Tieing the knot - PART 1

While the subject seems pretty self explanatory, instead of going about beating around the bush and discovering firm plant fibers to create that one 'indestructible' rope that most of the trekking community and hangmen would be proud of - I will directly start off to teaching you ways to tie the knot. Or would I?

There are different types of knots and they are: Halyard, reef, figure of eight...err. My would be Wifey always complains that I always trail off topic and then forget to tell the real story. True indeed.

Like days in engineering, I fared very average in the so called 'love' domain. Some say I was directly hit by deficit in male to female ratio which is said to be somewhere around 1000:944. So be it. But that did not stop me. My grandma used a Marathi proverb (prayatnanti parmeshwar) translated into English means 'try try until you succeed' or 'if you try hard enough you can get god' not as a girl friend / boy friend though. But ironically, Vedas, ancient Hindu scriptures do suggest "The path of mysticism, the path of splendor" etc, wherein, love for God is supreme etc. But that is not what this post is all about, for the love of God. This post is about how, even if, marriages are arranged can make people (the concerned two) fall in love.

Then finally after trashing each and every page of Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist, I got registered on Marathi Matrimony and Mom/Dad came up with some good write-up as my introduction. Not that I used this as last resort but the bug of Hindi movies had bitten me as well and thought that Love marriage was so cool. Parent's justification being 'we know you better than you do'. One profile, she is my would be, struck me instantly and like they say world is a very small place - she belongs to a family that are not only old time friends and acquaintances of same neighborhood in Ahmedabad of my parent's, but also my great grandmother belongs to their family.

The C Days (this you can say is prequel to the 'D-Day'):

8th October 2009, My baby steps in to this pre-arranged 'arranged' marriage phenomenon and my cousin bro scared the shit out of me by advising don't ask her out for coffee to know her better, that is considered as - The Guy has said yes! What? Since Mom and Dad were in Panvel, My Uncle and Aunt accompanied me along with my bro. My aunt made matters worse by continuously asking 'How are you feeling' minimum 150 times and that made me more nervous than my first ever interview in life.

I liked the way she looked and carried herself, but was scared to continuously look, thanks to my cousin bro's insane theories. Neither my intention was to stare. Plus, I was shit nervous. Then came the talks about what you do etc etc and some more. Her mom / dad and my uncle / aunt asked whether you guys want to go out to talk etc. Now that did it. My naive thoughts were almost on the verge of becoming schizoid-al and before that could occur, I said sure, why not.

She asked me to drive her car and the damn machine kept knocking. The driver definitely needed coffee. They said a lot could happen over coffee, so we went to a nearby Cafe coffee Day and chatted for like half an hour. I was hurrying as it might give some different picture. But we talked. Likes, dislikes and friends and what not. She felt at ease while I squirmed about in my seat like a guinea pig, whose tail is on fire. Or as if I could see and distinctly hear the pied piper playing Shehnai far away near the cliff's ledge.

In all these sudden bursts of feelings I did notice, her soft hair, well kempt, but untied. Her pink dress that accentuated her fair skin and baby face. Her penetrating big brown eyes that constantly and probably were searching, 'could he be the one'? 'He does not at all look like a prince charming, maybe his consultant'. She did have a straightforward approach and attempted to smile at my poor jokes, which, really were bad actually. She was modestly boasting about herself but in a very innocent and likable way. Her soft voice fell upon my ears in a very soothing manner. That, most of other things, made me comfortable. Even today, when she sings small pieces of songs, it reminds me of that first meet. Its instantaneous relaxation and very rejuvenating. You folks might have a fish tank. I don't. Her approach in life felt very simple, yet, stern. Her talks made me realize her being a very strong willed girl, with great determination. In all this time I also came to know that she belonged to the H.R fraternity and worked in recruitments after graduating in commerce. Her love for Human resources had gotten her enrolled in to a P.G course as well.

While we talked and talked and waiter took ages to bring the check, we talked some more. Even today we laugh at my nervousness. Yeah, like she wasn't. She dropped me at my uncle's place and came upstairs to meet grandma. All niceties were exchanged and some more P.Js later, I advised her to drive safe and give me a call once she reaches home. We exchanged phone numbers. Am I smart or what? She did give me a call. So sweet of her.

I thought I liked her but we decided to meet again couple of days later, in Diwali to know some more about each other and come to a conclusion. They say curiosity kills the cat and My mom was being bugged by this curiosity. She called her parents and asked if she liked Varun as Varun likes her. What? Mom! Why would you do that? Next day she called me up and asked if we should have coffee again. 'Sure,' I said. Mom told me this whole thing and I got upset. Today though, as we talk, I think mom did the right thing.

We met for coffee and she dropped the bomb, "I am allergic to cigarettes and can not tolerate it's smoke at all". Now me being a self proclaimed chimney wanted some time to think this through, I was thinking of cutting down but not to zero. And after that issue we talked some more. A lot of stuff. She liked my tattoos too. But, now, does not want me to get any more. I told her I would get 'Victoria' written on my arm in Devanagari script and she gets physically mad. Her name is Arti. That afternoon we gelled a lot and talked a lot. Frequencies were matching over brewing coffee. But we still decided to talk over phone and meet up in Diwali to come to a conclusion. Today it seems that we just loved meeting each other and hence all this. This was 9th October, Friday.

While I was dying to call her that night itself, my cousin bro with weird theories advised against it. He is into animation and always come up with a different dimension. Sometimes totally demented. I landed in Mumbai that night itself and refrained from calling her and went straight home.

10th October saw me in office till afternoon and I gave her a call. I thought this being weekend and all. Arti told me she would call back as she was working till 1800 hrs on Saturdays as well. Cruel, man. I had a discussion forum that evening over beers (as in we talked about beers and not had them). Evening again she was busy and then till 2130 hrs, I was.

Now begins the real story. That Night we talked for like 3 hours From Santacruz till Panvel and in between me shifting trains and what not. We talked, nope, it was incessant chattering. It seemed the vested interests were all against us talking - the telephone makers (my phone hung twice), the network operators (countless disconnections and unclear voices), still we talked; everything about under the sky and beyond it. And in between about my smoking. That is that day and till today I have not smoked a cigarette. Technically I may smoke a pipe, but I better dare not.

