Smile Express

Another gym story

2012-01-20T20:56:00.000+05:30

Ever since I have started going to the gym alone, I wish I had B for company. Wouldn't she love making comments about all those bony-bummed gym-rats? I wonder how they sit comfortably... they probably need a lot of cushions to make up for the lack of fat on their posteriors!
But these are people I admire for their dedication. Then there are those I admire for the lack of it. They are the hoarders of fat. People who look for any opportunity to stop exercising. They catch hold of anyone who passes by, to chat. They try not to make eye contact with the trainers and give excuses to the nutritionist for not following the diet plan. Then, they look at the clock and commend themselves for an hour well spent in the gym... who cares how they spent it!
These days I see an elderly couple (really fat ones) coming in to exercise together. While the husband seems sincere, the wife is just passing time. She sits on the cycle slowly moving her legs and staring into the distance. As soon as she sees her husband approach she speeds up. It's cute really!
Then there is this really old man who walks with a stick and has an attendant with him always. He is very regular and recently I saw a picture of him in the papers - he had participated in the marathon (elderly category). Apparently he has Parkinson's disease and took part on the insistence of his granddaughter. She couldn't run because of a fever but he decided to go ahead and run for her.
You might think that all I ever do at the gym is sit and observe people. No, I sit-up and observe people. 3 sets of 15 each.

Crusade against profanity

2012-01-18T09:55:00.002+05:30

What is this addiction to profanity that has taken over the world? Song lyrics mention the unmentionables, actresses are clamouring for roles where they can swear to their hearts' content and kids start and end their sentences with the F-word. Even my maid who has only studied till the 4th standard says "Oh S***"... yes, in English and LOL has been replaced with LMAO.
One might argue that these are just words like any words and the dictionary meaning probably just makes them more popular. So if you happen to just invent a word and attach an obnoxious meaning to it, it will become extremely popular.
I for one, cannot help my ears going red when I hear profanity. It actually produces an extreme physical reaction in me. Embarrassment and anger at the speaker for subjecting me to it. And most of the times the person doesn't even realise that he/she has said it.
There was this young male colleague who was in the habit of using the f-word to describe everything. One day, a very senior lady from my organisation, this colleague and me were travelling to a campus interview. On the way there the three of us shared a car. The young man was so delighted by the company that he began a long speech about his experience in campus recruitment and so on. Invariably the f-word crept up and kept showing up in every other sentence. My senior colleague and me went red in the face, but the young man didn't notice. Finally I interrupted him and requested him to watch his language and if he can't then keep quiet on the campus recruitment drive. He was genuinely surprised and apologised profusely saying that using the word had become such a habit since his college days that he used it sub-consciously.

I refuse to believe that argument. If you want you can use different words instead of a bad one. Read and educate yourselves in vocabulary and don't restrict your speech to a few bad words. This is a sincere request.

Vacation

2011-12-24T18:18:00.000+05:30

This time our Goa experience was different although we stayed near the same beach we go to every year - Baga. We stayed at a resort which was supposed to be 4 star but didn't really match up to those standards. We didn't mind too much because most of our days were spent outside. As always we hired a scooter and drove around, but discovered new places this time.
The best part was that we discovered the Baga riverside and a quaint little restaurant called Le Poisson Rouge run by a Frenchman. We also visited Taj village which had a coffee shop overlooking the sea... very pleasant.
Then we went to Bangalore for two days... the best two days in a long time. Bangalore has changed so much... although I can't say it's for the best. Too much crowd and noise. But, we still enjoyed walking around early in the morning when there was a nip in the air. We went to some of our old haunts and also explored new ones. I enjoyed the Metro ride.... when will Mumbai ever get one???
Two days didn't seem like a lot but we filled in as much as we could and met up with quite a few old friends. Then back to Mumbai it was ... thankfully not as hot as we had left it a couple of weeks ago.

2011-12-11T11:30:00.002+05:30

Give me a 'G', Say 'O', Say 'Aaaaa'..... Goa ... Goa ... Goa!

(One day to go)

2011-12-03T09:57:00.001+05:30

Why does a show of intense rage (without violence) raise objection and a show of love doesn't? Why must I be discreet with my anger and open with my love? I am mean sometimes (actually most times) and I wish to have the freedom to express my meanness just as I have the freedom to express my affection.
If being in "civilised" society means that I must mask my real emotions about a person or situation to "maintain decorum", I'd like to go live in the jungle.

Thoughts...

