Confusing words...

Her Majesty would be at the end of her wits seeing her language been twisted around for more than what the words can convey.

Why is 'cuteeeee' more cute than 'cute'?
Why is 'cho sweeeeet' sweeter than so 'sweet'?
Why does 'loooooovvvvvvveeeee you' means more love than just 'love you'?
Why does 'missss u' means more "misses" than 'miss you'?
Why does 'byeeee' mean more than 'bye'?

What did I miss in my English classes? I thought I was always attentive and never missed anything, except for the grades...

What an answer!

Miss Teen USA 2007 - South Carolina



And I now know the reason why!

Virgin Airlines...

As I read my Sunday newspaper, the Times Business/Leadership Series, the article on Sir Richard Branson, I couldn't help laughing head over heels.

What was it?

Well the article they wrote about this an Australian stand-up comedian, an excerpt from the article:
" How can you call and airline Virgin. It's terrifying. .... I want to call my airlines Slut!"

Well come to think of it, it is indeed funny.

But strange it is indeed. Lesbian as well hetero! ROTFL.

Cry of a famished soul

Disclaimer: This work is purely, to the extent a pure can be pure (like pure Ghee), a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person dead or leaving (Oops! living), any event or place is purely incidental.

I am hungry, famished and starved to be true. Haven't eaten anything since last night, well never actually had breakfast in a long time. It is 12:30 pm and I head for the cafeteria. Okay kind of food, doesn't titillate the taste buds to any extent and has the look of being hygienic.

Now given the fact that India is a 1 billion plus democracy and by the time you read this must be a trillion plus democracy, not discounting the illegal immigrants and those came on visa but lost or missing Pakistanis, crowd is expected everywhere anywhere much before you can expect a molecule of oxygen.

So there's a queue and I simply tag along the tail. Fortunately not many are hungry at this time.

There are just a handful of people before me, shouldn't be long before I can serve myself a belly filling quantity of whatever is on menu today. Taking a big shot, may be.

There is this bunch of ladies ahead of me. Gossiping, a no great guess given their laugh and intermittent "Oh! is it?" "How nice" and all that stuff. There is this gentleman standing in the queue with no acquaintance close by, bidding his time to get a plate for himself. There is this another person happily talking to somebody on the phone.

So here is how the story goes on when people actually reach the point where they can serve themselves something to eat.

1. The gentleman on phone. With the mobile phone safely ensconced between his shoulder and the ear, he picks up the plate, the spoon. but forgets to take the chapatti. Comes back after like half of two seconds, realizing that something is missing is from his plate. A Sheepish smile to the person standing behind him.

2. The guy who was standing all alone, takes half a spoon full of veggie. Takes a moment to think, decides he needs more so he takes a quarter full of spoon and serves more. Still he needs some more, so he serves himself one single instance of that on single identifiable vegetable is that potpourri of vegetables. Same goes for almost all of the things on the menu. Indecisive, or weak in estimation.

3. The ladies of course.
Lady 1: While serving herself a chapatti "Well did you know, yesterday,...."
Others make a funny face and fake a laugh. The one at the last is confused as to how many tissue papers she's need. The one before is busy cleaning every square millimeter of surface on the spoon, the plate and all the utensils thinking the tissue papers are more clean.
Lady 2: Serves herself the veggie, stops, and joins in, "But...." A little more chat when they realize people behind are almost red-faced.

Without warning there is this guy who join in the middle "Excuse me! and serves himself world full of veggies, bucket full of yogurt, pockets full of salad" and is gone before you can "What the *uck do you think you are doing? Jumping in the middle of a queue (well at least in name. Didn't your parent ever taught you some manners or the concept of the queue? Didn't you ever understand the difference in being satiated and over eating? Haven't you ever heard of the saying 'Do to other what you'd like other do to you'."

All this while, I was standing with my cheeks pulled in deep in my skull, my stomach sucked in back all the way towards my spine, I legs have no energy to hold me up. I crumple on the floor, cannot make a sound.

Somebody just stepped over me to get his share of food.

Dogs of God.

I am very much a religious person. I believe in the institution of religion and the faith. But then I cannot understand the fanatics of religion.

Every day of festivity and celebration is a tool in hands of these kind of jerks who make the life of others miserable.

Ganesh Chaturthi came again.

And everything was back to square one.

The length of the access road to my house is just a couple of meters less than a kilometer. Never would have had imagined the enormity of this 1 kilometer, if not for these days. There are 5 pandals which have idols of Ganesh in them. The first person is an ardent follower of the Elephant-head-God and wants the other to know and understand how feverishly he worships the God. The second, person, not to be bogged down by the intensity of the first person’s worship, makes his offerings, chanting of hyms all the more loud and audible. Well the fifth one cannot go beyond the maximum volume the speakers available in the neighborhood can give. Poor chap doesn’t have much of an upper hand.

Also, there is this procession on the road. The traffic policemen have cordoned off the road. If is peak time in the evening, people are returning from offices, some leaving for offices, all the vehicles that were at some time parked are now on the road. The traffic piles up for kilometers; the procession is the fastest to move, rather the only thing moving. The devotees in the procession light fire crackers, who cares if it hurts anybody, God will take care if he wants to and the injured deserved the care. The drums, the loud Bollywood music, did Ganesh ever fancy the Bollywood music especially ‘Aashiq banaya aapne…”. God knows.

