Life's Important Questions...

Thanks to the site, graphjam.com, helping in providing a pictorial view ! :-)

Of Pigs, PFand Pearls...

I'm part of a Fantasy football league for the past four years - its a pretty easy going league with lot of banter, ill-translated sentences, fun but quite competitive place. It is also run by a commish, who does things pretty much with an iron-hand (:-)). During the commish's tenure, the rabbits' DNAs have mutated, that their 4th leg has become an vestigial limb and can no longer be found... (in the lines of முயல், மூன்று கால் etc).

As the new season unfolds this year, he had decided on the draft order (with a feral and ferrous hand, of course), purportedly based on a lunch meeting at a Pizza joint with a few of the leaguers... My reaction to his post where he had published the draft order was as below:
___________________
The below is the result of sinister conspiracy hatched by neo-fascist extreme-left-wing cabal (of 1) !! The order of draft was totally different...

I'm sure commish would Meddle in, generate proof in terms of a torn masala-dosai smelling napkin that he quickly rushes out and picks up from an Indian restaurant nearby and claim it to be from the Pizza joint. This is so typical of first 4 seasons - I was hoping (against hope) that the Echoes of change that is sounding elsewhere in the world will also come to this league... but alas NO ! From behind the Wall, Commish continues to reign in with an iron hand and puts down any semblance of sense. No doubt, we would be pointed to the change in draft process; Its just a momentary lapse of reason and an aberration of deviant from the dark-side; just an exception that was obscured by clouds of, what appears to be traces of transient sense found in the relics of continuing autocracy.

The draft order is the last straw, the final cut. Let me ring the Division Bell, demand not to be treated as one among Animals and set controls to the heart of the son !!! I'm flaming outta here, praying that a new piper would lead you all to a gates of new dawn ! Bye then...

... until the draft day...
_______________________

Well, I was so disappointed, that except the commish, no one else picked the message of the post !! But life... as they have said...
"Sun is the same in a relative way, but you're older,
shorter of breath, one-day closer to death...
...missing the finer points from 17 channels of shit to choose from !"

Love in Modern times !

On the day poetry,
professing love to thee...
"alas", whispered a lil' birdie,
"keep it under 140".

The Weekend Cycle.

Graph made possible by graphjam.com

Test of Temptations - Ramba, Menaka, Urvashi and Yana !

I had written (if I may add, very proudly) about how I quit smoking elsewhere in the blog (you should read that before you read this one)… Again during this travel, I passed by that gas station and I “one number kumbidu pottaen” to that monument.

I was also talking about it to someone this travel. The funny thing was the there is a huge (well, small anyway) untold story about what followed immediately after that event… In the earlier blog, it was like the nostalgia – I had given the good details and left out the ugly ones !

Here is the account of the other side of the story – the sultry temptress that came in all forms including a fat friend of mine, (who would take umbrage in calling him fat, but anyways, he isn’t reading this blog – so I can even get away by calling him intelligent), Mr.Purported-Devarajan and host of others that came in stunning sequence out of the Mumbai airport’s concrete-work. All sent by the creator for one sole reason – go forth and screw up this guy’s penance of denying himself the pleasure of smoking !

So here is the untold story that has been told/read never before in the public forum; now open to the whole wide-world audience of nine regular readers (ok, sue me, I’m reporting higher numbers in this blog’s TRP rating)…

As I walked out of the gas station as “proud quitter”, I needed to travel from Fort Collins to another small city in the US – Roseville – its near Sacramento and more importantly (to none who reads this blog), had a site where our company operates. Me, with a great amount of confidence and faith in my own ability to stick to my decision of quitting, checked myself into the hotel and into a “smoking room”. I knew, like all my romances, this is going to be short lived. I check in, and then the sun sets on the American empire – so I go walking in search of food places to eat- I find a Denny’s, but it is very conveniently situated adjacent to the gas station. So I walk across the Gas station and… and walk straight into Denny’s, had some food and turn my head away from the gas station and walk out. Ramba has been denied.

Cool, I thought to myself and when I returned back to Ft.Collins, I proudly checked myself into a “non-smoking” room. I was quite sure that I had kicked the habit, although it was only 3 days into abstinence, not really believing that this abstinence is going to be any different from every other resolutions that occurred on 1^st of every January… The only material difference was, this wasn’t winter, but Fall, if that makes a lot of sense to the nine of you !!

Like jet-lag, sometimes the absence of nicotine in the blood-stream can hit you much later; atleast, so I theorize ! After all the phoren work, I return back to our country. Those days, there were no direct flights to Bangalore, but one has to come through one of the other cities and in the middle of the night with a 5-6 hour wait. So I wait in the airport. Second theory: Once you quit smoking, the other thing you want to avoid is to wait aimlessly (the first one you want to avoid is the fat friends that smoke). So, since I waited aimlessly, I saw the sultrier Menaka dance in front of my eyes; so those roved. Found Mr.Devarajan smoking; and I built a story in my own mind – I would go tap him on the back and say hello Deva – he could be even Thiyagarajan or Govindarajan or some other Rajan – but I decided he would be Devarajan. Ofcourse, he would be some other (what are the chances that he really could be Devarajan ?); he would naturally, look at me puzzled but its an opportunity to strike up a conversation – what you up to, are you also waiting for the Bangalore flight blah, blah and finally let go, “can I bum a fag ?” (yep, for all the smoker fag does mean just that) and lo behold, I’d have my smoke. I made my move; unfortunately, he also made his move – he walked away… Shoot, I sat back down. I thought, was it a message from the providence… As I wrestled bumming when he returned, it was 4.30AM and the PA called for the check-ins and Deva had moved with extreme speed… Menaka faded into black !