Then began the telephone madness. We were continuously on phone. While I went to Ratnagiri on Sunday till I fell sick due to viral on Tuesday. Must have spoken for about 36 hours. That was the time I knew that she is the one. Not like Neo and in matrix. The one I could spend my rest of life with. May be love does that to you too. 104 fever that too of a viral kind. Its so totally worth it though, not the fever - Love and don't get me started on the issue of ugly tasting medicines. Love is what could probaly change people and their perspectives, like sunny deol as well. I mean he has 'Maa ka Ashirvaad' and T.T underwear aur Baniyaan. But his love ends when he sees Balvant Rai key Kutte. Wait, was that Suniel Shetty? Whats the difference anyways.

I had fallen so totally for her.

To be Contd...

Dead Cow

A small rant type poem I had written about Cow Slaughter.

DEAD COW

Looking at my past, my pain is so vast.

Getting killed by a chopper,
I try to scream
the sounds don't reach the creator
i slowly fall in my own blood stream

There lies my head,
body on the death bed...its too late too late...
I am Dead.

System won't stop the killing,
cuz the food is filling
willing; inflating the billing.

People like the way i tasted,
can't see my life wasted.

Lying on the death bed...Its too late too late
I am Dead.

My sibling watches, crying, mooing,
my eyes lifeless, stareing, praying
Lord save her from this abbatoir
lest she'll be dying...ITs too late too late

I am Dead.

Dosen't your blood boil
Don't i deserve 4 ft * 6ft of soil,
wait for 10000 years and i'll be
your new found basin of oil...Its too late too late

I am Dead

The times have changed
though i'm hooked and chained
eat me and you die by e coli...
you'll behave like a clown
mad cow disease is in the town

It might be too late,
but times change everyone's dead fate.

Billo Acrobatics!

Times they are a Changing - An Election special.

One life for another. Life Line. How Fair?

I had written this post after the intese situation of 24 hours that I underwent and now am filing this post, written long back; under the Indiblogger contest.

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Time: Almost 0200 hours.

Date: 12.09.2009

Day: Technically Sunday, from my perspective - extended Saturday night.

Place: Panvel Bus Depot - Maharashtra, India.

The situation:

Me and a couple of my Friends partied out and were having Anda Bhurji (kind of scrambled eggs). The bhurji was delicious and adequately spiced to bring in that mouth watering sensation. The artist, yes that guy makes an art form out of eggs rather than cooking actually, a master, had created a gem of a dish. A taste that does not fade away so easily and lingers on. It holds you captivated in its ethereal form or edible form. Whatever.

We paid the bill and everything and were walking towards a sort of empty plot where we had parked our cars. Recently, Panvel has been bestowed with a humongous hospital, it looks directly to the Old NH4 and Bombay - Goa Highway. Its specialty is orthopaedic and accident cases. Its so huge and so vast and with so many beds that half the hospital - seems empty.

Sometimes I have wondered, would Hospital managements hire services of reckless drivers around the periphery of highway - say 20 Sq. kilometers and endanger other lives so that business would be good? Lot of twenty something aged freelance drivers would make good money, I thought. Recession hai bhai. You have to create jobs / opportunities. Did you guys know that hospitals pay Ambulances lavishly to bring in accident cases in to their hospitals alone? The business is tough you know.

Usually while driving I'm fairly pissed off at rickshaw drivers for actually breaking all written and implied rules of driving on the roads, but, I have observed that Ambulance drivers are the rashest of them all - a simple justification is enough for all; If we don't reach quick, people die.

Now back to my ranting - We were walking back to the parking area and a site fascinated us, which in India is as common as the tumblers in the lavatories. Couple of dogs were chilling around and one small puppy - probably 4/5 weeks old was following them everywhere; apparently the sole survivor from his lot. And mind you this is not the highway I am talking about, a sort of service road that runs parallel to the highway for about 500 meters.

From straight ahead an Ambulance came revving on the empty road with full lights and siren on. The hospital was 20 feet way. The strays noticed the danger to their fragile lives and ran hither tither. We yelled at the ambulance to stop, but, he did not pay heed to it. "Madar$%^& Gadi rok". I yelled. He stopped. The front tyre had gone over that small puppy's hind portion. I tried to adjust the puppy, so that vehicle would not totally go over him. The Ambulance revved off.

Initially I behaved like a coward and started walking towards my car. Knowing fully what the fate of the puppy was going to be. The puppy dragged it self to side of the road. I came back to it. The driver came back as well, this is what transpired:

Driver: "Arrey Gali diya - woh javan ladka kafi serious tha (this we are talking 10 feet away from hospital).

Me: Isiliye Bachhon ki aap jaan loge.

Driver: Arre kya kare sahab.

Me: Kuch mat karo. Ghar jake so jao abhi - sirf yaad rakho, ek jaan bachane mein apni dusri jaan almost le li hai.

*He walks away*

I am now holding the puppy. I call up my friend and ask him to take me to the only under equipped, understaffed veterinary hospital managed allegedly by the benevolent government authorities. The sleeping watchman is well, sleeping. I wake him up and this is what transpires:

Me: Any Vet is there?

Watchman: No. The hospital has shifted.

Me: So, Dr X does not come here daily?

Watchman: Yes, he does.

Me: So hospital has not shifted?

Watchman: No. It has not.

Me: When will the doctor come.

Watchman: Tomorrow morning, but, its a Sunday. Sorry.

I ask my friend to take me home. I am still cradling the puppy. Mom wakes up and asks what is this? I tell her everything. Usually I consider my self to be a strong man. Strong men don't cry, they say. One time I was not strong at all.

I prepare a mixture of water and milk and try to feed the puppy with a dropper. Billo's (our family's pet bitch- I mean female Dog, err) milk bottle is no where to be found as it was displaced - say 3 years ago some where in the oblivion of what mom calls as her "Store Room". Things go there usually, not to be found later. Billo is now 4 years old in this september.