2011-12-01T12:33:00.000+05:30

I have decided not to click any pictures on my next vacation. It's true that pictures serve as a sweet reminder of the fun times we have had, but sometimes we are so engrossed in clicking photographs that we fail to savour the moment.
This time I just want to be in the moment and later recollect from memory. It's like trying to remember the taste of a delicious dish you've had. Let the brain build up it's own visual bank without a photograph trying to help it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In these times of the smartphone, I have realised that I have lost patience to read a book in one sitting. I am taking much too long to finish a 200-300 page book!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I don't know if we should be called humans anymore when a half dead man is left sitting on the road with his limbs scattered all around, pictures are clicked, questions are asked with no hurry being shown to take him to a hospital. Did they instantly know he was guilty? Does that mean he didn't deserve medical aid? #imphal

5 years of wedded bliss

2011-08-25T20:04:00.000+05:30

Five years with you have been a great adventure. Look forward to many many more. Happy Anniversary :)

Things we don't hear in Hindi films anymore

2011-08-13T19:01:00.000+05:30

Chrys is a big fan of the 70s and 80s movies with high octane drama, a love story with villains and a long drawn out climax.
These films have their appeal in their outrageous story lines and awesome dialogues. They don't write these kind of lines anymore.
1. "Kaminey, chod de mujhe" (I gotta keep myself pure for the hero)
2. "Marne ke liye tayar ho jao" (Wait, I need to touch up my makeup)
3. "Tumhari maut mere haathon likhi hai" (The villain always dies a horrible death after spouting this dialogue)
4. "Main samajhta tha tum mujhse pyar karti ho lekin tum bewafa nikli" (The heroine will immediately speak about her majboori)
5. "Tum ne hamare khandaan ki naak kata di" (Now I gotta spend a bomb on a nose job!)
6. "Prem naam hai mera, Prem Chopra" (Bond naam hai mera, James Bond)
7. "Main tumhare bache ki maa banne wali hoon" (You idiot, I wanted to go on a back-packing trip across Europe and now this has spoilt all my plans)
8. "Ek maa ka dard tum nahi samajh sakte" (Just shut up and rub in the Zandu balm)
9. "Police ne tumhe charon taraf se gher liya hai" (And we will fall like bowling pins when you come thundering out on your horse or jeep all guns blazing)
10. "Yeh to bas shuruvaat hai. Aage aage dekho hota hai kya" (This movie is 4 hours long. Stock up on the popcorn and samosas)

Mujhse Fraandship Karo

2011-08-07T10:16:00.001+05:30

Being friends in today's day and age means patiently tolerating endless vacation photos and updates(occasionally being asked to eat your liver too), driving the person home when he/she is drunkenly singing in the back seat, cooking up a delicious meal only for the person to inform you that he/she hates chicken/mutton/bhindi or is on a diet, being sworn enemies in your childhood and the dearest of friends when adults.... and much more. I love you all my dear, crazy bunch of friends :)

Hunterwali in Rajasthan

2011-08-02T14:43:00.001+05:30

While Mumbai was being pounded with rain, Chrys and I were boiling in the heat of Rajasthan.
On our second night in Jaipur we visited a place called Chokhi Dhani for dinner. It's an artificial village where they have puppet and magic shows, dance performances, sale of locally made artefacts and a dinner of rajasthani dishes. There we were being taken around the little village when we chanced upon some guys dressed up as tribals holding sticks and drums. One of them walked up to us and handed Chrys and me a stick and said "Jhingalala"... no further explanations required. We took the sticks and danced in a circle to drum beats.
This was one of the high points of our visit to Rajasthan. Of course the Jai Mahal Palace deserves a mention. It's beautiful with Mughal styled gardens and wild peacocks, parrots and squirrels having a fun time in them. It also helped that it rained while we there and the peacocks went crazy crying out "Meow meow" (yeah that's what peacocks sound like).
I didn't quite enjoy the two minute camel ride in Chokhi Dhani, but Chrys was whooping away plucking leaves from the high branches of nearby trees just coz he could!
We saw a LOT of forts, palaces, museums and what nots. We also visited Jodhpur and Jaisalmer which are small cities in comparison to Jaipur. This was probably not a good time to visit Rajasthan but we were blessed with pouring rain on one of the days and that cooled the temperatures a bit. I still cribbed about the heat and took repeated showers depleting the precious water resources of that region.
On two occasions I almost beat up guys for taking pictures of me while they were pretending to click some museum piece or something. The first time Chrys made a half-hearted attempt to come to my rescue and the second time he just stood around like a spectator while I fought with the guy. Maybe he thinks my Jhansi-ki-rani act doesn't need extras. I wish I had a hunter with which I could whip those perverts and accidentally strike Chrys too with it.

Maid in Mumbai or Dirty linen?