Ok, got through the 2^nd celestial dancer, by the quirk of bad-timing of the PA system. The ultimate test was waiting to happen… As I checked in and was wandering around – guess who turns up – the fat smart guy who I begun to smoke with in college. Great!! And he offers me a fag – I’ve to hold my ground, I proudly tell him, I quit (without telling it has been only 3 days). He respects that, and doesn’t offer me any more. Are we done? No – the ultimate Urvasi is lurking around the corner – ignoring Prabhu Deva, she isn’t taking it easy! Another guy turns up from the same college – but this is the weird twist – he was not a smoker in the college, but had started after he had gotten a job in a remote and culturally strange-to-him town – the ennui had gotten to him and he had started smoking! So he says, hey G, you used to be smoker, here’s one!! Ok, Oorvasi, I’m on the penance thing – although it was very tempting watching her do the Helen dance (or Yana Gupta of these days, which is more sexier, I’m told – I wouldn’t know, anyways) and although I slyly open one eye to catch a part of it, I shut it out ! I say a firm NO… Oorvasi has been ignored too…

…and have stayed unscathed since! Although Koshy’s still offers temptations, but I think now I’m through all these dances, even if its Yana (doing Baboojeee... :)); maybe it’s the middle age catching up… We are still talking about “Quit-smoking”, by the way !!

Oh, it is perfectly possible; all of the above could be wild delusions of a nicotine-denied brain!!

Toilet Humor

Heard in the toilet at our work place...

Middle Aged Guy: So , since it was raining so heavily yesterday, how did you get from the bus stop to your house ?

Young guy: My wife had come to the bus-stand with the umbrella

MAG: Oh... so you have been married only for 3 months right ?

YG: Yep...

MAG: My wife just told me to wait in some shelter until the rain stops

Thats just not it.

A bunch of folks in the toilet nodded in sympathetic been-there-experience-that kind of nod.

Humour at its Subtlest best !

Although this blog is for original (!) creations (!?!), there is this recent joke that I heard that deserves a mention; of course, attributing it to the oft quoted author - A.N.Onymous:

Q: What do you get if you roll an atheist, dyslexic insomniac into one ?
A: You get a person who stays awake all night wondering if there is dog !

:)

The True Blue !

World cup is upon us, one more time. For someone who has followed all the world-cup closely since 1979, here are few of my predictions:

1. The media, afflicted by slightly altered mad-cow disease (aka foot-in-the-mouth disease), would whip up the mob hysteria (#2 below) and portray as if the Indian team is made up of 11 Daniel Craigs, draped in blue. They would gently goad every other expert they could lay their microphone on to say that India is the favourite to win. And every one of gullible us would fall for that.

2. Collectively, as a nation we will go into ecstasy when India wins a match, even if it is against Bangladesh and frenzy when it loses to far superior side like South Africa. After every win, the reporters from every news channel and otherwise, will interview a horde of supporters on the street, who will chant mindlessly, “jeetega, bhai jeetaga, India World cup jeetega”. Likewise, after every loss, the horde would want everybody’s head from the team, including the head of Kiran More, even though it does not matter if More has less to do with the team.

3. Shah Rukh Khan will appear for Pepsi, Videocon, Vicks, Dog Biscuits, Brooms and whatever brand he could make money on and urge India to win with a fake emotions and urge Indians to support the team with faker tears. Last heard, marketing gurus from those companies are getting together to create a pot-pourri of blue motif – that has SRK, in blue colors, gulping all those down and making a clean sweep of the opposition (with that broom, of course).

4. Every regional channel will ardently try to imbibe the fever; and do a poor copy of the original copy. You would the likes of Sadagopan Ramesh, Tinu Yohannan and Narasimha Rao (the cricketer) giving completely c(l)ued-in responses to completely inane questions from the completely clueless anchors. Yet, that would still be bearable compared to the motor-mouths!! (refer #6 below).

5. The morning absenteeism at conferences in cafeteria of already highly productive IT companies will rise; resulting in cricket ball-talks shifted to the post-lunch work session. At the same companies, due to better connectivity to the net and better TVs, a lot more people will stay overnight and work; and claim late-work dinner and tea. The midnight-oil will be burnt to make the net-work.

6. Motor-mouth Charu Sharma and his side-kick Mandira Bedi will be on again. They will, of course, ensure that they have their informed opinions heard ahead of experts, who have only played a bit more cricket than them. Thankfully, Set Max did not win the ICC telecast bid for the next umpteen years. But, yet again, the next set of motor-mouths would be as bad as the above two.

