26 on 26

That's right people!!!!!!!!

"Today the 26th of July 2007, is the day that I can proudly say that I have seen the same side of the Sun exactly 26 times."

That didn't sound too great.

"I've lived out a third of my life expectancy today! Hooray!!"

Naaah - Still haven't got it.

Okay
Note to Self - find out whats so great about today and tell yourself.
Note to Note above - get drunk or find one, your problems will be solved.
God's Note to Note above - Amen!

Usually when people come to such landmarks, they sit back, pour themselves a drink and consider what they have done so far that they are proud of. I, for a change, shall follow the crowd.

and no ... this is not an excuse for me to pour myself a drink.

I'm proud of some things.

• My parents are proud of me. This in itself is enough to make everything else seem redundant
• I have learnt dancing, playing the guitar, karate, swimming, dramatics, astrology, palmistry, ice skating and carnatic music all in one life time (or one third to be more precise)
• I was chosen for the Air Force SSB at Mysore lasted the 5 days which I really consider the best days of my life
• I have spent one half of the life I have lived in another country which has given me many things
• I can whistle with two fingers in my mouth (very very proud moment when it happened)
• I still love cartoons and video games
• I'm in a job that right from the time I was born ranks fifth in the Top 10 Things I Ever Wanted to Be (for the actual list, you'll have to wait for the blog)
• Friends come and they go, but I have nice set who have settled down into a warm relationship and looks like we'll last till the end
• I've featured on Radio 3 times (yeah, in a call-in .. so what .. how many times have you had your voice on air

That's me at 26.

I have to, have to, have to, put down a jingle of an ad that I remember ever since I knew to understand English. I wonder how many people ever heard it. It's for a Milk powder called Nido (Nestle). It featured a boy during his graduation. His mom was in the audience, and while he walked up to get his certificate, all the boy's life flashed before her.

Looking back,

Over the years,

Your thirsting moments

sometimes full of tears

Nido makes your growing days

a golden memory

Nido makes those golden growing years

for you and me....

26 and still talking about milk powder. Pretty cooky you say?

Wait till you see my 27 blog!

This part ...

"This part of my life... this part right here? This is called "happyness."
Christopher Gardner (Will Smith) The Pursuit of Happyness

Today 12th June 2007,

I am learning to dance
I am learning to play the guitar
I have a cat
I'm cooking again

"This part of my life... this part right here? This is called "happyness."
Fuzzy the Ducky (Me) My Life



Incidentally, here's some great quotes from this great movie:

"It was right then that I started thinking about Thomas Jefferson on the Declaration of Independence and the part about our right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. And I remember thinking how did he know to put the pursuit part in there? That maybe happiness is something that we can only pursue and maybe we can actually never have it. No matter what. How did he know that?"

"Hey dad, you wanna hear something funny? There was a man who was drowning, and a boat came, and the man on the boat said "Do you need help?" and the man said "God will save me". Then another boat came and he tried to help him, but he said "God will save me", then he drowned and went to Heaven. Then the man told God, "God, why didn't you save me?" and God said "I sent you two boats, you dummy!"

"This part of my life... this part right here? This part is called "being stupid."

More here from the lovely folks at IMDB

And she I shall marry.

I have been thinking for 26 years now. Not about any particular thing, but I have been thinking of various things. Some of these thoughts include ..

"Goo goo gaa gaa"
"Hey look, I just discovered my fingers"
"Mmmm! Nice!"
"Maggi or Upma?"
"Who shall I marry?"

It shall ease your pain to realise that these are not a compendium of all the thoughts that have crossed my mind, but a brief collection of the repeating ones. Unfortunately, the last one is a human translation of the first one, which is in Martian - a language that we tend to forget when we're two years old.

So let me dwell on that .. Who shall I marry? Evidently, the question is not as easily answered as
"What shall I have for dinner" (Maggi)
"Where shall we go today"(Nowhere)
"What shall I do right now, now that I have been confronted with an immediate problem that required my urgent attention and deployment of all my senses?" (Sleep)
"Who shall I marry"(Umm ...errr...aaaah...)

Just so that my thoughts on the subject are vitally clear and can be back-referenced when the time will come for my brain transplant, I feel it necessary to record these points hereunder for your displeasurable viewing.

a. She shall be a Sagittarian, if not an Arian, if not a Leo (precedence from left)
b. She shall like cows,elephants,rabbits,horses,cats, dogs(dimishing precedence from the right)
c. She shall love to travel the world
d. She shall like Frasier, Who's line, Everybody loves Raymond, Friends, King of Queens, Seinfeld (pick any two)
e. She shall be a she (no compromise here)
f. The sum of the digits of her date (only date) of birth shall be 4,8 but can also be 3,6,9 and if you think about it 0,1,2,5,7 aren't so bad either (easy on the swearing buddy)
g. She shall love to dance
h. She shall love to sing, in key
i She shall love to love me

Okay.Maybe that last point isn't so important.

With the good offices of my friends in Google, Wiki and SETI I have managed to calculate the probability of such a being existing. It has taken 173.6 years to calculate. Please don't remind me that I am only 26 years old. Are you saying that you do not recognise my lives as the famous grasshopper Fred of the Savannah and the handsome tree at Mount Gletscherhorn?