2011-07-25T08:46:00.002+05:30

So after begging, pleading and threatening for the better part of the last five years, Chrys agreed to buy me a washing machine. All these years we relied on our unpredictable maid(Marriam) to do the washing. She had this habit of going off on leave without any advance warning and turn up a few days later as if nothing had happened. I, while working a stress-filled full time job at the time, would be left to do the housework or beg other maids in the building to do it for the day. Inspite of being willing to pay them a tidy sum, some maids act like they are some superstars being asked for an autograph - it depends on their mood. Since Chrys wouldn't let me buy a washing machine my next solution was to keep a cook who could also do other housework in case the maid didn't turn up. That went well for a while till the cook got pregnant (must have had a power-cut or something - it was before 3G).

Marriam continued with her erratic schedule while I got a new (extremely chatty) cook. One fine day when Marriam didn't show up again, I snapped and sacked her on reassurances from the cook that she could get me a replacement. The replacement however refuses to wash clothes coz she works for up-scale households that own washing machines. She will only extract the clothes from the machine and hang them out to dry (thank you very much). So I finally put my foot down and bought the thingummy. Now the problem is that the new maid (Zubaida is her name... I kid you not) has (in her princess voice) told me that she will come to work at 8 AM sharp by which time the clothes must be washed. Which means I need to wake up at 6 AM and start the damn thing or put it in for delayed wash (which means more electricity consumption). Plus she will charge me the same money I paid Marriam even though washing is not involved... coz I'm being hung out to dry... literally.

Disclaimer: No names have been changed because their identity needs no protection... plus who would want to hide such lovely names.

Idiot proof

2011-07-16T19:13:00.001+05:30

There are some idiots on Facebook who just CANNOT resist clicking on links that promise to show them some scandalous videos or pictures. Invariably they turn out to be a hoax and replicate themselves on their walls for all the world to see that they were tempted. I can understand people falling for it once but there are some that fall for it every single time. I have decided to un-friend such jerks rather than have them clutter my page with nonsense. I shall call it "idiot-proofing FB".

Gym Shim

2011-05-12T06:49:00.000+05:30

Chrys and I recently joined a gym. It's in an up-scale locality and Chrys specifically wanted to ogle at the society-type women there. However in the past few days I have observed several different types there:

1. Society Types: These are usually in their late thirties or forties or fifties or God only knows how manys coz they don't look their age. They all look the same - flat abs, pert butts and muscled arms. They exercise with their noses in the air and later do an elaborate make-up session in the locker-room.

2. Gym Rats: These guys(mostly) tend to spend their entire day in the gym pumping weights. Cardio exercises are for sissies. The gym rats will lifts the maximum amounts of weights and pick up the biggest dumbbells. They will even shout out instructions to the new-comers and strut around inspecting all female butts.

3. Little old ladies: These are the adorable types. Diminutive and delicate, they will spend most of their time slow cycling and doing stretches. These types will be friendly will all the trainers and call everyone 'dear'.

4. Old men: They will walk in with baby steps usually accompanied by an attendant who will help them with their shoes and disappear into some discreet corner to do exercises or whatever you may call small painful movements.

5. Really fat people: These are the ones that actually need the use of the gym. But they are the most inconspicuous (as much as fat people can be). They will be rather conscious and speed up their cycling or treadmill when a Society type or a Gym rat walks by. Most of the time they are being pestered by the trainers to do one more push-up or lift the dumbbell one more time. You will find these types later gorging on pani puri or cheese sandwiches downstairs.

6. Regular people: These are far and few between. They follow the trainers around or do whatever exercises they have been told to do without making too much of a fuss. They will be polite with the Little old ladies and smile at the Old men. But, it'll not be long before they turn into the Society types or Gym rats. Dreadful!

2011-04-29T12:25:00.000+05:30

So some schizophrenic guy with some crazy followers and a ton of cash dies and people claim that he will be re-born. With his delusions of grandeur he should be born as a needle - he would make a great prick.
I am not sure if people do get born again. If I die and I were to choose to be born again, I'd like to ditch the physical forms and be born as a thought instead...maybe a fleeting one. Or I could be filled into a gesture or be carried around with a loved one.
Whatever may be the length of my life, the quality of it will be tops.

Bring back the simpler times

2011-04-22T09:33:00.002+05:30

When my sister and I were young, we used to wait eagerly for our dad to return home from work. He would usually come in really tired from the local train travel but always had a big smile for us. Mom would quickly make piping hot tea which my dad would leave on the side table till it was really cold and had a thin milky film on it. Mom always complained about it. Dad would ask us about our day and then bury his nose in the newspaper. That was another thing my mom complained about. Especially on Sundays. She would say that the newspaper was like my dad's second wife. But a man can only read so much news. Eventually my dad would put it down and we had a nice warm family dinner, chit-chatting, my sis and I monkeying around, dad subtly flirting with mom and then off to bed. Sometimes we watched T.V, but those were the days of Doordarshan. The only thing worth watching was the News and even that was government controlled.

