75. Mahila Samiti Inc.

There has to be some supernatural force acting behind the spam ads I get on my mobile. I am positively certain of it.

Else, why on earth have I been getting ads like the one below for three days now.

"Mega Offer on weight reducing sauna slim belt 999/- only. Direct from company. Reduce upto 10 kgs weight in 45 days. Cal 9360******".

Alright, I get your message. 

In other news, the past week(actually, the week I started writing this post) saw yours truly busily visiting places where a motley crowd of chitthis, perimas, maamis, paattis* and other board members of Mahila Samiti Inc. had assembled in order to look at colorful toys placed on an 'odd' number of shelves, and generally discuss vaira mookuthi and moonu poun necklace**.


Yours truly obviously looked like a complete idiot asking what poun meant, and whether it was poun or pavun or pound, as these were the different phonetic sounds that were produced on usage of the word and understandably, invited wrath and scorn upon herself, what with maamis exclaiming "Kalyana vayasu aachu… poun/pavun/pound na teriyaadha di?"***. Sigh. This insultisation was an expected outcome of yours truly's naivete on such important issues. What happened next was not. "Kozhandhai… oru paattu paaden"****. Cringe. Looked around for help but got only sympathy and eagerly-waiting-to-pounce eyes. Did a quick brute-force-cum-permutation-combination-jumble. What were my options, if any at all? Sore throat? My dog died? Pass the baton to someone else? Much to my disgrace, I realised MS Inc. had been solemnly staring and pining to listen to my crow-like voice all this while. Too late to try any of the above options, I offered a little prayer to the Gods to somehow miraculously make me some classic Indian Idol type singer, just for those 8-10 odd uncomfortable moments. Please, please, God. Blurred images of my mother disowning me after this stint paraded the projector screen of my mind. Decision time. I switched on the electronic tanpura…. Gonnnggggggggg. Started singing standard krithi in Kamala Manohari with standard thappu thaalam*****. Sounds of 'tch tch' reverberated across the room. I would like to believe it was MS Inc.'s involvement into my melodious crooning. Please don't wake me up from my reverie.

Ok, that apart, Chennai has this strange form of untouchability rampant in buses. This morning, I surprisingly got into this bus that wasn't crowded, going by my track record of standing in the bus throughout my way to office. Anyway, that's that. So what happened is that this bus was pretty free, so to speak. Ladies 'partition' of the bus was house full, though there were a couple of vacant seats on the gents side of the bus. But guess what? 3-4 ladies chose to stand instead of going and occupying the empty seats on the gents side, more so if a man was already sitting in one of the two seats. Ok, suit yourself, I thought. I coolly went and hopped into one of those seats. Holy Mayawati! If only looks could kill, I would have been turned into ashes. The entire assemblage of ladies on the now-other side of the bus had started giving me looks like I was travelling the whole of Tamilnadu in a bus wearing a bikini. Ok, yeah, go get up, pick drums and go about the city announcing my persecution.

*  small aunty, big aunty, aunty of aunty, grandmas

** diamond nose ring and 3 poun/pavun/pound(still just as confused) necklace

*** You have attained a marriageable age... Do you not understand even this much?

**** Child, sing a song for us

***** A mismatch between the tune and the beat

73. Akhiyon se goli maare

This stale post was rotting in my drafts folder. Dear post, time for Nirvana. 

Of all the embarassing things I put myself through, this one was undoubtedly an #epic(Thanks Twitter!) case. And ironically, only if it weren't for the absolute side-splittingly humorous element of the story.....

As a part of the 'induction' process into 'another' family, a 'Meet the Parents' session gets scheduled at Pizza Hut with yours truly feeling like a micro-organism under a microscope(minus the methyl blue stains and the slide). Quite obviously, for somebody like me, a quick to-do list meant not to raise voice(like usual) so much so that people across next four streets can hear; sit, stand, etc. in a way that would atleast remotely appear feminine(somehow); not jhapatta-marofy on the food, going by past infamous record between yours truly and the sister; not to trip over and fall flat, thanks to duck-like-gait; try_max to avoid foot-in-mouth syndrome and political incorrectness(and not fail at it like the previous zillion times).