And petty mortals like me wait, asphyxiating in the smoke of fire crackers, shove the silencer of the tractor into me ears, pull out my eyeballs and squash it on the road, chew off my own tongue and do what not, apart from holding that urge to take a piss.

And what do others like me do, just pray that either these kind of people go and meet their God before the next year’s Ganesh Chaturthi or the God puts some sense into these nonsense and make them understand worshiping is not about disturbing others.

Key Take away: Whenever you know there is high probability of traffic jam which nobody knows when it will clear, always wear a diaper.

The Spineless creature

This was long due and it had had this coming. This thing doesn’t have any values, shows no sign of being fair, is totally unpredictable but fairly predictable as it arrives every time at the wrong time; a totally spine less being, if we can call it a being, or else, refer it to as a totally spine less ‘X’.

What is that it here? What else the rain.

Yesterday was a horrible day. I was in office until 6 O’clock in the morning fighting the last minute battle, which incidentally started at 7 in the evening the previous day, to fix up a demo for a visiting dignitary. I went back home, took a short nap before the pangs of hunger could wake me up and turn me into a gobble-everything- type monster. Since it was bright and sunny, a must for Ray-Ban kind of day, I didn’t put on my rain proof jacket and was back in my cubicle.

Now the hell is let loose. 4’O clock the bright day suddenly puts on a dark cloak and turns to night. Dark, really dark clouds hover, strong gusts of wind and it starts pouring. Pouring like anything, like there no another chance to pour, this is the only time, the last time, show your might kind of pour.

And Bangalore, Bangalore that it is, where even a leaking pipe causes a traffic jam this was just too much. The traffic comes to a stand still, as if the director of this whole play called "living life on earth" hits the pause control.

Bad, I wanted to leave early and it doesn’t look like I will ever reach home. So I decide to stay back, so some petty job and kill time till the rain rain go away nursery rhyme bears fruits. 9’O Clock, the clouds seemed to have cleared, or it looked so, and I decided to leave for home. I walk to the parking lot, cool breeze flowing, an awesome moment. The moment I kick start the bike it starts to drizzle. Light drizzle or not, it really doesn’t matter much when you have to travel 13 odd kilometers for reach home and especially if you have breathed life to you bike, there are remote chances, if any of turning back.

You speed, you brake, flash head-lights, honk horns, zigzag between the drops of rain or at least try to do so. And you reach home; drenched, from head to toe. The vest sticks to your torso, the jeans feels heavy, the shoes are more like buckets full of water, the only thing wearable is your resolve to reach home. And you reach home.

You open the gate, and the rain stops. Just like that, all of a sudden, just dropped dead, as if the municipality shut down its water supply, as if it was tired, as if its purpose was fulfilled, as if the revenge was taken, as if the non existent day after today suddenly was visible

I was ambushed, tortured, singularly massacred, chopped to pieces, and fed to rats, the left over left to rot.

Call it timing or lack of it. Call it being unpredictability or being predictable but just at the wrong moments, call it fair or call it unfair, but this is how this lousy thing is.

I am a believer and a God fearing person, but then to retain that devotion, belief, fear I need some confirmation some support some sign of being-ness from the other. Why does it have to rain like cats and dogs here, why does it have to rain so heavily in the upper regions of Ganga and Brahmaputra, why does it have to rain so much that there are floods every year in these regions? Why can’t it rain like this in Rajasthan or Sahara or say North Karnataka?

If the Gods haven’t learned anything till now, I have good reasons to believe that will not learn it in near future; say another few thousand zillion millenniums. If it was up to me, the rain God, Indra better not cross my path.

Between the Dollar and the Rupee Tussle

Okay so the Indian currency the Rupee hit an all time high against the overly popular and transacted US currency The Dollar.

While most of the news channels wreaked havoc on the TV with their 24 hour sympathies with the IT companies as appreciated rupee would mean lesser profits; the nicely suited gurus of stock market, who incidentally were never wise when I decided to take their advice prophesied the loss in share price of these major, minor, and still in incubator listed companies, I was already seeing the road ahead. Not the nicely tarred road ahead but the one with drain and rain water all over it which for some reason of perfection fails to hide some of those numerous potholes.


So I was visiting my friend who works in this big IT Company and was surprised to see that what I foresaw was actually not that far!

As the rupee appreciated:

- There was more water in the coffee decoction in the vending machine;

- There was more water in the milk in the vending machine;

- The all time available juices in the canteen disappeared;

- The floor temperature, which I was informed was usually comfortable 22 degrees, was not well beyond 24 degrees;

- Even the liquid soap in the restrooms had more liquid properties than water itself;

- The paper towels, the newer ones, have so much quality inbuilt into it that you cannot pull out one in one piece from the dispenser. The towel dispenser incidentally has “Eco Friendly” plastered on it. Yeah! Why cut trees, use that square inch of towel.

- The lifts, one overly gregarious person told me, are now mostly out of order.


Of all the things what is more worrisome is the coffee. I mean most of the IT guys when they reach office search for one thing, even before booting or logging into their systems, which is, what else, COFFEE!!!!

I am sure the ILO (International Labour Organization) has the right to perfect coffee as one of the basic rights of the IT employees which if you prioritize comes before equal opportunities.

Civilian and Fighter Aircrafts on Road.

DISCLAIMER: This post is purely a fiction, any resemblance to dead or living is purely incidental. No offence meant to any lady or any man.