The puppy hungrily drinks a two or three refills of the tiny ink dropper. The he starts letting out the milk from his mouth. Looking at his abdomen, it was clear he had gotten pretty nasty internal wounds and both its hind legs were lull. There was no bleeding as such. The puppy moaned a little. Meanwhile mom prepared an empty carton box with towels etc and we kept the puppy in it, he moaned away to his sleep. I think.

Morning 0800 clock Mom tells me he is sleeping. Dad checks him and tells mom "Aga ha gela hai". "He is no more." I buried the puppy in the garden besides our house and put a small flower befitting his age and size.

I don't know whether its fair or not. Doctors and Hospitals allege they are in noble profession. Ye fucking ah. Is it justified to take one life for another? If you talk about value. Life is priceless for one and all. Do not attach the money part with component of Life I say.

My only request to all of you people who drive around and are pretty busy people all the while. Please do not be ignorant of surroundings and give due respect to all creatures around you. Because the jungle rule might be survival of the fittest, the urban jungle rule for animals is survival of the luckiest. The alpha male is unusually lucky, thus. Hence, my request. Every Dog has his day. Give him a chance to earn one. To live. To be Man's (and woman's) best friend.

Please also see these sites if you wish to adopt a pariah, do some thing for soceity :

http://www.wsdindia.org/pets.htm

http://indianpariahdog.blogspot.com/

Annihilate Me. My ignorance is contagious.

Shree Ganeshay Namah.

Now half of the junta – bearing exactly one half IQ points allegedly possessed by the other half – the average Joes, believe God lives in, say, the Malabar Hills of the Heaven and he can only be reached by following a code of conduct and procedures as prescribed in books that are actually cheaper than the other books, which again prescribes ways to reach god. They too have strict code of conduct and procedures. What is this man? Federal Law…made with good intentions, scarcely implemented and randomly followed?

Now I, self proclaimed torch bearer of truth, as and when it suits me, possessing argumentative skills with which I have obliterated lots of lesser mortals, or, with thick and heavy reference books, rioting and strikes if they don’t concede with my view points decided to enquire God with my knowledge about his existence and basis of this society.

Since God and demigod parliamentarians were busy with external affairs (fighting the demons from neighboring lands) since late November 2008, in vain – I decided to use the auspicious occasion of Ganesh chaturthi, or, shukla chaturthi in the month of Magh (it’s the 4^th day, 11^th month in Hindu lunar calendar – 23^rd August 2009) as a befitting date to start upon my quest and chose Lord Ganesha, God of Arts and Science and destroyer of evil and obstacles, to question.

Finding oneself without GPS these days is an arduous task, let alone finding God. But some pious souls informed that I should follow the code of conduct and standard procedures and I would find him approximately after 12 years. While their delusions baffled me, I left the little meerkats to squirm about in their guarded habitats. I was on a worldly quest and I chose an easier way – I raved and ranted ala Bruce Almighty style for a couple of days, and voila.

On 5^th day as I looked to the east, when the sun rises (I have shamelessly copied this from LOTR) I saw a golden plane like thing descending with speed of light; well technically I did not see it – I just thought I saw it. It was the distorted sunrays and my sleepy eyes that produced this wondrous imagery. God landed in a single engine Cessna, his co-pilot was a mouse. Not the one you squiggle around on your computer; a real one. It was an enlightening experience at that moment.

But, what I saw bemused me to no extent. God came from the plane in a Black Suit and neatly double knotted navy blue textured tie. And this is what transpired:

Me: I offer my humble prayers to you God.

God: Apologies accepted. What bothers you insignificant one?

Me: Before I begin, can you tell me why you are in a black suit, instead of a white one?

God: Ahh, keen observation. I am breaking away from stereotypes, besides; white is tainted by mortal politicians now. Now shoot off.

Dear God, to be honest, I am pissed of with this counter culture that is taking your teachings and our morals by horns. Like a Yama’s bull, it can not be tamed (Yama is like the Grim Reaper of Hindu mythology). They do not even know that it’s your birthday that we celebrate in between Ganesh chaturthi and Ananta Chaturdashi. These imbeciles dance and sing in merriment on the day of your visarjan. They bring shame to our culture and all that Hindusim is.

When I finished talking, God pointed out that my intelligence was astonishing and I was not fit to join any council, even as a janitor. He then went on to say these things:

I’m Nirgun Nirakar, Nirgun meaning without any plurality/group. But, my name is Ganesha means in Sanskrit Gana and esha…that is master of all gunas. And I am Sagun Sakar. I am the duality and I am the Omkara and Lambodara, having the form of Om (same as Amen, Amin, Omega etc) and with a huge potbelly – personifying all that is created from therein. Godess Parvati gave me shape and put life in to me. Lord Shiva beheaded me and his ganas brought an elephant head and reattached to my body and he again put life in to me. Thus I am manifestation of both Shiva and Parvati.

With time and learned think tanks and yogis and maharishis, who have attained ‘dhi’, higher intelligence and realized their souls, which is nothing but one shared by all – it is the energy that is in equilibrium with all the energy that there is; have evolved the culture and understanding of this ‘dhi’, in various ways and all these ways lead to me. I am also the sagun sakar. Like the Sun light and the rays when passed through the prism. I am.

And it’s not my birthday that is technically celebrated. It’s my taking a form or a shape, when I come in this world and your life to remove all the obstacles. MY immersion and visarjan is thus me again becoming the Nirgun Nirakar, shapeless, formless again. You should rejoice and be merry for your obstacles will be removed when you pray to me and put in efforts. It also is a metaphor for Life cycle that everything in this world has to go through. All things that take shape must become shapeless and formless again. That is the chakra of life and death. Acceptance and understanding of this and living life to the fullest is the meaning of this merriment.

But, does that mean that you should consume madira (alcohol) and brust firecrackers and pollute all that I have created for you to marvel upon? You should refrain from doing this.

I interrupted God to ask, “Can we drink on weekends”?