These days there are so many things to help your pass time and communicate with your friends. Has anyone stopped to think if it's stopping you from communicating with your family? There are smart-phones with that Facebook app loaded in it. There are high-definition T.Vs with programming to suit all ages and there are Hi-Fi music systems to blast your ears and brains to space. Dinner is usually had in front of the T.V followed by an update about it in Facebook.

Does anyone even think about how much of their life is getting wasted in updating and checking updates from random acquaintances while the people who really care about them are being ignored at home? How can anyone achieve intimacy if they are checking their phones even in bed? Then one fine day you will realise that life has passed you by and you made no real bonds. You might die and some old school-mate or ex-colleague would make a "R.I.P" update about you on Facebook.

Maybe that's all there is to it. Maybe that's all we deserve.

Young Turks

2011-04-20T12:26:00.000+05:30

I have been doing yoga cum physiotherapy exercises every morning since the past 10-15 days. Today I decided to add static cycling to it. My society has a small hole-in-wall kinda gym and a shallow indoor swimming pool. I went in there and while I was cycling, through the glass I watched two little boys - about 6-7 years of age come in, change into their swimming trunks and jump into the pool to play with a ball. What was really really funny was that just before jumping in the younger of two, stood and made a Mr. Universe style pose trying to show some muscle. His body is so tiny and thin that I almost fell off my cycle laughing.

Oh the innocence of childhood!

Aila popat!

2011-04-19T18:36:00.001+05:30

So my maid suddenly looks up while swabbing the floor and says "Didi, aap bahut ache lagte ho..."
And I start straightening up with a smile and she continues "... ko English mein kya kehte hai?"

Pause

2011-04-18T11:57:00.002+05:30

"Woody Allen: A life in film" is a documentary with a candid interview with the artist himself.
He talks about some of his movies, one of which stands out - Interiors. This was about three sisters. One, a very talented writer who wasn't getting anywhere inspite of her gift, the other was an actress and the third - Mary Beth Hurt as Joey was someone who was full of feelings but had no artistic talent at all - in the words of Woody Allen- 'which is a terrible position to be in life - to have intuitive feelings about life and nature and suffering and human beings and love and have no way to express it. Not being able to write or paint or compose or get these feelings out in any way.'

This thought stuck with me. How many of us are like Joey - Passionate and emotional yet unable to express it due to a lack of talent?

Life is actually very ordinary without talent - work, eat, sleep and die. Whatever!

2011-04-07T11:44:00.000+05:30

My maid's daughter Reshma is 15 years old. The other day she came home accompanied by a friend who looked even younger than her. Later Reshma told me that the girl was a mother of two kids. She was married off at the age of 10 years as soon as she attained puberty. I couldn't believe my ears but it's true. I keep telling my maid not to marry Reshma off till she turns 18. But it looks like she is under a lot of pressure from her community and may succumb to those pressures soon. I try educating her to the problems of early marriage and pregnancy and hopefully some of these facts will deter her.
Now, this is a cause I can have some direct impact on. I refuse to be bullied into supporting a cause that I can't totally understand. I do support the fight against corruption, but the Lokpal Bill I have reservations about.

Item Repulse Theory

2011-03-18T11:44:00.001+05:30

Just a few weeks back I made a post about some music reality show with Mallika Sherawat as the judge. Looks like the show never took off coz Mallika 'Razia' Sherawat gundon mein phas gayi.
I would like to know what exactly is the brief given to the lyric writers of item songs. Put some words like 'jawani', 'ishq', 'badnaam', etc. If that doesn't work, use some pain balm product names or tooth powder references 'Ishq ka manjan ghise hai piya' (where the hell did that come from???). A reference to any cow-belt city/state names like 'UP, Bihar, Patna,' will guarantee the seetis. You may even use different sounding words like 'Tinku jiya' or 'Khallas' for all you care. Just make sure that there's loads of double meaning stuff and you will have top actresses lining up to slip into slinky shiny clothes and shake their hips.

GROSS!

Customised loneliness

2011-03-10T13:02:00.002+05:30

In the old days it used to be that if ever there was a birthday or function in the family, one would invite all the kids in the building compound, all the uncles and aunties that are friends with mom and dad and a ton of relatives.
These will all stand around chit chatting till it's time to cut the cake. A nice cake (most probably from Monginis) would be cut and everyone would sing "Happy Birthday" (sucking in the saliva threatening to burst out).
Paper plates with a piece of the cake, potato chips and an aloo tikki would be passed around till everyone is quietly munching away. Plastic cups of Rasna orange squash would also be handed out. After making a mess of the place and maybe a small fight or two, the people would all troop off to their homes leaving the birthday girl or boy to open up the small presents (if any).

These days there are event managers to arrange stuff like this. Large auditoriums are booked. Magicians and clowns are hired. There are group games and return gifts. Custom made chocolates in the shape of animals are distributed in addition to a ton of other goodies. Yet doesn't all this leave one with a sense of loneliness and emptiness?