What has come out this immensely successful boring project is this:
a. The person who fits the description above exists; or rather existed 173.2 years back. She died when she had gone trekking at Mount Gletscherhornwhen and a tree fell on her.
b. The only other person who fits this is a very confused female otter somewhere in the backlands of New Zealand.

Which brings me hastily to point j.

Point J. Strictly humans (read that again)

But it Rained ...

As I alighted from the train in Chennai, the cold morning rain slapped hard on my face. Rains in Chennai are not very common. Uncommon rains have one thing in common for me.

They always spell bad news.

"Machan, bad news da. AK passed away some time back". That was six hours ago. After that came a flurry of shell shocked phone calls. The truth was impossible to swallow. Doubt, disbelief and sadness combined in my head in proportions they never had before.

As I made my way back home, I tried to push my mind to remember what ever it could of the wonderful times that we had had together; moments that defined AK for me.

Somehow each moment always had him jumping up and down, a uncorked cracker of energy, with a voice that was always set on 'cheering-at-the-stadium' accompanied by a smile that could light up a few street blocks. His pants hung loose about him and his pure enthusiasm threatened to rub on to everyone within a considerable distance.

I can never put a word to describe the relationship we shared. In some ways, I felt very close to him for one simple reason. We understood each other perfectly. He's helped me many times and I have tried to reciprocate it.

To the end, I believe that he remained how he used to be. He'd love to take matters into his own hand. He chose not to worry his friends with the bizarre details of the disease that he was battling. I am told he even reported to work the day before he was taken to the hospital.

Now that he's gone, only one thing worries me the most is that I am not able to mourn him the way I feel I should.

Life goes on for others, even when it ends for some.
Sadness plays deep in the heart, but the tears don't come.
Would they who passed want it this way?
Would they have wanted us to remember them one more day?
Would they have wished we mourned them some more?
Would our wanton smiles burn holes in their soul?
He was a good man, one of very few
But we now live in a world without him … a hopeless truth
We shall meet again my friend,
Your memory shall ride with us to the end.

Dear AK- May your soul rest in peace. May your laughter echo in our ears. May your memories fill up our years.

God bless you.

~ AK ~

~ 24th August 1978 - 25th June 2007 ~

Mollypuri

They should have built the House of Mirrors in every city in India. People would forget to work, brush, eat ... much less everything else other than to pay their daily visit to the place. Oh and how enthralled they would be! They would see themselves differently! The fat would be thin! The thin would be fat! The drooped would become tall again! And the hairless would remain the hairless.

Since someone figured out that putting mirrors all around the place was not really their cup of tea, somewhere along the past, they discovered a more suitable placebo.

They decided to call it many things. But someone creativity-deprived person spake Bollywood, and thus it was born.

A little frustating etymology here: Anyone who has been to Mumbai knows that the city is known much less for its woods than its traffic and Bhel Puri. And I wonder why the Orange brigade forgot to change Bolly to Molly when they changed Bombay to Mumbai.

So it's Mollypuri for me and everyone cares to read any further.

What does this industry give us? The answer to that question is very interesting. The next time you enter a movie theater, briefly glance back at the people in the row behind you before the movie begins. A bunch of normal squabbling, cell-phone chatting people that you would find in any movie hall.

Once the lights go out and the hero comes and bangs up some poor guy who got paid to fall over for the guy with an extra digit, turn around and look at those people in the glow of the 'tinsel' light.

Ah! Not the same people are they? You can see their lips smiling in unison. Their mouths would part together and the frowns would come in a rapid Mexican wave. They are transcending into a world that they know they will never be in, but something that they can live for a few hours on the movie screen.

Take my word for it! Each member of the audience can easily identify themselves with the hero and heroine easily. And in real life, the association continues. How many times have we found ourselves asking ourselves right after a movie 'What would Aamir do in this situation'? Have you noticed that when people come out of the movie hall after watching Superman Returns, the average walking and driving speed tends to be a noticeable shade higher?

Taking a specific example, the audience did not like Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna for a variety of reasons. The said reason was that it was a touchy issue that people found didn't quite go well with popcorn and coke. But I imagine the real reason is that there was a huge identity crisis in the movie. It was that the audience could not identify with a single character in the movie. Who was the hero/heroine in the movie after all? Who was the villain who got beaten up? Karan Johar went ahead and portrayed people as they are, shades of grey et all.

The audience had no one to look up to. No one to identify with. No one to sympathise or cheer for. They trick mirrors had been taken away. They were looking at themselves.

--

Nothing is more prevalent in Hindi movies than the concept of eternal, omnipresent and ever-dependable love. It pervades everything. From the posters to the songs to the theme to the title to the subtitle to the dialogues to the the fights. There are two ways to look at this over-prevalence of love in the movies of today.

Point 1. An unimaginative set of producers and paraphernalia who sit down and discuss thus
Producer: "Let's call it Tuje Dekha Tho ..."
Music Director: "That's great. People will remember Kajol and SRK running in green and yellow fields. Acha hai"
Producer: "How do we start it?"
MD: "First song - Hero proposes to heroine (melody); second song - item number - Hero's ex at a bar; Third song - Hero's dog dies (tragedy) and so on.."
Producer: "Wah! That's it."
Storywriter: "Maybe we can base it around something .. like a bank robbery?"
Producer: "That's right. We'll have a shot of the bank every 15 minutes!!"