God was clearly displeased with my foolish remark. God said, “I talk about the festival and logic attached to the myth, you moron”. He continued again:

I also understand that you have started making idols of Plaster of Paris and are using toxic paints. Although I am Nirgun Nirakar, it pains me to see nature being abused and see the desecrated forms of my idols in such manner; by one of the most intelligent mammals in such way and putting all other species in danger of extinction. If you do not understand the meaning of coexisting and respecting all life form, there is no difference between you and Krodhasur, whom I have defeated. You better not celebrate if you can not respect.

Keep it clean, keep it healthy and respectful.

I felt like a fool as I was being one. I requested God to annihilate me before my ignorance spreads to other like minded ‘know it all’ lemurs. He plainly asked me to destroy that veil and think for myself. I am going to do that hereafter. May this year be that year? May this be the single step to the thousand mile journey, or more, may this be the first year of those 12 years that one requires minimum to gain a thorough expertise in their respective fields.

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction and loaded with nothing but sarcasms and ironies to get us better understanding of ourselves, and not to hurt (y)our religious sentiments. Your caustic remarks, if any, towards my post are most welcome. But, if my post and sarcasms beat you to your IQ points, you are better off understanding the meaning of QWERTY keyboard and try and reassemble them alphabetically. Your life’s purpose might be served. Spare my blog of your presence.

References (Do check em out, if you wish to learn more):

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ganesha

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ganesh_Chaturthi

http://www.hindu-blog.com/2008/08/ganesh-visarjan-lord-ganesha-immersion.html

http://ganpatipule.net/legends_of_shreeganesh.htm

The Mother of All Shows - This is how we bitchslap you.

Television is going through a revolutionary phase these days. Bigger and better than Che Guevara or the hippie movement ever was. This has stemmed from redundancy and lack of fresh material from the makers of Saas Bahu dramas. I mean once you have shown 9 generations of women viz Saas, bahu, Ma, Dadi Ma, Dadi ma Saas (here I run out of vocabulary to name the other generations in the family tree) and each’s husband dying once, resurrecting and returning to plastic surgeries replacing faces and bodies to symbolically healing dying people with magical powers – one is seriously left out of options.

Like the civil disputes over properties that run up to 30 years, or, like politicians whose careers after the age of 60 run for 30 years; soap operas and their script writers have dejectedly died trying to find that ‘twist’ and their heirs coming up with innovative ideas yelling ‘eureka’ in Nirmal Shouchalayas (Public toilets) across country. No wonder the serials are shit. Or, full or it.

And one fine day, India was presented with “Reality Television”. People loved it. The shows were interactive, giving out oodles of money to common men and women. I personally dislike this new phrase ‘Mango people’ used for ‘Aam Admi’. What standards is the film industry falling to with such poor jokes – I thought it was my forte. Next, they will make fun of constitution of India’s preamble “We the Banayan of India” (People in English = Banayan tree in Hindi). Like my friend would say – its pathetic man.

Well, now that you have gotten my point – Reality television exploded on to Indian homes like a bomb does in Indian cities from time to time. It had a viewer psyche altering effect. Of course none of the Indian reality shows, except for MTV Roadies, are original ideas stemming from the brilliant minds that only choose to either become Doctors, Engineers, Scientists, or, Call centre Executives...did I forget software engineers?

But heck, TRPs for most of these shows were rising exponentially. Kaun banega Crorepati, Indian Idol, Big Boss, MTV Bakra etc. The latest one is Iss jungle se mujhe bachao though these are rip-offs from the reality T.V shows of the west, they were and still are unconditionally loved nonetheless – probably for they portray hidden fantasies of most of the Junta: quick bucks and hot chicks.

So we at Indian PJBoy Productions have decided to create a new reality show that will devour TRPs at a rate Indians reproduce (which clearly is beyond exponential), heck, the magnanimity of this show lies in its tagline itself: Recreation, Reproduction, Reruns. It’s like the perfect titration (for science students only) – a rare occurrence.

Now that you understand how huge this show is / will be lets look at some of the salient features, i.e How the show will lift you to higher levels of consciousness via idiot box medium and what you can expect:

1. How many times have you seen Rakhi Sawant marry a Crorepati who is not smarter than a 5^th grader, is allegedly a Big Boss, a rescued Neanderthal (hee hee) from the Amazonian jungles in a grand wedding ceremony where all are having wardrobe malfunction in permutations and combinations? Zero times, right. And that is the first zero ever invented that we are talking about. Not like the zeroes of today which are lesser in value than the zeroes of the yore.

2. How many times have you seen Mithun Chakraborty jive to Gutar Gutar song after the Gutar Gutar song was released?

3. How many times have you seen Karan Johar inviting Shahrukh Khan for coffee with Karan and them actually having it (if you know what I mean)?

4. How many times have you seen politicians (from various parties) play the game of ‘Musical Chair’, live on television? Okay that you may have seen, but, our show selects music that will be patriotic, democratic, secular and refreshingly new (young) in nature…we also guarantee frail, old, senile, cunning, manipulative, snarling and corrupt politicians. Survival of the fittest – not in physical sense though.

5. How many times have you seen recent Ram Gopal Verma films? No, we don’t intend to show them either.

6. How many times have you seen Ambani Brothers calling to buy LPG cylinders, with the gas in them?

7. How many times have you seen two piece bikini clad hot chicks, who can give Indra’s Apsaras a run for their monies, showering in a waterfall, eating strawberries and then again showering? Wait, that’s just our commercials people…All of you who want to endorse their products, please contact 1800 INDIAN PJBOY (100 lines are open) – and please contact only for product endorsements.

8. How many times have you seen Shekhar Suman dancing and singing and contesting against Siddhu in election from the same constituency, while Siddhu just scares his contestant to death by hysterical table thumping and laughter (he has practiced that in Lok sabha before, remember)?

9. How many times have you seen Beverly Hill’s Slumdog Millionaires, who are the worst hit by speculative realty markets crashing and recession?

10. How many times have you seen, how can she slap me? We will bitch-slap poor participants and ask them to fuck-off, while late current metro sexy idiot retorts, ‘How can you slap her’ exactly after 15 seconds - time it takes to be cognizant of ‘Draw me not with honor and sheath me not until its over’, and we are not talking about ceremonial service swords. Hum. Have we heard that one before?

