep these threads on till they discolour and fall off, but why would you change your clothes every day if you’re willing to wear something that you sweat into for weeks?

Then there’s their keenness on necklaces. Not one, but as many as they can wear. Not content with doing this, they leave the top buttons of their shirts unbuttoned so you can see that tangled jumble of amulets and gold chains and lockets. Sreesanth and Ganguly wear so many that they look like shady trinket vendors.

Any inventory of the ways in which Indian men achieve ugliness has to include their relationship with rings. We’re not talking about nice rings, say a discreet wedding band, but cheap rings with coloured stones in tarnished silver settings worn on every finger of both hands, not excluding thumbs. Since the average Indian man’s fingers aren’t long and slender, the net effect is one of sausages banded with metal.

Why are Indian men like this? How do they achieve the bullet-proof unselfconsciousness that allows them to be so abandonedly ugly? I think it comes from a sense of entitlement that’s hard-wired into every male child that grows up in an Indian household. That, and the not unimportant fact that, despite the way they look, they’re always paired off with good-looking women
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This is an inspired post. Felt this is something you guys should not miss; hence the same appears on this blog

Friday, July 25, 2008

No Goals Achieved !!!

Conversation with a Phirangi Friend, in a Phirangi Land
"So do you follow soccer? Oh, wait. You guys call it football in India, right?"
"Yeah! It's kinda strange. Given that you hit a Ball with your ... err ... hmmm ... your Foot!!! the naming does sound a little strange!"
"Oh shuddup! No seriously, is soccer big in India?"
"It's bigger than big - it's BIIIIG!!"
"So how come you guys don't feature in the World Cup?"

Very true! How come we guys don't feature in the World Cup? We are a country of one billion people. Couldn't we find eleven people who kick a round piece of air filled leather blob the right way???? Come on now! What are the chances of that. Given our population and gusto for the game, we should send two teams for the World Cup. "In a thrilling semi final match, India A beat India B. We know that half a billion people are happy and rejoicing right now. What say Mike?" Now that's what we should be hearing on TV. But no - the reality is quite sad. So sad that we are all busy picking favorites from other countries. My dad is supporting Argentina. My sister is supporting "the team David Beckham plays for". My uncle likes to pick lesser known teams and support them - so it's gonna be Costa Rica for him. Blah blah!

And it's not just football. Basketball, wrestling, tennis, swimming ... you name it and we suck in that sport. Lemme repeat the point. WE ARE A COUNTRY OF ONE BILLION PEOPLE. We have snow, water, rain forests, everything. Combining these two statistics we should win gazillion gold medals in every freakin sporting event - Summer Olympics, Winter Olympics, Olympics for the people in moderate climate zones, Wimbledon - whatever! But No! The only games we seem to excel in are the ones that got surprisingly left out from every big sporting event - or which in common man's lingo means - GAMES THAT NOBODY CARES FOR.

It's like they had this auction going on for all the big games and the Indian dude representing us landed up really late. The auctioneer took a quick look at him and sighed.

"Too bad Appu! You are late. We have nothing left for you. The Americans came in early and took most of the good stuff - athletics, basketball, tennis, boxing, everything! The Chinese sent a lot of people too and they got a decent deal as well. We had the long distance races left for a while and we gave them of to the people from Africa. The South Americans sent in a big delegation for soccer alone. So that was theirs. Too bad Appu. We have nothing left for you."

So Appu becomes all dejected and whimpers.

"What abt snooker and billiards?" Appu asks, albeit in a subdued tone.

"Those are gone buddy. We have carrom left though. It's the same thing, just less interesting."

"Ok! I'll take that," Appu sighed.

The guy in charge of distribution felt sorry for Appu at this point. So he cut him a deal.

"What abt cricket?" he asks. "It's this game like baseball but the players have to be more dressed than a man attending a business meeting. It's like you are going for a luncheon but stopped midway to play some sport. Not too many people wanted it. Only the English and Aussies claimed it. And remember no women will ever get associated with it. Not even cheerleaders!"

So Appu becomes all excited hearing that the Brits play it. We were ruled by the Brits for centuries. The very mention of the word England gets us excited. So he readily agrees to taking cricket. He even agrees to share it with everybody else in the sub continent."

Just as he is about to leave, the auction master calls him again.

"Hey, do you want khoko and kabaddi as well?"

"What's that?" Appu asks.

"I dunno. No one else did either. I believe you have to hold your breath and repeat Kabaddi, Kabaddi, Kabaddi till you faint with breathlessness. Oh! And there will be a lot of dirt too. Want that?"

Now we know that as Indians we don't let go of anything. You can give us a free blue whale and we'll take it and put it in our living room and flaunt it to every relative. "My son got this blue whale FREEE! He did not have to pay a single penny for it." So Appu lapped up khoko and kabaddi as well.

Once again he was about to leave and the auctioneer called out again (how dramatic).

"Want this game called Chess? Well! To be perfectly honest, it's not exactly a game. It's more like an indoor thing. The Russians love it coz it's cold in Russia and they can play chess inside their rooms. We have some chess shares left. You care for some? But we believe that you need a high IQ and boredom tolerance to be a master in it and ..."

Appu was all ecstatic at this point. "A thinking game did you say? Oh we love thinking games. That way parents can fool their children into playing this game while what they are actually doing is preparing them for engineering school. My people will love it. Thank you. Thank you," he exclaimed.

And that is how we got it all. Hmmmmm!

Friday, July 18, 2008

Limit tending to engineering !!!

Flashback in hazy black and white - Years ago (I was around 4-6 years old/young then) they asked me in kindergarten what my dad did for a living. Now mom had taught me, along with my name, age, address, favorite color and nursery rhymes, the fact that my dad was a Mechanical Engineer. I believe I dint even think for a moment, looked at the highly overweight Mrs. Gabriel, and told her with a whiff of confidence that my dad was a "mechanic". I still remember that Mum was very disappointed/agitated/tense once I narrated this incident (probably expecting some kudos from her) to her, coz apparently a mechanic is different from a mechanical engineer.

The main story begins - every time anything stops working in the house (ranging from a toaster to the television) my mom expects Dad to fix it on his own. "What kind of an engineer are you?" she'll begin, "the shower is leaking and you can't even fix that." Dad would try to fix the shower, ensure that it drips even more and then call the plumber. "You are absolutely useless. I wonder how you cleared engineering," Mum would indulge in banter. Once in a while Dad tries to explain that he hadn't exactly taken Introduction to Plumbing 102 in college but Mum doesn't care much. Her logic is simple - "If you can't do her chore, you aint an engineer no more" :)

Now the same thing is coming back to haunt me. My mum asks me over the phone, "The computer is so slow. Why can't you make it fast?" she asks me earnestly. "Mom, that's coz we bought it in 1945 after the Quit India movement. You should be happy that the museum hasn't yet seized it. Why don't you buy a new computer?" I protest in vain. "You are just like your dad. Both of you are of no use to the house. What did you learn in ..." Suddenly we are interrupted by the sound of gushing water. Dad has failed to fix the shower again, making it worse in the process. "Now, I have to call the plumber again," Mum says, while running towards the bathroom, "I think I should have married a plumber."

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Wishful Thinking
How I wish that people were half as generous to me with their money as they are with their advice :)

Ringing all the way !!!

Does this happen with everybody or is it only me and yet another global conspiracy to give me hypertension before it is entirely necessary?

My phone will remain silent and dead to the world for ages and ages. Then, just as I am about to go and kill myself from boredom, it will mercifully ring. And then, before I have spent two seconds talking to the person who has called, I shall start getting those insistent beeps which mean someone else is trying to call me. Subsequently, as I hastily cut off the first conversation mid-way and launch into the next, those beeps will sound again meaning a third person has now joined the queue of those who would gladly chop their arms off into little little pieces without the aid of aneasthesia for a chance to talk to me RIGHT NOW.

Oh, and sometimes in the middle of all this my landline will also ring, meaning my mother has chosen this moment of all others to order me to send 5 SMSs to some TV program to help a girl from Jamshedpur I've never seen in my life win some crazy talent show.

And then when I have managed to juggle all the conversations and given Airtel the chance to rob me a bit more by calling back what feels like scores of people, my phone will fall silent and remain in that state for the next five hours.

Do tell me it's not something I have done to upset the universe?

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Love ke liye sala ... kuch bhi karega !!!

I was working out in the gym next to this very hot girl and her very hunky friend. Hunky and Chunky got talking.

Hunky: So what's the deal with you and Jason?

Chunky: I guess I love him.

Hunky: What? I thought you guy's were just f**king around.

Chunky: Yeah! That too (and starts laughing).

Hunky: I don't get it. How do you know you love someone?

Hunky and Chunky kept talking and I kept eavesdropping. But that's not the point. In between his inclined press and pull-ups, Hunky had actually raised a very pertinent question. How do you know that you love someone?

The question made me think and I figured that most people somehow associate love with exclusivity. If there's any one person who you enjoy talking/sleeping/dancing most with, you somehow get the feeling that you are in love. Yup! Love=Exclusivity and that is very strange. All our childhood (and now in Potter's latest exploit) people told us that love is one of the most beautiful emotions and somehow, in a very strange way, this is the emotion we are most selfish with.

Try telling your wife, "Honey, I really love you. I love you a lot. Just as much as the house maid." Do you think your marriage will last another day? I doubt it! You'll soon find out that you and missus weren't maid for each other :) But the question is - WHY? If love is such a wonderful feeling, why would it irk your wife to know that you love someone else too. If helping multiple people equally earns you the title of a Samaritan then why should loving multiple people equally make you an unfaithful bastard? Socho Socho! Bolo bolo!