7. MMs would interview slightly-drunk and slurring Indian movie stars at the ground ahead of the game. The IMS would go, “Yes, India will win, blah, blah” – goes to fit the tag line perfectly – you can take an Indian out of the streets, but you cannot take the streets out of Indian (refer #2 above).

8. There will be horde of product-launches – all with a cricketer acting abysmally and endorsing them. And each one of the cricketer would be eulogized and their houses stoned. Some gullible (ref #1 above) would even believe that a cricketer did not turn up for a match, since he was shooting a commercial.
   

9. Dravid, Pawar, Vengsarkar, Sehwag and Chappel will all maintain that Sehwag is one big game away from huge score. Unfortunately, that is (but hopefully isn’t) the game, India does not get to play. Last heard, Kapil was to be recalled to the team, since he is also a “proven” performer in the past. Gavaskar wont be; in any case, he'd be busy criticizing the Aussies for their ethos and their work ethics.
   

10. Countless companies would seek viewers to SMS their opinion on Sehwag’s inclusion, as he’d play every match to reach that huge score in the next match. Everyone would make money off it, the business, the advertisers, the channel, the telcos and Sehwag. The billion blue folks would sit smugly, knowing that they have made a difference in Sehwag’s selection (team, not shot), through their SMS.

11. Regardless of all the brouhaha, the Television sales would go up. Stupidity would become the currency and people would fall for any marketing campaign and go in for better TVs , in a hope to see all of the above with much greater and crystal clarity. I did.

50 ways to Peeve/Grieve/Cleave your caller !

Excerpted from the yet to be published book of “50 ways Peeve, Grieve and Cleave your caller – how to handle the Tele-marketeers, who call you and solicit to sell something that you told them that you didn’t need yesterday morning, evening, today morning and 5 minutes ago”. Randomly picked a few of the methods, the same way my phone number gets randomly picked by the Soliciting Sally (aka Sai Lakshmi). The more and more these methods are adopted my more and more folks, we will hopefully see a drop in calls and these tele-marketeers truly forming "do not call registry" amongst themselves.

#5: Seek every bit of info
Ask Sally for all the information about the product – each and every bit…every bit. AND the bit, OR the bit and XOR it, then ask again. If it’s a credit card, ask her to read out the rules and instruction at the back of the form and explain each and everything of what it means. Ask her for comparisons between various credit cards. If you feel like, ask her about the origin of credit card – if possible quickly google for it and set out to educate her. Here Sally may insist someone could meet you, politely decline, saying unless you understand of what it mean you could not waste time meeting anyone. But ensure that Sally understands that you are interested in the product. At some point in time in this analytical detail conversation with a scientific bent, Sally is bound to give up.

#15 Sell back to them
Pick a favourite product of yours or the product of the company that you work for. Pick a product that she is very unlikely to have – like a parallel processing computer – Ask here if Sally has one. If not, launch into a monologue as to how that would change her life and make her look good in front of her husband or boyfriend or both. Get to every detail. Ask her name, age and her address, so that you can send a sample. Sometimes these details can help transition into method #21, particularly if you are jobless on that day.

#21 Ask her out
Very effectively used by someone I knew. Patiently hear out all the details of the product and then finally tell her that you would buy the product only if she were to come and meet you personally and sell it. Feign innocence – tell her, you were interested in buying the product, since she was so interested in selling it. Insist that it is something called an “unique buyer-seller relationship”, that Peter Mucker talks about; and that is something pious that cannot be broken. Quote from some holy and quotable quotes of how such relationships are pure and blah

#28 Can you hold Please ?
Tell Sally that you are very interested with the product. Exclaim excitedly, “wow, that’s exactly what I was looking for… great, great, great”; sound a bit distracted and ask if she could “hold please”? Then leave the receiver on the desk for a while and go on with your work; after couple of minutes, repeat the “can you hold, please”. Repeat until Sally gives up; or alternately, you could be cruel and after the 3^rd hold, you could tell Sally that you just realized that you already have the same credit card. If you really want to have more fun, quickly glance at your mobile, note the number where Sally is calling from (most likely a board number) and give it back to her as a friend’s number who would be interested in the card.

#33 Indulge in Babble
Hear Sally out for 30s and ask her if she could answer a question – then pick up the nearest newspaper and continue to read a news item unhindered and without a break. Just go for it. Somewhere, you would see that Sally had disconnected

#42 Run a Survey
As soon as you figure out that Sally is a tele-marketeer, profusely thank her for calling you and tell her that you are doing a research on Tele-marketeers for your PhD and you just need to get a few details – ask Sally about whatever you want to from then on – her education, her location, what shampoo she uses, why she uses it, what other product she considered before making a decision – go on for a while, then profusely thank her and disconnect.

#48 The old and Trusted Method
Get angry that you were called in the middle of something that you were doing, shout at Sally, increase a blood pressure and stress level. The author apparently does not recommend this at all.