The last point was just to vent out my frustration at these pathetic Reality T.V game shows that lure people with conniving motives. We intend to do the same.

The name of our show is “Absudities” – Rcreation, Reproduction, Reruns. It’s diverse in functionality, it’s witty and in itself a casualty. So, come one and come all to the history in making, a new dawn in the 21^st of century.

Please Note: Commenting on this post will get you a free slapstick standup comedy session with “How can she slap me” game show hosts, unless, you would want to come to Absurdities. You are most welcome.

Demo-Critical Dance. It’s the Final Countdown, tat ta tan tan.

Long Long time ago, during the dark ages, also popularly know as the Kal-yug, which has been continuing till date – Naseeruddin Shah in his pesky voice bellowed in a film personifying the holy trinity of Hindu Gods Brahma, Vishnu Mahesh – "Paap se dharti fati. fati fatii...Adharm se aasmaan...Atyachaar se kaampi insaaniyat... Raaj kar rahe haivaan...Jinki hogi taaqat apoorv, Jinka hoga nishaana abhed...Jo karenge inka sarvanaash...Woh kehlaayenge...Tridev! Tridev! Tridev! "

Now if you have fallen from your seat while laughing your ass off, let me translate for my English brothers and sisters and LTTE brethren who understand only Tamil – “Thy sins blasted the earth and non-belief smothered the skies, humanity shuddered under tyranny, reeling in a Satan’s rule…those whose’ power will be unique, whose’ aim will be impenetrable…those who will annihilate such devils, they will be called The Trinity…trinity…trinity (that’s echo for you).

Now that reminded me of politics or what! The 15^th rendition of dance of democracy has clearly seen some weirdest of acts, with most of politicians confining themselves to Nu-age TWIST and SAMBA…only here when the senior citizens turned politicians ‘dance like their allies and foes’ and all are watching. An old saying goes further that work like you don’t need the money; ahh irony. 

And then we have nine (or more) contestants for the post of prime minister…that is one less avatar God Vishnu (10 avatar yet to be taken), the eternal maintenance keeper, ever manifested. From low intelligence level animals to higher intelligence animals…i.e. Men/part men part animals etc. But the problem is that he (Lord Vishnu) has played all those roles.

These days every tom dick and Harry wants to become the prime minister. The nukkad ka paan wala told me he is running for lok sabha (nothing wrong in it) but then says he will weigh his options in post poll scenario and then decide if he can become the Prime minister (that’s total dementia, I must say). He thinks it will be good for his business as well. Mayawati said if Man-Mohan (total macho) can become prime minister, allegedly a puppet doll, why can’t she? Lalu, Ram Vilas Paswan and Mulayam (not so macho; literal translation of name means soft...lol) – the fourth front musketeers all are in race to become P.M….as if mother earth was tired of Gandhi tyranny and Rath yatras that now she went pleading to these Be-Hari sons to deliver her from sins past 1947 committed by the last 14 sitting committees (Lok Sabhas). The real emergency begins now, so they say.

There is our very own Marathi Manoos Sharad Powar, who is in the race as well. He intends to commercialize India’s affairs like what he did in Cricket and IPL. He will outsource it to South Africa or England. India will come full circle then. L.K Advani at the age of 80 is still hoping to become a Prime Minister. Hope can work wonders in some people. He intends to bring all the black money in Swiss banks back to India to make Ram Mandir in Ayodhya with the same money retrieved and a customized Rath, a chariot (costlier than Sharrukh Khan’s vanity van) will take him pan India. Where there is a M.G Road, there will be Ram Mandir on it. And world will pray in it.

Lefty Kung Fu expert Prakash Karat(e) – he just loves Mao Zee-Dong. He is in the race to be P.M too, all through the third front. He does not want the Americas to come as close as Afghanistan as well. He is an egalitarian, who is keen on tapping into the Moslem vote bank and thinks they (left parties) can do wonders in coming elections, with Third Front. Now before you confuse yourself, third front came before fourth front. Lalu and the gang are members of third front, fourth front and all will be decided after results are out in post poll scenario. They have not said no to congress and UPA as well.

Where most of India is aiming to become Prime ministers in this recessionary times, how can the south Indians be left behind. TDP chief Chandra Babu Naidu the one who changed the face of Hyderabad and lost badly in 2004 when he neglected Farmers is also in the race. He is part of Third front as well, earlier he was a part of NDA and ally of BJP, but, is of opinion that he lost because of BJP. Call it hallucination or delusion, but the dude plainly forgot to envision what all the IT folks would eat if there would be no agro based industries. He complements Amitabh Bachhan. His hair is white and beard is black…or something like that. The dude advised Sanjay Jumaani, the noted numerologist in Bombay to change his name and add ‘J’ in the surname to make it JumaanJi-all based on a computer program coded in Ramoji studios of the Hyderabad. Even Jaya-lalitha aou (sick Shakti Kapoor accent) and Karunanidhi are in the same race as well.

The junk Indian news media said India needed an Obama. Yeah right. We have 9 types of Obamas. We have Obama in every cast, sub-caste, creed and color as well. Hindutva-vadi Obama, Sikh Obama, Yadav Obama, Dalit ki Beti Obama and also a brand new “Free Telangana” Obama. There is an Tamil loving LTTE Obama as well. Heck, after China, we can mass produce Obamas (read ek Obama, Anek Obamas). All manufactured in Ulhas Nagar and Delhi safdargunj.

After all wasn’t it JFK who said, Ask not what you can do for country but what your country can do for you? Err, that’s altered keeping Indian sentiment in mind and to cater to countless number of vote banks and Swiss Bank account holders.

Meanwhile, somewhere near South Block:

Morpheus to Neo: Did you vote neo?

Neo: but what is real, who is real?

Morpheus: Pan card, driving license and Bangladeshi illegal immigrants.

Neo: No, I meant about the world, in a broader sense.

Morpheus: Yes, Manmohan’s prime minister-ship and his decisions are real, in a broader sense.

Neo: What about the oracle behind him?

Morpheus: She is real too.

Neo: What? How come?

Morpheus: Because I believe.

Neo: Give me the god damn Red Pill. I better wake up and believe what ever I want to believe.