69. Chronicles of Tam-Brahm land

Dear Non-Tamil readers of this blog,
This is a highly Tanglified post. Due to maximum uage of resources like patience and sincerity in a highly productive activity, Farmville, I am currently running out of stock to translate every single tanglified word into inglees. However, due to the deluge of fan mails urging me to do so, and also because this blog is a very unbiased blog and meets the emotional needs of all and sundry, particularly the mentally challenged, since the author can to a great extent relate to them, few important, life-changing recorded events have been translated for the benefit of the readers. The last sentence had 61 words and 6 commas !

From Madras to Tirunelveli to Kallidaikurichi to Madurai to Trichy to Srirangam to Madras - The Almanac

64. Maid of Honour

Who is the most revered lady in Indian households? No, not Pratibha Patil. No, not Rakhi Sawant also. Deepika Padukone? In your boyfriend's room, maybe. Highly unlikely, otherwise. THE MAID. We have had a glorious history of maids who serve just a short tenure. Not everybody gets a good kaamwali bai, you know. The following Vaastu column I saw in the newspaper the other day does just enough to prove my point -

Sir,
I have a unique problem. None of my maids work for more than 2 months. The main door of my house is facing NW direction. The kitchen is situated at SE of the house. The cooking range is situated exactly at SE corner of the kitchen, and the sink is situated on the left hand side of the range, with washing machine in between. What should I do so that my maids serve for longer periods?

To which, the gentleman replied :
Draw 7 yellow lines in front of your kitchen. That should solve your problem.

Nice :| I took the newspaper to my mom and showed her. I think my mom wasn't too desperate. Frustrated, yes. Desperate, no. Or, she was looking at cost-cutting measures available at home. Who, you ask? Me, darlings. So, one not-so-fine morning(as it turns out), I am told to take to the broom and the mop and start work immediately :|
Eh, why me mom?(Some useless protest from yours truly).
So that you can reduce some weight that you are putting on sitting at home. Moms are good at this. They mean something else, but they know what to tell you so you will do what they want you to. The first week it looked like I was helping her out. By second week, it looked like a permanent job entrusted with great hopes and expectations. By third week, I was demanding a promotion in the form of a new broom. :| I am planning on asking her some minimum remuneration for this. After all, she has an educated maid. A maid of honour :P

62. And thou shall be called.........

I have managed to carry off a name like Bhargavi Gopalakrishnan non-chalantly for more than two decades now. Now, THAT is your Iyer label into this world. Why so specifically, you may ask. The feel, my friend. That's how you identify my breed. The name to a great extent gives it away :|

Having a name like that brings a lot of unwarranted problems in your life. More so, if you are a lazy bum person. The first of such attacks came on the day when we had to fill out our Class X forms. You know those sheets that have lots of boxes on it... Fill in you dad's name, mom's name, maid servant's brother-in-law's name.... followed by lots of circles with alphabets printed inside them. So, first you fill out your name in the boxes, and then colour all the corresponding letters in those circles. Imagine yourself with a name as short as mine and sitting beside one N-E-H-A V-E-R-M-A and doing all this. Half of my life has gone into such productive work.

Quite needless to say, we live in an impatient world. No one wants to put in so much time and effort into a fruitless activity. So what do we do? We shorten the name. Madrasis have this popular trend of adding their initials before / after their names followed by a dot. And thus, I became Bhargavi G. (and sometimes G. Bhargavi) to the world. The northern side of the country has a nice way of treating people with such peculiar(atleast to them) names. They mutate it. As a result, I hopped from 'Jai Bhairavi' to 'Bhargavi Jee(G)' to 'G dot Bhargavi. 8 out of 10 times, I am called Bhairavi or Bhagwati within 2 minutes after I have introduced myself to someone. Hmm, ok. Why Anu then? Good question. See, some in our clan have this unique and intelligent custom of giving their kids two names(sometimes three). Why? Dont ask me. Why I was not called this throughout? Solve this and you will solve the mystery of my existence. Obviously some noble soul thought I would do well to be reminded forever that I was named after the proud Bhrugu lineage.