#50 Register your number in the upcoming TRAI’s “Do not call Registry”
You could do this and hence publish your number to every other telemarketer, who due to some quirk of fate or stroke of luck, haven’t laid hands on your numbers.

Hers and Hiss !!

Her View:

I have dreamed about this my life time – perhaps all women do. In another few minutes I will be marrying someone of my dreams; well, not exactly, but will do and importantly, I am glad that I’m marrying him. I had met him in a function at our workplace, about two years ago. He and I belonged to the group that had volunteered to organize the event for the company. This is where I had met him. Initially he seemed to be quite a nice guy; eventually, he just turned out to be nicer!! We are doing fairly well at job and his family seemed nice, with him being the lone-son. There was also some kind of excitement as I look forward to my life with him. In spite of all this, I still have butterflies in my stomach. I suppose, there is a certain amount of apprehension when one commits to something as big and as lifelong as marriage :-) … The past few days were hectic, with all the running around, invitations, shopping, fixing up stuff and so on. At the same time, the emotions over the past day were on a roller-coaster and sometimes were very confusing. There a just a few moment left; in a minute or two, I would be Mrs. Somebody... I wish I could walk to the groom’s room and talk to him one more time; and how I wish, I could peep into his room and see if he is going through a similar predicament…

His View:

I was going through a predicament. Just two minutes or so to go. Two years seems as if I’ve waited for this for a life time. I’m quite apprehensive and anxious. I look at the TV in the room. It was a CCTV showing the marriage pandal. I absent-mindedly look for the remote; perhaps I can switch channels and get rid of this tension. There is just so much anticipation here and I can hardly sit; there was excitement and lot of nervous energy; I pace around the room, look at my clock; perhaps very little time is left now! I wonder what the future would hold… as I pace around, I hear the beep of my mobile. and there is this text message from my friend: “2 passes with 19 & 14 yards. 1^st down at Mid-field and 22 seconds to go… AND Brady is intercepted!! Game over!!! Your Indianapolis Colts are in the Super Bowl”! Yessssss!!!!…. As my mother enters to call me into pandal, I stumble along there in a daze and in excitement. It is done, after 9 years in the league, Peyton Manning is finally in the Super Bowl !!!

Ps: Part of the story is true, since I was the one who sending the periodic text message; However, the groom and bride’s thoughts are a result of my imagination...

B-Road Rules!! (Ok, just guidelines)

I had the opportunity to drive a car on Bangalore roads after a long break. Here are some advices, I doled out to all and sundry, in that surreal, half-hour experience:

• Dear Mr.Hep Hariharan – That painted line on the road is not something meant to bisect your car in two halves, with amazing precision and stillness, with your wheels straddling on either side. That one divides the road into lanes.
• Dear Mrs. Crouching Kamakshi (no Hidden Dragons) – Clutching the wheels, with an intense wo-maniacal look fixed at the bonnet and going at pace that has cycles overtaking you, is NOT the concept of safe-driving.
• Dear Mr. Made-IT Madhavan – Glad you are going places in your job, do you have to do that on the roads too ? Remember, you have graduated to a car ? It is NOT a four-wheeled bike...
  
• Dear Shri. Cleaner Kannan – If you insist that the truck would be on the right lane, why do you still flap your hands out of the left window? If you want to fly, should you not have clearance above your head?
• Dear PYTty Pamela – Do you really have to be mobile and mobile stuck between your ears and your shoulder? “தலை சாaithu பார்த்தாயே, தடுமாறி போnaene” and had to screech to a halt...to AVOID the drifting you.
• Dear Shri Auto Anna, are you fine saar? You are on the wrong side of the road and wrong direction on an one-way… But, please go ahead saar, I'll wait. Ella ok, rules yaake?
• Dear 20-something Horny Harry – That 17-something on the pillion, that you are wearing as the shirt, may be the engine that’s spurs you greater heights and faster speeds; May I suggest that you perhaps ride, taking your eyes off the (adjusted) rear-view mirror? Its scary!!!
  
• Dear Shri. Nervous Narayanan – Thank you for your presence – we are honoured!!! Can you please stop honking? NOW ??
  
• Dear Shri Bus Basavaraju – I agree… Neevae Doddavaru. Please, swalpa down nodutheera? That speck that you look down on is a car. Swalpa brake saar... SAAAAR !!
• Dear Edgy Engeetham – Like your niece says, Chill. Simply, drive maadi, stress yaake?

I reach my work in one piece, navigating 10km ride in about 45m, really relaxed and mentally refreshed, all set to take on work and on the world. Well, another ride, another chaos, another jam, another cacophony, struggling policeman, another pothole ... All's normal. Perfect driving conditions in Bengalooru.

Airlines People, Enakkoru (pala, Infact) Sandegam...

· Ever wonder these “beautiful people” who come across aloof and cold outside the confines of an airplane become warm and caring once they are inside? Would this dichotomy stress them enormously?

· If ever a Stewardess in hir personal lives, get angry and ask someone to “get out”, would they also tell them, that the “nearest exit may be behind you”?