And No! I don't think that this is a sexual thing either. Try telling your parents that you love them just as much as the milkman and they'll surely think that you are an ungrateful wretch. Now tell your milkman that you love him just as much as his pretty wife and you'll probably be inviting some frequent visits to the bathroom after next morning's tea. On the other hand, if you tell someone that you hate someone else just as much as them, they'll actually feel better; coz now they have someone else to share their woes with. The same thing holds true for anger. I'd rather have my class teacher get angry with the whole class than just me. But with love, the wonderful soothing love, we somehow expect exclusivity.

I find it strange but then there are people who find me strange.

So what's your view?

Sunday, June 1, 2008

Proof by Obscurity !!!

I don't know if this is common but I meet a lot of people (and have started indulging in it a li'll bit myself as well) who try convincing you things by citing obscure references.

What, there is a car that runs on soda?

Yeah! They had this French magazine. It's very big in ... err ...hmm ...

Southern Europe. For some reason you don't get it here. My uncle has a copy. I saw it there. Runs on soda. They say it's All Fizz and No Gas.

Can you argue with such logic? Impeccable.

You've eaten ice creams with chilies in it?

Yes. You haven't? You should seriously go to this town in Madhya Pradesh. It is famous for it's Chili Ice Cream. It's hot and cold at the same time.

Are you sure it's not Chilly Ice Cream.

Dude, have you been to this town? No.

Then why are you arguing.

... people can just go on like this. In my field I meet several people who start their statements with "I don't remember which magazine I read this in but ..." or "This is classified information, so it's still not published but ...". You can never prove these people wrong and have to just quietly agree to whatever they let out.

I shouldn't complain. I've started using this technique myself. Every time my wife wants me to go for a movie that I don't wanna watch I'll say, "Oh I saw this review on a film show in ... hmmm ... can't remember the channel. They said it's overrated. Do u still wanna see it?".

Chah! I feel bad, but then it works. Don't believe me? This is a proven theory. You can check out this book by an Indian author ... hmmm . I forget his name ... but he shows it conclusively :)

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Remembering the 80s !!!

Its been a while i have written on Hindi Movies... I was reading a few blogs yesterday relating to this Hindi Cinema. Now, I speak the language filmeese quite fluently too, and wanted to add my 2 cents on this topic. The 80s in Hindi movies were, to me, "different" aka "hatke". I grew up watching Dharmendra bashing up alleged dogs and Jeetendra inadvertently advertising detergents for their sparkling ability. So I just reminisced abt movie moments from the 80s that faded from silver screen and lest they fade from common memory, this post was made:

1. The bad father-in-law: I can't believe that the heroine's father is no longer the villain in Hindi movies. Remember the 80s when every movie had the heroine's father indulging in all sorts of notoriety. The fallout between the hero and his damsel would always take place when the hero accused the heroine's father. The heroine would then shun the company of the man who pointed a finger at her dad. But soon she would find out from a secretly heard telephone conversation (I guess cell phones killed this concept) that her dad was indeed an animal (read darinde) and all peace would be restored. The part that used to shock me the most was the calm demeanor of the girl in the climax when her father would get killed. Very disturbing. But now they are gone. Hmmm!

2. The multi-colored smoke bomb: I don't know how many of you remember this one. It used to be a stock moment in 80s daku-based movies. They had these bombs that would explode and there was no fire - just a lot of multi-colored powder that would be shown. If you can't remember what I'm talking abt, try imagining a scene where the hero is riding his motor bike (yeah, cars were expensive then) through a series of explosions - none of which remotely hurt him, coz none of them were explosions in the first place, but just red-brown dust instead.

3. The two-villain-vamp dance - Remember vamps? Not the Helen-who-we-all-know vamp BUT the 80s "dance in mini-skirt shaped saree" and "appear in only one cheesy dance" vamps? And they always had two villains (one of which was always Ranjeet) who would suddenly join in for an impromptu shake-a-leg move. Karan Arjun was the last movie where this stock situation was used before killing this trend. Why why?

I can just go on and on and on - the helpful dog, the "sister who gets married to a bad guy and hence hero cant beat the sh!t out of her husband", the evil munim-ji (played by Kader Khan) who was both a comic relief as well as the villain's right hand (literally) man - but I have work to do now. So peace!

Sunday, May 18, 2008

And now you are Pissed Off!!

Ok! A word to the few women who read this blog - you'll probably NEVER come back to read it again. I'll miss you all. And just to let you know - this post is not supposed to be gross AND you can ask your male friends that.

I've been wanting to write on this topic for a while now, but it's just that work and other stuff kept me busy. I wanted to write abt the phenomenal tension in a men's urinal. Seriously! I've never been to lady's urinal BUT from what the ladies tell me, it's supposed to be well compartmentalized; a place where individuals get the privacy they need; a place that I believe even plays host to some very interesting conversations. In contrast, men's urinals are a very disturbing area. Read on!

For starters, men have to stand and get their business done. So this is what you do. You face a wall and wait and wait ... and then you get done and then you run (not before washing your hands though). This period, when you face the wall and do your stuff is nerve wrecking. You have to either look at the wall or look down. Now obviously it's better to look into the wall. But I don't have to explain that, if you do this pretty regularly, it gets quite monotonous. Come on, you can't just look at the wall and not think of anything. Every man, I believe, has his special bathroom thought. My thoughts normally include tunes of songs (not Hawa Hawa) or finding patterns in the tiles of the walls. I'd be happy (actually NO) to know what other people think abt.

The next big thing is to avoid any kind of eye contact. Any kind. As men, we are taught to think that nobody else is in the bathroom when we are finishing business. Unlike women, we don't socialize in the toilet. It's never "Hey man, what are you doing here?" for us. However, every now and then, the moment gets the better of you. You hear the new entrant enter and you give a quick look. Under normal circumstances, the new entrant too is careful to not make any eye contact. BUT on a highly chance driven instance - EYES DO MEET! And then ladies and gentleman, you get the most awkward smile exchange ever!

The final thing that I wanna discuss on this issue, is what many might consider gross BUT I have to say it - it's the peeing sound. Some are noisy pee-ers, others like to be discreet. Yet others are situation driven i.e. when left alone they go on a roll BUT in the company of others they learn to control the volume. What is really disturbing is when two people land up next to each other, in an otherwise silent zone, and the only sound they hear is ... you know what. Can you imagine the amount of judging that can go on? "Is the other guy thinking that I'm too loud?" ... "Man! He is soo loud. Does he have no control?" "Wow! He is really quiet!" ... and the likes.

There's so much more that can be discussed on this topic ... but I don't want to piss you off any more :)

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Ctrl + S Private Ryan !!!

For the few kind ones who enquired, I've been amazingly busy with my lumberyard office and will continue to be busy for the coming few weeks. So my posting habits may become more irregular. Blah blah. Yanyway! Blogging is a good relaxation and let me indulge in it a lil bit now.

Think abt this. One of my dear friends is walking the arranged marriage route. But you know what they say - "arranged marriages are so passe". Nobody agrees to having an arranged marriage these days. They're all like "oh we met over the net and then we fell in love and then we married" - all in 30 days and under the constant regulation of doting mothers and over-inquisitive aunts :)) Yeah sure! Yanway, like always, I digress again.

Wouldn't it be nice if like most computer applications we could have a Ctrl+S option for relationships? This very dear friend of mine is doing the whole "My name is so and so and my favorite actor is so and so" followed by "what are your future plans" followed by "I'm doing this because my mother asked me to" routine - aka the "babu steps to arrange marriage". It's the first time he's doing something like this, and boy does he feel the pressure. You spend 12 phone calls just to reach the comfort level where you can finally tell her "You know what, I'm a graduate student and I frankly don't make as much money as you think I do" and the next thing you know is "Accha, I don't think this thing is working out bhery well. So let us be just friends." So my friend wants to know - what then? Will he have to start afresh again? Start from scratch? Again call up some random stranger and say "My name is ... I went to school in ... My father has a blah blah figure salary ..." I feel for you dude. I seriously do. The Ctrl+S option would make it really cool where you could save definitive romantic states and the next time around just start from there.

Save romance. Save love. Save a poor graduate student's marriage dreams.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Matched # Deux

As promised earlier, here are some really funny things that I spotted on the two matrimonial sites that I visited with my friend. I have tried to choose the ones that wouldn't reveal anything abt the actual people and in case I have offended anyone - go remove your profile :)

1. Two guys mentioned that they want girls who are "adaptive". Is it just the geek in me or does that really sound like a software specification?

2. Almost on the same lines - quite a few girls wanted men who are "reliable" (just for them, coming soon Manware 1.0b)

3. One Girl Started Every Word Of Her Sentences With A Capital Letter Like I Have Done For This Sentence :)

4. One guy described himself as "Myself is cool" (how cool do you think is that).

5. Quite a few women and men wanted their partners to be "open minded". Now the term can mean a range of things and if not specified leads to really fancy (or is the word vivid) images in my mind.

5. One girl mentioned her hobby as "talking on the telephone". Now why would someone want that information when choosing a partner? Unless of course you are a phoney!!

6. My sis mentioned this one to me (so don't question me abt the authenticity). Apparently a leading daily in Mumbai has an ad that mentions that the guy's father owns a flat on the tenth storey (Now that's some unneeded "storey") Now who needs such specific information?