With friends and others, the above funda doesn't work. Which is why we have names like Chi-chi, Bebo, Lulu, Duggu, Guddu, Sussoo still in existence. Following the same line of thought, I have been Jumbo(owing to size), Popat(owing to foot-in-mouth disease), Kinni(owing to lack of reasoning skills of people who named me so), Anu(owing to publicity of the same), Bhari, Bar and the likes(obvious and logically following) while friends with big names were happily being addressed as Ashu, Sid, Abhi, Sri, so on and so forth. :|

What's your story? Have you had embarassing nicknames ever? Funny? Silly? Witty? (A friend 'Abinav' is called "now nau", "now 9" etc. Abhi = now, Nav/nau = 9) :D 

57. Pongalised

One of the ironies of being a 'Madrasi'(yeah, in this part of the world, this is how saddi community is known. As if all that Tamilnadu has is Madras and nothing else) in Delhi is that you are like one of those 101 dalmatians - neither black nor white. You get treated like you are an outlaw. And things only get worse when it's Pongal time. You get Pongalised. Pongal-i-s-e-d? Whaaaat the heck is that!! It's a syndrome, hon. Tradition(and a True Blue Madrasi mom) demands that ganna/karumbu/sugarcane be purchased alongwith some other random stuff that sounds like a tongue twister. Fate had it that I go and buy all of it. In such cases, the best thing you can do is to either make your mom spell out what she wants else make her write it on a Post-it note. You know those ones, don't you? Arre yaar, those chhote chhote sticky on one side yellow papers. Still no? Arre the ones you see in that Kelloggs ad? Mummy, papa and son, all with those yellow papers stuck to their body, as if shooting for Ghajini. Right. So make your mom write and go hand it over to the shopkeeper guy. Obviously you run the risk of coming forward as illiterate to those around, but never mind. Pleasing THE MOM is very important. More so, when you know she is going to blackmail you by denying access to paal polis.

Now, look at the timing. Of all the sugarcanes he has in his stock, he chooses to give me one as tall as a ladder and with as many leaves as Adam and Eve would together have worn. The next 15 odd minutes had me carrying the ganna, like that white-washing guy in your house carries his ladder. I think I heard 2 random ladies whispering, "Saare madrasi aaj kood rahe hain idhar udhar ganna lekar". I am better off without explaining what that meant. U can still ask me, if need be, I'll give you that Hindi-English translation lexicon(note the usage of the word ; I am awesome when it comes to showing off) my mother used decades ago after this happened :

Ma : Bhaiya, nimbu kaise diye? (How much do the lemons cost?)

Shokeeper : Ded rupaye.( Rs. 1.50)

Ma : Ded? Bohot zaada hai. Main toh Dhaayi hi dunga.(1.50? Too costly. I'll give only 2.50) *Note the 'dunga'*

Shopkeeper : *prostrates* :D

I don't know how this works, but somehow, all the cute guys in the mohalla HAVE to see you ONLY on that day ; I even hit one with that sugarcane leaf when he tried giggling at me. Moron.

So. Tomorrow is the day. Do not try calling me. My landline stays busy throughout the day with people from across seven continents having taken it on themselves to wish us 'happy पोंगल'. Yes, that's how they pronounce it here. I didn't know how to write that in English, this is the closest I could get to how it sounds. Forget it, dude. I can't get to the point of explaining phonetics on my blog. :| Fellow South Indians will not spare you too. Yenna rascala, mind itttt! Highly intellectual conversations from the ladies of the house, including but not restricted to what payasam, what kolam, what new dress and whose husband did/did not volunteer with the preparations and festivities shall ensue. I know you will be more bothered about the dirt stuck under the nail of your little finger than knowing what I am doing tomorrow, so Happy Pongal, y'all!

56. He is mine and mine alone!!

“Deep in my heart I'm concealing things that I'm longing to say. Scared to confess what I'm feeling - frightened you'll slip away.” - Madonna

She eyed him in a clandestine manner as she saw her sister kissing him. She had ached and longed for him, and now it felt like she could take the pain no more. What body, features,elegance..... There was a certain poise around him, she drooled often as she thought about him. She wrote lengthy verbose poems in his longing....



"Day and night I am waiting waiting....
Are you asking for a beating...
Under your love I get fainting, fainting...
And if you die, you'll make me cry...
Your naughty thoughts make me shy..... "

She knew he belonged to her sister...they looked so... so 'perfect' together... She had no right to do this to her sister ; to her own elder sister who loved him like none else. He had brought the much elusive joy into her sister's life. He was much more than what she deserved, she knew. Wherever her sister went, he would tag along, to the extent that it caused severe irritation to public sometimes.