Not quite, you may say. Must how many movies unfailingly stick to the same plot? If the story repeats and producers are sane, then the real reason has to be point 2.

Point 2. Love sells.

In this age of censorship, love is as far as they can go. And love is also a good enough excuse to do a lot of other things. You didn't think we'd realise eh, Emraan? Love (and by love I refer to the a natural way of falling in love, where boy meets girl, sparks fly - you know the routine) is something that the our hypocritical junta revel in as long as its on 70mm. Bring the same drama into their living rooms and all the Oscar performances for Best Actor/Actress in a negative role wouldn't be enough for them.

If love is such a nice thing to enjoy on the screen, why are we Indians opposed to enjoying it ourselves or letting others enjoy it? Its because the line between the reality that we are in and the reality that we don't mind enjoying for a couple of hours is manned by one powerful man.

The ticket collector at the gate of the cinema hall.

Here's an interesting fact (Venky are you listening?) :
The word hypocrisy derives from the Greek hypokrisis, which means "acting out". Hypokrisis applied to any sort of public performance , hypokrites was a technical term for a stage actor.

There you have it. The next time you meet Hritik just tell that his last movie was the most hypocritic performance from him that you have ever seen so far.

Strike me down if he doesn't blush.

Bottom line: We live in a dream. Not realising that can be injurious to the health as it is seriously associated with heart problems.

P.B. Whether or not you liked this post, did you notice that whenever I referred to the Indian public, your mind automatically went "Oh! Them! He's not talking about me". Good news: You're not a hypocrite. Bad News: You just have double standards.

As for me, I'll press publish on the screen and go watch a nice Hindi love story. I'm every bit the hypocrite!

A Night to Remember

Based on a true story - Mine!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1

I have never believed in love at first sight.

Two people look into each other's eyes and suddenly you hear violins! That's a riot! People looking at each other's eyes itself is a rarity. Isn't that the reason the cellphone was invented? I believe that Cupid had nothing to do with to do love and affection. He's just a cute guy who likes to prance around in his nothing-wear and shoot people in their rear sides.

I don't believe in love. I thought I was right. I was wrong. She came along.

I had just returned from a hard day's work last night. The warm weather was getting to me. I threw open the windows and kept the door open as well. I opened my laptop to play some soft music. I went into the shower and felt the warm water cleanse me of all my tension. I wrapped a towel around me and stepped out into the hall.

There she was.

She had entered silently, propped herself up on my couch and was sitting and staring at me with a level gaze. I couldn't take my eyes off her. Somewhere in the distant background, I could hear a faint music.

Violins! And my butt had this funny sore feeling to it as well!

I wanted to ask her what she was doing here. I wanted to know how she had the audacity to enter my apartment, sit on my couch and stare at me. I opened my mouth to speak but the words were lost as the memories came rushing by.

Every morning, when I would get ready for work, I would see her face. I had never seen anything more beautiful in my life. I knew there was never a chance we would meet. From the looks of her, I assumed she must be from a big family. The pining was there, I'll admit. But I had never disclosed this to anyone, much less - her. Our interactions to date were only glances and glimpses with averted eyes.

And yet, she had come. She had come and here she was.

"What .. er .. do you want?", I asked her, not knowing what kind of an answer I could expect. I got none. She merely looked the other way and then looked straight back at me.

"This is my house. Please tell me what you want", I could feel some confidence creeping into my voice, thought I didn't sound convincing even to myself.

This time she did answer me. Not in words. But in action. She stood up as if to leave. She touched the door and then started to walk around the house. I stood transfixed , cold and dripping. Slowly, I went to the door and closed it shut.