7. Another one courtesy darling sister. The same daily boasted of an ad where the guy dint divulge his salary but mentioned that his father has a seven figure annual income.

8. This one goes out to all those people who had ids that tried to reveal more abt them than their profiles. Whatever happened to subtlety? Since I've respected the privacy of all these people I shall not reproduce exact ids but there were people whose ids resembled cool_engineer_nyc. Do we even need a profile after that? I suggested to my friend that he should choose an id on the lines of handsome_rich_guy_hunky_japan_visited :)

9. Finally for all the lovers of irony - some guy wanted a "homely working girl". Go for it dude!

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Matched # Uno

One of my friends is considering marriage and has surrendered himself to one of the innumerable marriage-based websites floating around the web. We were discussing what to put up for his profile. So we checked out some of the existing profiles on these sites and figured that most of them

(i) sound similar
(ii) sound unreal and
(iii) pretty much says that the guy/girl can do everything.

So we prepared a standard write-up that combined anything and everything that each of these profiles had to say.

Guys: Hi. I am Blah Blah and I do Blah Blah. I believe in the simple joys around us (and what might they be). Honesty and sincerity are two virtues that I strongly believe in (you can never go wrong with these). I'm modern and yet I have strong traditional roots (half a dozen people said this and though it makes no sense whatsoever, it seems to be the in-thing). My hobbies are music, movies, reading (aha! the aesthetic side is revealed) and I also like outdoor activities (lest you offend the more adventurous ones). I like to laugh and make others laugh (the sense of humor card is played). I'm looking for a girl who will be an equal partner in every joy that awaits me (clap clap).

Girls: It is very difficult to describe myself in one paragraph (some five hundred women started their profiles with this line without realizing that they are already wasting some of their limited space by putting this line in). I am a simple girl who loves to love and be loved (aaaah! cho fu@@ing chueeet). I have completed my blah blah (educational qualifications). I like to cook (come on you have to say that), sing (yeah! I can entertain you too) and love art work (I will save you valuable money on decoration). I have strong Indian roots and yet I consider myself Westernized (once again this means nothing). (And now comes the part that I don't understand but almost all the women mention) My father works as a so and so. My mother is a very nice lady who does blah blah. My elder sister is married and based in so and so. My brother-in-law works for a reputed MNC in blah blah. My youngest uncle graduated from ... yada yada yada (can someone please explain it to me why we need to know the entire family tree).

P.S. Coming up next - 10 funniest things that I spotted in these sites!!!!

Saturday, April 26, 2008

Let's just be Rachel, Joey, Chandler, Ross ...

I'm not the first person who is irked by this issue and I'm sure that there are others who feel strongly abt it. So ladies and gentlemen, let's join voices and discuss once again a line that all of us have heard at some point or the other - "Let's JUST be friends."

Have you ever realized that this line always comes at the most inopportune moments? You find out that your girl friend is secretly dating someone else. You confront her. She unapologetically tells you that "things are not working out" so "let's just be friends". Your boy friend has been avoiding your phone calls. Finally you manage to get hold of him. He doesn't apologize. He looks into your eyes and says, "Well, let's just be friends from now."

What? Seriously, what?

Ironic as it might sound but this line is always used in the most unfriendly situations - making it completely useless therefore. Would you normally wanna be friends with someone who's cheating on you? Someone who's abusive? Or someone that you just figured out wanted to "save herself till marriage" but never told you that the marriage dint involve you? Why can't people just say, "I've anyway betrayed your trust. So let's not fool ourselves anymore and let's just get lost." Nope! You cheat, beat and retreat and that doesn't bother you. But at the end of all this you turn into an epitome of grace and gratitude and offer the other person the envied option of being "just friends".

And while on this issue, can someone please explain to me what the term "JUST" means? Why is it always "let's JUST be friends"? Was there another associated option? Has anybody ever said "Ok! Let's be friends, study partners and gym mates?" to which the other person replied saying, "No! I can't study with you. So let's just be friends"? No! There were no other options. So what do people mean when they add the highly stressed JUST to their statement.

Is this just?

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Or-Deal !!!

Venue : A shop selling only womens apparels in an up class area of Bangalore
Date : Some time 2 years back
Situation : I'm really exhausted!!! I'm making panting sounds that are comical and depressing at the same time. Poof!!

And why am I in this state? Women's SHOPPING!

Now I've ranted aplenty in the past about going to shop WITH women but this day's situation was very different - I went shopping alone but FOR women. Lemme explain! I spent the entire morning shopping for my darling sis and my mom. Now shopping for mom is simple - she has a thing for fragnances and those aren't difficult to locate and buy! Also people are less reluctant to try out fragnances coz it's kinda difficult to completely mess them up (or that's what a guy feels). However, for my sis, I needed to buy clothes ... and they are a Pain In the A#@e to get. You can't just buy anything coz if it's not nice, lil sis wont even try it out. The red top will then sit next to that orange skirt that some cousin gifted her (which she refuses to either wear or throw out). The problems don't end if she likes the clothes coz they have to fit her too. And you think it's "game over" if the clothes pass the fitting test? Nope! Coz the final and most difficult stage is where the clothes go through a strict censoring process headed by "Papa please preach" and "Momma don't screech"!

So, have you ever tried being the only guy in a shop full of girls? Ok! You did spot those two guys in the corner - but they have girls accompanying them. So what abt you? You are alone. You look lost. You have no idea what you want. Forget your wants - you don't even have an idea of what it is that you are looking for. So you aimlessly wander around the store - picking up things, putting them down and picking them up again. Just then the store attendant comes up.

"Sir, can I help you?"
*Of course you can. Can you make me invisible for the next 30 minutes*.

"No, I'm good."
*No, I'm not. I have no idea what I'm doing here*

"Ok Sir, I'll be just round the corner. Lemme know if you need any help."

You see the store attendant leave and the moment you turn around, you see a crowd of eyes judging you.

"Is he a pervert who's here to check women out?"
"Does he cross dress?"
"Who is he shopping for?
Is he trying to surprise his girl friend. Yikes! Look at his choice."

The roving eyes ask a million questions and the one answer you provide to all of them is to keep your head so low that you can't see anything other than your own shoes.

30 minutes and six items later I appeared in front of the payment counter, gasping for breath; longing to see the Exit sign that'll take me outside the shop; counting seconds before I become a "man" again. All the clerk has to do now, is charge my credit card and let me go. That shouldn't take more than 30 seconds.

Did you find everything all right, sir?
- Yes, I did
*I don't care, just lemme go*

Are you aware that we have a special discount on skirts - buy 2 and get 1 free.
- No, it's fine
*Lemme go! Momma lemme go*

Are you aware of our return policy, sir?
-Yes, I am
*I don't care. Lemme go. Just lemme go!*

That's a lot of clothes. Girl friend?
-No, sister
*how does it matter to you. Charge my credit card and lemme go*

How old is she?
She is 22
*She is two hundred and thirty seven years old. How does that matter to you? Do you want to marry her? Just lemme go*

Do you want a gift receipt sir?
No (almost in tears). It's ok!
*I'm accepting. Yes, I'm accepting. It was me who forgot the lines in the class 2 play. It was me who spilled water on the floor in class 7. I agree that when I told my ex I was busy working in January, I was actually watching an episode of FRIENDS. I accept it all. Don't torture me any more. Just Lemme go.*

Another five minutes and the customary "do you want the receipt in the bag" and "please come back again" later, I saw the outside World again.

You might not believe it, but the feeling was similar to what Will Smith experienced after his heroic escape from the space ship in Independence Day

Wooof!!

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

There she stands ... with a heart so cold !!!

Right now, I'm trying hard to decide between the three different topics I want to write abt and can't make up my mind. Lesse! Hmmmmmm! Ok - mannequins win.

So it all started last week when I went shopping and had my attention drawn towards some of the mannequins on display. Boy! When did they become this pretty. I almost proposed to one of them. Silky hair; perfect feature and what more - totally believable - there she stood - urging me to buy a short skimpy top for Rs 3000. "You gold digger!" I said to myself and walked away and that's when the rest of the stuff in this post started playing in my mind.

When did people start concentrating so heavily in making mannequins. When I was young(er) (now come on! it wasn't that long ago; just rewind your minds by a decade), all mannequins looked the same. I remember this wig shop in Mumbai that had two unisex mannequins. Yes, you read it right - Unisex mannequins!! The only thing differentiating them were the wigs they sported. Occasionally the shopkeeper would draw a pencil thin moustache on one of them to make it look more manly but soon the moustache would disappear - or even worse - we would see a mustached mannequin with a girl's hairdo. I remember that several shops didn't even go through the rigor of getting a mannequin. They would just stuff clothes with newspaper and put it on the window or have one of those "blowup doll thingies".

But those days are gone. Girlfriends now not only prevent their knight in shining armours from looking at other princesseses. Mannequins are as much of a threat to them as that next Jolie look alike. The boyfriend looks at a dress on a mannequin and wonders "Whoa! What a hottie." Soon the girl friend puts on that same dress and you see that all's not well in wonderland. The same thing holds true for us men. Have you seen the abs they give to the male mannequins. I vaguely remember trying to count the number of stripes on a male mannequins stomach and giving up after ten. And it's not just the shape. Shopkeepers now have multi-ethnic mannequins. They have "happy family mannequins" (where an entire family of varying age groups are shown). They have mannequins that have robotic limbs that occasionally move. It's not long before mannequins are full blown robots that'll escort you into shops, help you shop and if need be strip down to bare essentials to send you home better clad.