She wished she could steal him from her. This attraction was showing on her studies lately. She knew she had to figure a way out. Spending a few moments alone with him was hardly taking her an inch forward. She was tired of raking up fights with her sibling everyday over him. It was never a pleasant sight watching them pull each other's hair over him, strangle each other's necks. Poor him. All he could do was to be a silent spectator to this cat fight. Everybody around had had enough of all this. Till one day when he decided to move out of their lives. Once and for all. Never to return.

Life had to move on. After fall came spring. The winds had changed direction. There was a fresh smell of grass all around. Had someone stepped in to substitute him?

P.S. Dear sweetheart Microsoft Zune, you are deeply missed. I'll never let you-know-who to meddle with 'us' anymore. For Pete's sake, stop giving me software trouble, will you?

51. Math-o-phobia!

In all these 22 years of useless uneventful existence, there is one thing I can tell you for certain.

                                 My GENES are scared of math.

Its as much the pain and agony that Ishaan Nandkishore Awasthi goes through while finally arriving at 3 into 3 is equal to 3. I am those kinds who switch on the in-built calculator function in the phone the minute after handing the shopkeeper a 500-rupee note for easy day-to-day addition and subtraction. A pain in the posterior end is what Math is to me.

Recently, my good friend SJ aced the QA section in BILLI with a whopping attempt of 12 questions out of 20. For the uninitiated, QA stands for Quantitative Aptitude, Math, Dread(for some mathematically challenged people like me). Now, now. Any Quantophile worth his salt should be able to tell you how decent an attempt his is.

Well, by and large, I am not a huge fan of Ganith. Its like that unknown fear that sometimes grips you tight, gnaws your brain inside out, clawing incessantly at your desire to give it a good fight. Its like the Ghost of Christmas Past, tormenting me everytime I wish to run away from its clutches. I am what you call, the Math-O-Phobic. This, my dear, is not a case of Recently Acquired Mental Deficiency. I have been diagnosed with this Syndrome ever since HE decided to unfetter me into this cruel world of Math lovers, with the skills of Periplaneta americana - the cockroach.

Ironically, and agonisingly, my friends circle and family always consisted of people like SJ and others high on the math-solving quotient. Round table conferences at the canteen would involve serious earth-shattering discussions like,

"A dealer sold 200 quintals of sugar at a profit of 7%. If the ants ate half of it and the hen in the garden gave grey colour eggs, find his total profit and selling price."

Suroo aka Bat-ball, I am sure, will make headlines someday by doing 17-digit multiplication mentally while doing somersaults. Really. And then there a lot many names we will avoid here, just for the fact that their math profile makes me feel lower than a skateboard. You got the drift, right? :| My genetic code did me no good either, what with having a grandma whose hair greyed drowning an entire city in the mesmerising and bewitching pool of hard-core math that commerce had. Some real gene mutation there as you can see.

It was then that movies came to my rescue. Bollywood taught me my elementary math. Ek do teen(1 2 3), Do aur do paanch(2 + 2 = 5), Do doni chaar(2 x 2 = 4) etc. came my way. Life had found meaning. Little did I know of the games God played. "Ek Aur Ek bhi Gyaarah(1 + 1 = 11)" and "Nau Do bhi Gyaarah(9 2 11)". Dont even look at me. I am full of disgust.

Aging brought no wisdom, and life only got tougher. Sample this.

"A milkman sells the milk at Cost Price, but he mixes freely available water in it and thus gains 9.09141345%. If the quantity of water in the 1 litre mixture is 83.33 ml, then whom the bloody hell does he think he is kidding?"

My days of despair had finally come to an end, or so I thought, when I scored a 780/800 in the QA(refer above) in the GRE(Getting Rid of Everything?), comparable to the likes of Devi Durga slaughtering the demon Mahishasura. Little did I know that I had been banished away from this cruel word of number lovers. A woebegone period of upping with the lark to see the numbers dancing in front of my eyes, and all that people had to offer was a, "Ae-chal-chal, hattttta, GRE maths toh, eeeeeeeaassssyyyyyyyyyyy". Whoever said it's a beautiful world. Not cool, guys. So not cool.