I thought for a second, then I bolted it.

~~~

2

She walked around the house tantalisingly. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She walked everywhere, and took in the place as if she was considering moving in here for good. Meanwhile, I fixed drinks for both of us, both neat by the way. By the time she had returned from her tour, I was sitting on the ground in the hall. She came sat in front of me, looking straight into my eye as if she was trying to read something there, and then abruptly turned her attention to her drink and began sipping her drink slowly. I watched her. There was no more than 4 feet between us, but the tension was so thick, you could cut it and put it between bread and serve it as cheap burgers. I wolfed down my drink, poured myself another glass and finished that one as well.

I looked at the time. It was 11:30 p.m. We had kept up this drama for almost an hour and a half now. Who was she? I knew nothing about her. What her name was, where she came from, what she wanted, how she was spending an evening with a total stranger ... nothing. But then I thought, maybe I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe my prayers were being answered. That is why they constructed places of worship, didn't they? Maybe it was God giving me back something for all my years of ...

She stood up. Her eyes looked different now. They had a purpose. She walked gracefully away from me. I found myself lost in total rapture... and then shock.

She had walked straight into my bedroom.

Nervously, I got up and walked in. She had 'gotten comfortable' and settled nicely on the other side of the bed. Not knowing what to do, I put the AC on full blast and cautiously crept in beside her. I lay my head on the pillow and looked away. I was a scaredy cat when it came to females. I waited for her to make the first move. She made none, at first, and then I felt something tingling up my spine. She was teasing me. I turned to look at her. I could see nothing, it was pitch dark. She snuggled up under my arms and lay her head to rest on my chest. That was it. It felt nice.

It had come a long way from seeing her on the street to finding her cuddled up with me in my bed. This had not gone so bad after all. This could be a new beginning. Maybe, I could hint at her moving in soon. But she had other plans...

An hour later, she got up and walked out of the door. She was going to sleep outside. And that was that. I felt an admiration for her. I was not sure why. But it felt nice that she had acted so maturely. I drifted off to sleep.

~~

3

My alarm clock screamed to life at 7:00 a.m. I woke with a start. Had I dreamed the entire thing? That question was quickly put to rest. The entire bedroom smelt of her presence from yesterday. I slowly opened the door so as not to startle her.

There was no one there. She had left me. I searched all the rooms for her. Not a trace. Had she gone to the terrace for an early morning walk? I screamed up the stairs. The shining terrace stared blankly back at me. I came back to my house, miserable and dejected. I felt used, there was no two ways about it. She had come, used me and gone away. She didn't even leave a note.

"Thank you. Last night was wonderful!"

"See you again tomorrow night!"

"Haha! Sucker!!"

I cooked tea and toasted some bread. I did everything in slow motion. I wanted to give her as much as time as I could to come back. I realised that I was in over my head!

I finally got ready, locked the doors and walked heavily to my car.

Then I saw her. But something different happened.

She walked towards me. I didn't know what to do. It was broad daylight. This was unprecedented. When she came closer, she touched me with her paw, meowed a few times and went back to sleep under one of the other cars in the lot.

I opened my car door and as I turned on the ignition, I tried to interpret what she had told me.

A voice in my head told me it was "See you at 8:00!"

I smiled and drove away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Note:

This is a true story. I had named her Phoebe .. for a good reason! This story is not inspired by Jeffrey Archer. Though it is very similar to one of his short stories, this has been written from a diametrically opposite perspective. This happened to me yesterday night. At least two people know about it. Tell me what you think. Hit Comments below. Come fall in love!

This is my second short story. You can read the first one here.

The Science of Intimidation

I reached the place five minutes before I was supposed to have been there. I was nervous, I wasn't sure if I was up to the task. Looking around me, I started into void. True, the commotion around me was perpetual, but I was unaffected by it all.

"Your the best negotiator we have Jim!", my boss guffawed at a toast a few months ago.
"Those buggers didn't know what hit them. You left them thinking that they struck the best deal and yet you ran circles around them"

I blushed appropriately. I didn't deserve all this praise, I thought to myself. I've been negotiating with people ever since I can remember. When I was young, my dad used to tell me "If you have to choose between keeping your money in your pocket or someone elses, which would you choose? That's what you need to remember"

At first, I would do the 'base talks' - let the party know we were interested, get to understand his structure, tweak the areas of debate and generally lower it to the point where I would set it up for my dad. He would just walk in, speak crisply for some time and very soon the guy at the other end would be either weeping or grinning like an idiot - which he probably was.

One day, my dad thought that I was at my aunt's, he set up a meeting of our key suppliers from Korea at our home. He was through half the discussion, when I returned. He didn't notice me, so I managed to watch what was happening from a hole in the kitchen. I watched my dad play them with ease and he was reaching a point where he was about to strike the winning blow.

I threw the door open and shouted "This is unacceptable". Everyone turned to look at me. I rattled out what I knew of what was happening, and told them that their offer made no sense to me, and I didn't see any reason why my dad would even consider taking it.

There was a silence in the room. Silence that you could cut and serve on plate to a room that was starved for words. Finally, someone did something.

It was a Korean. He got up, looked me straight in the eye, walked to my dad, handed him a piece of paper, whispered something into his ear and the entire team walked out.