There's so much writing abt the changes around us - computers, cars, music systems and what not! Somebody ought to mention these glaring changes in mannequin technology. So I thought I would.

Peace!

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Age Old Stuff

So I just heard from someone that one of our friends in the group has been "concealing" her age. And it's not one of those "hide a few months to still be a teenager" kind of concealing. If rumors are to be believed (which I'm tempted to) - she has been hiding her age by a good two years . This made me wonder - are we really that old??? Has the grey hair finally caught up with the grey cells?? Should we be hiding our age too?? Hmmmm!

A lot has been said abt the enigma concerning the fairer sex's age and the darker (?) sex's salary. We are now part of a society where it's ok to flaunt breast sizes but uncouth to ask a woman her age. So I shall comply to these societal norms and not delve into the topic of women and their age but instead deal with the issue from a male perspective.

To be perfectly honest, men lie abt their age too and here are some classic situations when they do so:

1. The Boy Genius - "I was sixteen when I finished undergraduate chemistry," a friend of mine would boast. Screw you! We all knew that you turned sixteen on your twenty first birthday - so shut the baby mouth up! This btw, is something very "male"! A lot of men love to reduce their ages to make their very ordinary accomplishments sound brilliant. "My son knew how to spell when he was three," the father would boast. "Very good! Too bad you dint know how to count then - didya?"

2. To Eliminate the Creep Factor: The sweet girl sharing dinner with you claims she is twenty two. You are twenty nine. You know your grandmom and grandpa had an age gap of sixteen years and that didn't stop them from providing you with innumerable uncles and aunts. But still! 29 vs. 22 - naaaah! "So how old are you?" she asks you while licking the sauce from her upper lip using her tongue. That's it. It's lie lie time. "I'm twenty .... twentyyyyy six" you say. You see the girl taking a moment to do the mental calculations herself - she adds her nicely hidden two years to her advertised age and decides that 26 vs. 24 is not all that bad. Everybody is happy!

3. Maturity Oozes: Barring faking age to get into night clubs or to buy yourself that much needed beer, there is only one other time that I can think of when men actually increase their age and the reason is simple - to sound more mature and to be taken seriously. "So you think that India should disinvestment even more? How old did you say you were?" your colleague asks you with that all familiar tone of sarcasm. "I'll be turning thirty this year," you say without a blink, calmly adding the two years to your age that my friend has been letting go :) "Wow! You look a lot younger," the colleague replies, almost sounding apologetic. The same trick is used when you meet a woman who fits your bill but is a few years older than you.

So you get bold, turn a lil old and a lie is told. :-)

Saturday, April 12, 2008

Reality Check

I started the weekend with a fairly lively discussion on childhood aspirations. I was probably four when one of my uncles returned from US with a whole bunch of toy guns for me. This led to a frenzy of sorts where my good friend D and I decided to become gangsters. However, this was also the time when one of my dad's friends owned a bus service and gifted me and D a set of crisp bus tickets. The two of us were thus plagued with equally strong desires of being a bus conductor. At one point we combined the dreams and decided to be bus conductors who would also rob the passengers. We spent a considerable amount of time over the weekends - robbing D's father (who was the only other participant in this game) and also selling him bus tickets. Ah! Good old days. The whole incident makes me feel like doing a reality check to see how close I am to any of my other childhood ambitions:

1. Rickshaw Driver - As a hefty kid I admired the fact that the rickshaw drivers had amazing muscles to pull the lever & get the engine rolling. I always wanted to join the community as an option to later be well built - hmm!

2. Pilot - I was talking to a friend born & brought up in US some time back on what the most common childhood fantasy of children in the US is and she mentioned it is probably to be astronauts - well in India it has to be a pilot and moi was no exception.

3. Cricketer - actually on second thoughts I think every Indian kid wants to be a cricketer as well. Thankfully for me I figured out pretty soon that my chances of being a rickshaw driver were brighter than being a cricketer and this ambition was given a back seat.

4. Superhero - I wanted to be a superhero but was aware of the fact that I don’t have superhero abilities. So I spent a fair amount of time trying to figure out a way to get around this limitation. I came to the conclusion that I'll carry lots of body powder that I'll release to create a temporary distraction and since I would be wearing glasses, I could just disappear then. It was a perfect plan till the prototype made the floors of my house slippery; causing my mom ample stress and that was the end of Powderman.

Well, it's not difficult to see that these dreams haven't been realized. They obviously appear childish but what scares me is the thought of me sitting twenty years down the line and jotting down my current dreams and arriving at similar conclusions about them - hmmmmm!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
You know you are ...... not thinking right when you take out the packet of sugar, put it next to your cereal bowl and get completely confused as to what you are doing; then wait for a while and put the sugar packet back in the microwave !!!

Monday, April 7, 2008

Bedtime Stories

While I am on a spree of cheapness and crudeness - lemme mention one more conversation. It took place with a friend ( Lets call him X for no apparent reason) and was an equal partner in crime in contributing to the conversation :) Anyway the discussion was abt how good/bad Hindi movie stars are in bed and here are some interesting conclusions:

1. Aamir Khan - he'll be very fussy, correct you for everything and choose to sleep with you once a year.

2. Pooja Bhatt and Manisha Kairala - they'll be hot but will keep comparing you with a long list of old lovers.

3. Akshay Kumar - will be very adventurous but then be ready to get shocked - he will put three slabs of bricks on the girl's stomach, make a triple somersault and land on it and then break them in one chop of the hand without hurting you a bit. That's foreplay for him.

4. Preity Zinta - she will be very uptight. She will want you to donate two tins of food for every time you all meet.

5. Rani Mkujherjee - she will be sweet but she'll keep talking abt Preity Zinta.

6. Aishwarya Rai - it doesn't matter how she is - Salman, Vivek & Abhishek will kill you after that.

7. Bhoomika Chawla - oops! does it appear that she'll ever have sex?

Sunday, April 6, 2008

Reality Bits & Bytes

I think I havent mentioned this before . Was just mentioning to a friend that as IT guys, we'll never be the central character to any story that is dramatic unless the story goes (imagine a strong Indian accent to enhance the taste of the dish) :

"You know what happened last night? The code was not working. Nobody knew what to do. We were sure that even this project will be taken back from us. Then Rakesh came in - he sat for 2 hrs and finished the code - no errors and wonderfully commented. He is such a dude you see!"

Na, compare the drama - on one hand we have blood, pain and millions of fans and TV coverage and on the other hand there is C, Java, SQL and your project team. You decide!

Obviously I am exaggerating things - but the premise still hold true. The way out has to be the Reality television show on IT folks - two Indian guys, one Indian girl, two American guys (one with a lip piercing) and a blonde girl, three Chinese (two guys and a girl who has a crush on the guy with the piercing) - all put in a house and made to choose a programming language of their choice. Then let us eliminate one of these programmers every week based on the standard of their coding, efficiency and commenting :) Then let's see which profession gets the kick a** label.

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To cheer up things after the slightly weird post above - it's lame joke time:

Sexologist: So what exactly is the problem with your sex life?
Woman: It's infrequent.
Sexologist: One sec. Is that one word or two?

Peace :))

Thursday, April 3, 2008

The Other Me (if only ......)

This post happened courtesy a friend who takes out time to read out my unconsolable rantings on this blog. It was me who got him addicted to this blogging thing & apparently when surfing the blogsite for some good blogs to read, he came across a blogger writing under a pseuynonym. The only information about the profile was that the blogger was a female & here is where the drama starts. So apparently my friend read through her posts & found a vague similarity between my blogging styles & hers.... so whats the conclusion ??? Our hero thinks that it is me who is writing another blog under a female name............. WHAT ??? ( Relax Abhi, try to reason out the situation). I thought about this for a while, a little later & this is what i have to say

There are two reasons for this to be untrue - (i) contrary to my rants and the impression given by my posting regularity, I'm actually a fairly busy person. So starting another blog and maintaining it will be quite painstaking AND MORE IMPORTANTLY (ii) I WILL MAKE A TERRIBLE WOMAN. Yup! I've said it - even if I tried very hard, I'll be as convincing as a woman as Tom Cruise would be in the role of a discreet lover. Don't believe me - hear me out:

* I can't shop! The total amount of time I spend in a year in shopping is less than the amount of time most women take to try out "does this pink top go with the blue skirt" combination in a SINGLE store.

* I can't differentiate between scarlet, crimson, magenta, red etc. and I'm NOT color blind. So don't even think of asking me "do you notice the difference in my lipstick shade" coz I most definitely DON'T. On the other hand women are gifted with superhuman abilities in this department - I have at least ten blue T shirts that look identical to me and yet I've had girls who've mentioned that "this blue T goes better with your jeans than the lighter shade you wore last week". How, how, how do you do it women?

* I have very different reactions towards dogs and kids. Men, please support me on this - most women that I know (and modesty apart I know a fair amount) have the identical "ooooh! how chueeeeeeeet", "is it a boy or a girl" and "how old is he" reaction to both newborns and the barking variety. I, on the other hand, realize the difference that one of them can (and probably will) bite you, while the other can only nibble and poop on you :)

* I think gazillion was the number of times that my wife told me "the problem with you is that you don't understand" and the truth is that I truly don't. Women, I believe, are gifted with superior qualities of perception, allowing them to understand a lot of things that I don't even know exist. Do you understand me?

