10 reasons why not to shave armpits.

With so much undergrowth it becomes messy and uncomfortable if not unhygenic to say the least.  So it calls for a shave.

Once it done, the torture starts. 

1)  It is not really a place where it is comfortable to shave. It takes practice, is an art and puts one in all kind of funny positions to get the right angle.

2) The after shave hurts and pinches alot. Feels like as if someone has squeezed the guts out. 

3) If that is not all, the deodorant is also not even comforting. Feels as if someone has poured alcohol over a cut.

4) After the natural calamity in pit, when the spring arrives and the growth starts, they kind of itch and many a times it ends up in one scratching that itch in the pit. Gruesome.

This not a FAQ, so fill the rest 6 all by yourself.

The Wrong side or the right side?

What is right or what is wrong? The answer is random. It really depends on what a person thinks, which in turn is governed by the upbringing and the people she/he has be surrounded with.

What we perceive as correct is what we see everybody doing around us. What ever they do not do is what we perceive as wrong. If we are instructed to do something and are told that it is correct, even though everybody else does the exact opposite, we kind of hear it in utter disbelief and never do that.

A very good example is what I always find on the roads and yet again today.

The road has three lanes, right most for overtaking, leftmost for the slowest and the middle one for usual.  That piece of road is called the Inner Ring Road, a 4 kms of beautifully, evenly paved road; so I speed up.

As I am riding, zipping past the traffic, there is this guy riding slow enough to slow down the traffic behind him. I am on his right and honk, "I am about to pass". The gentleman cooly looks over his left shoulder and moves to the right. 

Damn!

Screech. Brake. Brake harder.

I move to his left and pass him, giving him one really furious, "Condemn you to hell" look, which incidentally I am so sure from behind my helmet is not visible to anybody else.

How many times does that person ride on the road? Given the old make of the motorcycle, I guess almost everyday. For how many years, well many. But still why this odd out of place judgement?

Well, that is what he learnt from his parents, that is what he sees around him, that is what his friends do, that is what people around him do. So he probably believed that this is the right thing; even though what he did was grossly wrong.

And how many times would the same thing have happened to him? Man y a times and he still does that?

Well, if you happen to read this, just don't take right as right and wrong and wrong, use your brain to think, judge for yourself. Learn from around you and make your judgements and keep revisiting them.

Rain and rain coat

For last 4 years, ever since I bought my motorcycle, I have been a lazy fellow; one of the laziest in the world if not the most.

The city where I live, it rains and it rains as if there is no tomorrow. The worst part of the whole rain thing is that it rains whenever it is time to leave for office or time to go back home after a long day.

For past so many years, every year the same story used to repeat. Whenever I was about to leave it was raining or it would start raining; and every time I used to get drenched. Dripping wet!

So this time I thought it is time to shun this laziness and get proactive. Proactive, after getting drenched for like 5 days in a row and no, the precursor was not the act of getting wet 5 days in a row, but the fact that I do not have those many pairs of shoes. After 5 days, all of the 4 pairs that I have were wet and I didn't have anything to wear to office other than the bathroom slippers. I was so much wet, wet to the soul. Even now I am waiting to find that person who said, "Fire cannot burn it, water cannot wet it, weapons cannot pierce it... " Crap find me that man and I will put him in this rain and ask him, "Kyon, bachoo? Ab aatma bheegi ki nahin?"

So the coming weekend I went to nearest store to buy a raincoat. Interestingly, everybody in the city thought that the day was good to visit the store. There were more souls in the store than the number of items on display or ready to be sold. With nobody to assist, it took me 20 minutes to find the right place to look for raincoats.

I bought a decent one and came back home, smiling. No more getting wet. No more stopping on the way under a tree, no more of this rain.

And ever since that day, it hasn't rained! One day it was drizzling and I thought it to be right time to wear the rain coat and leave in the rain. By the time I could get my stuff and get my motorcycle out of the parking it has stopped raining. 

The other day, bright sunny day, no rain for like miles, I went out without my rain coat and it started drizzling. Luckily I was at home before it started pouring.

What use is a raincoat when it doesn't rain!

Now I know. If you have to stop rain in Gorakhpur, Kosi, let me go there with my rain coat. If you want it to pour in Thar desert or Sahara, let me go there without my rain coat. 

I sometimes feel I kind to glue this rain coat to my skin, and I walk in the rain, it will stop raining, just where I am. Like a cylinder of dryness, right in between the falling drops of rain.