I have been living with aircrafts both at home and at my office; and I just so much love them.

The place where I live, my house actually a rented place, is very close to the city airport. Another big thing close by is the wind tunnel operated by National Aerospace Laboratory.

My work involves aircrafts too.

I love watching there giants of steel, these behemoths take to sky so easily and land on the landing strip so effortlessly. It is an amazing synched dance of man, metal and machine.

The brain of all the electronics, the effectiveness of all the machinery and the intelligence of the pilot, all with one motive to take to sky and be back all safe and comfortable.

I many a times find myself standing next to the airport boundary wall, with my mouth wide open amazed at the way an aircraft comes to taxiway, moves on the tarmac, and just like a bullet from a gun, shoots on the tarmac. The flaps are all down, the thunderous roar of the engines and as if the gravity fails for that just one split of seconds “Houston we have a lift off!” well take off actually. Sometimes I am lucky to see a MIG or a Jaguar put on its afterburner so that it can take off in the least distance and climb up fast and furious. The afterburners make their presence very much audible to people in atleast 3 Kms radius circle.

And not mention the wind tunnel which when active makes you feel as if there is a traffic jam on the landing strip and all the aircrafts are standing tail to tail, with their engines running waiting for that green signal, each one fighting for that one-upmanship for how loud one’s engines are. The whole neighborhood bears a look like wind has visited is visiting and will stay for quite some time.

“Kachik. Eagle 1 to base. Kachik”

“Kachik. Base to Eagle 1. Cleared to fly. Over Kachik”

“Kachik. Eagle 1 to base. Ok. Over Kachik”

“Kachik. Base to Eagle 1. Let us kick the tyre and light a fire. Good Hunting. Over. Kachik”

So now where does this lead to?

Well when you are obsessed about things, you kind of see them everywhere. And that is exactly what is happening to me. I see aircrafts or parts of it.

You must have had seen a lot many fair sex on two wheelers, zipping past on their Blaze, Scooty or Pleasure. What you might have also noticed but may not have had related is that whenever they slow down, like the needle on the speedometer touches sub 25 sub 30 Kmph levels, their landing gears come down. The gears are deployed unless the needle pulls up above this 20-30 mark. They will be deployed even if they travel like tens of kilometers at 15 Kmph.

As soon as the brakes are deployed, two legs come out from either side of the two wheeler, much like an aircrafts landing gear and stay on there. So if they stop the landing gears touch the tar, if not then they are still deployed as part of missed approach. Very much like a civilian aircrafts, safety foremost.

Guys on the other hand are like fighter jets. Vrooooom. Vroooooooooom. Honk Honk. Screech. Screech. The landing gears never come down until they are sure that they have to land. Just like fighters aircrafts which can skim the ground, fly as close as say 200-500 feet above the ground, guys will slow down and try to balance as long as they are allowed to and can manage. Their afterburner is their horn. Great maneuverability of zipping in left and right taking sharp turns just so very much like a fighter aircraft.

Glossary
Kachik : The sound made by pressing/releasing the TALK button of the wireless set.

Mutual Screwing... I screw you... You screw me...

It is a vicious circle; more of co-habitation because of lack of options rather than consensual.

And just why is it a circle? Well what goes around comes around. I screw you, you screw me, simple.

The only difference being that the ‘I’ here has the option of screwing this or that, one among the many (well in many cases one amongst atleast two). But the ‘You’ here does not have that choice of whom he/she/it might choose. There is there only instance of ‘I’ available here. So whose is the one who gets the pleasure or say pain of getting screwed every so often? No prizes for guessing the answer. It is the deplorable ‘I’ here.

Now you guys must be wondering who is the ‘I’ here and who is the ‘You’ here. The ‘I’ here is the crowd, the common people, the aam junta ( the mango people), who choose the ‘You’ here which are the politicians, the corporators, the bureaucrats, the local municipality etc. So you see the ‘I’ here has many options to select from and to who takes the seat, gaddi, of power and screw them. The ‘You’ doesn’t have that luxury hence the ‘I’ has dilated muscles and you know where.

By now I am sure you guys won’t leave me alone until I (this is the real me and not the ‘I’ here) tell you where does this whole theory comes from.

Take an example.

The citizens choose the government, let’s be limited to the local government. Then the citizens ask for improvement of basic infrastructure, basic amenities, parks, clean drinking water, decent walk able footpaths, trees on the sides of the road. Essentially screwing the government, making it do thing which are most likely on the lest priority list; they being busy with milching the citizens, the government machinery to get wot not, trying to do as many nonsensical gymnastics with the law, rules so as to make sure that they get an assured chance the next time they get to the polls.

So this in part explains the ‘I’ screw ‘You’.

Of the many ways the ‘I’ screws ‘You’ (leave the Kamsutra aside) let us focus on one "trees on the sides of the roads footpaths". Now it is the time for the ‘You’ come back and screw the ‘I’. So they plant the trees with the rusted tree guards to guard them when God only knows how long the guards themselves can live the beat of the weather. And just what do they plant? Coconut trees! The ‘I’ here is happy, takes comfort in the pleasure. But the pain follows not too late. The trees grow, the coconuts hang from the tree, ripe full with the coconut milk. Then one day an ‘I’ is on the footpath walking his/her way home, or to where he/she is heading to and BANG! There falls a coconut and the nut is split open in the two halves; both the coconut and the head of this ‘I’.

So this in part explains the ‘You’ screw ‘I’.