* I hate chick flicks. I giggled when Rose and Jack were saying goodbye to each other. All that I could think of then was "will he do a flashback of the time he painted her nude?" I also think that Legally Blonde should be Legally Banned.

i have nothing to say now.but you still said that.I wish people had a backspace button when they spoke ...hhmmmm

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Excuse Moi please !!!

It the Financial year end & I have loads of work to do but am slightly screwed up in the mind right now! Bottom line - just can't work ; Thanks to all the crap that i have gone through in the past one week, not only have I compromised on my sleep, I've also started compromising on my dreams :-)) & you know what the best part is.....Its the one thing that is pissing me off right now.... people minding my own business. ( Calm down, Abhi... no point in spilling your work frustrations on your kind readers)

So, coming back, I've been thinking abt random things and this post is the result of one such random thought. I gathered that when people are angry they say things which actually don't mean anything but we still feel threatened just because they say it in an animated way and with time we start getting intimidated by these statements.

1. Don't rub me the wrong way.

OK! Two questions - (a) How am I rubbing you? and (b) Is there any way you can rub the person in the right way? Coz if there is, I for one would not mind doing that.

2. You are taking me to a place you don't want to see me go.

OK! Simple - Don't go there. How come I'm not going there even though you are heading for it? For that matter if you do reach that place, don't worry - I'll wait for you and drop you back to your place.

3. I am this close to losing "it".

Loosing what? Seriously. Mention this statement and the listener gets all scared abt the speaker losing the mythical it. For that matter even if the speaker loses "it" why should I care. He/She should then go and find back their own "it".

I have so much to learn :(

Sunday, March 30, 2008

Why do i have to give a Title to Everything ???

This is the summary of a philosophical (I take this term very loosely) discussion that I had witha friend whom i lovingly call, 'Mamooli Man'

So who are we? Twenty Five something plus "youngsters" (please let me touch the lines of being presumptuous). Almost 99% of all my peers pretty much do the same thing(s) - some of us study, some of us work, some of us study and work simultaneously, some companies pay a little more, some companies make you work a little more, some companies hire, some companies fire ... we don't stand out. There's no glamour. There's no clear case of braggadocio. No one peer of mine has done anything that makes him a clear champion. So in such a case it becomes extremely difficult to boast and brag.

"You know X bought a Honda Civic"

"No, no. He leased it. Even I can do it if I want - it's just that I want to save some money ..."

"You know Y got a job in Company Z."

"Yeah. But then I chose to work in this small company. I get to learn sooo much more and we get free pizzas for lunch. Plus his company fired 1/5th of its employees last month."

"Z have N billion publications."

"Yeah! Sure. But no one cares for them in the industry."

However, the attempts are always there. We all try to stand out and prove a false sense of achievement. New jobs, New Cars, foreign postings, foreign admissions - we mention them aplenty. Sometimes we evoke temporal awe, sometimes we don't, but the desire and attempt to prove to people around us that we have "arrived" remains.

So we discussed whether we'll do the same thing ten years down the line and figured that by then we would have realized that whatever we do hardly affects anyone. So we'll take the competition to the next level - our children.

"X's son just placed third in the Zonal Chess Championship."

"Ya! But you should see how much X makes his son study. I have told my daughter - do whatever you want."

"My daughter just got admission in University Z with a fellowship."

"My son can do High School Mathematics in KG."

"My daughter can sing in five languages."

Whatever we are doing now will fade to be important in ten years. My mom barely mentions what my dad does/did at work. Neither does our neighbor. To them it's far more important now to see which of their daughters get a better groom. Having figured this, Mamooli and I thought that it'll be best then to get a head start. If we become the earliest in our batch to have kids then we can blame all our present failures by saying, "See, once you have a kid you realize that there's sooo much more than a petty salary hike". And finally, when the competition would indeed reach the kid-zone ten years from now, all our peers would think, "boy, we are worrying abt getting our kid's to Kindergarten and look at Abhi. His son is already in fifth standard. He took such a good decision by starting early."

So the key to produce awe is to produce now. Peace!

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

What's in a Name ???

Call a rose by any name ... it'll still cost you money to buy and a girl to gift.

I have seen Indian parents monitor what their daughter wears outside the house. In spite of flaunting a so-called modern liberal attitude, the occasional "No, that dress is too short" or the "You can only wear that top if you wear a jacket on top of that" does the rounds of various households. A common phrase that often pops up in these monitored moments is "Don't forget that you are representing the Rai household." I was talking to a friend and figured that this is indeed a very common Indian technique, where Indian parents glamorize their family name and attach a huge amount of importance to it. "What? You failed in class. No member of the Chowdhurys has ever received a red mark on their report card", "You can't date her. After all you are a Ranganathan. What will people say", "Don't forget that when you walk out of that door, you are representing every Kumar of our family", yada, yada, yada ... we've all heard some variant of these (including the emphatic Hindi version - "bhoolna mat, tum Kapoor khandan ke bahu ho ...".

Don't you think that we assign way too much importance to our family names? Coz it's very likely that nobody even knows them. This entire post happened coz I had this hilarious visual in my mind of people actually wearing name tags in public places so that they can be held accountable. Imagine walking to a restaurant and seeing this hot dame in a skirt so short that when she puts the napkin on her thigh, her dress size doubles. You walk up to her and check out the badge she's wearing. "Aha! You are a Dutta I see. I should have guessed. Duttas are notorious folks," you say and walk off. The next morning the newspaper screams out "Duttas embarrassed again. This time in a restaurant." Now that would be truly bringing your family name down. People will then be really careful. Clubs will have hoardings saying, "No Kamats allowed" and people of the Kamat family would have to use frauduent schemes to get badges bearing the highly revered "Arora" tag :)) When the girl with the shoulderless dress gets down from the car after a night of wild partying, one of the two old neighbors would say, "Is she a Lal? Look at her dress." To this, the all knowing second man would say, "No way. Look at her badge. She is a Lalwani. The Lal's wouldn't dare to wear clothes like this. Not after their rating went down so much last year!"

Bottomline - most people don't know us. People who pass fleeting judgements abt us don't even know who their pointed fingers are aiming at. And yet we go through hours of scrutiny to uphold a tag which doesn't even exist. Why?

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Return of the King ( for his Queen )

Women have stopped talking to me thinking it was me who brain-washed their men. Men have stopped talking to me thinking I've betrayed their trust by letting out their secrets. Animals give me dirty looks because that's what animals always do. And still I write this post as my habit to write on men-women relationships. Yes! ladies, gentleman and little Buzo - it's time to touch upon the all important topic of gifts.

Gifts are very very important in the "guy abroad and girl in India" romance. Gifts are the key to all the reservations she has in her mind against you. ( Especially in a case like mine, when the first year of courtship with my to-be wifey was with me in Pardes & she in Des) So play this card carefully. You have to keep in mind that you are trying to woo someone who hangs out with a lot of people whose boyfriends stay just next to them (sometimes even on top of them). So while these gal pals boast abt how "my guy surprised me with a bunch of roses last night" or "my guy is the most amazing kisser", your lady love has little to show off abt her long distance wooer. She tried mentioning your Designation once or maybe she mentioned the salary you draw in your job but the moment her best friend's bike riding boyfriend got all her friends tickets for the latest Shahrukh Khan movie, everyone forgot abt you. Some day the thought will pop in her head - "it'll be so nice if my guy is here too". Bingo! That's when the gift helps.

The first gift is very important! You screw up with the first gift and you might not get a second chance. Don't start with flowers - if sent from Phoren, they'll wither and if sent from some company back home, it wont impress her that much. Please don't send her a dress either; coz if you get the size wrong, you are dead - nothing hurts a girl as much as a beautiful dress she can't wear. Send her something that you still don't get in India OR something that is very expensive in India. Perfumes are as good as it gets. You make her smell good and she'll remember you everytime she smells that scent. Don't be cheap - go for one of the brands - nothing less than a Chanel or CK please. Play the first card well and thereafter you can be cheap and give her local brands and say "It's a new one that just came out and all the women in my office are raving abt it." But no compromises with the first one please.

The iPod Shuffle can be a great first gift too. A tad bit expensive mind you but a lot cheaper than what it is in India. Not only will the iPod speak for itself, it'll speak for you too. The next time her friends talk abt how their boyfriends did blah and bluh, all she'll have to do is plug the ear phones in her ear. All eyes will open and all mouths will shut. Yeah baby! If the Shuffle is too expensive for you - buy her a Palm Pilot. If that's expensive too OR if you are really cheap - settle for the best alternative - exotic chocolates. Mind you - the term is Exotic. Don't send her Nestle bars coz she can get that in India too. Go for Godiva. If you are really reallllly cheap - even a truck load of Ferrero Rochers can help. Coz these are chocolates that are still considered to be exotic in India and are much cheaper when bought here. So remember - the first gift should reinforce the notion that "my guy is a catch"!!

But the first gift is a double edged sword. A very expensive first gift increases expectations for a second one. And it's just a matter of time before her birthday comes and you can't blame her for expecting a big ring then (maybe even with a woman's best friend sitting in the middle). So the trick is to send one of those "cho chueeeet follow up gifts" just after you send the first gift. Say a big soft toy or flowers from India. This gift, if sent soon enough, will ease out her expectations, while keeping the first gift fresh in her memory. Thereafter you can send her three small gifts and a big one for every two months and she'll be happy.

Wooof! Am I glad that this topic is over !!!