I don't know who is the nemesis of Bhagwan Indra, but for some reasons I believe that she/he is with me in the form of my raincoat.

What an answer!

Miss Teen USA 2007 - South Carolina



And I now know the reason why!

The mom's delight to kid's plight

.
Well we have seen it all in the movies and the advertisements on the TV. I sometimes feel that it is all because of that idiot box. Probably that's the reason why I still do not have that one at home!

It is all over the place; the movies like Because I said so, the matrimony website advert where the dad runs, with the groom's turban in his hand, after every guy he sees , and so many others of the kind.

I graduated from the college with not so high flying colors and finished my PGDIT. My director always referred to it as M.Tech, all the time clapping his hands. Those who were present there will know what I mean to say. Anyways, that was in 2004. It has been 4 years since.

Given the age that most people complete there masters you can do the math, whatever.

So, where was I?

Yeah. Now that I have been in the job for 4 years, I truly qualify as an eligible bachelor. At least everybody else feels so, if not me. My neighbors at home for certain. "He is educated, earns well and is till not married!. There must be something wrong with him!". I guess that is what driving my parents bonkers. Why don't the old women of the neighborhood have any thing better to do than to talk about why somebody is married, why somebody isn't and why somebody's daughter/son eloped with somebody else.

Well I understand the pressure that my parents would be going through. Even though those who talk, seldom look at their own household and those who don't know the reality, that things take their own merry time to happen, even marriage. But public hai....

So, this Saturday, while I was cooking something for my lunch, Rajma masala and rice, I got a call from my mother.

Who is this girl XYZ (name changed).

Well she is so and so.

She mailed me. How did she get my e-mail address and that too the official one.

Mom! how am I supposed to know. Google around and you'd find that your e-mail address is listed in so many place. Anyways what did she write about. But I still do not know why would she e-mail you. We worked together like 3 years ago.

The mail talks about an invitation to ABC.com (website name change). that was in fact a professional networking site.

Oh! You can safely delete that e-mail. And I explained what that was all about.

Ok. But I did visit that website. The girl looks good and is Assistant Manger. To my scientist mother that was a very educated girl in a good profession and in a good company. Well here, in this part of the world, the word manager certainly rings bells and for sure event the fused light bulbs also become very radiant, and what we have here, she is a mega watts of search light.

Mom! Come on.

Well the snap of you and your friend wasn't that sharp and good, and this one looked like her. So I just thought if she is the one, she looks good and lets talk about it!

Mom, she is not the one whose picture you saw. And I don't want to talk about her. And if this how you will talk about all my friends one by one, then I will stop telling you about my friends.

Nah! It is not like what you think. I just thought if you have somebody in mind, lets talk about her!

Ma, if I really did have any, I would have told you and dad about it a long time ago.

As you say. But I did see her profile there.

Ma, that profile will tell you nothing about what you are looking for, that a professional networking site.

But you can find a lot about a person, can't you?

And then the conversation enters that never ending circle, where you have to say, "Oh my God! The rice is on fire, I better go and take care of my lunch!"

But keep your eyes open!

I love you mum. :)

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.

Sneha Kapoor

How can God be so ;cruel, sometimes and so many times. The only saving grace that He has is the while being cruel He has and shows some signs of sympathy and good.

Sneha Kapoor. She is one of the best Salsa dancers I have seen over here in Bangalore; and it wouldn't be wrong if I said one of the best in India. You can argue my opinion, no issues with that.

So much has changed in the last 2 weeks. I remember just this last Saturday we had a party at Ugly Duckling (on Miller's Road). We were having loads of fun dancing all the time. She in particular, being a professional Salsera, was enjoying every bit of the moment. Following perfectly the leads of good dancers on the floor as well as the novice ones.

The petite lady, with her contagious laugh was making the whole place very lively.

Today I heard that she had met with an accident. The bone of one of her legs is broken into three. The doctors have to insert a rod and clip the bone to it. It would take her a year and a half for her to recover. The other leg also has a fracture and it would take six months to recover.

Meaning no dancing, something that she so very much enjoyed, for next year and half. Richard Tholoor, her partner, was all tears when he told us. The excitement of the class vanished in thin air. Suddenly the whole atmosphere of the class was gloomy. There wasn't that excitement, that eagerness to practice the shines. But as they say the show must go on and so we started. The awkward way we did the shines at least brought some smile on Richard's face.

Poor Sneha, what wrong had she done?

I for one and all, pray to the almighty that she recovers much faster and comes back with all the vigor and enthusiasm that she has.