Many may argue, "statistics prove that the probability of a falling coconut hitting a person is as low as nothingth of nothing*". Well how many times do we really get to hear from a person explaining that the hump on this head is a result of a coconut falling on him; nothingth of nothing* times! Just because no crimes are logged with the police department does that really mean the area is crime free? Not really.

But then who am I (the real I and not the ‘I’ here) to say anything. Both the ‘You’ and ‘I’ are happy and satiated. The max I (the real I and not the ‘I’ here) can do is make sure I (the real I and not the ‘I’ here) choose the ‘You’ who can screw me in less number of ways or not screw to the ‘You’ and expect the same favor in return.

* Inspiration (Anu Malik's style) from Douglas Adams "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy"

Tera Khoon khoon, mera khoon pani!!!

When I Take a long time to finish, I am slow,

When my boss takes a long time, he is thorough

When I don't do it, I am lazy,

When my boss does not do it, he is busy,

When I do something without being told, I am trying to be smart,

When my boss does the same, he takes the initiative,

When I please my boss, I am apple polishing,

When my boss pleases his boss, he is cooperating,

When I make a mistake, I' am an idiot.

When my boss makes a mistake, he's only human.

When I am out of the office, I am wondering around.

When my boss is out of the office, he's on business.

When I am on a day off sick, I am always sick.

When my boss is a day off sick, he must be very ill.

When I apply for leave, I must be going for an interview

When my boss applies for leave, it's because he's overworked

When I do good, my boss never remembers,

When I do wrong, he never forgets

I don't know why I feel guilty of spamming my own blog with a forward. :(

The Apple-Bush's iRack

What has Apple (read Steve Jobs) and George Bush have in Store for all of us


http://www.glumbert.com/media/irack

It is OK

Ok, so now it is official; allowed by the political brass and the religious clergy of all religions. No more debates on whether it should be allowed or not; no more haggling on how much sin it would be to go the way nature, and also God, most probably in the view of those who know more, never mandated one should go. The shows on Discovery and National Geography Channel have shown that this behavior is normal in all living beings, beings here were animals though and human beings are way above them.

Hooray! Now we can be and are permitted to be gay, gay not as in fun and gaiety, but gay as in “Someone who practices homosexuality; having a sexual attraction to persons of the same sex”.

But there’s a catch. We are not allowed to be ‘gay’ in our lives beyond the 8 hour office hours. We are allowed to be gay only in office and just why so? Well haven’t you heard of the word office spouse?

Now given that the sex ratio in general of the entire population inhabiting this country is a dismal low figure, the chances of you having a female office spouse is less, unless of course if you work in either Infosys, TCS or Wipro (no offence), who hoard all the females just as they are about to enter the world of working population, where your chances are bright.

It has been more than three years in my company and I have moved around 3 teams and how many females did I have in my team of be a straight guy at office and have ‘natural’ office spouse, none.

So it is finally bestowed upon all of us to be ‘gay’, gay as in fun and gaiety ...

... and I didn't miss that not there!

Vella-Time's Day

Hey Fellas,

Hope you had a good "Vella-time's" Day.


Those who have girl-friends, are on the road.

Those who had girl-friends are out boozing

Those who never had girl-friends are glued to TV.

Why is the census so scary? Every year year over year...

The flying "Indian Railways of 80s"

Ooops! I did it again.

Well I have flown with these guys for at least 5 times if not more and all those 5 times my experience has been like, I better not talk.

It is the flying Indian Railways, but the railways of the 80’s.

So what happened this time? My brother had come over to Hyderabad from Nigeria after more than 1 year, and Jan 12, 2007 being a long weekend, yes we a day off on Jan 15 for Pongal/Sankranti.

I thought if I book an early evening flight to Hyderabad I can have a nice evening with my nephew and my niece; and the only flight available was of this flying Indian Railways of the 80’s. They say “We are a low cost airline.” Indeed they were a low cost airline this time; where the others were two to three times costlier than this. And this is where I made the mistake and I did it again.

So my flight departs on Jan 12, 1800 hours. On Jan 11, 2020 hours I receive an SMS that my flight has been rescheduled to depart at 2250 hours. Well rescheduling is acceptable if it is due to unforeseen circumstances. And unforeseen are... you know unforeseen. If you get an "unforeseen" 24 hours before the actual, then is it actually foreseen? I guess... Ummmm... Not. It is turning a blind eye to make it not seen but unforeseen. But then who am I to say that, Captain Gopinath and his well trained staff knows it better.

Anyways, I leave office in time to reach the airport and just as I am about to board the taxi, my mobile phones buzzed. “The flight has been rescheduled to depart at 2325”
A flight which had to depart at 1800 hours was rescheduled to depart at 2020 hrs and then rescheduled again to depart at 2325 hours.

Man there is something seriously wrong somewhere. And I feared the worst. May be they’ll keep on rescheduling it again and again and I’ll see my return flight make a landing.

Nevertheless I board the taxi and head for the airport. Whatelse to do, I thought.

As if all this was not enough; to add to my woes while I stand in the queue to take my boarding pass the bloody server goes down. 20 minutes we stand there doing nothing cursing that moment when we all book the tickets with this “Flying Indian Railways of the 80s”. There were many like me, some regulars and some irregularly regular.

And this one gentleman is so furious that when he finds the lady on the other side of the counter free, starts blasting her. The most humorous thing he said was"

“Why do you charge airport tax to us?”