· As the airplane flies higher and higher, it appears smaller and smaller to the eyes – is that why everything that’s served in the plane are in mini-sizes – like the food, peanuts packs, liquor bottle; Is this the case of “Honey, I shrunk every damn thing” ?

· I’m not looking to look as thin as you folks do or as fit as you folks are – If I’m on a diet, I will tell you; so, can I actually have a full and real meal, please?

· If one were to meet you on the road and ask for directions, would you do the side-ways karate chop there too?

· If you were to tell the Stewardess, while deplaning that you are planning to kill yourself, would they with their stuck ready-made smiles tell you – “Bye now, Buh Buh-ye now”?

Laws of Successful Marriages...

1^st Law: Law of Decision Making:

This is the most most most important law for a successful marriage. This would lay a strong foundation on which a solid marriage is built and also the other laws have been scripted. This law is fairly known and practiced all over by men; and has been found the most passed on advice from much-harried men to the man-on-the-threshold-of-marriage.

The law states thus: “Never, never let the women take important decisions. Important decisions are the domain of men. Women should only take very minor and unimportant decisions”. For example, the decision of what one’s country’s foreign policy should be, decision around the constitutional amendments, the composition of the nationals team, what should be the country’s fiscal budget is unequivocally the domain of men. Women of the household have no say in it – men decide it. However, all the unimportant decisions such as what should be the color of the blinds, what the furniture should look like, the paint colors should be that of women’s. Men typically should not worry about those.

2^nd Law: Law of Financial Equality:

As they say a sound financial balance is bedrock of any relationship – be it business or personal. The same holds for a successful marriage. The financial income into the joint account should be men’s responsibility; whereas the financial outgo from the account is the responsibility of the women of the house. These two should be absolutely equal. Typically, the equation tends to change on the outgo; as the women do their part to raise the outgo, immediately, the men are expected to do their bit to raise the income and hence endeavoring to keep the equation balanced and restore financial equality. Men do contribute to the outgo, when they tend to gather around in a place, where a bunch of them meet to decide on important things and also that of newest toys that they could lay hands on. Most women also contribute to the income these days, which makes this law a bit more complicated to balance out; and hence the 3^rd law.

3^rd Law: Law of Quick Agreements:

We all know that one of the key ingredients of a marriage is “ours” thing. Most women would like to believe about the ours, whereas men are less likely to be so. So women really like to seek agreement on decisions so that they would believe that it was “our” decision. Men on the other hand really do not care much, as long as it does not come in the way of the few key and important things that are to them – like a good TV surfing session, a good wine and depending on the age (not really), gawking at other women. Given that, the best time for women to get an agreement is when the man is watching a cricket match intently – most preferable time would be when Tendulkar is on 99, facing Shoaib Akhtar. If that’s a rarity, choose such an alternate time, such as when 'Chaiya, Chaiya' song is on, on TV with the men admiring the scenic beauty of India North East. Men will agree to anything at such times.

For men, this is a bit tougher. Since they don’t have the decision making power in the unimportant things, he needs to plan (or scheme, depending on the point of view) a lot more to get an agreement. Few of the best bets is to do something that is ‘romantic’, which scale differs based on the agreement needed – the lowest on the scale would be coming home early from work and declare that you would be cooking today and set about and try and make something that is her favourite. In the middle of the scale would be flowers, with the cooking added; and on the high-end would be something precious, plus the flowers and plus the cooking. Once done, do not assume it is the time to pop the question to get the agreement; women’s mind is much sharper than that of men. You should repeat the above acts (or such similar) for a period of 2-3 months, before you would want to seek to ask the agreement-question. Which simply means that men can get women to agree about 4 times a year; whereas women can get men to agree when cricket is played, when there is an item number on the TV, when Roger Federer is in his sublime best… you get the drift, fairly any time they choose to.

4^th Law: Law of Compromises:

Men tend to be loud from both the ends; through the day they really like to talk about all the important things and want to hold court with all their educated and well-read opinions on things that matter (refer to the 1^st law). As the night falls, they tend to get vocally quiet from that end and noisy from the other end. Women should compromise and look at persevering through this as an occupational hazard instead of providing the man with an opportunity or excuse to ask questions around the unimportant things such as expenses etc.

Women, on the other hand, are extraordinarily quick at certain times when specific situation demands so. If men decide to go out on an impulse, the women can typically get ready in about half the time they usually take to get ready. For example, if the going out is for a movie, rest assured that the couple will get to the movie; it might not be the same show that the man had planned for, but most likely the same day. This is a worthwhile compromise for the man to make; as against having to shave twice while waiting for the wife to get ready or the movie actually gets moved out after its usual run in the theatres.