We wish you luck and speedy recovery Sneha.

For those who are still wondering who is she, watch the two videos (or google).

1. World Salsa Championships 2007 - Cabaret - Richard and Sneha -

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2. Richard and Sneha salsa at MSF (Mumbai Salsa festival) 2007

Lived Good, Died Well!

I wrote my tests for the Spanish classes I have been taking for a while.

What happened??

Well lived good during the class;
Died well in the exam!

I need for shoulders for the rituals!

Hasta luego!

And the Pheonix rises from its ashes, Examen parte 2 en sabado. :)

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.

Foot in Mouth Disease.

"Welcome on board Sir"
"Yeah Hi. Thank you"
"What is you seat number Sir"
"Hmmm... (Flipping the boarding pass) It's 13A."
"That would be towards your left Sir."
"Yeah Sure. Thanks"

She is standing there, holding a pillow to her chest. Ear to ear smile, lots of mascara and other stuff. Eyes gleaming with all the hospitality that can ever exist in a pair of eyes.

"Welcome Sir."
Nod in approval.

"Amm! You have a yellow spot on your shirt (points towards his left shoulder). You might have spilled something on it; pickle or something with turmeric maybe." Looking at her expecting probably a thank you.

Change of expression to a bad one.
Change of expression again to a good one.
"Oh this (removing that pillow)! This is our logo (SpiceJet)."

Damn why did I not notice this before? Was it necessary to be my usual self? What a noble git I am!
Sheepish Smile. "I am sorry I didn't notice this before, first time with Spice"
"Well that fine Sir. Which seat Sir."
"Well I guess you will have to move. Mine is 13 A."
All smiles. "Oh Yes, this is 13A. Sure Sir."

Okay this doesn't happen that often.

An emergency for just that one time!

I am not a sadist. No never been a masochist; never been in the likes of those like Al-Quieda.

But then sometimes, like those times when you get thoughts, because your dreams weigh down upon you, the aspiration for that one moment where you could do that one thing which in usual way of the world you wouldn’t be allowed to do, that one moment of being everybody’s hero; for that one chance of being that one being who could twitch that muscle just when needed never more; and so many of those other just one times.

So it wasn’t usual.

I boarded my flight from Bangalore to Hyderabad. I always take the window seat. The excitement when you can hear the roar of the engines when the pilot puts the thrust to 100% or when the flaps and slats deploy or when the air brakes are deployed is just too big to explain in words; and also that there are just too many people wanting to visit the loo when the whole flight time is itself 45 minutes.

So when I was given my seat though it really didn’t make much of a difference on the boarding pass, but in the aircraft it made all the difference in the world that it could ever make. The seat was as usual a window sear but also happened to be next to the emergency exits on the wings. Now that is a very good place to sit and fly. The seats here provide with the most real estate when it comes to leg room.

So as the Captain welcomed us on-board one of the cabin crew members approached us to explain how to open the emergency exits and that if we feel that we are not competent or comfortable in doing it we can ask for a change in seat. But all these instructions to open the emergency exit came with a rider “DO NOT TOUCH THEM UNLESS THE CABIN CREW YELLS AT YOU FOR DOING SO”. Message registered.

I then so badly wanted some kind of an emergency to happen so that I can just for once operate that.

It is not that simple. The urge to just for once open that emergency door, throw it, let the slides deploy and jump to slide on it. Well not a very noble, “And for the world piece” (hmm sorry peace) kind of a thought. I cannot agree no more. But I never want it to go into an emergency while in flight that is catastrophic. What I really wanted is like, when we touch the tarmac, the main exits would for some reason be jammed and fail to open, for some strange reason the cabin pressurization system would fail, or the lights would go off, something like a failure of Level C software on board. It is an emergency in the sense that the emergency exits have to be opened but at the same time is not catastrophic. No one needs to die. No one even really needs to cry too. All for the sake of that just one time opportunity!

The deam Interview

No matter how many years one has had been in the industry, no matter how many interviews he/she has braved, no matter how many interviews he/she has had taken; it still is a war of that one last breath of peace when it comes to giving an interview.

One of my acquaintances recently had to attend an interview and he had more than 10 years of experience. So when I was visiting him last week, I had to mock the interview panel as questions for his preparation. And all this time during the mock interview he was with his two year old son, trying make him sleep. Well that the best way to prepare for an interview while being under extreme stress. If you can live this you can survive any!