I stood dumbstruck. My dad gave me the most stern look I have known him to possess. He looked at the paper and told me. "Never, never again", he started sternly, as he handed me the paper, "Never, never again leave my side". He burst out laughing.

The Koreans had reduced the supply rates by half.

I was delirious. Soon, my dad did the base talks, I simply jumped in and hit the ball out of the park. When this new negotiating specialist firm opened in Washington, dad said I should give it a shot.

"He's done what no one else can and no one else will.", my boss continued. "Our clients are happy, our management is happy, I'm happy. You'll have to wake up very early in the day to beat our man Jim"

He was happy and also very drunk! I slipped out, grabbed a couple of beers and slept on the couch. I was alone. Never had much luck with girls. What was their line? You take us apart with your words. Never managed to sustain a conversation with them for more than a few minutes.

But I loved my life. I did what I enjoyed. Got paid silly to do it (Mom would have blushed if he saw my pay cheque and the gifts the clients sent me). Things were good.

A wry smile teased my lips as I thought about the times of the past. Those sure were good days. My job responsibilities had increased. I was handling bigger and bigger clients. When one day, the biggest job I had ever seen landed on my table. My eyes bulged out. The commission we would earn from this job alone, would cover an entire financial quarter's earning.

Here I was then standing in this place. Waiting to meet the people who would create a golden bullet point in my resume. I had spent the past three months gathering everything I could about our 'target' company and our client. I pored over every number, investigated every decimal and wrecked havoc on our coffee machine. The people at office were placing bets whether the caffeine would kill me first or the nicotine.

Neither did, as I stood at the pavement ready to figuratively throw my briefcase at the target party. 'Relax, you've done this a million times before. Just swoop in and swoop out'.

I didn't notice a black Merc gliding to a smooth halt in front of me. When the driver pressed the brakes, the noise stopped my senseless ramblings in a hurry.

What happened next was a series of events, not events spread apart, but events that were milliseconds away, which my eye and mind captured like snapshots in flashes.

A driver got down and ran to the rear, paused a bit at the door.

A sleek, heeled leg pushed out. I stared at it in disbelief. Heels.. women? The target company was sending women!?

Soon I realized that the leg would have to be attached to something - and she stepped out. She was wearing shades. The dark shades set off her milky face, so that it presented a picture of perfect contrast.

As I took in detail by detail, I realised that she was not wearing any make up. Which made her more stunning that I could ever imagine possible.

Her fingers were caressing her phone which was a sleek model that you see the ads these days. Only, they looked so much better in hers. I noticed her lips were moving as well. My ears sprang to life from sensual shock and what it tuned into was poetry, melodic and heavenly. Her diction was perfect. Her words were impressive. The effect, stunning.

Another hand ran over her dress, she was wearing a nice white shirt, covered by a silky cream coat, that almost seemed to pass the baton of perfection to a smooth, black skirt that swished mischievously as she walked towards me.

She gave the driver a nod and he bowed low and he got into the car. I got the feeling that if could bow any lower than he would.

In all the time that I had spent noticing her, I realised that she was still had not realised that I was present. I walked up, surprised that my legs were slow to start, and pushed myself up to a decent distance, when my nose, which had been complaining of being left out of all the action in front me, went into ecstasy - Perfume. Intoxicating.

As she walked towards me, she brushed her long silky hair away from the face, and for a moment I lost track of what I was supposed to do; look at her face, admire her hair or simply drool.

I was put out of the misery of answering that question, when she stopped in front of me and raised a well trimmed eyebrow. It slowly dawned on my overloaded brain that it was my turn to speak.

"I'm Jim. Jim Burke. From Dela Associates. I .. er.. have been sent,er.. will represent the interests of .."

"Donna Rose, pleasure!"

She got back on the phone. She was British. She was talking into her phone again. I had never felt like a bigger fool all my life.

She was sophisticated, sounded intelligent and looked hubba-hubba. I found myself admiring her all over again. When could I hear that voice again? As if on cue, she suddenly turned towards me. "Are we going to talk here or do you have a better place in mind?"

"Er.. right this way ..", I said sheepishly. I led her to the conference room close by. I held the door open for her. She slid in without so much as an appreciatory glance.

She sat down on one side of the table, crossed her legs, put her hair in place and stared at me.

"Jim, this thing is not going to work for us"

Okay, I was used to this. Hard ball upfront, I should have countered with "Then I don't see why we're here". But I found my mouth saying "What seems to be the problem?"

One part of my brain was saying "She said your first name, score! score!"
Another part worried, "She's so pretty. She'll cry if you run a hard deal. Go easy on her"
A third part was saying, "Are you guys serious? We have a deal to cinch here. Get with it!"

The third part was found murdered very mysteriously.

The rest of the meeting went as per plan.

Her plan that is. All my tactics faded into nothingness. She would say the most simplest of things, and my counter would take a vacation.

At one point, I managed to pull in enough courage to make a good point. One look at her deep blue eyes, I was afraid she'd break down and cry.

Worse.

She smiled. She said "Really?", and then changed the topic.

The whole thing lasted 3 hours in my head. I knew. I was counting her eye-blinks. In reality, it lasted just 15 minutes.

She got up. She held her hand out. "Pleasure doing business with you, Jim". She smiled. My hands were sweaty.

I walked her out, or rather she walked out and I followed her, my memory conjuring, for some strange reason, images of sheep!

As she reached her waiting Merc, she turned around sharply on her heel. Her heel.
"Good day, Mr. Burke"