Now that’s democracy, is it not? Keep it real. And keep your fingers crossed. You never know, which of these “MACHINES” will swear in as the next P.M. But, swear they all will. 

Vote or Veto!

An old adage goes by, “When you have nothing constructive to do, you blame others (read opposition here).” Well, this election 2009 is a testament of the same age old adage. I woke up on 23.04.2009, in typical Tata Tea Jago Re advert style, had a big cuppa and got dressed in a Jeans and a Tee, all pure white, put on my white shoes (ahh, the election effect) and went near the polling booth.

Here in Maharashtra, things are pretty safe and liberal. We don’t worry about booth capturing or opposing party workers firing guns at each other, while voters die in the crossfire. All such incidences are restricted to verbal abuse. Voters die due to laughing their asses off at the curious demigods that are up on the dais, bombarding their oppositions to smithereens. Bank accounts, scams and what not. All facts are laid open.

So there I was, trying to get my polling booth number and my “voting cluster” number. The data was all electronic, just one search and all my details would be provided within a minute, but alas. The electricity went off. Load Sheding, they said. What a bloody joke, but heck, I will still get Rice at Rs. 3 a kilo and probably no computer at all if Samajwadi Party (Mulayam Singh) comes in majority, they are right in a way, what good is a computer when you do not have any electricity. But, one tech savvy girl opened her laptop and gave me the details. I was on my way to cast my vote.

The approach road must be a kilometer long (up to polling booth) and I think that is the longest walk, on a pot-holed road - The hands that Hol(e)d us, I have taken in past five years. Life I felt was similar to casting a vote. You made your choices based on available facts and stuck with them, five years at a time I guess in this case. Anti incumbency is thus your shift from a choice to another one. 

I kept thinking not a single politician this time talked about Sadak, Pani, Bijli, Development, Infrastructure, Rescession, Equity bourse crisis, Terrorism, Pakistan, Proxy wars, wage goods, Train bombings, Fidayeen attacks, economy meltdown and steps to curb it. Instead, ugly potshots were made at each other and all became a laughing stock, or were we fooled? And for the next five years we would be the laughing stock?

The media played a pivotal role in this election. They completely diverted from the orthodox role of presenting plain facts, without prejudice; to totally writing biased articles and favoring their sponsor parties; all being an utter farce and a pseudo liberal and pseudo secular attempt.

While the politicians of the days of yore instilled Nationalist feelings in masses, the joke for a coalition, mainly, third front & fourth front kept saying that all will sit on table, once the results are out and decide who the best candidate for Prime Minister-ship would be : that boat is surely sinking. Politics of convenience, they say. It’s a politician eat politician world it seems.

While MunnaBhai MBBS series were good movies, the TADA acquitted turned politician was totally a joke. Sanjay Dutt said that police beat him for 3.5 years because his mother was a Moslem! No Dude, they beat you because you were hiding an illegal firearm that can kill 30 people in a jiffy. They call it AK-47. But of course he was carrying it to protect his family, from the Russians.

We saw A.R Rahman getting Oscar for not that cool a song (he has made some brilliant numbers in the past) and Ze Congress picked that song as their campaign starter. ‘Jai Ho’. BJP saw the irony in all of it and made a parody – ‘Bhay Ho…phir bhi Jay Ho’. Shiv Sena retaliated as well with their very own regional hit, ‘Kai Ho’.  I kept feeling this whole concept of alliances among various parties inculcates a party jumping baboon brigade. And such baboons are rising in numbers. People in Himachal Pradesh think they (le baboons - its french) are becoming a menace and Govt. should put a leash on them.

By the time this thought had come to me, I was smiling to myself and had reached the voting booth. The queue was very small. Only couple of people ahead of me; apparently the voter turnout in Maharashtra (except Bombay/ New Bombay areas) was good in phase II polls. 55%. The dude put on the ink on my finger and I stood behind that wooden board covered bench.

I felt powerful for brief moment of time. In a sinister way, it resembled what Spiderman said, “With great power comes great responsibility”. I knew just voting would not change the system in a very productive way and It would take a little more efforts, on each individual to do their part and create that required thrust, a change would then be inevitable.

I pushed the button. Heck, at least that was a start. I cast my vote. The question is, Will you?

Shoe-Kran!

Conceived by the bulimic and anorexic pioneers of the first world fashion industry and forged in remotest places of alleged third world countries like China and Bangladesh by Children and poor of all ages, a product was mass produced to satiate the needs of brand conscious crowds, who wanted the product as office wear, casual wear, disco wear, hiking wear, riding wear, trekking wear and wore they did, two at a time. Known to the primitive Indian (the red ones – Apaches, Navajos, Comanche) as moccasins; later came to be known as shoes and sneakers.

The boot was worn and utilized to its optimum use for many applications, most particularly, as a survival technique, when weapons were not around: to kick unsuspecting enemy’s gonads. The Thai people were the earliest to understand these hazards and banned it in their social fighting sessions – kick boxing etc.

The word shoe has different meanings in different languages across the world; English being the obvious one, in Gujarati and Arabic it means ‘What’. In Marathi it means ‘piss’. Ironically the verb form ‘to piss’ or 'pissing' in Marathi is ‘Shoe-kar’, which translates in Hindi as ‘Thanks’. In Arabic, Shoe-kran means Thanks. Got the link? Looking at all these meanings I now actually sympathize with the Iraqi dude who started this world famous sport of “Shoe-t the politician”.

It all started the, biggest communication error ever in the world, in 2004, when America was looking for booty of mass destruction. Late Saddam Hussein kept saying all his country imported was boots, mass produced, for which, they bartered in oil a plenty, ask Wal-Mart, said he. The almighty of America who dwelled in Air Force one would have none of this small talk. He invaded Iraq and captured it, err, liberated it. It was the Tandav for democracy. Killing of the people, by the people, for the people, the next generation would enjoy the dances of democracy thus.
Successful coronation of his (Dubya’s) friend as president of Iraq, in a democratic way of course, was undertaken with much jubilation. Dubya decided to have a press conference thereafter, while most people could not understand what Mr. President was saying, said to be English, one Arab Journo kept asking, “Wallah Shou”? Meaning in English: What? What? Dubya’s IQ beat him to the question and he looked exclaimed and started reading from his speech again. The irritated journo could not take it in more so he decided to ask his question in a more objective form, thus the shoe incident, but, stupid is as stupid does, said Forest Gump. A simple question, ‘What?’ said in an objective format was misunderstood as an act of terrorism. Uncle Sam’s CEO ducked like NEO, he must have always believed he was the one. It was later confirmed by the journo that all he was saying was thank you America actually. Shoe-kran.