Now that he is geologist and the only thing I know about geology is the way it is spelled most of my questions were “What are your X strengths and weaknesses? Why do you think we should hire you? What makes you stand out from the other N people who have applied?”

More of the HR kind of questions; the only technical question I could ask was “What were your key learnings from the last job? What was the thing in the last job that you think were big, challenging both technically and resource wise and how did you solve then?”

Now that was something. Having been trained in “Interviewing skills” and “Enhanced interviewing skills” and given that I haven’t selected any of the candidates in so many interviews I have taken, and recommending background check for almost all the panel recommended for the next round of interview, I had my own comments on the answers.

Don’t say or stress on “I and hardworking, sincere. Blah Blah. These are all universal truths from any interview candidate. Try to build on your experience, how this varied experience makes you stand out from the crowd. Whatever your weaknesses, they should be the ones on which can work upon and if not then either you should not tell them or mask them as the ones which also work as your strengths.”

So the organization where he had the interview was the one in which his father had worked from the first day to the last day of his entire career. So invariably everybody, the higher ups, in particular knew the candidate, and knew just no casually but personally.

When the day of interview came, the panel had people, who were known to him since childhood, were a distant relative, or had known his cousins. Now that is what I call as a perfect interview panel. Even before you are bombarded with questions you are already comfortable. One of the many must things taught to me in my trainings “Interviews are tests, and like all tests this too makes the candidate envious. Try to make the candidate comfortable. When the candidate is nervous he/she won’t give his best shot.”

Best shot. I think here the candidate was playing on his home ground in front of his home crowd.

So the interview started. “How is your mom? How is your father?” And then the technical questions started.

Now isn’t that a dream interview?? And a scary one too, all those people who know you so well will get an insight on how deep or shallow your understanding of the subject is?

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.

The mosquito that never bites!

It has been a while since this thing is happening to me.


For these last so many ‘whiles’ everybody who has seen me at office, or friends at home or the neighborhood have been saying “Hey what’s up? You look so lost. Is everything Okay?”


And I nod in agreement, trying to say in part that I am still trying to figure out the answer to “What’s up?” as also in agreement that everything is okay and they needn’t be concerned or worried about anything in particular. It is sometimes really strange that something as simple as a nod in agreement is enough to put smiles on just so many faces.


But nevertheless.


So as I was saying, though I nod, for whatever reasons I might do that, I really don’t feel like everything is okay. I am regular at my office, productive with quality, a gregarious friend who calls/meets the friends neighbors all so often, but then something is wrong.


There is this ‘something’ which is going at the back of my mind and the worst part to come is that I don’t what it is. Only if I can figure out what this is I will be able to find a way to solve it and get rid of it. But alas, I am unable to comprehend what is it that’s bothering me? It is there I know. Whenever I am doing something, it runs in the background, just outside the cone of focus and as soon as I realize that there is this something and try to focus on it, it disappears. Like a grain of sand, you don’t know it is in your fist, but the moment you realize it is there and try to contain it in your fist, you just loose it.


It is so annoying and so irritating. Much more irritating than that mosquito, who incidentally never bites you or maybe you really do not care or notice that mosquitoes ever bite you, but hovers around you ear with that “Bhiiiiiinnnnnnnn…….. Bhiiiiiinnnnnnnn……..” sound and the room is dark and you cannot squeeze the pulp out of him by grabbing in your first and tightening the embrace; and worst of you all you are very sleepy after a day’s long work!
Sometime I feel I am better off having this unhandled trace of thought running in background as a zombie than to try to fight that mosquito.

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"

My, Myself, My Poems!!!

woh hume tarka ke chal diye,
bole kaam hai jana hai.
hum intezaar main baithe hain ,
sadiyaan guzar gayin.
unki tasveer bhi dundhli ho gayi;
voh aayenge isi intezaar main hum,
apani baaki zindagi jee lenge.

Two friends, one father of a new born baby girl, one still single

beti ki sewa main raat aur din dono barabar!
woh uska raat main uthna,
madhur hi awaaz main kutch kahan
humara na sun pana
uska rona
beech raat mera main uthna
zombie ki tarah apne hi ghar main anjaan sa ghoomna
kisi tarah kitchen main pahunch kar doodh garam karna
Office se thake hue ghar aana
beti ko bahon me leke jaise sansaar ka sara sukh sara aanand paan

In sab ka mujhe intezaar hai

What wierd poems?

What wierd Poet?

Wrong Maths.

Somebody at Microsoft didn't do his Maths homework at school.