She left. At least most of her did. I was clinging to all the whiffs I could get off her perfume, till there was no more.

And then, I collapsed. It dawned on me that I may not have an office to go to tomorrow. I may not have a job to attend tomorrow. I may not be as happy as I was a couple of months back when nothing could go wrong.

And definitely, not as happy as the man who was strangely brimming with joy next to Ms. Rose in the Merc.

Definitely not as happy as the Korean.

--


Author's Comments:
I've seen guys, the best of them ,get intimidated by suave ladies. It's something that Darwin wanted to write about, but then chose to talk about birds and bees instead. This story was fictional. It was thought up because I was under extreme pressure to deliver in a month end. Doesn't make sense. Sure sonny, nothing does!

This is my first short story. Tell me what you think. Post in the comments

Soap-y Deepawali

The Story begins:

Jayam Ravi is beaten up with repeated blows to his head, by some villains who are so scary-looking, that the very sight of them could necessitate a booking at the GH. In spite of about a dozen hits with a pole on his head, Ravi still staggers and manages to retain most of his brain inside his head, the queer way that Tamil heroes are capable of doing. The villains decide that they’ve had enough of playing Gilli danda with the hero’s head, and decide that they should probably try to kill him some nobler way. So, they drag into the middle of NH-4 and put him right in the path of oncoming traffic. Suddenly, a lorry obliges everybody; the driver puts his pedal to the metal, and manages to crash into pur hero and knock him off, not quite so gracefully, into the bushes nearby.

And then, in yet another miraculous tribute to the saga that is Kollywood, our hero lets out a puff of breath and he’s alive again. Hooray! Someone start the flashback sequence please!

A nail biting, hair raising, spine tingling, popcorn stuffing beginning to the movie Deepawali starring Jayam Ravi and Bhavana. The movie was so good that I managed to stay awake for most of the first part. The second half was better and the director managed to avoid some worn down clichés, the avoidance of the biggest one at the end turning out to be the movie’s coup de grâce.


Anyone who saw this movie would surely remember a couple of things other than the main plot. One of these things is Godrej No.1. It’s there almost everywhere in the movie. I decided to clap every time I saw it. I counted up to 8 times. It’s very visible in some scenes, for example there is a scene when both of them celebrate Holi (that’s right Holi, not Diwali). There’s a poster behind them that one can see for quite a long time (poster supply: courtesy Chennai depot).

The placement in the movie was very good. A shop had been put up that was full of Godrej No.1 merchandise and was in a place where most of the drama was unfolding.

There were posters around the set where the film was shot. Our man in the media had done a wonderful job in getting all the spots that we had asked for. Maybe, in future movies, we could ask him to ensure that there is better focus and the camera does not swivel past our hoardings. Also the huge Godrej No.1 hoarding did not come into to the frame clearly for most part of the movie.

The other company in the movie whom I really appreciated was Avitaa Masala. They had more placements and were more visible than we were.

The best scene for us in the movie was incidentally a big joke for the Chennai team as well.

In the movie was a scene where Bhavana goes into Ravi’s bathroom and picks up his soap – hold your breath, Godrej No.1 Lavender!
She takes bath with it, when she comes out of her shower, Ravi is waiting for her. He smells her and asks,

Ravi : “Mmmm, yen soap pootu kullichiya?” “Mmmm (smells good), did you use my soap?”

To which our distributor Ganesh, who was in the audience, gets up and shouts

Ganesh: “Adhu avan soapu illay ma, yen soapu, yen soapu” “That’s not his soap. The soap’s mine. The soap’s mine”

Yep, he’s the guy who supplied the stock for the movie.
Ravi got Bhavana. Ganesh is wondering when he’ll get his money. Till then, he promises to keep watching the movie over and over again.

Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum!

There's always a lot of things I keep putting down in my secret book of Things To Do Before I Die.

However, I have this uncanny knack of losing the book every time it gets filled a few lines.

Today, I found one of those items listed at a blog . The link there actually lists how you can talk like a pirate and get away with it.

Too bad, if I had my book with me I could keep my appointment at the pearly gates!

Arrr! Shivers me timbers I tells you ! Arr!

Star Guru Not-So-Cool

News channels these days don't have a lot to talk about. I imagine the ratings and air-time must be a big problem. Here's the chief-in-chief of a soon-to-be-buried news channel talking at a boardroom.

"Okay guys. Here's the scoop. From now on we don't air anything unless it has something to do with someone in the Middle East, bomb blasts, rapes, executions, murders or tidal waves. For those of you who think the news is getting too depressing, throw some Mallika Sherawat in there. Oh .. and just in case you don't find anything still, do a movie review."

So it came as no surprise to me, when I switched on Star News today and realised that nothing sinister had happened in the world lately. The channel had decided to do a review of just released Mani Ratnam movie 'Guru'. They had decided that it wasn't big enough to fit a half hour slot, so they did the next best thing. They fit it into a four hour slot.

So for a good part of the morning, you could switch on your TV to find the big B being interviewed about the movie. Apparently, they could not get his son to comment, so Daddy did all the talking. He said that he thought the movie was fabulous (we can't believe you'd say that, by the way do you share a bank account), the music was great, Mallika sizzled and Aishwarya expressed herself very well in the movie. In the end, he managed to shed a few tear drops of 'joy' which the star-eyed reporter and his zoom-happy cameraman managed to lap up.

When they got bored of doing the Big B, bit they did a Dhiru Vs Guru comparison. The movie is supposed to be based on the life of Dhirubhai Ambani. Which is a good thing to know, but then the joblessness at the news channel must be at an all time high. It points out that among other things, both of them hold their hands to their chins when they are happy. News you can use people!