The incident has caught like wildfire in India and during elections many people are using this technique of saying thanks to the politicians for doing all the good work in their respective constituencies, with all the high security its impossible to go up to them and say thank you. So people choose to throw shoes, Shoe-Kriya. The shoe is thus manifested towards the politician’s Kriya, as in his actions in his constituency.

Dear Friends, you are all now a better judge of what actions actually mean. Any statistician would affirm the fact that chances of hitting are 50% more when both the shoes are thrown. Its simple law of averages, but no one is doing that right? That means the intention is not to hurt. It’s to say thanks actually. Did you see that the sock was attached to the shoe when it was thrown? Nope right? This further asserts that stinking politics was not motive behind their acts either. Look at the politician’s faces below, they are clearly thankful:

Next time, you don’t even have to throw a shoe at a politician. Not even make an action of doing; all you need to do is thank them for existing, say – Shoe.Kriya, Twice at that. But, then there is a saying in hindi that Latoon key Boot baton sey nahi mantein (Shoes used to kicking do not resort to talking, err, whatever that is).

MTNL DSL internet, Does it work?

This is my complaint letter to MTNL for not rectifying the glitches in my Internet since last 15 days.

Dear Sirs,

Subject – New Panvel / Panvel Ex – Change. Precisely 12.36 % of service…rather, less than that.

A year in Dubai was proof enough, the kind of service that a state owned company can provide to the customers (the sole telephony/Internet providing company called Eitselat is simply excellent). This was the simple reason I opted for MTNL Tri Band - broad band connection, considering they are the best in the business and KNOW their business even though my father, who is from a different generation, was extremely skeptical about me having such high regards for a government owned entity here in India; and rightly so in all its probability.

While the connection lasted it seemed all hunky and dory, especially for a guy like me, who is make some extra money in this mighty recessionary period as a free lance writer and journalist. Work from home was never better before, when Internet was working and job offers were pouring in.

But nature and lack of service (of some) has a way of its own and due to reasons not even the holy trinity (Brahma, Vishnu and Mahesh) – The customer care executives of MTNL could understand or rectify…The Internet stopped working.

While I frantically tried calling and lodged complaints, I was told a variety of reasons from “D-Link router software is being updated” to “There appears to be some problem with your Local Exchange” etc.

I tried to understand what the real meaning for the web based marketing of MTNL actually stand for (I guess the return on investment for a govt. owned entity must be amazing when 125.71 crores is just booked on profits from Income Tax returns) and I have come to some really disturbing conclusion, which are as mentioned below for your kind perusal:

: Of Delhi and Mumbai…

Main features of MTNL Broadband /ADSL Service:

High Speed data Download – subject to availability of Internet.
Simultaneous availability of phone and Internet - On the existing telephone line “Always OFF Internet.

High on Value low on cost – Because our services do not work most of the time. Our profits are growing at 12.36% (service tax amount) every quarter.

Easy Registration – These are the simple abattoir techniques (read marketing) we follow.

Use now pay later – (TRY) using now, you will pay later anyways.

Video on demand etc in future – you will not ask for such high tech value added services, when basic Internet is not working.

Create own LAN network – Internet does not work? Try Local area networks, you can play multi-player solitaire. Its fun.

WHY BROADBAND / ADSL from MTNL:

Faster Connection – dedicated bandwidth:

And by non-connectivity - Kills

duruna Daongar saajaro (Making a mountain out of a mole hill).

Easy Communication: Talk and Surf at the same time.

Customers are cats and mice, devolved from Neanderthals and Darwinian primates that were, who can not meaningfully understand the abbreviation ISP…In the dark service providers.

…as much freedom as Afghanistan Democracy provides…Does it work, by the way?

…Aapke internet connection ko Hamari Bhav Purna Shradhanjali, incredible or what? That’s next generation non functionality…A(ye) DSL anyone?

Dear Sir, it’s been 15 days now that my Internet is not working and I have a hunch that it will not work tomorrow as well. I have been calling incessantly at the MTNL call centers and all the numbers that the people therein have been providing me. At one of the number provided, I was humbly told by the gentleman that ‘He’ did not have any problems with the Phone line or Internet line whatsoever. Apparently it was a wrong number.

It’s a humble request that you help me in getting my Internet connection back as well as deduct prorated amount (50%) from the Bill for non availability of services from the day of complaint (this one constitutes as a written one).

I was further told that this problem is occurring since MTNL exchange is moving from Old Panvel premises to some New Panvel premises and due to shifting of networks.

Its my personal opinion that I should not be subjected to pay for goof ups on behalf of service providers (Exchange) as the consequential losses that I am suffering (due to non availability of Internet, including cyber-café expenses) are of huge magnitude.

Yours truly,

Varun Gawarikar.

Desi Premiere League...Outsourced!

Fake Firangi accent Mike: “Good Afternoon, This is Mike speaking, thank you for calling IPL customer care, how may I help you?”

Me: “Yes, Hi, This is Varun, I wanted to order ‘Mumbai Indians’ memorabilia from your catalogue.”

Chris: “Sorry sir, that offer is open only for U.K and North America and South Africa customers, but, we do have Pink Chaddis and china made Indian political parties’ logos, emblems, banners etc, which you can order; shipping is free, sir.”

Me: “But why is IPL selling all these items?”

Chris: “Oh, consolidating with politics, Sir.”

Me: “Err, I thought it always was.”

Chris: “Now they are openly doing it, Sir.”