Some reply which was insignificant

“Why? Don’t you guys pay Airport Authority of India the taxes for using the Bangalore airport? Have they banned you from using the airport? Do you do online transfer just when you are about to land and this time the server like this bloody one here has failed and you cannot transfer the money or is that you cheque bounced.”

Man I was on the floor laughing, rolling from side to side, the spasms in the stomach getting the better of me; and I laughed so hard, so loud that the guy probably forgot his anger and then thought for a while and then started to laugh too. I couldn’t help but say “Maybe they carry the cheque with themselves and now were have a chicken and egg situation.”

He for sure didn’t get that, for he was part looking for the chicken and part waiting for that egg to pop up from somewhere. Anyways if you guys didn’t get that let me explain

“They have the cheque with them and they are in the air. They can give the cheque only when they land and they cannot land until they give the cheque”

Whatever.

They got the paper on which they print the boarding passes and started scribbling on it.

Then came running a lady, who looked like she was from China, or that region, you know what I mean they all look the same. She waited in the queue, unknown to her that the queue will take a long time to even consider the notion of moving. Seeing that nobody moved she moved ahead and stood besides me. We Indian are very helpful people. So I told her “You see the Server is down, probably the link somewhere is down or that their switch has been stolen.”

She did see I use Colgate. Raising her eyebrows she made a sorry face “I heard the announcement that… ”. I thought since when did they start announcing ‘May I have your attention please (what else do I have left?) our server is down because we forgot pay our electricity bills and they have disconnected the power lines to our office. We apologize for the inconvenience caused.’

Back to where she left “… we can carry only one cabin luggage. I have two I have to check in one”. Sure go ahead, talk to that guy on the counter and he will be happy to help you. Not that they usually say so or are really happy doing so, but now for sure they would be or else they will have to put up with the angry customers.

So we got the boarding passes and moved to the Security Check.

You fight a skirmish and you are a hero. You fight a battle and you are revered by all. You fight a war and you are a national hero.

Time to walk towards the Security Check and move on to the boarding lounge.

Ok so he is in queue. He … he and he … he too. Here the queue turns, here again it turns. It spirals inward in ever decreasing radius. I follow the queue moving in opposite direction... where the heck does it end? I raise my arm in disgust and say it loud “Where does this God damn queue end?” Of all the people standing there who hear my plea, this one guy listening to his I-Pod removed his earphones and said “There’s the last guy”. That was for the loudness.

Where I stood, the queue has already spiraled four times. There were at least 150 + lives being wasted in a never ending queue. I so badly wish the guys in charge, the AAI authorities and the politicians have to stand in this queue for 1 hour like I did.

Better they commit suicide, that will save so many lives.

I am scared. Really scared. With these many people how thoroughly can the security personnel manning the X-Ray machine scrutinize the baggage and the harassed travelers.

“Passengers traveling through ‘I am sure you hate it” flight to
Hyderabad are requested to move to Gate 2 for boarding.”

Finally I am in. The airline has free seating. It is like the general compartment of the railways. You sit where you find a seat. Thank God they don’t overbook or some body will have to stand and travel or foot-board travel. I take the first available seat and wait for the aircraft to take off.

There some commotion in the back. A guy approaches the Cabin Crew in-charge then talks to the pilot. I later figured it out that there was this guy on board who was so badly drunk that he didn’t know the difference between the seat and the arm rest and tried to squeeze the arm-rest so that he could sit comfortably; squeeze it where? The moral police is watching and I better say no more than I already have.

The security arrives, the Air Hostess talks something, they walk all the way back and talk to the drunk, the pilot comes and talks some sense to the nonsense, they talk, discuss, talk talk and discuss again. I heard the security say to the Air Hostess ‘If you say we can take him off the flight’. ‘No it is okay’

The security instructions about how to put on the seat belt, tighten it or loosen it, the emergency exits, the lights, the oxygen masks, the instruction booklet and of-course “Do not steal the life jackets, we will not be able to provide you with low cost services if you do so”

All this while it is hot inside, they haven't put on the AC I guess.

“Cabin crew prepare for takeoff”

“Cabin crew to their stations for takeoff”

I peak up the music on my I-pod, take out my laptop and start writing this post. I check my watch its 0100 hours of Jan 13, 2007 for a flight which had to depart at 1800 hours on Jan 12, 2007.

“Chai-Chai- samosa…”

The trolley moves in the aisle. A lady purchases a fruit juice at price so high I cannot even jump and grab it. An old fella buys water.

Later in next few weeks I read in paper that Air Deccan has made profit. And I need not wonder why?

The landing... finally at 0200 hours. I am tired, hungry, thirsty, pissed off, angry, irritated and I can go on about how I was feeling.

I am sure this is the strategy of Air-Deccan. Put the scheduled departure time at convenient times, most likely in the evenings, so that people buy the tickets. As soon as they buy the ticket message them that the flight is rescheduled, most likely at the dinner time. If he cancels the ticket they still earn some money. If not, all the better. Just 2 hours before the departure message them that the flight has been rescheduled to even later time in the night. People reach airport get the boarding passes and seeing the long queues every where, even in the loo, they stand in one of the lines. Note that the passenger hasn’t found time to have something to eat or drink, no one wants to stand a stupid queue for any long than necessary.