Monday, March 24, 2008

Guest Appearance !!!

It was 11 o clock on a Sunday morning . I was watching TV and wifey was browsing through the morning paper. There was a knock on the front door. Brought a stranger trying to sell magazines to our house. Brought delightful memories of childhood to my mind.

These are stories from a loooong looong time back. Many of you reading this blog might not even identify with the premise of this post. I must have been in the third or fourth standard then. Not too many people had telephones and the internet - duh! Yanyway! Those days everytime the door bell rang it would be a new found excitement for me and my sister. Especially in the evenings. Coz then we knew it wasn't the maid, or the milkman, or any those innumerable ladies trying to get old clothes in exchange for shiny cutlery. A knock or bell in the evening meant surprise guests ... and that spelt FUN. There was phenomenal anticipation associated with it. Was it any of the close uncles and aunts? A door knock instead of a door bell meant even more fun coz then it was probably a cousin who couldn't reach the bell. He would have ran up before his parents. Neha and I would rush to the door and there was always excitement while opening it. Everybody had their own way of ringing the bell. Some pressed it for too long. Others played their own tunes. Mom would often play a little guessing game as Neha and I ran to find out who the winner was.

I remember the time when we put one of those safety chains to the door. It was literally like a surprise gift. As Mom opened the door partially, the face of the guest would get revealed. Our expressions would change accordingly. A relative or family friend with kids meant that we wouldn't have to study any more that evening. That brought a glee to our faces. Occasionally it would be a false call. Given the rectangular layout of our building, we often had lost folks trying to reach the other side. Oh, we hated them. But whatever it was, a knock on the door or a ring of the door bell was always fun.

Times have changed so much. Nobody is excited by these petty joys anymore. Everybody is super busy. Everybody has a cell phone. Surprise visits don't surprise no more. They scare us. Nobody wants to put in that much effort. It's so much safer to make the customary cell phone call before dropping in. At least then the food will be good :-)

Even in Bangalore things are different. I can't remember getting a surprise visit in ages. Why would anybody do it? People plan meetings three weeks in advance. "Hey, man. We haven't met in like ages. What say we go out for dinner next weekend?" "Sorry, dude! I have a working next weekend . What say the weekend after that?"

Times have changed. We have changed. Memories remain.

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Under Where ???

I'm confused again. This time the topic of confusion is "underwear and the media". Yup! Moi is totally confounded by the way underwear is advertised, and it's time to speak up.

It all started when I read the line "she is a Victoria Secret model" in an article. Accompanying the article was the picture of an oooh la la woman, dressed in ... aah ... hmmm ... well, lessay she came with almost no strings attached. Yanyway! This visual made me think of all the undergarment ads that I've ever seen and I realized that the media probably got it all wrong. And it's not just female models that I'm talking abt. I've seen women drool over all those Jockey hunks. Those guys don't have six packs - they have more like fifteen. Chiseled jaws, pecked chests, sinewy torsos and nothing but a skimpy underwear on. Standing all wet with an unshaven look. Women going "whoaaaaa, just look at him."

Sadly, it's not women who buy men's underwear, but men who do so and (the same logic holds true for women's lingerie). And what do you think the average man is thinking when he sees this ad - he's like "Hmmm! Even with that pair of undies I'm not going to get those whistles. For all you know it'll just make those women realize just how different I am from these men."

Yup! The average man is likely to get terribly intimidated by six packed underwear models. Hunky bare chested men don't appeal to us (or at least most of us). Naaaaa! We want to see some flab. Give us six packs but fill those packs with some butter and cheese man. Show a balding guy with a tattoo gone wrong, standing with his red pair of boxers on ... with the line "Didn't the red take your eyes off his belly?" Now that's what I call a killer ad. You show me that ad and you have a red underwear customer in me and I'm no exception mind you.

The same logic holds true for women too. Isn't it ironic that they always use models for promoting lingerie that men would rather have naked in the first place. Why do that? I can see people screaming "Oh! Men want their girl friends to look like that and buying those skimpies will accomplish that!" Yeah sure! If I were to believe that some girl dating me will turn into a Gisele Bundchen if I spent Rs 1000 on her ... well, it doesn't speak volumes abt my intelligence - does it? So really - keep it real.

P.S. And what's this with men & women nowadays flaunting the elastic of their underwear? The day is not too far when all that these people will care abt their underwear will be the elastics and trust me - that wont be a pretty sight :)

Saturday, March 15, 2008

A friend when not in need........

Visit any of the popular social networking sites - Orkut, Big adda, Face book, blah blah! There's a huuuuuge number of jobless men who are scavenging around these sites with the noble intentions of "making friends". I often look at these people and feel proud of my generation. We must have done something right to produce such a "friendly" lot of people. Yess! Now that I think about it, it does make complete sense. Why wouldn't a hot woman sitting in Boston not want a friend in Balampur India, who can't even spell the word friend right. I'm pretty darn sure that it has indeed been a long standing fantasy of hers to "make frendsip" with random strangers in Indian townships. I salute all ye friendly ones, without which we would not feel so comfortable in this planet.

But then don't categorize all these friends into one big group. These friends, though having a common philanthropic underlying goal, all have different styles. The other day I was categorizing the various "friends" to a friend and it might be worthwhile to mention some of them here:

* The dude: This breed makes extensive use of the modern day SMS lingo. They are super busy. They can't complete their words. "Hi thr, wuz doing rnd browsing. u r cute. wanna b frnds?" That's them. And then there'll be the customary winks and fellow smileys. I don't blame these people for their terse sentences though. They are understandably super busy. After all they are the ones who want to be friends with hundreds of thousands of people. Maintaining so many friends sure takes effort - so pardon their haste kind ones.

* The resume dude: This variety has a lot more time in their hands. Given a chance, they'll leave an entire resume as an initial note. "Hi, I was your neighbor during your three day stay in Ranchi. I am currently doing a computer course in NPTTCS. I saw you like Tom Hanks. I am a fan of him too. I liked him a lot in Titanic. Titanic is my favorite movie. Will you be my friend?" You can fall asleep while reading their messages. You can grow old while reading them. For all you know, you can even finish watching Tom Hanks's Titanic before you can read through the entire message. But there's something that is very earnest abt this variety of friends - they seem to make a sincere effort and I honor them for that.

* The lame complimenting guy (aka the Reproducer): This guy doesn't believing in knocking the door of your heart. He breaks it open. That too with a bang. "Hey cute pic. Nice smile. You are really beautiful. You have nice hair. Wanna make friendship?" If you are feeling low and need a morale booster, just put your best snap in one of these sites and before you hit the upload button you'll get these meaningful praisers responding to your photograph. Click on their profiles and visit some of their "other friends" and you'll get shocked to see the exact same lines with the exact same spelling mistakes reproduced. Clearly these sincere men do not want to differentiate between any of their friends and thinks of them all with an equal amount of love and honesty. Aaaaah!

Three simple points before I end this post. (i) You cannot MAKE friendship. If you pour the right amount of chocolate sauce and flour, you might bake it; for the right kind of gifts you can fake it; but puhleeeeeeeeeze - you cannot freakin make IT. (ii) Why don't we have friendship making women? How come I see absolutely no female counterpart of any of the aforementioned species? Why? (iii) And finally, please read an earlier post of mine in this blog which is very similar in content and much better written. Sadly, I wrote this post a while back and couldn't resist the temptation of posting it - despite the similarities in content.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

I have my Reservations !!!

OK, so I had to write this. The few kind regular readers that I have, expect, what they kindly refer to as, funny material from this blog. But I am a human being too and I too have emotions, opinions and in rare cases like this one, rather emotional opinions. Hmmmm! Yes, after much deliberation, I've decided to touch upon the issue that's making every Indian squirm these days - RESERVATIONS! And if you care to read through this entire post, I think I might just have the solution to the problem.

Many years ago I innocently walked up to my dad and asked him what my caste was. My dad explained it to me brilliantly. "You are an ALMOST SC my son," he said with what I believe was an almost drop of tear in his eyes. "You are effectively screwed!", he had then added, though maybe not in those exact words. This was followed by a very long and probably boring explanation, the summary of which was the following - my dad's side of the family just missed being SCs... all because they were not born in India. My grand parents along with my parents & their siblings came to India from Pakistan during the Great Divide of 1947 ( or was it 1948 ??). Thus, as dad explained, we were the true downtrodden of the Indian caste system. Actual SCs and STs laugh at us because we do not qualify for any reservations. So, as dad had suggested, we get screwed from every angle and by every one. How very entertaining.

And it is this lack of concern for the middle tier that worries me. People who are neither here nor there. The proud members of the middle zone of societal apathy. The ones that nobody care for. These people were born with an average bag of talents and somehow we assumed that they are happy being where they are. Everyday TV channels have a "brilliant kid" deriding the quota system and advocating a meritocracy. His interview is immediately followed by a heart wrenching tale of "Dinu from the village" who has never seen electricty but dreams to be an engineer. The camera then zooms into the anchors face who then says "Aap kis ke saath hai?" And then he adds that you can "call in and leave your opinion or SMS it at Re 2.5 and that the lucky vijeta ko milega humarey aur se ..." And who do you think is being fed all this media hyped baloney? Yes!!!! Our very own middle tier. Somehow our policy makers have assumed that the middle tier is happy being in the middle and hence all our policies are aimed at either keeping the rich rich or at making the poor rich.

