This weekend I missed a sumptuous lunch coz my tooth promised to appear and show signs of maturity (I like this word better then growing old).I spent the evening with a ice bag near my jaw ( I am getting my wisdom tooth and its giving me a hard time ) and reading the current edition of New York times which described the gory attacks in Iran. With all these bomb blast going around it’s really sad.
I was expected at the office for a meeting so had to run along. I walk in my room and when nature pokes and says get up. I reach the ladies room, I was all alone at that odd hour (Not that we normally have picnics there) and there I heard the dreadful
TickTick tickick tickTcht
I froze.
Did they manage the security breach and plant a bomb in here,Which could be detonated if some one flushed? (oh my GOD…we have to flush can’t imagine…GROSSSSS)My brain was playing Tag with weird conclusions. Did they plan to attack American Express now eeks. And they preferred not to announce his intentions by the usual “kutte kamine mein tera khoon peejaunga” rather used discreet ways to “tumhe mar ke champaigne pe jaunga”Woo this has to be a nightmare.I gathered courage(It did take some effort), opened my eyes and looked around.I could see nothing unusual (anyways what did I expect arrows marked to where the bomb is placed).I take a step forward and look at the mirror which showed a scared but wanting to be brave me .I peep into the garbage bin. (That’s the easiest way to smuggle something from outside..sheesh what am I doing here I got to join the feds)
Nothing in there. The tick tick continued.
I decided there and then that I needed to walk(more like scramble) to the security office .I extended my hand for the door knob when I see a small littleroom deodorizer with inbuilt clock that went“tick tick”.I grinned. Felt stupid. and relived that I did not call the guards. Boy that could have been some story for the guards to share to their grandkids among the more heroic ones .
I don’t think I am not going to get the tooth this time as wellAnother false alarm coz the wisdom seems far far far on the horizon.(For all those curious minds I did finish the task I had set out for…so Flush in peace amen)
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Victoria’s secret no longer a secret
For all of those i have not been in touch..let me begin by saying i completed my first 45 days in phoenix today !! So here goes my first entry for 2009 from Phoenix,Arizona.
I have been strongly advised not to venture alone...but alas the nomad in me wins as always..
I stepped out last week ..just ambling around when for all i know i bumped into Rashi my bachpan ka chudi buddi pal who i did not loose in the all time favorite kumbh ka mela but something more monotonous her family moved out of Mumbai..
so we went shopping n took many plunges in the memory pool..some good!!
some better forgotten !!(That’s another story..will elaborate some other day)
She told me she was shopping for a friend who was getting married,so i joined in
We moved around the shopping complex and landed in Victoria secrets..
we got the stuf..et all..now this friend (whom we were shopping for) comes along
named "Hari"..and rashi says heres something for Ishita(his to be wife) the guy blushes pink!!!!(mera wala pink..courtesy..asian paints) eyes pop in and out and he blurts
"nahi"
suppresing a grin we look at him and he says
"chee"
we both smile( I bet he preferred the Alcatraz than his current position )
and we go
"arrey have a look"
he was mortified by the thought that we were going to divulge out
the contents of the packet in public and he will be on the receiving end
the blush turning deep scarlet, out comes a vehement .."no" and turns his face...
boy the pink packet with the label in silver was bad enough for him to see
next we threatened to open it we both smiled(though we wanted to burst out)
Rashi cajoled him,"dekh na"
Rashi takes out the tissue wrapped contents ,slowly unwraps it and out comes a
" a bottle of body lotion"
YEHHHH..
Victoria does sell cosmetics as well and that’s all that was there in that packet...
the guy having his face turned the other side….just not wanting to look but looking
saw it and out came a subtle (heavy on coffee breathe)
"OH"
Followed by a sheepish smile..
Now this was our stage, both me and Rashi were rolling off our chairs..laughing and
the starbucks crew..seemed bewildered but they smiled as if sharing the joke..boy hope they read this blog and can demystify those giggles…
Last night...The guy has tied the knot in india and we hope his better half liked
what we gave her!!!!!!!
:)
I have been strongly advised not to venture alone...but alas the nomad in me wins as always..
I stepped out last week ..just ambling around when for all i know i bumped into Rashi my bachpan ka chudi buddi pal who i did not loose in the all time favorite kumbh ka mela but something more monotonous her family moved out of Mumbai..
so we went shopping n took many plunges in the memory pool..some good!!
some better forgotten !!(That’s another story..will elaborate some other day)
She told me she was shopping for a friend who was getting married,so i joined in
We moved around the shopping complex and landed in Victoria secrets..
we got the stuf..et all..now this friend (whom we were shopping for) comes along
named "Hari"..and rashi says heres something for Ishita(his to be wife) the guy blushes pink!!!!(mera wala pink..courtesy..asian paints) eyes pop in and out and he blurts
"nahi"
suppresing a grin we look at him and he says
"chee"
we both smile( I bet he preferred the Alcatraz than his current position )
and we go
"arrey have a look"
he was mortified by the thought that we were going to divulge out
the contents of the packet in public and he will be on the receiving end
the blush turning deep scarlet, out comes a vehement .."no" and turns his face...
boy the pink packet with the label in silver was bad enough for him to see
next we threatened to open it we both smiled(though we wanted to burst out)
Rashi cajoled him,"dekh na"
Rashi takes out the tissue wrapped contents ,slowly unwraps it and out comes a
" a bottle of body lotion"
YEHHHH..