Anyway, I am not built of lose-hope metal. So, I continue racking my grey cells(the few that I possess) at this demon, for the love of my life. For the sake of this guy, who has been the sole cause for me still groping in the dark for that non-existent light at the end of the tunnel. Pythagoras. Yes, that's him. I search for shades of him in every triangle problem I come across. He has helped me think straight(read 'look for RIGHT ANGLES everywhere').
He taught me not only 'Sec A' and 'Sec B' but also 'Sec C' :P Thank you Pythagoras, for making life colorful.

You can imagine my plight, in this fair land of ours, where the intellect of every living nematode is judged by - right- MATH. Is there hope?

47. Abhi tumhari beti zinda hai maa!

Little girls are so cute, I tell you! One such bundle of joy is my sister. I shall fail to do justice to this post if I start writing about her and what she does, and how we argue and bicker, and then laugh and laugh till we cry for no reason, and how we have whispered our deepest secrets to each other that only we could share, and how sometimes(umm.. many-a-times), I feel she is way too mature than I am and could ever be,though I am the elder one and how she always.. always knows when I need a hug, and.. bleh!

Ok, I think I have done enough justice to the profound talent I possess - that of deviating from the point :D

*

A prelude to the narration was deemed required by yours truly and hence, here it is.
#1 : 'The little sister'(wherever mentioned) is a 14-year old who has been learning (and continues to learn) Bharatanatyam for the past 5 years. This story dates to the time when parents of yours truly and 'the little sister' had Arangetram plans for the latter.

#2 : Arangetram(the same as mentioned above), happens to be a slightly costly affair. 'Costly' would be a purely relative term, and hence, 'slightly' costly. It happens to be an event where the teacher is to be gifted 'Pattu Pudavai'(silk sarees) as Guru Dakshina. A major chunk of expenditure on an Arangetram would be the rent for an auditorium, remunerations for the accompanying musicians etc. Round about 2.5 lakhs of raw cash goes into this affair(this is again an approximation; it could get more grandiose).

#3 : 'The little sister' who happened to be listening to all of this planning managed to make mental notes of the same.

#4 : 'The little sister' is given a pocket money of Rs.500 with no fixed scheduling period, which she keeps in a little maroon purse. Apart from this fixed amount, she also accumulates what is given by visiting relatives after 1000 namaskarams that she is made to do.

*

As the story goes, this is what happened one fine day.. Yours truly needed a little money for bus fare to go to a friend's place. It is usually publicly known, adding much to the disgrace of yours truly, that yours truly would any day go trouble her little sister(read monster when it comes to lending money) for a little change than show bus-wallahs 100-rupee notes and earn their innocent sugar-coated replies. At the time of this event, 'little sister' supposedly had (or claimed to have) only Rs.200 in her wallet and hence, blatantly denied the request.

Excerpts of what ensued is produced here :

YT : Yours truly
TLS  : The Little Sister

YT : Tere paas change hai? (Do u have some change on yourself?)

TLS : Nahi. (No.)

YT(poking) : Mujhe pata hai, tere paas hai. (I know you have it)

TLS : Fir kyun poocha? (Why did you have to ask then?)

YT : Please dede. (Give it to me please) *Yes, occasionally we do beg each other*

TLS : Yaar, sorry main nahi de sakti. Main apne arangetram ke liye bacha rahi hun. Mom dad ko support karungi arangetram organise karne mein. (Sorry, can't lend it to you. I am saving all this for my arangetram. I'll support mom & dad for the arangetram with this.)

YT : *no words* :D

 *

The usage of 'yours truly' multiple times in the passage is intentional. The author of this post derives inexplicable sadistic pleasure by irritating noble readers, who would cringe at its usage.

EDIT : Some of you seem to have mistaken the 'support' part of the post. Though I agree in every way that TLS is a responsible child in the true sense of the word, 'support' here was not meant supporting our parents by providing a stable income to the family :D I dont mean to humour such a sensitive thing, but what I had really intended to say was that at that point of time, she thought of lending a helping hand to my parents for the arangetram by saing up herself out of her pocket money. That was really cute! :D

42. The Swine Flu Song

A pig's outcry! Must watch! :D

39. Washington Post Neologism Contest

People, I am a self-proclaimed linguaphile, alright? But some of these made me laugh so hard, I can't tell you! So here I share :

Once again, The Washington Post has published the winning submissions to its yearly neologism contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words.