Maybe I am wrong. Nostalgia tends to come equipped with rose-tinted glasses.

Good Morning

2011-02-19T07:47:00.000+05:30

There was this story about Gautam Buddha. Once Buddha is meditating beneath a tree with his disciples. A man walks up and starts abusing him. The disciples get agitated, but Buddha remains calm. After some time the man is tired to abusing and walks away.
The disciples are curious about why Buddha did not react. He says that, when someone abuses me or calls me names, I refuse to accept them and therefore it just bounces back to them. Just because someone calls me a donkey, I don't become a donkey.
This story may not be accurate, but it teaches one thing. Everyone can project calmness and pretend to be truly at peace with themselves till the time this peace is put to the test. Well, Buddha passed the test.
Now, there's another story. I was watching the live telecast of some yoga program this morning, presided over by that winking fellow who calls himself "Baba Ramdev". So this guy is projecting all calmness and peace and all that jazz till some MP in the audience calls him a "bloody fool". This so called baba gets so riled, he instigates his disciples to go and rough up the guy saying "itni himmat ke mujhe bloody fool kehta hai".... all this on the mike and telecast LIVE!!!
Made my day hahahaha

Darna Mana Hai

2011-02-02T17:48:00.002+05:30

Once upon a time in a dense forest, kissing the edges of a tiny little village, there lived a ferocious female demon. The forest was filled with dangerous wild animals but none were as dangerous as her. The villagers feared the forest because whoever went in there never returned barring a few who came back stark raving mad.

Over the years there were several bravehearts who ventured into the forest in the hopes of slaying the demon. However she was clever. She would transform into a beautiful woman and lure the men with melodious songs. They would be mesmerised by her beauty and the grip of her magical song would draw them towards her. That was when she would show her true form and drink their blood. Once satiated she would fly up into a large flowering tree.

A beautiful fragrant flower from a tree believed to house demons

Then one day a church priest decided to take matters into his own hands. He walked into the forest in search of the demon. He heard a beautiful song and walked towards the sound. There near a large flowering tree he saw her in her human form. He had never seen someone so beautiful and was almost in a trance. But he realised this was trick and drew out his cross. The demon screamed and transformed into her real self. She tried to attack the priest but could get no closer.

She then transformed into a little girl, crying and pretending to be lost. The priest saw his chance and quickly drove a nail through the top of her head. The demon was trapped in the child's body and the child had no recollection of her gory past.

The priest took her home to his wife and told her that he had found this orphan roaming around lost in the forest. Being childless, the priest's wife asked no further questions and welcomed the girl into her life. They named her Sarah. Sarah went to school and attended church regularly. She was obedient and sweet and very soon became the darling of the village. The years passed and Sarah grew into a beautiful young woman. She had long black hair and enchanting dark eyes. When she sang people forgot all their worries. She had many suitors but the priest was fiercely protective of her. Only he knew the truth and he couldn't afford to let her out of his sight.

One day, the priest was away at another village to conduct a wedding. The priest's wife sat Sarah down to oil and comb her hair. While doing so she saw something sticking slightly out in her scalp. She tried flicking it away but it wouldn't go. Sarah was uncomfortable and asked her to stop. But her mother wouldn't listen. She tried again and again to remove it with her nails. Finally she could pry it loose and she pulled it out in horror....

When the priest returned the village had been destroyed. There were dead bodies all over and an eerie silence. The silence was broken by the strains of a heartbreaking melody coming from the forest.

Nothing is what is seems....

This story was narrated to me by my father when I was young. It gave me sleepless nights but I found it fascinating.

Wedding season

2011-01-27T12:24:00.002+05:30

We are just back from a grand wedding celebration in Ahmedabad. It had been in planning since the past one and a half years. I'm sure the parents feel a sense of emptiness now that there's nothing to organise and worry over every morning.

There are a few characteristics common to every wedding.