Victoria does sell cosmetics as well and that’s all that was there in that packet...
the guy having his face turned the other side….just not wanting to look but looking
saw it and out came a subtle (heavy on coffee breathe)
"OH"
Followed by a sheepish smile..
Now this was our stage, both me and Rashi were rolling off our chairs..laughing and
the starbucks crew..seemed bewildered but they smiled as if sharing the joke..boy hope they read this blog and can demystify those giggles…
Last night...The guy has tied the knot in india and we hope his better half liked
what we gave her!!!!!!!
:)
Friday, July 11, 2008
Wit -n(l)ess.
We landed at a social do where we could have skirted our way out in 15 minutes if we wanted to but the urge to try something new on a Saturday afternoon (In the dual between "Need for something new" vs "Grey cells" the winner was "Need for something new" ).
We were at a Book launch and the cocktails and snacks were inevitable.For the record Alcohol to me in any form is not acceptable (not even in the form of cough syrup).No body in my family touches it .
We have no bad history and I guess I just want to continue the good tradition so cocktails were not for me but a glass of mock tail is what I held in my hand.
So there I was standing trying to figure why the salmon was deep fried and not stir fried (Thoughts about the book were not possible. I did not know the name), I happened to bump into a bald guy who apparently returned from the U S of A ,last fortnight (at the end of next fifteen minutes I was 80% convinced he works in a BPO and that was all the reason for his “Angrezi accent”.)
He wanted to share his experience as how he had presided(that’s the word he used) over many book launches and how his knowledge of books was superior to others present in his vicinity. How the taste of the common man was distasteful. That he shared warm relationships with Page 3 writers and how he shunned limelight as he was a reserved person by nature(Somebody please notify the the editors of Oxford dictionary the word reserved now refers to Don Juan) I stood there trying to think of line no 5 of page no 1 of the book”101 ways to get away from annoying acquaintances” well he was not really an acquaintance but that’s the last book I read.
So now this ”dude”(dadoo more like it) turns to me to start another round of conversation.I saw my life savior Sandhya walking towards me I waved frantically to her as though my life depended on it(ahh.. I overreacted , anybody subjected to such treatment disguised as harmless conversations definately needs to reach out for help)
Now this gentleman beside me greets sandhya as
“ wazzap”
She smiles, pauses and bringing her bag an inch closer to her size "zero" bebo inspired waist turns toward him and says I don’t know .
A pregnant pause.( oh this did REAL damage to his size 15 ego).
Sandhya continued "I have been asked this several times and I really don’t understand the meaning of the word you just spoke. How should one ideally respond to this ?".
Aha “ABCD” squirmed.
NO guys I did not giggle (I was busy counting calories I had devoured in last half an hour).
He replied (His face changing colors from crimson to mud ).
“Well ah you see ideally I am fine would do.Excuse me .I see my friend is standing there alone .Nice meeting you.”
Yipeee.
Sandhya you have no idea what you have done.
Thank you!!!!!!!!
But the ignorant (Ignorance is bliss) and baffled Sandhya looked at me and asked:
“Did I do anything wrong ??”
No girl, you couldn’t have been better.
I smiled.
So there I stood with my version of Hancock (he is the “in” superhero) standing beside me. My appetite all satiated.
And finally the author in question my uncle emerged at last smiled, graced, spoke, read a para, people applauded, we smiled ,He signed a few books .
Time to go.
The world is safe again.
Ps: About the Book
Tittle:”Hidden Monsters”
Author:******
Chapter 1: Strangers at parties.(Damn!!!!)
Publisher:*******
Date: July 2008.
And anybody pointing mistakes in this blog would find place in my uncles sequel coming out next month.
Oh I gotta go now. Osama called up. He can’t seem to take any decision without me. Chow.
We were at a Book launch and the cocktails and snacks were inevitable.For the record Alcohol to me in any form is not acceptable (not even in the form of cough syrup).No body in my family touches it .
We have no bad history and I guess I just want to continue the good tradition so cocktails were not for me but a glass of mock tail is what I held in my hand.
So there I was standing trying to figure why the salmon was deep fried and not stir fried (Thoughts about the book were not possible. I did not know the name), I happened to bump into a bald guy who apparently returned from the U S of A ,last fortnight (at the end of next fifteen minutes I was 80% convinced he works in a BPO and that was all the reason for his “Angrezi accent”.)
He wanted to share his experience as how he had presided(that’s the word he used) over many book launches and how his knowledge of books was superior to others present in his vicinity. How the taste of the common man was distasteful. That he shared warm relationships with Page 3 writers and how he shunned limelight as he was a reserved person by nature(Somebody please notify the the editors of Oxford dictionary the word reserved now refers to Don Juan) I stood there trying to think of line no 5 of page no 1 of the book”101 ways to get away from annoying acquaintances” well he was not really an acquaintance but that’s the last book I read.
So now this ”dude”(dadoo more like it) turns to me to start another round of conversation.I saw my life savior Sandhya walking towards me I waved frantically to her as though my life depended on it(ahh.. I overreacted , anybody subjected to such treatment disguised as harmless conversations definately needs to reach out for help)
Now this gentleman beside me greets sandhya as
“ wazzap”
She smiles, pauses and bringing her bag an inch closer to her size "zero" bebo inspired waist turns toward him and says I don’t know .
A pregnant pause.( oh this did REAL damage to his size 15 ego).
Sandhya continued "I have been asked this several times and I really don’t understand the meaning of the word you just spoke. How should one ideally respond to this ?".