5th Law: Law of Control:

Men and women like control equally; particularly remotely. Women would like control. Period. So, during the early stages of marriages, when Men are away from home, women have this high need of what the men is upto, which is natural, given men’s interest spectrum. So it is typical for women to call in once in a while say nice things to the man and then casually slip in questions about her man’s whereabouts. Men during the earlier stage of marriage mistake it to be love. As we had proved earlier, men are smart, but women smarter. As men begin to realize it is not about love, it is several years into the marriage and the pattern has been habituated; and habits die hard. One can see such instances of men in watering holes, with their mobile phones ringing at exactly the time they enter the premises – it is as if women have GPS bug installed in the men; and the man speaking to the woman in the hushed tone and slowly developing a guilt; which in fact is yet another tool for women to get to quick agreements (refer to the 3^rd Law)

Men too love control; specifically if its remote control, they would adore it. This is their one feeling of absolute control over everything they lord over – which is mostly the Television. If the attention of the men watching TV has to be got, then the first step would be to separate the remote from their hands. The men instantly go the phases of drug-withdrawal-like symptoms, some irrational behaviour and then settle down to listen, since that’s their only hope to get the remote back. The only time men feel threatened about the possession of remote control is when the son grows up and starts acquiring traits of regular man and gets into man’s territory; and fights for control of the remote. There are case-studies which shows, men have handled such usurpers with firmness much unlike the jungle rules; they have just go and buy the 2^nd TV, so that they have their own ‘remote control’

The number of laws and the understanding of individual laws themselves are evolving and I’m sure there is lot more out there. I will keep this updated as I hear more.

The Neo Barberians

Do you ever have this feeling that things around you are ever so slightly changing, slowly, innocuously, but suddenly one day you have ended up in a situation that is completely different; and you wake up and feel like you have been Ripped-Van-Winkled ?

I had one such experience a week ago. I had decided that I will have a hair-cut and as usual, paid a visit to the friendly neighborhood barber shop. My usual visit time is early mornings on a week day or later afternoon on weekends when his load is not at his peak. This time, however, I chose to go on a Saturday at 6PM – it was quite obvious to me that this was his ‘prime-time’ and he was running at his full capacity – all the three of them were busy with customers and there were two others waiting ahead of me. I too decided to wait.

…I wait; for the first time, I really look around the “shop”. There are lot more variety in magazines and news papers, than I could recall, with couple of English papers; also scattered around are must-in-every-barber-shop-two-months-old filmfare. I see he had upgraded his black and white TV to a color TV; a post-cricket match analysis was on. I watched that for a while; when those guys ‘returned to the studios’, after a bit of channel surfing, he settled for a music channel playing Hindi songs, where the VJ, with an accent, was trying to advise listeners on the ills of not having a steady ‘significant other’. I picked up a magazine and was trying to find out why King Khan felt he is not the numero uno in Bollywood, when my turn for the chair came. In response to the question from Barber #3, I told him I wanted a summer cut and settled down. Then something else caught my eye; in the chair farthest from me, barber #1 who had just finished a hair-cut, started applying some white solution on his customers face; Apparently, the customer was getting a facial. Through my hair-cut (I should call it styling; perhaps), I watched with fascination the whole process of facial – on the reflection, of course. B #3 was finishing up on the left side; then one of the phones rang; just like in the Airtel advertisement, each one of us reached for our mobile; and just like in the Airtel ad, all of us were left with sheepish grins, when the B#3 walked across to pick up his phone – a land line. He talked on the phone for a while, leaving me waiting.

In the meantime, in the adjacent chair, Barber #2 had finished the hair-cut and had gone on to the next one – it was not the usual shave – but apparently a “head massage”. He applied loads of oil on his customers head and went on to massage it, rub it, beat it, knock it in turns… it was a riveting sight to watch; I was amazed at the repertoire of services offered here; my barber returns from his call and proceeds on to finish; he asks me if I need a head or face massage, facial, shave … I reply in negative; for two reasons: I still need time to adjust and get used to this new era of hair-styling and men-makeovers; secondly, for a guy who used to go with 20 bucks to have hair-cut and then have a dosa at the nearby darshini, I’m not carrying enough corpus to buy any of the new services…

As I pay and exit, I ask for his phone number and store it in my mobile. Maybe the next time, I will have to make an appointment and actually carry my purse: I may choose to have a “make-over” than a simple summer crew-cut; got to change with the times.

Till Death Tears us apart...

Vijay Thakur is going through tough times. He has had nothing but a horse that was in his last leg, in fact all its four legs were in their last leg. But he got to make do with what he has, if he has to reach his love of his life, Lakshmi Kumari. He had no kingdom to swap for that horse., but he did swap his fathers (unknown to him, ofcourse) expensive television and his scooter for the horse and some money. He knew Lakshmi’s father had forbidden that she could not meet him; ever. But he had challenged that an old man can never stop his true love; and here he is on the horse, the only thing that could take him through the ravines of Hambal to Lakshmi’s village. He knew he had to be very cautious; he had just fought a gang of 10, who perhaps were sent by his would-be father-in-law to break his every haddi; they did succeed a bit, but when they tried to steal his horse, it was last straw on Vijay’s back – he “un sabko apne naani yaad dila diya”. As he passed through the ravines, he heard gun shots and suddenly the bullets whizzed past his ears and one even nicked his hand; but that did not stop Vijay from drawing his gun from the rucksack he had, looked directly into the sun, see the famed dacoits of Hambal and shoot each one of them. Funnily, as the dacoits were shot, they fell in somersaults; and some even fell in a way that would have put Greg Louganis to shame. Having warded them off bravely and one of his hands bleeding and his throat parched, Vijay Singh Thakur galloped on – on the horse that saw so much action that it forgot it was on its last leg; Vijay was tantalizing close – far away he saw Lakshmi running towards him in a slow-motion… On cue, his horse collapsed, he was now on the plains that separated him and his love of his life and started running towards her; strangely he heard a song as he ran towards her…