Since the queues are long you end up standing in the queue for boarding once you are done with the security check. Note that the passenger hasn’t found time to have something to eat or drink, no one wants to stand a stupid queue for any long that necessary.

The passenger, so much thankful to the entrepreneur, takes a sigh of relief and takes his seat. But the pangs of hunger and thirst start bothering him; and then (s)he sees the bottled water, samosas, biscuits in that trolley. What do they do, they buy the stuff at prices they would never otherwise buy; and some like me take a vow to never do anything which will make this bastards make money.

But I thank them that they haven’t yet put a charge on using the toilets in the aircraft or for using the toilet/tissue paper. At least for now I can relieve myself in peace.

By the way, have you ever notices their mascot ‘The Common Man’ by R.K. Laxman. He carries a basket which has the Air Deccan logo of ten fingered birdie in it. And Air Deccan is very much like it. Just like the common man doesn’t know when the birdie will leave the bag and fly off, the entire country doesn’t know when the flight will finally take off.

Air Deccan. Low cost unpredictable services at the terrible cost of
spoilt plans…

I here by take a vow to never ever travel with you guys.

Shit!... It is the Big Boss

I do not have a television. I do not even have a radio. How do I entertain myself? Well I read books, listen to music and play games on my laptop to name a few.

Had read a lot about Big Brother in the newspaper in last few weeks, some kind of reality show. A rather popular show and like all popular Western stuff had its own copy stuff here back home called Big Boss.

Never had actually seen an episode of Big Boss.

But This Saturday, when I was visiting my friend he was hooked to the TV “It is the Big Boss Grand Finale” and I stayed on to see the show.

My votes??

“Crap. Tuck loads of it. Airbus 380 jumbo loads of shit.”

I was really hurt to see how Arshad Warsi, my friend, and plenty of others had savored the entertainment served to them; making fun of the feelings of people in there, in that house for three months. Reality Show! What reality and where’s the reality?

I feel pity of Anupama Verma (She had long back featured in a Jackie Shroff movie.) Aryan and Anupama had sparks flying between them and when it was all reduced to dying embers it became the fire place where others could take the warmth of… Ah! Entertainment.

What happened to other stuff? Like “Hey! You were friendly to others. You were always there to help others. You were real non-sense but yes we enjoyed it a lot. Hadn’t it been for you comic, life there would have had been so boring.” The only thing that was talked was “You and you were so close.”

Arshad Warsi, asking Aryan, how’s life, how’s this “Aur kaisa hai, who kaisa hai” and with particular emphasis “Aur woh kaisa hai?” Are you nuts man? That lady sitting there has been hurt, her feelings trampled upon, you can feel her pain when she said that she doesn’t talk about here personal life in public and doesn’t want to talk about it. It hurts her family more than it hurts her. You kind of get the hint but cannot refrain from wandering there again and again.

I really felt bad about what happened to Anupama out there. You very rightly said

“I thought it was reality show, thinking that the people will be their normal selves as they are out there in the real world. But I was wrong people were playing games here; playing games with people’s emotions, people’s feelings.”

No matter who ever hurts you remember lady that he/she was never worth the effort of feeling bad of crying. Just what you said.

As somebody wise had said:

“Kisi ka rona, kisi ka tamasha”

(somebody’s tears somebody’s entertainment).

Being spied upon....

My sincere apologies to all those who visit and take a nap while they read this blog.

I have been off blogging for last couple of weeks. I was hiding in my rabbit hole.

No I was not mimicking any Saddam Hussain's capture episode.

For last 2 months I have been observing events that have been happening around me. I have had come to a conclusion that the secret agencies of the world CIA, KGB, MOSSAD even ISI are snooping on me. I don’t know the agencies in Africa but I am so sure that they are also involved. I feel they all have together initiated a Jehad against me. I don’t know for what reason. I haven’t been involved with anything sinister but still they chose to target me. If the Vajpayee government could fool CIA and do a nuclear test, I am sure I can also evade the eagle’s eye.

How do I know that they all are spying on me?

Well I never discuss my personal issues with anybody, anybody. But even then they know of my financial problems. Every day I get tons of mails from unknown people offering me a part of their fortune. How did they get to know that I need what they have? How come the Barclay’s Bank, wherever it is, knows that I need money and sends me mail that I need to give them my bank number identification number so that they can transfer millions in my account?

Did I say millions? Yes I did. How can a bank offer millions to an unknown person, unless the whole act is a concerted show of these intelligence agencies that have each put in a substantial amount to pay for those millions on the platter and for the pay of that guy who sends me those mails?

They are after me, which I can digest, thanks Hajmola, although with great resentment and disbelief. But can one justify that just to pin me down they have gone a killing spree, slaying so many millionaires. Every now and then some millionaire has dies somewhere, and the next of kin wants to disburse, read siphon off, the fortune and needs my help to divert the funds giving my share of 20-30% of the amount. The amount in question is billions of USD, yes USD.

Since I haven’t replied to any of those mails and fall in the trap laid by these nasty people, they have resorted to mental torture to make me com e out of my rabbit hole. I do not and will not. I have come out form my den just to let then know that I am a warrior and will not give in. Even the torture that have befallen upon me won’t weaken me. These people have started a rumor campaign, like the “Get well soon Lucky.” questioning the extent of my masculinity. Trillions of people who I don’t know have been up day in night out to suggest cheap drugs or good one at cheaper rates like Viagra. I want to tell all those people just one thing, “Go and ask you mum and sis”. What do you ask is entirely on you. But to get the right answer one has to ask the question and that is all that I have to say about that

I better finish and go back hiding. It is about time these guys will come and start sniffing the whole network for any sign of me. In the meantime I would invite everybody who been a victim of this organized crime to fight for their right and not give up.