Most of the attendees are old people. The youngsters couldn't be bothered with attending unless they have been dragged along by the oldies in their family.
A lot of numbers and addresses are exchanged never to be followed up with a call or visit. The action of exchanging coordinates will be repeated at other functions with the same people chiding each other for not calling or visiting and the cycle continues.
You will be dragged across the hall or lawn of the event to be introduced to Mr.So and So and Ms. This and That. You will shake hands or exchanged half-hugs or air kisses depending on the sophistication level of the crowd.
No matter how well the organisers have arranged the chairs, they will end up being rearranged in circles so that you can sit around and exchange pleasantries with perfect strangers.
You will answer a series of questions like "So where are you now?", "Which company?", "Acha is it the Fort branch?", "So how do you find Bombay?", etc. It's always these questions with some variations in the phrasing.
Some women may also talk about the jewellery and sarees and explain extensively how and when these were acquired.
If you are single, people would want to know when you are getting married. They may even say stuff like "So, you are next, ha ha ha". If you are married they would like to know when you are gonna have kids. If you have kids they would want to know what their names are and pull their cheeks.
The kids will run around getting in your way, pushing you out of the way and generally enjoying themselves the most... even more than the bride and the groom.
The bride and the groom will stand on stage with smiles plastered on their faces and saying "Hello"and "Thank you" a gazillion times while a serpentine queue of people are waiting to get on the stage and say "Hello" and "Congratulations" to them and hand over some presents that are compensation for the enormous amounts of food they are going to devour after getting off the stage.
Last but not the least, all sorts of athletics will happen at the food counter: Sprint(to grab a seat if it's a sit down dinner), Relay (pass the sweet dish before it gets over), Wrestling (I was here first... get in line you moti aunty), Musical chairs (happens both in sit-down as well as buffet dinners. The number of chairs in an event will always be at least a 100 less than the actual bums that wish to be seated on them), Debate - about the said chairs. Ok that's not athletics or maybe only for the vocal chords.

All in all an Indian wedding is an excellent exercise in social behaviour. Oh, who am I kidding, they are just an excellent exercise for all parts of the body - especially the stomach.

100

2011-01-20T17:12:00.002+05:30

For my 100th post on this blog ...

YPD: Yaar Paka Dala... thoda sa

2011-01-16T19:42:00.002+05:30

Two movies I wish I had waited to watch on T.V: YPD and NOKJ

Yamla Pagla Deewana is a total Sunny Deol movie with seeti-maar stunt scenes and the best one-liners reserved for him. The first half of the movie is a little drag except for a couple of scenes of the little kids playing Sunny's sons (wah wah).
The second half is quite funny. The surprise discovery is of finding a long lost actor (Mukul Dev) completely camouflaged behind a shaggy beard putting in a tiny but hilarious performance. Dharamender is really old and all those cosmetic surgeries make him resemble a Ramdas Padhye puppet especially around the mouth. But kudos to him for persisting on even at this age. Bobby Deol as usual puts in his best door-knob expression. Somebody please make him stop acting in films!

What works for NOKJ is it's story - a human interest story; a real life story. However the direction and execution is not so great. Most characters are strictly two-dimensional and caricatures of the real people be it the prime witnesses or the accused's mother. Vidya is badly dressed in over-sized full-sleeved shirts that seem to have been stolen from her dad's wardrobe. Rani has the most plum role, but the girl playing Jessica (Myra) does steal some of the show. This is a spunky actress who given the right roles could go far in the film industry. Alas she may be yet another brilliant performer who may get left behind in the rat-race that prefers connections more than talent. Another performance worth mentioning is of the guy playing the policeman investigating the case. He was last seen in LSD and has put in another great performance.

Baal ki dukaan

2011-01-14T09:20:00.000+05:30

Every morning about a ton of newspapers land at my doorstep. I discard the boring ones and go straight to "Mumbai Mirror" followed by "Bombay Times". This morning I was greeted by a picture of Mallika Sherawat, Javed Jaffrey and some random choreographer guy advertising their new reality show. Mallika as usual has put on her best horny expression. What really gets to me is the way the guys are dressed. Especially their hairstyles.
What's with guys these days. They seem to be using more and more gel and God knows what all in their hair. Almost all of them resemble Edward Scissorhands. At least that guy had a reason for his hairstyle being so alien-like.
Either all these showbiz types have the same hairstylist or all the hairstylists are below the age of five. The standard hairstyle goes something like this. First the haircut - let a very hungry rodent loose on the celebrity's head. Then put some gel (or tar) in it and stick exactly two locks of hair on the forehead. For the rest of the hair let a hen and her chicks walk all over it. If they poop, pass it off as hair colour. Use a ruler and make sure the sideburns are pointy and sharp. Obviously their brains aren't.

One foggy night

2011-01-02T10:21:00.001+05:30

After nursing my worst hangover ever, I have realised that this was the best New Year's party I ever had. The Goa beach one comes a close second. And to think that we were not even on the official invite list! Initially that is. We had that rectified a couple of days in advance.
We left quite late, around 10 pm from home. There was a light fog and a really cool breeze. If it weren't for the party I would have loved to go take a nice walk on Marine Drive. They were even having a fireworks display there.
It was some sort of socialite's party with one official photographer clicking couple snaps and all. The party was mostly filled with oldies or at least people older than us. So we had to put back a few drinks before we started some energetic dancing. The music was entirely Bollywood with an occasional 'Black Eyed Peas' and 'Boney M' thrown in.
The six of us just let go of all inhibitions (and spine problems) and danced away irrespective of whether we had two left feet or four. The freakiest part was when a (totally drunk) couple came over and started showing us their moves. I guessed later that they were the hosts. Hahaha... we didn't even know them and made fun of them in their own party!
Then there was another instance when Chrys was sitting on a chair all exhausted and I was trying to drag him back on the dance floor. Suddenly this guy (also bald) appears out of nowhere and touches Chrys' head and then his own head and says, "Hey, look at me! You should dance...go go". I'm sure Chrys doesn't even remember that.
I am usually a cheap drunk, but this time I downed more than usual. The cheese cube I had before leaving home helped keep it all down. But the next morning I had a really bad headache. I tried some hangover remedies but it was late evening by the time the headache disappeared. It was worth the fun we had though.
Happy New Beginnings :)