Lakshmi Devi was on the other end of the plain, on a bullock-cart that was part of the caravan. She was in the middle of the caravan, and the people around in the caravan wearing colorful dresses were singing and dancing as the caravan moved forward. Earlier just before the dawn, she had gone to the terrace of her house and climbed down the wall, bruising herself badly – she knew this was just the pain she would go have to go through – the love of her life – Vijay was waiting for her. Lakshmi had plotted her route carefully through the mangrove so that none can see her; except those five ruffians from the village, who happen to be in the mangrove that time. They started chasing her; one even caught up to her; but the stray-dog she had lovingly fed came to her rescue; she escaped his paws (the kamina's and not the kutha's); and the chase re-started - miraculously she evaded all of them; but they were gaining; as it was getting dangerous for her, she heard the sound of the cowbells and creaking wheels of bullock-carts; she ran towards it; the five ruffians who were chasing her gave up at the sight of well-built riders of the bullock cart. SLakshmi thanked the leader of the bullock-cart profusely, who although did not ask as to what she was doing at this early hour, but said he consider her to be his “beti”. That was this morning; in the interim, there was a chorus song by the people in the caravan; and over fire and over brunch, Laskhmi sang soulfully about her love, pining on to see Vijay and her future life with him. All of that was coming to fruition; they were in the edge of the plains and she saw Vijay in his horse; as soon as she saw him, she jumped off the cart and started running towards him. She saw Vijay doing the same and running towards her in slow-motion. She also heard the song she sang in the morning in her, but it was the joyous version of it…

Vijay ran, Lakshmi ran; and they ran as the birds sang, flowers bloomed... They were very close – with 20 meters separating them; and in a minute, they’d fall into each other arms and live happily every after…

“Engeetham stopped his writing and read through what he had written. It looked so déjà vu and he realized that this is the story of every other movie that gets made. He shook his head and tore what he had written into two, crumpled them, threw it in the garbage and left the room to have his coffee; hopefully that will induce some creativity”

...as Vijay and Lakshmi ran, suddenly there seemed to be a big divide appearing in front of them; They could no longer see each other; a crushing-searing pain passed through them…

Of Root Canal and Cavemen

I’m on almost 180’ recliner and I don’t feel any bit comfortable.

In the past month or so, I have been having pain in my teeth. I could feel a crater had formed in the last molar on the bottom jaw and that had slowly started causing pain. The pain has not been acute, but it was always there to the extent it had become an irritant and kept gnawing. For the first time in my life, I had visited the dentist and she had said that my tooth is as good as gone and the decay has set in to the root and touched the nerve and hence I need the root canal treatment.

Hence, I’m here today reclined most uncomfortably in the dentist with a masked and gloved dental surgeon sternly poring over me, with the spotlight blinding me. In front of me was an assortment of needles, hooks, scalpel, injectors – it looked surreally part and I felt I was the recipient of an inquisition. First she ordered my mouth wide open, studied the situation with a grave disposition and then she set out to work; and did she set out to work… For the next 30 minutes, it was a combination of filing, drilling, gnawing, excavating and all that. Just a bit of digression: apparently every tooth has two nerves in them and they go to the root of the mouth. They are quite sensitive. She was successful in excavating one of the nerves; the other one seemed to hold its nerve against the invasion, which is not good news for me. Every time it was touch by the instruments, there used to be this pain – it is not searing and it is not big – but a pain that encompasses the whole jaw, more like an wholesome pain. For me, during the process, the anticipation of pain rather than the actual pain itself was more painful. She seemed to have the process set-up: drill, excavate, file and return to process – I joked with her, amidst pain, that if she drilled any further, she might even strike oil. I’m sure she enjoyed the joke behind the mask!! This went on for about 40 minutes, during which she realized that local anesthesia might actually be helpful and administered it.

Now, I’m still on the recliner and she picks up the drill one more time – I saw apparitions of Dr.Torturer in “True Lies” and I fantasized that I was Arnold Schwarzenegger. At that point in time, she had broken me completely – I was ready to confess to things that no one knew about me; Heck, I was even willing to concede that I was the second gunmen in the grassy knoll on Nov 22^nd 1963. It is in such a state of mind that she had brought me into, when she declared that we were done. I had no idea about that, anyways; Firstly, after the 45 minute drill, I was ready to believe whatever she had said and two I didn’t feel a thing or the pain, since the anesthesia had taken hold of my right side of the face.