Aha “ABCD” squirmed.
NO guys I did not giggle (I was busy counting calories I had devoured in last half an hour).
He replied (His face changing colors from crimson to mud ).
“Well ah you see ideally I am fine would do.Excuse me .I see my friend is standing there alone .Nice meeting you.”
Yipeee.
Sandhya you have no idea what you have done.
Thank you!!!!!!!!
But the ignorant (Ignorance is bliss) and baffled Sandhya looked at me and asked:
“Did I do anything wrong ??”
No girl, you couldn’t have been better.
I smiled.
So there I stood with my version of Hancock (he is the “in” superhero) standing beside me. My appetite all satiated.
And finally the author in question my uncle emerged at last smiled, graced, spoke, read a para, people applauded, we smiled ,He signed a few books .
Time to go.
The world is safe again.
Ps: About the Book
Tittle:”Hidden Monsters”
Author:******
Chapter 1: Strangers at parties.(Damn!!!!)
Publisher:*******
Date: July 2008.
And anybody pointing mistakes in this blog would find place in my uncles sequel coming out next month.
Oh I gotta go now. Osama called up. He can’t seem to take any decision without me. Chow.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Me, My Dad, Newspaper and Budding artists.
My Dad’s love for reading the newspaper is something that we have come to live with over the years, we fought all we could in the beginning but gave up.
The world comes to a standstill the moment the doorbell rings at 6:30am and the paper enters the Handa’s household.
We for the record get 3 newspapers which luckily does not include the local daily.
He is basically a quiz junkie(and his quest for knowledge is fuelled by the newspaper).
It has its advantages. :-)
Trophies adorn the mantle ,And he recently even won a titan collection as the first prize at some corporate quiz(Yo !! Am his nalayak beti who doesn’t even remember the last quiz he won and FYI:I have got the ladies watch from the pair on my wrist now.)
but we don’t have his attention for those 2 hours when the black and white sheets now even colored 2 feet long sheets are in his hands.
I think it flows in the blood as my Dadaji still reads the paper religiously every morning and thinks that the Mr Vermas 10 yr kid would understand his comments on how things are going not so right in the nation (Dadajiiiiiiii he is just 10 years old.)
Now that I have clearly stated a few(it is impossible to state all) instances of what good the newspaper has done to/for my family ,Lets come to the part where it proved as a boon for a barber(he is not worth calling a hair stylist) and spelled trauma for me.
My school batch then read my age as 9 years.
We were all excited as my cousin was getting married, we were aping Madhuri to get the steps right and then the dreadful moment came (these are the times when you wish you had a portable time machine in your pocket) when my mother felt I needed a haircut.
I sported a short pony, but my mom felt a trim would make me look better.
My mom was busy packing so my dad was told to take me for a haircut. He really didn’t feel the need. He seldom does when it can have implications like leaving his newspaper and going for errands but then he finally agreed as it occurred to him that he could still read the paper there.
So off we went and he decided to take me to a men’s saloon.
For him “A haircut is a haircut. What’s so complicated??”Anyone with scissors in his hand qualifies (I thank my stars till date, he could have even settled for the Gardner)
So with Kumar Sanu crooning in the background I entered the battlefield. (This is not exaggeration but is a preamble of what follows!)
It seemed funny initially when the man was trying to impress my dad and start a conversation and all my dad wanted to do was to get back to his paper quickly responded to his namaste with a quick nod and came with not so elaborate instructions of
”baal kat do bache ke”.
Period.
No explanations of length, style what so ever .Just one line.
So there I was left at mercy of a man who made the kitchen Gardner look smarter. And whatever seemed funny a few minutes back suddenly started taking shape as a nightmare.
He started with his job.
I was sitting stiff in the chair with a white sheet tied around my neck.
Hair all wet and making faces or to reword it …trying to find angles at which I should pose at the wedding.
The snip snap of the scissors started and I started getting not so good feelings about how things were turning ,I told papa ”kuch theek nahi hai”…and my dad all busy in agreeing with the editor responded as “hmm”…now my sixth sense again warned me and I again cried .. ”PAPA”…..and I got a reply from behind the paper “hmm good girl”…
So after multiple repeated cries and my dad’s hmm..and umms the haircut got over.
The barber(read barbarian) highly pleased with himself showcased his piece of creation to my dad.
And my dad was satisfied too(He had finished reading the paper).
Looked pleased and said “chalo”.
I was near tears and said “yeh ache nahi kate”.
My dad told the fellow..”Han, yeh ache nahi kate”.
The guy replied…”sir..yeh sanjay dutt style hai”(Remember “saajan” movie..with thick hair on top and thin streaks at the end )
My dad tells me “…”Beta..yeh sanjay dutt style hai”
I sniff and say “mujhe sanjay Dutt nahi banana”
My dad goes “Han yeh theek nahi hai…par ab kya kar sakta hain .Chalo”
All the way back I was a quite kid. No crying .No howling. Not even a small sniff.
But the moment I saw Ma at the door nothing in the world could stop me from telling everyone how My dad preferred the newspaper to my cries which my dad till date states where not explicit enough(yeh right!!!!)
No the trauma does not end here.
I had to face my cousins at the marriage.
So it turned out I was dressed like “Madhuri Dixit” and my hair resembled “Sanjay Dutt”.
Not a pretty picture I assure you.