Me: “Okay, Can I order a SICKLE and a HAMMER, two HANDS to use them, a CLOCK to time them, a LANTERN and a BICYLCE for no apparent reason. Yes, I also want a LOTUS and an ELEPHANT, why? Consider it Anti incumbency. Thank you.”

Ahh, I hung up the phone and went straight to watching football. Reds, no, the other ones…Liverpool are on a roll. Hence.

News of IPL moving out of India has shocked India, a news that did not just break, it blasted on to all the M.G roads that garnish Indian ethos and practically all the cities.

Fight for freedom and right to exist saw a man coming back from South Africa and revolt against the empire, upon which the sun never set.

The dance of democracy, nay, Nach Mustande, bhag dvitiya…That can be a great name for national politician’s day – Mustan-Day, saw IPL going out and creating revenues for the very same nations. While the election manifestos here will still promise “Sadak, Pani aur Bijli” after elections and cash and liquor before them.

While lotus spake, “IPL going out of India is a national shame,” Hand retorted, “Godhra riots 2002” was a national shame. Nobody dug out 1984 ‘Bluestar’ this time though. Thank God.

The irony of this façade is that IPL teams outsourced players from outside to put up a grand show in India. Now they are outsourcing this entire event outside country. Now that is a bloody joke. INDIAN premiere league hosted outside India, technically, can not be called as Indian. England already has a premiere league.

Madness I say this is. Bigger than what Sparta could ever be…Hua Hua.

Endless Search

A short poem to find that lost love.

Withered trees await the spring,
a hope to move on.


A journey ends not at destination,
a path forlorn.


Spiritless eyes bespeak despair,
love bygone.


charred memories skippered in gale,
an austere oblivion.


moored in perdition by baphomet's horns;
salved by a casket - hell atorn-ed.


fossiled remains hydrocarbonated,
compressed, supressed, reform-ed.


my soul still seeks your delicate presence
writhing in blue flames in an infinite tense.

Sporadic April 1st Madness - Fool of a Took.

American financial Quarter ending, Indian Year ending, month ending, Maharashtraian New year…An add linking all this on the lines of those awkward adds, ‘Is it that time of the month?’ should be created to take some stress away from people; Issued in public interest.

In our land, the cultural one, we have evolved from respecting and worshiping the beauty and admiring it – the Khajuraho temple types to sheepishly scurrying into the kitchen when such adds or allegedly ‘inappropriate’ scene, so aesthetically conveyed in ‘Jhumma Chumma Dey Dey’, (This song always reminded me of Shobha Dey, I don’t know why? Probably because of the – allegedly-pompous-intellectually-stimulating-empty-cranium-rattling vocabulary used) appears on screen.

This is a direct result of Harrapa and Mohenjodaro people starting the cultural identity protection drive, later to be known as The Moral Police. You must have started to wonder what co-relation this rambling has got to do with the title of this post – April fool. Well, that’s how April Fools day evolved. A day to commemorate the people behind the protection drive was initiated in the community on first day in the month of Ram & Bull (Aries & Taurus logo). Their posters were put up across all the streets. Organizer’s smaller mug shot versions occupied minimum 25% of the posters.

Homo sapiens’s evolution has come a long way and so have fools and their felicitation, on this day. A lot of countries have their financial year endings on March 31^st and rightly so. Once the tax is deducted, what becomes of a Hard working middle class man is a below poverty line fool, almost. Our govt. also gifts us a small card to celebrate our foolishness – PAN card. Incidentally Thesaurus describes Genus Pan as Chimpanzees.  In neo-political-power-broking-Swiss bank-account-holder’s dictionary, it simply means that PAN card holders are Darwinian primates, and our govt. makes it mandatory to be one.

No wonder, thus, that such a great jubilation of our personal diminished resources is carried out in the month of Ape-reel-under-financial-bondage. The very basis of having a fool’s day in month of April – a month sharing two zodiac signs: Aries and Taurus (symbolized by Sheep and Bull) is a discriminating act in itself. Both of them are herbivores and clearly are ranked low in the food chain. I would have further added that they are also considered low intelligence animals, but, I am afraid the Arieans and Taureans might stampede me to my death. Hence, I refrain from doing that.

We get whole day to rejoice in our absurd stupidities and mock and prod each other…speaking of stupidities, the bug caught me unawares in the closing days of March itself, I found my self stranded, with a broke down car and not enough cash near the first toll plaza on Mumbai-Pune Expressway. The emotional swings in such situations fluctuate from exclamation to anger to hating the car to laughing on my own idiocy. It felt like being a pregnant lady. And I had already eaten up all the ‘Achaar’ and ‘parathas’ mom had given me for the intended journey. Damn.

But heck, that was the time I truly admired architectural marvel that a toll plaza is during the sunset time. Cars were slowly moving; randomly opening and closing toll gates; traffic police scouting around for easy money from heavy vehicles. The watchman gave me a car repairer’s number and he received 50 bucks from that Car repairer, which car repairer charged me. So yes, I now thoroughly understand the shady economics of toll plazas; all tax Free. Now you know why I felt like an idiot.

Reverting back to the topic, the government’s subtle ways of letting us know that they are April fooling us is so evident from two things, first take all 33% cash that ‘Aam Admi’ has and then celebrate their tiresome efforts the next month on May 1^st and call it an international Labor Day. Pure evil these rulers are, I say. No poke on Facebook is so malevolent than mocking and secretively letting them know that they have been mocked.

Now that you know what all constitutes this one single day, I think I am going to let the politicians who come to campaign at our place know that I know, subtly or otherwise.

Politician – “Sir, Please vote for us”

Me: “Indeed I will, I know I am a fool”

Politician: “That’s nonsense, don’t underestimate yourself, you are a part of the system.”

Me: “Err, Sir What about Govinda, Abhi-Neta.”

Politician: “He epitomizes our system and voter mentality.”

Me: “Wicked, Sir.”

Politician: “Thank you.”

 

My dearest friends, family, readers of this blog and to all the people of free India, Happy April Fool’s Day; lets all raise a toast and shove it down the campaigning politician’s throat, as anyways our butter has been taxed. Might as well lose the toast; burnt one at that.

***Do Vote in upcoming elections.***