As I exit the clinic, I wonder what would have our predecessors and forefathers have done in such a predicament – I’m talking about the cavemen. I picture that scene in my mind: A cavemen in pain with a tooth that needs a root-canal treatment. He goes out to men-only community gathering (called a stag party these days) party around the fire. Downs a lot of liquor (general anesthesia); gets into a scrap with the right person (designated dentist), gets socked across the jaw, loses couple of tooth (general extraction of painful tooth and a couple of others, that could have possibly caused a problem in the future) and finally gets clubbed over his head and loses consciousness (post-operative tranquilization). And when he wakes up in the morning, he probably has a hangover and has no recollection of the root canal treatment.

Let us see the argument on both sides here. On one side, we have the scientific method of filing, drilling, extracting, and so on and so forth. Ranged on the other side are liquor, scrap, stupor… Hmmm, let us see which the preferred option is…

I believe this is a true true example of where civilization sucks!!!

The Myth

Authors Note: (no, this is not about Mallika Sherawat)

It has been a good morning thus far – in fact, I can go to the extremes and declare that it has been a great and wonderful morning. I had woken up early and was out of the house at around 6.30AM. I had covered a good distance by speed-walk carrying some weights on a rucksack; after that had run for about 2kms and then closed it out with some real streeetchhhhhheeeeeeeeessss and stomach crrrrunches. As I checked out the results of my hard work, the stranger in the mirror was seriously beginning to look alien – looked fit, a flat stomach (with a little bit of desperate help of Mr. Tummy Tuck) and what looked like lean countenance. An irrelevant thought occurs to me: isn’t it odd that when you admire the fruits of exercise and labor in the mirror, one tends to miss the additional fat and additional chin in the face?

At work, the team had met a milestone and we decided to go out for a celebratory lunch. A few of us are at lunch in a decent restaurant; it was a buffet. In hindsight, I can trace the downfall to that. I am ok through the main-course: I am very conscious enough, just to eat a bit of roti and a bit of that buttery-tasty-rich paneer stuff. Then the disaster strikes as I move on to the dessert area. My will deserts me. The bits have become big bites, in fact long long bites. Seemingly, the amount of resistance one could have in yielding to temptation is indirectly proportional to the triglycerides that traverse through one’s blood stream and lurks for that ultimate coup-d’etat. I indulge in guilty pleasure – dive into that nice ice-cream with nuts and the hot gulab-jamun. Wow, a spoon of cold ice-cream and hot-jamuns is heaven!!!

Oh, by the way, now I know for a fact that under-wear-ad-guy-with-sculpted-abs and a washboard stomach is just a myth. What is certain in life are three – death, taxes and a tummy. Particularly for us special breed of men, who are in the wrong side of thirties; and in the 30+ zone. Yes, at 30+ 12 years, it is.

T.G.I.F...

THANK GOD ITS FRIDAY/WEEKEND (For Desis in the US)

(Was written some 10 years ago in the US)

Friday is always an interesting day. Particularly if the weekend, according to the weatherman, is going to be "bright sun, blue skies and gorgeous days". The expectations show up in everyones faces right from the time they get to work. This is an attempt to portray various characters of Desis in their best Friday and the following weekend behaviour...

The first class is set of people called “trippers”: who plan on a trip. Their morning is spent on making phone calls interspersed with work. The phone calls usually are the means to collect various info like which might be the cheapest motel to stay and relative coordinates of the nearest "minimally attired" joint to that motel. In this group you find three kinds of guys - the first are the guys who plan quietly (those phone callers), the second are the overzealous guys who would like to drive all the way to New York across USA (particularly, if the fairer sex are part of the drive), just for the sake of driving and the last are the guys who are not really bothered - all they want is to go to some place so that they can bulk up their photo collection.

Then there are people who follow religiously the dictum - Friday is for fun and believe in “Constancy is the change”. Their idea of fun starts with a lunch outside as against the daily-go-home-at-12-cook-the-same-old-left-overs-and-eat-it-and-be-back-at-1PM routine. These guys have so very precisely planned their change in routine that every Friday they end up going to the same restaurant for the same “delicacies” (pardon my artistic freedom here).

The third class of people are the ones "who are sadly married". You can find them asking "whats that that is different on a Friday". The weekend eve is just another day for them. They come home for Lunch as usual, go out during the weekend just for the sake of going out and whatever they do during the weekend is to alleviate the guilt of having a spouse at home doing nothing and getting bored during weekdays...

Then there are some mavericks. A maverick is the one who doesn't really have any plans. Preferably alone, sometimes he deigns to have another in his vicinity. His only plan is to drive for about 6-7 hours, so that his friend can drive the same amount of time from 1000 miles away and both of them can meet in some remote place where English is spoken with an accent. Usually his plans include driving to middle-of-somewhere for 6 hours, missing the exits (he does not stoop down to plan to such minute details) and going round for 4 hours, waiting and meeting up with his friend for 2 hours, setup camp (2 hrs - includes searching for firewoods) and going all out not to remain sober (4 hrs), sleep for 4 hours and drive back from middle-of-somewhere in 7 hours. His return is mostly accompanied by hangover on Sunday and a latecoming to work on Monday...

An honorable mention about the final class of people - those who go to work on weekends...very little can be said about their characteristics since very little of them do this...