My cousin bro commented “Tere baal to murgi ki puch hai”
And I proudly replied back nahi “Yeh to Sanjay Dutt style hai…tumhe nahi pata”
What else could I do. But all my attempts to convince my cousins that I adore my hairstyle went down the drain and till date the album has pictures of me sulking at all times.
Most of the time I resemble (or was) a harassed, irritated kid.
I have had short hair till 2 yr engg and now I can boast of strands crossing my waist.
The longest one being three feet.
Don’t ask for secrets…there is just one explanation for them.
I have never asked my dad to accompany me to the salon with his newspaper after that day ever again.
:)
Love you papa.
The world comes to a standstill the moment the doorbell rings at 6:30am and the paper enters the Handa’s household.
We for the record get 3 newspapers which luckily does not include the local daily.
He is basically a quiz junkie(and his quest for knowledge is fuelled by the newspaper).
It has its advantages. :-)
Trophies adorn the mantle ,And he recently even won a titan collection as the first prize at some corporate quiz(Yo !! Am his nalayak beti who doesn’t even remember the last quiz he won and FYI:I have got the ladies watch from the pair on my wrist now.)
but we don’t have his attention for those 2 hours when the black and white sheets now even colored 2 feet long sheets are in his hands.
I think it flows in the blood as my Dadaji still reads the paper religiously every morning and thinks that the Mr Vermas 10 yr kid would understand his comments on how things are going not so right in the nation (Dadajiiiiiiii he is just 10 years old.)
Now that I have clearly stated a few(it is impossible to state all) instances of what good the newspaper has done to/for my family ,Lets come to the part where it proved as a boon for a barber(he is not worth calling a hair stylist) and spelled trauma for me.
My school batch then read my age as 9 years.
We were all excited as my cousin was getting married, we were aping Madhuri to get the steps right and then the dreadful moment came (these are the times when you wish you had a portable time machine in your pocket) when my mother felt I needed a haircut.
I sported a short pony, but my mom felt a trim would make me look better.
My mom was busy packing so my dad was told to take me for a haircut. He really didn’t feel the need. He seldom does when it can have implications like leaving his newspaper and going for errands but then he finally agreed as it occurred to him that he could still read the paper there.
So off we went and he decided to take me to a men’s saloon.
For him “A haircut is a haircut. What’s so complicated??”Anyone with scissors in his hand qualifies (I thank my stars till date, he could have even settled for the Gardner)
So with Kumar Sanu crooning in the background I entered the battlefield. (This is not exaggeration but is a preamble of what follows!)
It seemed funny initially when the man was trying to impress my dad and start a conversation and all my dad wanted to do was to get back to his paper quickly responded to his namaste with a quick nod and came with not so elaborate instructions of
”baal kat do bache ke”.
Period.
No explanations of length, style what so ever .Just one line.
So there I was left at mercy of a man who made the kitchen Gardner look smarter. And whatever seemed funny a few minutes back suddenly started taking shape as a nightmare.
He started with his job.
I was sitting stiff in the chair with a white sheet tied around my neck.
Hair all wet and making faces or to reword it …trying to find angles at which I should pose at the wedding.
The snip snap of the scissors started and I started getting not so good feelings about how things were turning ,I told papa ”kuch theek nahi hai”…and my dad all busy in agreeing with the editor responded as “hmm”…now my sixth sense again warned me and I again cried .. ”PAPA”…..and I got a reply from behind the paper “hmm good girl”…
So after multiple repeated cries and my dad’s hmm..and umms the haircut got over.
The barber(read barbarian) highly pleased with himself showcased his piece of creation to my dad.
And my dad was satisfied too(He had finished reading the paper).
Looked pleased and said “chalo”.
I was near tears and said “yeh ache nahi kate”.
My dad told the fellow..”Han, yeh ache nahi kate”.
The guy replied…”sir..yeh sanjay dutt style hai”(Remember “saajan” movie..with thick hair on top and thin streaks at the end )
My dad tells me “…”Beta..yeh sanjay dutt style hai”
I sniff and say “mujhe sanjay Dutt nahi banana”
My dad goes “Han yeh theek nahi hai…par ab kya kar sakta hain .Chalo”
All the way back I was a quite kid. No crying .No howling. Not even a small sniff.
But the moment I saw Ma at the door nothing in the world could stop me from telling everyone how My dad preferred the newspaper to my cries which my dad till date states where not explicit enough(yeh right!!!!)
No the trauma does not end here.
I had to face my cousins at the marriage.
So it turned out I was dressed like “Madhuri Dixit” and my hair resembled “Sanjay Dutt”.
Not a pretty picture I assure you.
My cousin bro commented “Tere baal to murgi ki puch hai”
And I proudly replied back nahi “Yeh to Sanjay Dutt style hai…tumhe nahi pata”
What else could I do. But all my attempts to convince my cousins that I adore my hairstyle went down the drain and till date the album has pictures of me sulking at all times.
Most of the time I resemble (or was) a harassed, irritated kid.
I have had short hair till 2 yr engg and now I can boast of strands crossing my waist.
The longest one being three feet.
Don’t ask for secrets…there is just one explanation for them.
I have never asked my dad to accompany me to the salon with his newspaper after that day ever again.
:)
Love you papa.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Nothing "hat ke" abt it
Before I start ,I think I am going to use this place to register my complains…This is not fair… I started writing blogs a fortnight ago…and the same time aamir ,srk n amitabh decide to highlight their blogs …what’s going on huh…can’t you guys think of something else…
mera idea copy karma jaruri tha…damn…
Anyways..moving on and displaying proofs of my magnanimous heart am going to continue writing….