The winners are:

1. Coffee (n.), the person upon whom one coughs.

2. Flabbergasted (adj.), appalled over how much weight you have gained.

3. Abdicate (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.

4. Esplanade (v.), to attempt an explanation while drunk.

5. Willy-nilly (adj.), impotent.

6. Negligent (adj.), describes a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightgown.

7. Lymph (v.), to walk with a lisp.

8. Gargoyle (n.), olive-flavored mouthwash

9. Flatulence (n.) emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller.

10. Balderdash (n.), a rapidly receding hairline.

11. Testicle (n.), a humorous question on an exam.

12. Rectitude (n.), the formal, dignified bearing adopted by Proctologists.

13. Pokemon (n), a Rastafarian proctologist.

14. Oyster (n.), a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms

15. Frisbeetarianism (n.), The belief that, when you die, your Soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.

16. Circumvent (n.), an opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men.

The Washington Post's Style Invitational also asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition.

Here are this year's winners:

1. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

2. Foreploy (v): Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

3. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.

4. Giraffiti (n): Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.

5. Sarchasm (n): The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.

6. Inoculatte (v): To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

7. Hipatitis (n): Terminal coolness.

8. Osteopornosis (n): A degenerate disease.

9. Karmageddon (n): It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.

10. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

11. Glibido (v): All talk and no action.

12. Dopeler effect (n): The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

13. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.

14. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

15. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a grub in the fruit you're eating.

And the pick of the literature:

16. Ignoranus (n): A person who's both stupid and an a******.

29. How to stay awake during meetings

Aah... I am sorry to be copying stuff from office mail forwards and posting them here. But just couldn't resist this one :)

How to stay awake in meetings
Do you keep falling asleep in meetings and seminars? What about those long and boring conference calls? Here's a way to change all of that.

1. Before (or during) your next meeting, seminar, or conference call, prepare yourself by drawing a square(see above). I find that 10' x 4' is a good size. Divide the card into columns - five across and five down. That will give you 40 one-inch blocks.

2. Write one of the following words/phrases in each block(again see above)

3. Check off the appropriate block when you hear one of those words/phrases.
4. When you get five blocks horizontally, vertically, or diagonally, stand up and shout 'BULLSHIT!'

Testimonials from satisfied 'Bull shit Bingo' players:
'I had been in the meeting for only five minutes when I won.' - Adam, Atlanta
'My attention span at meetings has improved dramatically.' - David, Florida
'What a gas! Meetings will never be the same for me after my first win.' - Dan, New York City
'The atmosphere was tense in the last process meeting as 14 of us waited for the fifth box.' - Ben, Denver
'The speaker was stunned as eight of us screamed 'BULLSHIT!' for the third time in two hours.' - Paul, Cleveland

7. Title ka kya achaar daloge?

No really. I don't know if this makes me some kind of a handicapped person but I dont seem to write on some particular topic. I mean, people tell me this blog lacks direction and contains inexpressive and depressing content that would make Mithun Chakraborty look like a philosopher. Ok,that should be something. Presenting to you all the wickedness and trash in the world in a bulletted format. Here, goes!