Bore maar khan

2010-12-30T11:11:00.001+05:30

You can thank me now. Just to make sure that I wasn't wrong, I actually watched TMK and as I had predicted it was terrible. Farah Khan's worst movie. As for her husband's record, compared to this horrible excuse for a movie, 'Jaan-E-Mann' was quite bearable.... and I really hated that too.

Logout at 40

2010-12-14T20:11:00.003+05:30

I predict that TMK will be a flop. I'd rather watch TMZ, that recycled T.V. magazine about Hollywood celebs, than watch yet another fully faltu acting by Akshay Kumar.

You can thank me later.

Oh and while I am at it I would also like to predict the approx time I would like to logout of here. 'Here' being this lousy little planet. I plan to fly out of here by the time I am 40. That way I will have good amount of years left to explore the rest of the galaxy if not the entire universe. I also plan to leave behind my useless spine (with the defective disc) and some other defective organs. Actually why not just leave the entire thing here and travel only with my head. That is the only part I really like; too much stuff going on in there to lose it. So there I will be one nice little head with a curly mop of hair floating around exploring the universe.

If you happen to meet me on my way out, don't stop by to say 'Hello' or at least cover your face if you do coz I might just talk like Satish Shah in Main Hoon Na and spit on your face.

Maaf karo yaar, time nahi hai

2010-11-17T16:08:00.005+05:30

Sanjay Leela Bhansali is hell-bent on making movies about the physically challenged. Khamoshi (deaf-mute), Black (blind, deaf-mute), Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam (Salman Khan-go figure), Devdas (SRK-stammer), Saawariya (Ranbir-nudist - may be a disability in some countries) and now Guzaarish. There are other movie directors who have tackled autism and dyslexia too.

Chrys suggests that we should take inspiration and come up with a script for more common illnesses like ... well... the common cold.

The protagonist would undertake extremely dangerous tasks like taking a bath in cold water, getting wet in the rain, diving into swimming pools, etc; all to gather enough money for his nose surgery. He suffers from a deviated nasal septum and is prone to colds.

Other movie ideas include

- Smelly Feet - even the temple deities run away when the protagonist comes to worship after removing his shoes.

- Absence of a sense of humour - Tons of politicians would qualify

- Kleptomania - Oh wait, Farah Khan has already completed Tees Maar Khan.

Chrys has loads of other ideas (mostly unprintable). Worth wasting time on instead of watching an SLB movie.

Diwali Lights

2010-11-06T18:38:00.004+05:30

Diwali is all about the family. When you are young your family includes parents and their relatives. As you grow older your family grows to include in-laws, nephews and nieces. But in today's age of nuclear families, festival time gets a bit lonely. As a couple from different religions staying in a locality that predominantly consists of non-hindus, it is lonelier. We still do our bit, light lamps, perform a puja and eat sweets, but it just isn't the same. But I still keep myself cheerful and more reason to be so considering that we are going to have company at home for a couple of weeks since my in-laws are visiting.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Recently, Chrys heard the story of near divorce and eventual reconciliation of a friend and his wife and that got him thinking. I heard the story too, thought about it for about an hour or so but it didn't effect me the way it effected Chrys. He was shocked, surprised and eventually it got him thinking about relationships so much so that he started looking at other couples trying to guess if they too have problems. We both though agree on one thing that no matter what the nature of our differences(if any) we are too committed to think of separation as an option. In addition to commitment I think we have some sort of a connection. It may seem far fetched and idealistic but I do believe in the concept of soul-mates. We couldn't have been as happy and as committed with different partners. We somehow would have found a path to each other eventually. We accept each other (occasional criticism notwithstanding) warts and all. Every human being has twin personalities, one for people he/she trusts-family, friends and one for the rest of the world - a mask of good behaviour. Very early in our relationship the masks were off and we got very comfortable with each other. We started off as friends and then became inseparable.

Sometimes I believe that Chrys tolerates and puts up with more nonsense than I have to, but some days that belief changes :)

Whatever it is I don't think I could have had such an easy going yet adventure filled relationship with anyone else.