This weekend was spent admiring the innovative and not so creative minds of many…
Before I start Emran Hasmi is not my favourite hero..and if he continues not to shave,he will always remain in my “Heros I don’t like” list.
Us gareeb ko koi ek razor gift kardo…the entire movie he seemed to belong to the “Hagar the Horrible clan”..I mean Sunday ko hum bhi is clan mein shamil ho jate hai..aur Fa deo ko hi ganga jal mante hai…but this fellow looked so filthy all the time(ab sari movie sunday ko to nahi ho shoot ki hogi na… )
We had nothing to do,So all we did was harp about our plans to watch the movie and we started inviting people we thought would go as a suraj barjatiya production house with all friends singing “Yeh Dosti”(I know this song does not belong to that production house) Reminder calls from all four of us started pouring in to the guy who was supposed to get the tickets. As the guy has haunting bad history of forgetting things (amnesia seems to be part of his lifestyle…) and when he did prove all our theories wrong ..and did some thing to be included in the “Ripleys bielieve ir or not” then the calls start coming in of people not able to make it ..arghhh..ab 10 tickets ka kya kare…Now mithun inspired indigenous ideas of ticket black karte hai started popping..(psst..This one of the suggestions from the book …WHO wants to be a millionaire)..and for some reason we were quite successful in selling 6..(nahi black nahi ki utne mein hi di)…ab baki chaar ka kya karein so we thought maybe if we guys asked our friend to tie a hankie around his neck.btw .he was already wearing a shirt that gave govinda a complex…that could do the trick…hmmm so our friend started and started ek ka char ,…ek ka char….(Now what are you expecting …Indian police ka entry…nahi nahi..)
The movie started and we said dump it..
We started and I soon realized that the best part of the movie were the initial 15 min where all we could think of was kurkare..popcorn(mujhe bahut kam mile..sob..)..mazaa....lays(am doing some free advt…do we have a system of making money by my stating their names here??)……han han hum wahan khane gaye the..movie to bas ase hi.
And after we had convinced people around us that we have just returned from Ethopia.
There was this strange sound……… “GRRRRRRrrrrr”…..we were all puzzled,as it is the movie was remotely engrossing and we were all energetic with all the carbohydrates and fat breaking down inside us .
Then it came again… “GrrGrrrGrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr”…aha the karamchand (minus secretary kitty) in me took over and I started the investigation and I soon realized “yeh hai India meri Jaan”
The AC vent above our seats was just the exterior grill and you could take the grill off and there was apna Hindustani desert cooler moving in full swing…
Now the side wali auntys who am sure were the source of all those air contamination (she had gobi ke parateh ) were getting all sentimental …heroine ro rahi thi na…aunty bas bas ab hamare ghar mein pani aati hai ..
I am not going to write about the couple (privacy ka to koi zamana hai hi nahi)
The lessons we learnt were that the reason our company pays us less is because it doesn’t want us to turn blind with wealth (yaar koi mere CEO ko yeh link paas karo…promotion due hai) ..wah wah…
The moment the credits appeared in the end it was as if the whole hall was waiting for the moment, every body sprung up. I mean no body even paused back on their seats to
say” Nice na”…”so cute”…or the ugly ones like “is producer @#$$%” sochte kya hai”$$%%^”..and I woke up too…(ab AC hall mein sona is much better than getting bored)
So out we came after the flick and saw IPL on the screens (this is similar to the scenes in the flick) and me Hashmi inspired uttered, “I think Punjab will win(this has nothing to do with my Punjabi roots..ESP is the word)…and asked my roommate “RATE kya hai BET ka.”.she replied “u washing 4 utensils to one”(We suspect our maid is holidaying in Bahamas considering the floral prints she has been sporting and has convinced us that she is attending to an old relative..na na I think its Bahamas only..)
So the moment we entered our flat. I was (no points for guessing) doing all the washing..
And thinking har koi hasmi nahi ban sakta (and thank god for that).
mera idea copy karma jaruri tha…damn…
Anyways..moving on and displaying proofs of my magnanimous heart am going to continue writing….
This weekend was spent admiring the innovative and not so creative minds of many…
Before I start Emran Hasmi is not my favourite hero..and if he continues not to shave,he will always remain in my “Heros I don’t like” list.
Us gareeb ko koi ek razor gift kardo…the entire movie he seemed to belong to the “Hagar the Horrible clan”..I mean Sunday ko hum bhi is clan mein shamil ho jate hai..aur Fa deo ko hi ganga jal mante hai…but this fellow looked so filthy all the time(ab sari movie sunday ko to nahi ho shoot ki hogi na… )
We had nothing to do,So all we did was harp about our plans to watch the movie and we started inviting people we thought would go as a suraj barjatiya production house with all friends singing “Yeh Dosti”(I know this song does not belong to that production house) Reminder calls from all four of us started pouring in to the guy who was supposed to get the tickets. As the guy has haunting bad history of forgetting things (amnesia seems to be part of his lifestyle…) and when he did prove all our theories wrong ..and did some thing to be included in the “Ripleys bielieve ir or not” then the calls start coming in of people not able to make it ..arghhh..ab 10 tickets ka kya kare…Now mithun inspired indigenous ideas of ticket black karte hai started popping..(psst..This one of the suggestions from the book …WHO wants to be a millionaire)..and for some reason we were quite successful in selling 6..(nahi black nahi ki utne mein hi di)…ab baki chaar ka kya karein so we thought maybe if we guys asked our friend to tie a hankie around his neck.btw .he was already wearing a shirt that gave govinda a complex…that could do the trick…hmmm so our friend started and started ek ka char ,…ek ka char….(Now what are you expecting …Indian police ka entry…nahi nahi..)