• One of my pals is planning to buy a bike. After 3 long turbulent years, this sounds like some nice thing coming up. And then there are always people who would suggest buying a car. Err.. My advice would be that unless you have 3 boisterous kids and a wife, who wants you to take her to the big shopping sale(annual), buying a car is like going to an Ashram with Hansika Motwani (Hansika who? You are lucky to not have known yet). Aah, riding on a rain-washed road must be nothing less than bliss.
• Is MTV selling these days? Whats with Splitsvilla(Oh, dont ask) and the Roadies thingy? We've had a 1.0, and a 2.0, and a 3.0, and a 4.0, a 5.0 and now guess what? Roadies 6.0 auditions alive and kicking right up there!(Sign-up now and u'll get a Cheat Code DVD free). What with Splitsvilla ending up(That was some relief). Indian girls. A whole bunchload of gaalis. Bitching. Elimination. And more bitching. And a whole lotta fame and money for yourselves. Indian women-elegant? Hardly. Oh, and I cant stand the sight of pretty angelic Cyrus Sahukar on the screen. Rannvijay was the reason I was watching Splitsvilla anyway.
• Which is noisier? A) A jet plane playing Reshammiya(was that 2 M's? Umm. Even Altaf Raja would serve the purpose) screeching right behind your ears? Or is it B) 3 Sardaar kids in a train playing antaksharee on the seat behind yours? Wait there's more. Their mother emptying dabba after dabba of what might look to be the raashan for the entire month. No dinner for me tonight. Seeing them eat was dinner enough. And for the answer, its usually the descriptive and extra-long-than-needed statement which forms the answer in an MCQ(Deduced this way back in college). And so its B. I trust my intuition and keep quiet in such cases.
• The above was the highest point of the day for a zombie(thats me) who was waiting since eternity for this tremendously anticipated trip to Chennai. I think I am more nostalgic about Delhi's food than anything else it gave me. Ever. Go to the Paranthe-Wali gali at Chandni Chowk and show me a parantha without butter, and I ll show you a deer that watches FTV. And its hardly butter. You might even wonder where the parantha is(Ok, that was sad)
• Talking of accent, I think Shoaib Akhtar would put HBO and Star Movies to shame. Is he from some place called YouAssAye?? Jaanne ke liye dekhte rahiye Sonee Ennertaynmen Chaanayl.
• Steal my laptop if you would please. Hell no, I am serious. My dad wont sell mine and if he doesn't, there are meagre chances I would get a new one and I need a replacement. I can just leave that stupid thing outside the back door, say tonight? Its all dark in the house by 10 itself. Hop in by the garden hedge and pick it up. I ll leave the charger and accessories included.
• So, now the job is here. Man, this is going a little too fast. I might need Pond's Anti Ageing Miracle Cream before the next World Cup. Looks like paying myself for those cute but expensive earrings, those indecent parlour bills, and making kids do math homework from 6-8 pm is closer than it should have been. Rewind a little maybe?
• I miss my Scooty more than anything else right now. Weird how these little things give you a sense of independence. Road rage isn't exactly how it used to be 4 yrs back. But red lights are an empty phase of my life. Useless staring is all one can do. Those myriads of gawdy yellow colour(dirty) signs that say "Road kee Rani/Buri nazar wale tera muh kala/Horn Please OK". You,like many others, can also look into others' cars/vehicles and watch whatever they do. Which is what I do. Oh and then there are lots of those helmetless "Ameer baap ki bigdi hui aulaad" who keep on accelerating their fiery red bikes that speak "Speed Demon" or some "No Fear" sign. Find a Punjabi Daljeet Singh constable and know you know where this guy is. The light is green and we need 40% oil to refuel the tank.

p.s. Sometimes it takes a disoriented occipital lobe(Thats in ur head) and a whole lot of wisdom to come up with something like this. Only insanity comes naturally to me.
p.p.s This is just to add some flavour to the otherwise boring post.
p.p.p.s The above p.p.s was really not necessary.

2. Murphy's Law #104

(I am not responsible if this one already exists!)

On a day when none of your colleagues/gangmates have turned up at work, and you accept fate and embark on your lonesome journey to the food court all alone, manage a seat, and are just about to launch your hardly-in-a-mood-to-gnaw appetite, and you think of calling up someone/anyone just to appear all important, busy or "social"(doesn't even matter if it is your neighbour you remember last having spoken to in 6th grade) to give you company while you hog, one of these is the surest answer you will get :

1)The person will not pick up your call(Thank you so much)
2)Not reachable(I almost expected this)
3)The person will cut your call(Ooh-my,you are oh-so-busy)

The above rule is applicable for as many as 'n' no. of people that you will call during the stipulated period of time.

So, dispel the gloom for every single morsel that you have to eat all by yourself,fighting pangs of misery every now and then.

Well, 5 minutes happily spent in atleast, pretending to be busy. Lunch over. Now, get up and march back to your seat. My advice : Next time on, carry a novel.

p.s. Those who did not find this useful, sincere apologies for such outrageous nonsense.