I won't attempt a review here, but can someone please tell me what Madhavan and Vidya Balan were doing in the movie. Were they only there to put Guru's softer side on display? They didn't do much. What they did I wish they hadn't given my feelings for the latter.

And here's a nice tip if you haven't seen the movie. When Gurukant comes for his first day of trading and runs up the stairs, check out the white wall on his left. There are two posters. One is Kagaz ke Phool. The other is a Mithun Da starrer. See if you can spot it!

And after everything has been said about everything, I save the postscipt for the belle. Mallika did what she does best. She gave the people their money's worth and news channels something to air.

Freeze Word 1

Benchmark:
IT people keep using the word benchmark all the time. "We need to benchmark ourselves to the best in the industry". I used to wonder where the word came from. Was it a mark that was placed on benches that people sat on? Well, the actual origin is more logical.. engineerically logical.

A "benchmark" was originally a mark cut into a stone or a wall by surveyors measuring the altitude and/or level of a tract of land. The cut was used to secure a bracket called a "bench" upon which they mounted their measuring equipment, and all subsequent measurements were made in reference to the position and height of that mark. Voila, "benchmark," which first appeared in English around 1842, and quickly began to be used figuratively in the "standard of quality" sense we see today.

Arabian Sukkar:

Checkmate comes from Shah Mat - The King is dead
Coffee comes from Kahveh which originally meant wine
Sugar comes from Sukkar for (ahem) sugar
and my favorite:
Mocha comes from Al-Mukah, a city in Yemen where wild Ethiopean coffee beans were brokered from which fine coffee could be made

"I'll have a Cafe Mocha with no Sugar please. Waleikum Assalam"

Fear Factor : Iyer Edition

"So where are you from"
"Chennai"
"Which part of Chennai"
"(Area in Chennai)"
"Which company do you work for"
"(company name)"
"That's nice."

The lady who just had this conversation with me was all smiles. I couldn't understand what part of it pleased her so much. My mom, standing next to me, was beaming with joy.

Cut to a few minutes ago, my mom and I were shopping happily in a nice shop biding time for a movie. As I went to the cash counter to pay up, she tugs my elbow and introduces me to an old gentleman and his wife.

The man is apparently my dad's doctor. Yes, my dad's doctor. As usual, he's 'heard all about me' and is 'pleased to meet me'. Then the spotlight is taken over by his wife who after few innocuous questions, gets straight to chase, the third degree.

The conversation above.

After the conversation is over, we leave; the two ladies looking at each other like two girls who just found a new place to hide their dolls.

When we step out I tell my mom to stop grinning and tell what's she so happy about. "That lady, the doctor's wife, who just spoke to you; they have a marriageable daughter"

Then reality sinks in. I realised that I had just been 'checked out' by some Maami I had never before met in my life! She was asking me personal questions that I would never have divulged to anybody. And she did so boldly, without informing me of her intent, also slyly taking advantage of the 'your-dad-is-a-patient-of-my-husband' factor. Added to that she asked me all the questions. Not my mom. She probably wanted to know what I sounded like. I wonder what stopped her from asking me what my bank balance was, how many girl friends I had, what car I drove, whether I had a spare copy of my horoscope in my wallet?! (I'm sure mom would have flashed it out of her purse in a jiffy)

Was I disgusted, ashamed, embarrassed? Yes all of that, but above all I was annoyed .. annoyed that my mom didn't let me in on the game sooner.

I'd have sucked my tummy in.

Losing My Virginity

I have these lonely spells in my life. These are those days in my life, when I come back from a hard day’s work to find the gloom of the house sitting patiently on the house waiting to welcome me. Once the formalities are over between the both of us, I wonder what to do. You can’t carry on a conversation with loneliness for a long time, with something inside your mind tell you that you're nuts.

It’s about then that you hear a deep burning hungry desire inside you. It troubled me that I had to do something to put it out. I picked up the phone to call the number where I knew there would be trained professionals who were experienced in making sure that I would be put out of my misery, as they had done time and time again in the past.

‘Good Evening! This is Chef Express, how may I help you?’ the familiar voice at the other end of the line greeted me. I gave him my number and asked what offer was going on. He told me that nothing much was happening, but I could get some cheap and good pizzas. He said the magic ‘c’ word. All the Indian instincts in me sprang up at the mention of the word. I ended up ordering a Mexican Picantè. It sounded classy, who knows maybe I would hit the jackpot this time around.

As I look back, I can almost never remember a time when I did not have some problem with an order that I placed over the phone. It gets delivered late, the guy comes late, they mess up the order, there are some items missing … I’ve been at the receiving end at the hall of shame of home deliveries.

The guy arrived on time for a change. I reckoned that my luck had changed. I munched on the garlic bread peacefully, delaying the moment when I would feast on pizza-in-waiting. It’s a bad habit that I have. I always save the best for the last.

Finally, I opened up the Mexican delicacy and I was stunned. Panner! I never order paneer in my pizzas. I also didn’t remember the guy including paneer in the toppings for the Picanté. Well, whatever it was, there was paneer on my pizza and it was pleading with me to eat it. So I obliged. I carefully picked out one piece and put it in my mouth.

Freeze that moment.

This was a very important second in my life. A second that I would never forget. The precise second that I lost my 25-year hard-fought, staunchly-defended Tamil Iyer virginity.

As I raced towards the sink, I realized that it was the first time in my life that any member of the chicken species had managed to make into my palates.

And I’m sure you’re asking, but even though I wouldn’t admit it to myself … yes … it was good.

A Day in the life of an ASM … Not!!