The movie started and we said dump it..
We started and I soon realized that the best part of the movie were the initial 15 min where all we could think of was kurkare..popcorn(mujhe bahut kam mile..sob..)..mazaa....lays(am doing some free advt…do we have a system of making money by my stating their names here??)……han han hum wahan khane gaye the..movie to bas ase hi.
And after we had convinced people around us that we have just returned from Ethopia.
There was this strange sound……… “GRRRRRRrrrrr”…..we were all puzzled,as it is the movie was remotely engrossing and we were all energetic with all the carbohydrates and fat breaking down inside us .
Then it came again… “GrrGrrrGrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr”…aha the karamchand (minus secretary kitty) in me took over and I started the investigation and I soon realized “yeh hai India meri Jaan”
The AC vent above our seats was just the exterior grill and you could take the grill off and there was apna Hindustani desert cooler moving in full swing…
Now the side wali auntys who am sure were the source of all those air contamination (she had gobi ke parateh ) were getting all sentimental …heroine ro rahi thi na…aunty bas bas ab hamare ghar mein pani aati hai ..
I am not going to write about the couple (privacy ka to koi zamana hai hi nahi)
The lessons we learnt were that the reason our company pays us less is because it doesn’t want us to turn blind with wealth (yaar koi mere CEO ko yeh link paas karo…promotion due hai) ..wah wah…
The moment the credits appeared in the end it was as if the whole hall was waiting for the moment, every body sprung up. I mean no body even paused back on their seats to
say” Nice na”…”so cute”…or the ugly ones like “is producer @#$$%” sochte kya hai”$$%%^”..and I woke up too…(ab AC hall mein sona is much better than getting bored)
So out we came after the flick and saw IPL on the screens (this is similar to the scenes in the flick) and me Hashmi inspired uttered, “I think Punjab will win(this has nothing to do with my Punjabi roots..ESP is the word)…and asked my roommate “RATE kya hai BET ka.”.she replied “u washing 4 utensils to one”(We suspect our maid is holidaying in Bahamas considering the floral prints she has been sporting and has convinced us that she is attending to an old relative..na na I think its Bahamas only..)
So the moment we entered our flat. I was (no points for guessing) doing all the washing..
And thinking har koi hasmi nahi ban sakta (and thank god for that).
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Jago mohan pyare
No I don’t have any Mohan or for that matter any Sohan or Rohan et all in my life so the blog is not about waking him up. Phew !!!
Nor is this about some self awaking or nirvana that I achieved (achievements…batana shuru karungi to likhungi kya…huh..?)
This is about one special journey that I had on Saturday when reaching home was all that occupied my grey cells.(sachi…baki ek jawan(I could have used young but then jawan is more Indian and young is more E& Y) ladki aur soch bhi kya sakti hai)…
I don’t know how I mange it but at the end of every two weeks , I am home sick…and that is one thing that makes me go through all the snoring I hear or the looks I get which most of the time makes me wonder “so which creature of the zoo are they trying to strike a resemblance with…) then there are also the inevitable unpleasant visits to the loo where you get the foul smell plus sounds of people clearing their throats or what ever (which resemble more like the drainage pipe grunting with smelly stuff) absolutely free…
So there I was sitting waiting for the train to start….looking around and then I realize am surrounded by ….
Group 1:Youth ICONS (na na MTV has nothing to do with )
6 boys trying to pull that I don’t have a care in the world attitude but all they could pull of was I am scared that the TT might ask for our tickets look. And complaining that damn again no pretty girls around them.Chill dude I can understand it is difficult to imagine why is Aishwarya not traveling with you…guess abhishek ko bura lagega …sigh…
Group 2:Beauty (giggly) queens
Giggle…giggle…oh pass me the lotion…giggle….is my hair all ok…giggle…your skin is so gooooooooood ..giggle…you are so chweeeeeeet….giggle..what do you do to keep your hands soft..giggle..
Girls…nobody is interested in you. Get a life specially at 1 in the night, and the guys are sitting at the other end of the compartment so no big deal the man in front of you is already snoring so sleep. We will play “:Miss Beautiful”tomorrow morning…OK…
Group 3:The couple(Fevicol ka jud hai)
Guys we know that you got married and you are all excited and all you want is the lights to be switched off but at least let the train start…waise Fevicol could get some good publicity…just make thses guys wear T shirts..arre jaise Nokia seems to have bought the “Knight riders”..sheesh..what am I doing here…such brain waves …all wasted…(in case you want to hire me for good money, contact me!) anyway..
The girl (all blush blush )is sitting really close. These guys could have actually saved one berth.And the guy is hmm I can save you from the world look…But alas no monster appears and the knight is not able to prove his undaunted love ….
Group 4: The great Indian Parivar
You have everyone traveling ….all aunts and uncles and a youngest of the lot too
and all with an appetite that could leave adnan’s diet to shame(am referring to the last years version)
Their sole purpose of traveling is eating and only eating. People we are not traveling to Somalia but alas….
The train starts at 10pm so its pretty much post dinner time but well the party just started for them. First a round of appetizers..Soup…with separate glasses for them…then cutlery for dinner…9 course meal..(Am not exaggerating)…sweet dish..obviously separate bowls for them and end it with something resembling a pan.