Vahe Guru Ji ka khalsa, Vahe Guru Ji ki fatah.

And the warrior ran straight into the enemy killing them like flies……..

Jara aaankh main bahr lo pani, jara yaad karo kurbani…..

PJs (Poor Jokes)

Did you ever know what is the most difficult part of PJs (poor jokes)?

It is making those PJs and worst making those PJs spontaneously.

Consider this:

My colleague and I were taking the daily stroll after having our lunch and we happened to pass my motorcycle. Looking at the odometer my colleague asks me “Hey, how come you have managed only 14 thousand kilometers in past 2 years, I have done 30 thousand on my car in last 1 year?”

Waiting for my reply he was prepared in defensive stance to take the onslaught.

After some time, pretending to think a lot about the answer, I replied.

“Well, you have 4 wheels on your car and I have only 2!”

“What?”

“Well, you clock four times the distance while I only clock twice!”

And he ran amok into the crowd….

And I was so pleased and happy and all the other in our group had a good hearty laugh.

s(Pee)itting

Ladies before you start reading this post I consider it my duty to warn you that you may not like reading this post. Even if you do you would not be able to appreciate the concerns raised in this post as it is very likely (though I want to write almost certain) you have had not witnessed the act described here.

So here I hit the road…

It has been a mystery for me. No matter how much I try to reason out the reason I fail to come up with a fairly convincing reason to convince myself that I have found a reason for this ‘do this after, before or simultaneously’ behavior.

I have been baffled by the expanse of this behavior and as to how it is common to all men and cuts across all boundaries of type, size, color, caste, wealth, geographical location and any other line of demarcation that I can think of.

I don’t know what is this invisible bond that binds the act of reliving oneself (males of course, I don’t know about ladies) at the urinals and spitting?

Some men start with spitting, some men continue reliving themselves with the act of spitting, and some end with spitting after reliving themselves. Its not that I don’t have any other better work to do while I am relieving myself at the urinals, but just that I kind of feel it be very stupid to stare at the tiles in the front or look down into the urinal. It just feels so disgusting. And to add I don’t like spitting.

Do they feel like they have vanquished an insurmountable opponent? I guess they do so.

The smile, that feeling of joy and pride on their face does kind of reflect that sentiment. And if I may add they spit at their vanquished opponent; like some celebrate their victory, well almost certain victory, before the great war, some celebrate as they fight the war and some after they have had won the war.

“See that’s what you get when you mess with me. Need one more?? Hugh! Spit Spit one more spit. There your go you rotten …”

And some are real funny even when they are at this great holy war. These guys do not give up, ever, on their sense of humor. Even whey they trample their ‘who ever it is’ with the furry of a ravaging river they keep the whole environment cool and friendly by whistling a strange whistle, which goes like “Shoooo….. Shoooo….” What a great way, I admit, to shoo away the unwanted by saying “Shoo… Shoo…”!

I find this very funny, very very funny and very very very funny. So most of the time I kind of smile and others think the same what I have described above. But I don’t spit in or at the urinal.

Statutory Advice: Guys please wash your hands after using the rest rooms.

PS: When I told to my psychiatrist friend about my new post, he very coolly, as a matter of fact said “Telling one’s story as a friend’s story has been an old method of talking about oneself”. And I fell to the ground laughing; rolled on the floor as the spasms in my stomach became unbearable ...

5 Days at office.

A Typical day at office until….

Honey, hurry up and answer the phone.
Honey, hurry up and answer the phone.
Honey, hurry up and answer the phone.
Honey, hurry up and answer the phone.

My mobile phone suddenly chirped. This was my ring tone. The voice is neither of my current or future wife, given that I am single and neither of my girlfriend, I don’t know which one.

Hello!
Good evening Sir! Hmm… Arr… Good Morning Sir!
A Very good morning, may I know who’s on the line?
Is this Mr. Smart Alecky?
Yes. This is he. May I know who is on the line?
Sir, I am calling from XYZ Bank, we are offering a life time free credit card to only a few select of our customers and you have been chosen for the card.

Day 1.

Before you say anything, let me thank you. This is the first call that I have received in last 4 days.
Sir… (Stopped in the middle)
Wait let me finish. Allow me to thank you by treating you with a cup of coffee, for a start, at Barista next to…
Sir, Do you stay somewhere near that Barista?
Yes. Very close. If you want you can also see my house. It’s not huge though, just 4 rooms on some 3000 square foot of space. (Sounding very modest)
Sir, no need for that. Actually we have an office near that. You can go and give your papers at that office.
Yeah so lets meet and you explain me in details all about the card, all hidden charges, all penalties.
Thank you for time sir
So, I’ll expect you at 5:00 pm there, this Saturday.
Click.

Day 2.

I am sorry, but I am not interested.
Sir this card has this advantage, that advantage, no this and no that, extra there and extra here…
Do you guys ever give up? Almost shouting
In a defensive tone Sir, we are doing our job.
Sounding very sad I really pity you guys. You have to do work at office! We usually play golf!
Trying to conceal the embarrassment behind that almost there laughter Thank You Sir
Click.

NOTE: Some really don't understand and straight away hit for the Click.