So this is what I propose. A seemingly ludicrous idea, that I feel, if implemented, will make everyone happy. I say we continue with our entrance-exam-based-system for 50% of the students (as the current plan suggests) and for the remaining 50% seats - let's have a freakin LOTTERY!!! Seriously, that'll make EVERYBODY happy. Top tier, middle tier, bottom tier - every freakin one. Coz everybody will then have an equal chance of making it to these colleges. And let's not just make it any lottery - let's make it the flavour of the season - A freakin REALITY SHOW. Let India vote who it wants as an engineer. Let Indians SMS their opinions for "Agla Lawyer Kaun?" After all we are a democracy, right? What can be more democratic than choosing our very own doctors and engineers and lawyers and chartered accountants?

Seriously, you might think that I'm joking, but a lottery won't be much worse than the present system. Given that India has more poor people than rich ones, by simple probability more poor people will make it to the colleges using a lottery - so the govt will be happy as they'll serve their claimed purpose of improving things for the poor. And the remaining population will be happy too coz they'll know that they too stand an outside chance of making it. Thus, they can no longer raise a voice against anyone or accuse the system of being partial.

And these quotas should not just be applicable for academics. I think this way the quota system itself discriminates against several arenas of social life. We should have quotas for everything. Cricket, movies, affected Ms. India participants - everything. Seriously, I think it's high time we have an OBC quota for our beauty paegents. Why do we assume that the backward castes can have aspirations to study engineering but not one to be Ms. Indias. And look at the good that'll come out of this. If someone from Pachandapur village actually gets up on the stage and says that she'll do something for the poor and downtrodden when she wins - no one will even doubt her.

To sum it up - quotas aint bad. We need more quotas. We need quotas for everything. We need quotas for everyone. And we need Mandira Bedi conducting a lottery show based on quotas.

It's all peace then :-))

Saturday, March 8, 2008

No Kid-ding !!!

Everybody says they want to be a kid again. The reasons are manifold - some like the sheer joy of being pampered while others long to relive those moments when every decision was taken for us by others, making things so much simpler. I would love to be a kid for all these reasons but there is an added incentive as well - a kid can get away with the most obnoxious statements without a single tarnish on his/her reputation. Your three year old cousin can call your fifty three year old aunt "fat" and everybody in the family will laugh it away. "He is so innocent na?" the fat neighbor would exclaim. Your cousin's mom would exhibit a fake round of reprimanding, "Cheeh! Jojo, don't call anyone fat." "It's ok baba!" the fat aunt herself would defend, "As if he knows what fat is." What???

Just imagine your girl friend asking you how she looks in her new dress and you replying "slutty". She doesn't bring the house done but starts laughing and her friends tell her "Isn't he soooooo sweeet. Poor chap, he doesn't even know what a slut is." NO!!! That NEVER happens. For that matter, I even get blamed for stuff I genuinely don't mean. Every now and then my wife used to ask me abt her selection of clothes. Ignorant with the nuances of fashion I would sincerely say, "It looks nice." "No seriously," she would shout back, "Tell me what is actually going on in your mind." See now that never happens with a kid.

Enuff. Time to go and get some diapers.

Friday, March 7, 2008

Love, Fate & the Choices we make !!!

A trip was made to my hometown - Mumbai. The first thing I noticed about Mumbai, on that lovely February evening, was the smell of the different air. I could smell it before I saw or heard anything of what was happening on the other side of the airport terminal. I was excited and delighted by it, in that first Mumbai minute, escaped from work and back to my home town, but I didn't and couldn't recognise it. I know now that it's the sweet, sweating smell of hope, which is the opposite of hate; and it's the sour, stifled smell of greed, which is the opposite of love. It's the smell of gods, demons, empires, and civilisations in resurrection and decay. It's the blue skin-smell of the sea, no matter where you are in the Island City, and the blood-metal smell of machines. It smells of the stir and sleep and waste of sixty million animals, more than half of them humans and rats. It smells of heartbreak, and the struggle to live, and of the crucial failures and loves that produce our courage. It smells of ten thousand restaurants, five thousand temples, shrines, churches, and mosques, and of a hundred bazaars devoted exclusively to perfumes, spices, incense, and freshly cut flowers. I could call it the worst good smell in the world. But now i realise this that whenever I return to Mumbai, now, it's my first sense of the city-that smell, above all things-that welcomes me and tells me I've come home.

The next thing I noticed was the heat. I stood in the check-in baggage queue, not five minutes from the conditioned air of the plane, and my clothes clung to sudden sweat. My heart thumped under the command of the new climate. Each breath was an angry little victory. I came to know that it never stops, the jungle sweat, because the heat that makes it, night and day, is a wet heat. The choking humidity makes amphibians of us all, in Mumbai, breathing water in air; you learn to live with it, and you learn to like it, or you leave.

I made a choice a few years ago & the price i paid for this choice was to bid adieu to this urban hyper active roller coaster land of Mumbai. Now when i reflect back, i weigh once again the gravity of my choice to the sacrifices i made. But then, i still have a long time to live & most of the world to see before i can learn what needs to be known about love, fate & the choices we make.

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The thoughts & subject matter in this post are not exclusively my own. While i did experience what i wrote above, a well known author has helped me put my thoughts to words on paper ( or should i say a web page :-)). I hold him in the highest regard for this guidance.

Friday, February 15, 2008

Jaago Puttar Jaago !!!

I can see my writing maturing. Look at my previous post. I discussed the burning dilemma of when-to-be-a-parent. And with this post I'm going to pass on invaluable advice to the youth of India again. Such a priceless source of information this blog has become. Wah wah! The blog is indeed doing its bit for the society and the matured me is so happy for that. Wah wah to that again!

This post was conceived long back while spending (or is the term wasting?) hard earned money on this monstrosity called Fanaa. Dashing hero (albeit evidently old and overweight) jumps from the top of a bus and serenades blind girl. I could sense young somethings in the audience renewing their faith in dream love stories that begin like magic. But the fact is that this only happens in blissful celluloid love stories. The same ones where the heroine can run in ice capped hills wearing nothing more than a chiffon saree and still not catch a cold. Chances are high (tending to certainty) that you'll never find love in a bus. Or in a train, Or in any form of transportation for that matter. The Hindi movies are feeding you crap and this post is dedicated to break certain myths of Hindi movies for the youth of India.

* You will meet your love in a moving vehicle (repeating point already made earlier to increase size of this post):
NO YOU WILL NOT!! No one knows this more than I do. Every time I board a plane I fancy a Pooja Bhatt next to me ala DHKMN. But no - it is always the old lady who is hard of hearing and likes to make conversation in alien language that finds me. Now I know that some of you freaks are hoping that this too can be the start of a love story but alas, I don't swing that way. So remember, public transport is for travelling only. You can search for discarded magazines and half eaten oranges in them but if you're indeed searching for love in it - then you my friend are more blind than Kajol of Fanaa.

* A sleek car will stop in front of you in the first day of college. The door will open and a long pair of mini-skirt wrapped legs will peek out of it.
Yeah sure! I've always wondered which Indian college this scene happens in. I guess it is the same one where everybody wears color matched fluorescent clothes. Let's be realistic here. If a car does stop in front of you and the doors do open on the first day of college, you are likely to see a girl in a salwar kameez with her mom giving her precious "first day in college advice". If you went to a college like mine, then most attractive women there are in need of help because they are probably travellers who got lost. In which case you should promptly go and find out where they actually want to go and send them there. And ladies, you be careful too. Don't think that you'll be greeted by a hunky man in sleeveless Ts who will dance for you at the drop of a hat. Your dream prince, in all likelihood, will be wearing a loose T shirt to hide his growing belly; will obnoxiously stare at any form of cleavage while talking to you; and will keep gauging how tight your pants are and if he can ever get into them!! So there, myth number two - that of finding love in first day of college - is a myth too.

* There is a happy family where everyone sings and dances and wears a lot of make up and jewellery.
Yes, that family actually does exist. And they are called the Barjatiyas. But the chances are that you are not one of them. You are probably a Kumar or an Iyenger or a Singh or maybe even a Arora. You always blame your dad for shouting at you when you didn't study. Sometimes your dad shouts at you even when you do study. You secretly harbour the desire to have parents who maintain the steady ambiance of a wedding party in their house. A house, where everyone except for that one evil distant aunt played by Bindu, is nice and singy-songy. Too bad dude, that aint gonna happen. So when your old man threatens to stop paying your college bills, don't wish that Alok Nath was your dad, coz I'm pretty darn sure that he does the same thing to his kid too.

* The hero(ine) magically returns in the second half of the story.
Nopey dopey. If they are gone, the chances are high that they are INDEED gone. Don't think that things will be any different two emotional songs later. Coz while you'll be busy rendering ballads s(he) will be putting up his/her profile on MarryMe dot com and the only time they'll probably return is to invite your for their marriage (where Alok Nath and his family will sing and dance). So stop waiting and use that time wisely to watch more Hindi movies.

* Someone very rich will marry you just for love.
Ha ha! This one is a personal favorite of many of my friends who see marriage as a career option. Please read carefully. If some girl/guy who is much richer than you are, is agreeing to marry you inspite of you being a pathetic loser, then there is Definitely something wrong. For all you know she might be a he. Or he might be a she. Or he or she might be a schizophrenic psychopath. So if you are planning to make a career out of marriage, GET OVER IT!!!

There. Rs 4357.56 worth of free advice given away in single post. Wah Abhi. Wah! Keep up the good work in educating the country's youth!