So its post 12 now and it’s now that their digestive system starts ……..
And then god save me or better still the lonely kid who happens to be the youngest.
Its doting time. Everybody in the family has an opinion as how he should be aptly dressed and the kid gives looks like…ok I can’t speak but that doesn’t mean you strip me in public look.
But no ,all of them have to decide on his change of clothes, his sleeping positions ,his hairstyle ..what not…and am sure by the time all the fuss dies down ,the kid is wide awake so now what follows is the lullaby. We perfectly understand that the kid needs to be put to sleep but did some one lie to you that your voice holds the potential for the next Indian idol…they are lying I tell you….BIG time …..don’t listen to them. SLEEP. And let Sleep.
Group 4: The next NRN
He has that “The company is up there all because of me look”. He has his laptop switched on. Mobile ringing.Files spread and sheets bulging out the bag…well what’s beneath those sheet is another story…(more sheets what were you thinking .. huh..)
We all know he is going to play solitaire once the light is off.
But now he has to open excel sheets to impress side wali aunty(mind you aunty still thinks excel sheets is high tech) who thinks he is the next Bill gate’s and he could be a suitable candidate for her bholi bhali beti(btw beti is lustfully eyeing the guys group).
Group 5 :On time nuclear(uncle ji gets the credit for being the “little boy”aka Hiroshima bomb) family.
The best ones I tell you at least while sleeping. Its 10:10 and the kids are in bed and 10:15 lights are switched off and if a kid is caught day dreaming then papaji warns with his fat finger frantically waving in air”so jao puttar subah jaldi uthna hai na”.
The kid shuts his eye…(no obviously he is not sleeping at 10:15)
And bingo when the entire train is fast asleep at 4 am(the train arrives at 5).uncle ji announces “beta utha jao station aane wala hai
And guess what !!!!!!! Except uncleji’s kids everybody is wide awake at 4 (smart kids. they know there papaji).
Group 6: Awesome people
The adjectives used for the group pretty much clarifies that people like me belong to this cadre.The lonely guy/gal who listen to music…read a book (mein read kar rahi thi)..stare at people.(wo to aaj ase hi I don stare..Na na ).try to catch some sleep…and they moment they pick at interesting article uncleji switches off light with that you should rest to look.
So nobody had to wake me up coz I was wide awake..and uncle ji..thank you…I have material for my blog if not a nights sleep. yawn…
Good night(ab to so lene do).
Nor is this about some self awaking or nirvana that I achieved (achievements…batana shuru karungi to likhungi kya…huh..?)
This is about one special journey that I had on Saturday when reaching home was all that occupied my grey cells.(sachi…baki ek jawan(I could have used young but then jawan is more Indian and young is more E& Y) ladki aur soch bhi kya sakti hai)…
I don’t know how I mange it but at the end of every two weeks , I am home sick…and that is one thing that makes me go through all the snoring I hear or the looks I get which most of the time makes me wonder “so which creature of the zoo are they trying to strike a resemblance with…) then there are also the inevitable unpleasant visits to the loo where you get the foul smell plus sounds of people clearing their throats or what ever (which resemble more like the drainage pipe grunting with smelly stuff) absolutely free…
So there I was sitting waiting for the train to start….looking around and then I realize am surrounded by ….
Group 1:Youth ICONS (na na MTV has nothing to do with )
6 boys trying to pull that I don’t have a care in the world attitude but all they could pull of was I am scared that the TT might ask for our tickets look. And complaining that damn again no pretty girls around them.Chill dude I can understand it is difficult to imagine why is Aishwarya not traveling with you…guess abhishek ko bura lagega …sigh…
Group 2:Beauty (giggly) queens
Giggle…giggle…oh pass me the lotion…giggle….is my hair all ok…giggle…your skin is so gooooooooood ..giggle…you are so chweeeeeeet….giggle..what do you do to keep your hands soft..giggle..
Girls…nobody is interested in you. Get a life specially at 1 in the night, and the guys are sitting at the other end of the compartment so no big deal the man in front of you is already snoring so sleep. We will play “:Miss Beautiful”tomorrow morning…OK…
Group 3:The couple(Fevicol ka jud hai)
Guys we know that you got married and you are all excited and all you want is the lights to be switched off but at least let the train start…waise Fevicol could get some good publicity…just make thses guys wear T shirts..arre jaise Nokia seems to have bought the “Knight riders”..sheesh..what am I doing here…such brain waves …all wasted…(in case you want to hire me for good money, contact me!) anyway..
The girl (all blush blush )is sitting really close. These guys could have actually saved one berth.And the guy is hmm I can save you from the world look…But alas no monster appears and the knight is not able to prove his undaunted love ….
Group 4: The great Indian Parivar
You have everyone traveling ….all aunts and uncles and a youngest of the lot too
and all with an appetite that could leave adnan’s diet to shame(am referring to the last years version)
Their sole purpose of traveling is eating and only eating. People we are not traveling to Somalia but alas….
The train starts at 10pm so its pretty much post dinner time but well the party just started for them. First a round of appetizers..Soup…with separate glasses for them…then cutlery for dinner…9 course meal..(Am not exaggerating)…sweet dish..obviously separate bowls for them and end it with something resembling a pan.
So its post 12 now and it’s now that their digestive system starts ……..
And then god save me or better still the lonely kid who happens to be the youngest.