Day 3.

Sir, based on your good balance in your account we are giving this card free for life time/ so many years, reduced late charges. And the best part is that you can use this card at any merchant location
Wow, that really great. But by the way, what amount you consider as good balance?
Trying to think something I cannot reveal that Sir
The reason why I say this is because if my balance is good then your people are in trouble as then anybody is eligible for your card
What do you mean Sir
Just go and check your record for once, my account balance has never been more than xyz. xyz here is less than even a decent amount with a person who has been bankrupt since the mezozioc era.
Click.

Day 4.

You know this is the fourth time I am being selected for the offer, even though I have refused it all the times.
Amm….
Do you guys have a dictionary?
Yes, why Sir?
Well go and look how many meaning does ‘NO’ have in it. Until the last time I saw it, it always meant only ‘NO’
Click.

Day 5.

Sorry, I am not interested.
Why sir? Do you have any other cards?
Yeah, Citibank, HDFC, SBI, ICICI, Standard Chartered, Manhattan …. (almost all the names I knew other than this bank)
Sir, you can keep the cards from all the banks but not mine almost in tears, if possible the mobile phone would have had become a gargoyle.
Click.


And I wonder why I don’t have a credit card.

Strike, brings the best out of me....

Its not that I am one of those, work till I die kind of workaholics; I really do love to get day off from office but I hate it, loath it when it happens to be on a weekday. And especially if it is because of a strike(bandh) organized by somebody who probably thought there hasn’t been much of rioting on the streets. Why? The reasons are aplenty and listed down below, not necessarily in the order of their priority of being a major contributor to that hate feeling.

1. Office is the place where I get a good delicious food, which of course looses its deliciousness after days of eat-the-same-kinda-food thing. But nevertheless given the fact that it at a subsidized rate of Rs. 6 per meal, unlimited, nobody has any right to complain about the taste. Now if the day off is on weekday I miss my chance to gobble up all that food at those cheap rates. I have to go out and shell a lot more for not that healthy and many times certainly not that much hygienic food. Well you can call me a miser, cheap person but I’d call it as saving for the rainy day. Now if the day off is because of the bandh (strike), then all eateries outside are closed and there’s every chance of people like my starving to death. This is the Amazon rainy day where my savings for the rainy day do not come in handy. Even the pizza huts/corners are closed and there’s no home delivery.
   
   
2. Office is that one place where I meet, greet, grin at, look cocked eyed at so many people. There’s so much to talk about, and so many to talk to. With the day off I miss all those people. The life feels so boring and dull.
   
   
3. Office is that one place where I can surf a lot, till I drop dead or one of the person from IS (Information Support) teams comes saying that I have violated my company’s online surfing policy ‘n’ number of times which is ‘m’ times more than the permissible limits of ‘k’ attempts. But nevertheless I can browse a lot. And not having an internet connection at home make life all the more miserable.
   


4. Office is that place where I can have gallons of tea/coffee. It’s the lifeline of my life at office, or else I be down with the hang-of -left-over of the last drop of coffee I had days ago. At home limited supply of milk makes me feel lethargic and lie all day on the bed.
   
   
5. Office is that one place which allows me for recreation. A non-existent TV and a far from working radio makes that recreation at home almost next to beyond impossible. And especially if you have a college friend, who is as big an ass hole as a mammoth’s asshole (not the mammoth or the mamoth's hole, but the friend, get your context right you dumbo), living in the same building, who wears that my-wife-beat-me-again sorry pathetic, ready to die look whenever I knock at his door just because he knows that invariably I’ll switch on the his TV and his electricity meter somewhere downstairs will board the supersonic or maybe superlight, merry go round, and start spinning as fast as you can say nothing. This also adds to my second point about people. Just for the record this genltemand is a bachelor.
   
   
6. Bandh there’s no newspaper so that I can do that crossword again and again. I do it once with a pencil, erase it and do it again.
   
   
7. And since all the shops are closed because of the bandh, I have to stockpile my packets of cigarettes and of course I always do not stock enough of them.
   
   
8. I have to play that stupid game of ‘Ceasar’ again and again. Sometimes its fun though, to pay the citizens peanuts, 10 denarii per-month of salary and tax them at 30-40 percent of their income. And then hear the people crying out loud. Stop all the farming and hear the lady grunt “There’s no food in the city so I’m on my way 'ome'”, or that cart pusher “Can you spare me a little bread. I haven’t eaten for long”. And then the situation worsens and there are riots in the city and people come out on the roads with torches shouting “Down with the Governor” and I take all my troops there just to kill that one person who most often hides in one of those slums even before my army can say ‘March’. Most of the time its October though.
   
   
9. Worst of all I will have to come on Saturday to compensate for this unwanted middle-of-nowhere holiday. I would, sometimes I do think so, love to do so as Saturday, by the very essence of it being a Saturday is a laidback day, so no problem if anybody catches you snoring while you stare at that monitor, which now shows you screensaver when you thought you were reading a pdf on autoscroll!!
   
   

And finally when I am tired of all the stuff that I did and did not do, I roll myself in the bed thinking about all those beautiful things that never happen to anybody. Well God is not anybody but even then they do not happen to him also.

And by the time you read this line, I have already consumed 2 hours of my productive work time to write this post, proof read it, correct all the typos and post it; and now its time to go home and prepare for that bandh(strike) tomorrow and do what all I wrote above.