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

On Wedding Anniversaries....Parenting.... & why i am not ready for it !!!

So finally, we complete a year to the day we bound each other in holy matrimony... come to think of it, my wife & me spared the usual compliments to wish each other...... given that we recently watched the Indian win on Aussie soil together, our anniversary wish to each other was...." well played, mate " :-))

I was surprised today by the sweetness of a lot of people who I had not expected sweetness from. On the other hand, people I had really expected things from, let me down. I have decided not to complain and shall try to adhere to the resolution but moments like this make me wonder/ponder - I spend entire days expecting a moment of joy from a select few, mostly in vain, while there are those who not only make me happy but often even give me strength to remain nonchalant to the tepidity of others.

Coming back, so i had a flurry of calls/sms/emails today & the most craziest thing was how people relate completing one year of married life to the start / extension of a family..... & that too, no one asks you directly....its never like.. " Hey... when are you gonna be a father "... no.. that never happens... its always references like... " so.... any progress " or maybe... " kuch development hain kya "... & this one takes the crown...." aur chhotu... baat kuch aage badhi ".... Give me a break guys....

Its not that i am against being a parent.... no.. thats not the point... My next door neighbour just became a proud father of a brat....over the years, a lot of my friends/cousins joined the fraternity.... Gitu, Monica, Deepa, Pooja, Swati , Sonali, Jennifer and the list goes on.....I am really happy for these people... Imagine a few years back these were friends/cousins of mine with whom I discussed the reviews of the latest movie or which pad to head out next weekend and now these people have discussions I can barely be a mute spectator to.

I don't see myself as a parent right now - mainly because it will be very difficult to have a child when your mental maturity is like his/hers. I can actually see myself fighting with my son over TV shows we would watch. My wife would suggest having two televisions but then the problem will not stop there - we would need to buy two DVD players, two packets of chitos/lays, two X Boxes and finally we would both compete for my wife's attention at which point my wife would suggest having a second wife - obedient that I am I will take this advice too and this wife will have a child and ... this is a problem close to my heart ... its a recurrence relation :-))

Friday, January 25, 2008

Friends Forever !!!

Male friend groups are boring. Yess! I'm a man (or so I claim) and so by virtue of this fact I hang out a lot in "all male groups" and yesssss - WE ARE VERY BORING. There's very little variety in male friend groups. It's the same kind of characters and its the same kind of stuff that we do - there is either the "let's go and watch a movie" or the "wanna go to a bar and get drunk (with the false hope of getting laid)". These two stereotypes sum up all male friend groups. So unless I'm educated otherwise I think I don't need to provide any more proof to the boring quotient of maleus friendus.

Women on the other hand have the most amazing friend groups. Every group is different. And the diversity is not just across groups but within the group as well. There are so many unique characters in women friend groups. For example the "wannabe misfit"! She's easy to spot. Every female group has one of them. She's the girl who doesn't quite fit in to the group but always wanted to be a part of them. She is either the non party girl amidst a bunch of party freaks. Or she's the posing geek in a group of academics. She's always there. Go to a club and check out any of the groups of women who are dancing. Four hot women with very little clothes covering very little flesh. And right between them is the overdressed misfit (you can spot her coz she is clearly uncomfortable wearing what she is wearing and is either pulling her top up or skirt down to cover up). She would much rather be at home and watch Wheel of Fortune but NO. She wants to be the party girl and hence she accompanies her friends every week. She tries really hard to fit in. Every time the girls say "let's get drunk" she is the first one to gulp in the peg but BOY SHE HATES IT!! Occasionally she voices her true opinions. "Let's all sit and talk tonight," she would sheepishly suggest. But just then one of the other girls say "There is this really cute DJ playing in Siranos. Let's go there ..." and her voice gets lost is a deluge of affirmative screams.

And with every misfit in the group comes the mastah teacher. The girl who has been there, done that and taken others there too. Yeah yeah! They are easy to spot too. Often they are the reason why the misfits even manage to enter the groups. It's this one (or two) girls who always have some advice to offer. They are an insatiable resource of wisdom. "The secret to a man's heart is to not look at him." "All men are bastards." "I think you should dye your hair red." The teacher always has some advice to offer. And she IS a perfectionist. No matter how hard the misfit apprentice tries - the teacher is never satisfied. "I like what you have done to your hair BUT ... you should probably get a tan," she'll say.

Then there are the two girls who don't get along at all but still hang out in the group together. Hey, I have a sister. I've seen this happen in abundance. X calls Y and finds out that Z is joining them too for dinner. "Aaargh!" X X-claims. "Y does Z have to come?" she adds. "You know what she told W abt me right? She is such a back stabber." Fifteen minutes after the conversation finishes, Z and Y have an identical conversation. And yet X and Z love to hang out. To them the best part of the group is to gather ample things abt each other to bitch abt and take it up with Y. Nice :)

And there are so many others. The girl who always backs out last moment because "something urgent came up". The girl who always talks abt her boy friend who none of the other girls like. The girl who cries easy (even if you tell her that she is looking thin). They are all there. And they are the ones that make the female groups so much fun. Which is why you have Girls Night Outs. Which is why you have Sleepovers. Which is why you have Boyfriend criticism sessions (men never have these coz they are scared that some friend will go and leak the details to the women concerned).

So my sincere thanks to the innumerable women friend groups around us - for the sheer variety they provide. And some say that variety is spice. No wonder you gals are so hot!!!!

Peace!

Friday, January 18, 2008

Say cheeeeeeeeeeese !!!

I'm not one of those people who loves posing for photographs. For starters I look terrible in most photographs. Secondly, I look drunk in all my photographs (for a teetotaller that's not a compliment). And thirdly, my eyes are open in one out of ten photographs. Hence, I normally play the guy in the group who says "Go go. You guys stand. I'll take the photograph."

However, I have friends who love to be clicked. They carry a camera to every freakin place they visit. They want to capture every restaurant, house and lawn they've been to. Even public restrooms are not spared from their passion. They take the photographing bug to a different level altogether. Every event has to be captured twice. First they'll take a photograph of the golden moment themselves. Then they'll ask someone else to take the exact same picture but this time with them in it. Then they'll come and take a look at the just taken snap and sulk for twelve seconds before saying "hmmmm! the angle is not right, errrr, hmmmm ... do you mind taking another photograph?" and pose again. Quite the ordeal I'd say.

But seriously, with the advent of digital cameras, there's this whole new specie of photographers now. What used to be an art form is now a standard. My Grandpa had a Pentax camera which he took great pride in showing off. I was raised with the notion that you have to be a genius to even come near that device. Every snap he took was preceded by careful planning and a looooooong lecture ("No no. Chhotu .You are facing the light source the wrong way. One, two, three, smile, four, five, Chhotu move to the right, six, seven ...") During family get togethers, Grandpa would get only the very special level of treatment. All the family members would try to remain in his good books so that they got clicked a few extra times. Then there was always be the hoard of annoying children who'll follow him and somehow appear in every photograph that was taken. "Will you take one photograph of just me?" i'd plead. Sometimes he would agree. Other times he'd just press the flash (yeah, we were innocent enough to assume that a flash meant a photograph) to hush up the crying me. All in all, my Grandpa occupied a different pedigree, courtesy the shutter box he carried. Aaaah! The good times.

Then in mid eighties a company called Hot Shots came and spoiled it all for him. They advertised themselves as the common man's camera, one that everyone and anyone could use.

Still there was an element of mystique surrounding cameras. Once the photographs were taken, they would get sent to the studio for development. The whole process took two-three weeks. In that time people would wait in apprehension. Aunts who had taken their daughters all dressed up as future brides would queue up the moment the photographs appeared to see how well their damsels looked. The success of a group photograph could be gauged by how many "copies" of it was ordered.

And then ... then the digital camera arrived.Things changed again. Now people could take a snap, see what it looked like and take another snap pronto. Couples who were shy of even hugging for photographs, lest the creepy film developer keeps a copy of their intimate moment, now readily shot pics that would put playful bunnies to shame. If mp3s were what filled up the hard drives in the late 90s, then digital photographs became the major space occupier of the modern computer. People would have hundreds of carefully labelled folders of photographs, with names ranging from "Trip to Japan 2003" to "My new bathroom I, II and III".

You would think that would be it, right? You would think that as a generation we would be happy with a camera that allowed us to save thousands of images in it - right? But naaay! We greedy bastards wanted more. A lot more. And thus, some bright guy came up with the idea of adding a camera to a cell phone. And that did it. At least people were posing for a digital camera. But with the cell phone camera people started taking photographs of anything and everything they could see. "Darling I saw a dog pee on the road. It reminded me of you. So I took a snap and mailed it to you." "I'm watching Munnabhai again. Here is a snap of Sanjay Dutt standing ... here is a snap of him sitting down ... look, the guy next to me is wearing a red pant!!! Sorry it was a brown pant. Here, take another look at it ..." Yessss, that's the level of subjects we choose for our photographs now. It's no longer the wallpaper worthy flowers, or the Shhhhh! saying baby or even your smiling girlfriend. The subject of modern photographs range from dog poop to fornicating love birds ... and that's not what is scary ... what's scary is the question "What next???"

Coming Next: What people do when they get their photographs taken!!

WHEN I STAND BEFORE GOD AT THE END OF MY LIFE, I WOULD HOPE THAT I WOULD NOT HAVE A SINGLE BIT OF TALENT LEFT, AND COULD SAY, " I USED UP EVERYTHING YOU GAVE ME "