Its doting time. Everybody in the family has an opinion as how he should be aptly dressed and the kid gives looks like…ok I can’t speak but that doesn’t mean you strip me in public look.
But no ,all of them have to decide on his change of clothes, his sleeping positions ,his hairstyle ..what not…and am sure by the time all the fuss dies down ,the kid is wide awake so now what follows is the lullaby. We perfectly understand that the kid needs to be put to sleep but did some one lie to you that your voice holds the potential for the next Indian idol…they are lying I tell you….BIG time …..don’t listen to them. SLEEP. And let Sleep.
Group 4: The next NRN
He has that “The company is up there all because of me look”. He has his laptop switched on. Mobile ringing.Files spread and sheets bulging out the bag…well what’s beneath those sheet is another story…(more sheets what were you thinking .. huh..)
We all know he is going to play solitaire once the light is off.
But now he has to open excel sheets to impress side wali aunty(mind you aunty still thinks excel sheets is high tech) who thinks he is the next Bill gate’s and he could be a suitable candidate for her bholi bhali beti(btw beti is lustfully eyeing the guys group).
Group 5 :On time nuclear(uncle ji gets the credit for being the “little boy”aka Hiroshima bomb) family.
The best ones I tell you at least while sleeping. Its 10:10 and the kids are in bed and 10:15 lights are switched off and if a kid is caught day dreaming then papaji warns with his fat finger frantically waving in air”so jao puttar subah jaldi uthna hai na”.
The kid shuts his eye…(no obviously he is not sleeping at 10:15)
And bingo when the entire train is fast asleep at 4 am(the train arrives at 5).uncle ji announces “beta utha jao station aane wala hai
And guess what !!!!!!! Except uncleji’s kids everybody is wide awake at 4 (smart kids. they know there papaji).
Group 6: Awesome people
The adjectives used for the group pretty much clarifies that people like me belong to this cadre.The lonely guy/gal who listen to music…read a book (mein read kar rahi thi)..stare at people.(wo to aaj ase hi I don stare..Na na ).try to catch some sleep…and they moment they pick at interesting article uncleji switches off light with that you should rest to look.
So nobody had to wake me up coz I was wide awake..and uncle ji..thank you…I have material for my blog if not a nights sleep. yawn…
Good night(ab to so lene do).
Monday, May 12, 2008
32 all out
Aha now this is my first blog(the unpublished ones don’t count)
..i might as well write about the title itself 32 out(no it is not sponsored
my Colgate or for that matter even close-up…shesh).people complain
disguised as a compliment that I have my 32 out most of the time .first to
put the record straight I can’t even boast of a set of 32..the dentist
informed me giving a no of “29”..with promises of molar which people
around me fervently hope will bring more sense in me..huh…hjgh hopes.
So where were we…right 32 all out …my ma thinks that this is gonna
get me in big trouble some day…coz she things I have mastered
all kinds of giggles, squeals, smirks, grins, smiles, the not so visible but visible to my ma smile,gaufaws…you name it and you got it!!!!!!!!!!
But then you can’t put all the blame on me right..some how…
there has to be someone up there scheming who lands me in situations where my canines surface.
OK you don’t believe me…then read this…my entire team flew to client
office to give a presentation and for some reason which is not worth
occupying word space here the client had to move out some where
so we ended up having a tele call(that ‘s the one where you can even snooze..and pretend to be all ears at the same time)
now the client was called at his 9 PM so this fellow was all
gastromically satiated (we have evidence hold on)..and sounded in
a good mood phew…half the job done …my team mate should thank me for choosing that time for calling him…hungry clients are metaphors of “I don like what you are saying “ monsters…
so we started. The mood was all set he seemed to be hearing and agreeing on everything and I was counting my good stars…man this can’t be happening,
I thought of pinching my self but the thought of breaking a pleasant dream this good was not worth so I took my chances and just touched wood and hoped it to be reality…
so the scene goes as one happy team discussing and suddenly
of all the things in the world we hear
“BURP……..duh..”(bola tha na evidence hai)
And the moment I realize what it is I am ready with my mouth all set but....i did not burst out laughing (ma you got to give me a pat for this one).
And then comes the best part my team mate who up till now was so deeply engrossed in explaining that statistics goes” excuse me I did not get it…what did you say”
The poor fellow who was all eager to hear appreciation anticipating good words queried again …and all he got was silence…silence from an individual …who has an opinion on everything on this planet right from why the world is round (he prefers the scientific version to nandannilekani’s inspired Thomas Friedman’s view of world being flat) to usage of salt as preservative then vinegar…
and to add to his bafflement I had turned a shade of crimson….trying to
control my hands from putting up a banner saying this part of the presentation was sponsored by “ENO” and control my mouth from asking questions like which flavor of eno do you like most or do you prefer ayurvedic versions like pudin hara.
But alas I controlled and the rest of the meeting went burp-less (at least not audible).
And the client did seem happy in the end, though I still wonder was it the acknowledgements that he received from his digestive system that pleased him or our presentation...hmm food for thought or should I say..burp for thought….
See you got my point it’s not me but things around me that make the world go round and
Make the white ones(yeh yeh I brush them..they haven’t turned green because of the fungus that I dread could just appear) surface.
That reminds me my visit to the dentist is due. Damn.
PS: Did you notice I wrote the entire thing minus all smiley’s…nominate me for the Oscar equivalent of blogging…go on…I won’t mind…I swear.
BLOG Ends.
:) (I said the blog ends so the smiley doesn’t matter right.)
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