4/6/6: Officially the people in Madras don’t know what to do here now that the elections are over. The unanimous decision has been to take bath to beat the heat. So soaps are selling and I still have a job today. I went for a distributor’s party yesterday. They had invited all the company people of the various companies that they were handling. It was the first time I have ever heard of such a thing. Generally, it’s the company that calls all its distributors to a party. Anyway, I reached there and found to my surprise that I was the only ASM who had turned up. The organizers did not have much difficulty in figuring out a chief guest for the day. My feelings about the same were given no consideration. So with much feigned modesty, I took up the centre seat and had people sitting around me facing an audience.

While I had some difficulty in figuring out how position my elbow, how many times to sip the water and how to lean over and say the funny things that people in my position so easily do, I overheard the MC saying ‘And now our beloved ASM will share a few words’. Before I could put together a decent protest, a mike and a pin drop silence were held in front of my face.

I apologized to any staunch Tamilians present for the murder that I was going to commit there. When I got some measured laughter in response, I rattled on about families and businesses. The applause I got lasted a few seconds, but went on for minutes in my mind. Had I announced chief minister candidacy, there and then, I was sure to make a few votes at least. After that I had to hand over some gifts to people. The usual ‘Shake-Speak-Gift-Hold-Smile-Click-Shake-Bye’ procedure. Only this time I was at the giving end. Then someone came up and handed me a small package as a small token of their appreciation.

We had a buffet lunch, where for decency sake; I restricted myself to one serving of the food and three servings of the dessert. After that I went around shaking everyone else’s hand now a seasoned campaigner for the next MLA seat. After that I had an escort, walk me out all the way to the gate of the hotel. After I finally got him to leave, I eagerly tore open my little package. My eyes popped out of their sockets.

Staring at me quietly and innocently inside the box was a beautiful Titan Gold plated watch with a humble brown leather strap. While I gulped at how I could not accept this kind of a gift and how it was so improper for them to offer me something so expensive, I silently blocked off 4th of June 2007 for a ‘Do-not-Miss’ appointment. ;)

Which Mouse?

During my pretentious reading of management books during my MBA, I will never forget one book that I truly enjoyed reading. ‘Who moved my cheese’. I think the main reason I liked the book was because you were given an option to forget that it was a management book, where inevitably you would try to ferret out examples to quote in the classroom or a group discussion.

I always thought that I was the mouse that kept changing with the times. ‘Today’s cheese may be good, but who’s going to take care of tomorrow’s cheese’. Well what if I’m actually the big fat mouse who keeps eating everything. The cheese is the job and the change is the shift. While everyone (I mean everyone) around me running at a break neck pace to get new business cards for themselves, in the name of moving up, but mostly for the want of fatter wallets, I seem stupidly content at just staying put in the middle of this frenzy of activity.

Let me put down my justification for not switching on screen and let me say if it can convince the cynical me :

- There’s nothing wrong with my job right now. Nice boss, nice team, nice performance. No nagging complaints there.
- By industry standards, I would be earning good;
- There is too much goodwill to be lost

There’s no need and there is no desire. I always like to say that I take the road not taken. Isn’t this like the share market and the secret to cracking it... when everyone buys, sell; when everyone switches, stick.

And when everyone runs around you, just settle into a chair and grab some more cheese.

Madras .. It’s Hot

Experiencing Chennai in the summers can easily be arranged at anyone’s home. All that is required is a small hairdryer, an oven and the tonic that made Alice shrink in the wonderland story.

First take the hairdryer, blow it at full speed and point it directly between your eyes. That would give you a fair idea of the prevailing wind conditions in this place. One may be tempted to blow the hair dryer somewhere else fore a while, but the firmer the resolution, the more enhancing the experience.

After that, one must take a gentle sip of the potion and once shrunk to the size of a small chicken, should hop into the oven and sit there for a while. Temperature on Deep Fry. That’s the nearest to what all derma on your body feels when you are at the mercy of Chennai’s merciless sun. What I can’t figure out is how do the firangs adore sun bathing so much. Does making their skin look like Chicken 65 actually make them look better? If that were true, then can someone please explain to me why Fair and Lovely sales are booming in the South? As always, I guess god wrenched the spanner of unrest into our minds when we were made. Satisfaction is a virtue that one possesses only upto the point that one hears ‘A for Apple’. It’s all downhill from there.

A Glimpse at what to expect

I have a fancy for the orderly (orderly, not elderly). Maybe it’s a good idea if I can put dwon what I plan for the articles ahead.

This blog is what I look at as my online diary. Of crazy thoughts. If you’re reading and you’re a girl, this blog is intrinsically fulfilling your voyeuristic desires. If you’re a guy, then I ask you “Why?” If you have answer to that question, GO AWAY!

This blog will have scenes from my life. I usually find that kooky thoughts always spring to attention when I look at something for sometime. I will introduce you each of these Kooky Thoughts. Maybe we can think of names for them.

It will have sparks of wit and oodles of perv. I think that’s the way the world likes world likes it these days. Look at the weighted average of time audience spend watching Shakthi Kapoor with his humor and Malaika Arora.

For some strange reason the going will get very philosophical. That is because I was born with a birth defect. Half of me thinks that I'm me.. the other half thinks I’m Neo ;)

But on a serious note, I think that these blogs are a nasty manifestation of technology. People willfully put their private parts in the public and watch everyone stare at it, up and down. Chi!

I think that should do for a small jhalak. Not Bad? Dekthe Rehna!

F, tD