Happy Diwali... spend it with your loved ones :)

Meri bhi ek luv story hai

2010-10-24T10:14:00.004+05:30

In my younger days I was in love with the concept of love. I could fall in love at the drop or a hat... love at first sight happened all the time. Sometimes I thought that I was in love with two people at the same time. Of course I never did anything about it. Just the heart flutter, shy glances, a little simple flirting and then I was done. There always came a day when I saw the guy in true daylight without my rose-tinted glasses and the magic was lost. I believed that that was how it was gonna be. So I settled for an arranged match and got engaged. Then the real magic happened. In true filmy style I fell in love with someone else. Someone who was also a really "good friend". Being with him, talking to him (running up telephone bills) made me happy. I dumped my fiance` just before my shaadi cards were to be printed (has only happened in like a dozen movies) and my dream love story was fulfilled (some parental opposition and other masala happened though)

Magic- does it even exist or is it all created by movies? I don't think so. I finally did find my magician, someone with whom the magic is never lost.
My magic happens when I meet my sweetheart every evening when he walks in the door. All day I may not miss him, although I think of him a lot. But, the moment he walks in the door, it's my magic moment. I cheer up and for a few moments I forget everything.
There's magic when I wake up early and watch him sleep. There's magic when I spot him from far in a crowd. There's a tiny little flutter when I suddenly see a new picture of him tagged by someone on Facebook.

We share our lives together including the mundane things like paying those phone bills, but the magical moments aren't lost. I hope we never lose them.

PS: This post is the result of watching "I hate Luv Storys" (horrible BTW) and listening to romantic songs.
PPS: All the stuff I wrote is true... well most of it.
PPPS: Somebody please shut off that music!!!!

2010-10-22T07:40:00.002+05:30

I have always been curious about the common Indian man's fascination for settling abroad especially the US. So on my short trip of three weeks I tried understanding this. I am put up in Virginia, a state with lots of open spaces and quaint little communities. Most houses here have a little private yard and a large community playground for soccer and tennis with a good-sized swimming pool. That is all good. People here are friendly and never fail to greet you on the street or on lifts in shopping malls. But, most human contact ends there. People prefer staying indoors or driving around in cars. They do all their housework themselves. True that there are gadgets to wash clothes and utensils, mow lawns, etc. But I get the feeling that a person just cannot afford to fall sick even for a day. That would mean that the garbage has piled up or dirty dishes are lying in the sink. Besides healthcare is superbly expensive. By sunset everyone has shut their doors and windows and drawn up the blinds. Winters in this part of the country are harsh, giving you all the more reason to stay at home.
In India, I have gotten used to the noise, the pollution, the crowds and especially the heat. It makes me feel alive. I can always find house-help and not panic when I fall ill. I might be hard pressed to find some open spaces but once a year vacations to a beach or some hill station would solve that problem. So although it's nice to visit the US as a tourist, I can never settle there.

Bakshees

2010-09-09T12:50:00.003+05:30

When I went to Egypt a few years ago, I was really irritated by the blatant demand by all and sundry for a bakshees. Of course this concept is an ancient one all over the world, they just call it by different names - chai pani, tip, service charge, etc. I think it is just a sign of laziness that people don't wanna work unless there is something "extra" in it for them.

The world is full of nincompoops and incompetent people, but I think the airline/travel industry has the most of them. Either that or they just don't want to live up to their "service industry" tag. The service they are providing is to themselves in filling up their pockets.

You try buying air tickets on the net and don't realise the amount of hidden "service" charges or taxes you end up paying. Most websites have hiked up their service charges to a minimum of Rs.500 per person. That's a lot considering that you are doing all the searching and planning and paying. The cancellation charges are exorbitant to say the least and most websites don't even disclose the charges when you book the tickets. They just say that some airline cancellation charges apply. They may run into several thousand rupees plus "service charge".

At a travel agent's desk the situation is worse. They make you wait for ages while they chat away with their boyfriends/girlfriends or file their nails or something (this actually happened to me today). If you are only buying one ticket they are not even interested in you. If you are doing a bulk booking they might offer you a glass of water, nothing more.

Restaurants apply service charges too these days to compensate for people not tipping. You can distinguish such restaurants by their really bad service. The waiters know that you are being forced to tip anyway so why put in any efforts for it.

Stores like Big Bazaar have attendants who stand around chatting. They glare at you or are flippant with their replies if you ask for help. They are gonna get paid their salary anyway as long as they are generally present at the scene of work. No actual "work" need be done. Only the ones at perfume counters are proactive because they probably work on commission.

Why is it that we don't want to work any more for the salary we are paid unless we are given a commission or a tip or a service charge over and above that?

Donate for a cause

2010-09-08T15:57:00.002+05:30

Just when I was in the mood for shopping it started pouring cats and dogs. Just as well, I really didn't know what I wanted to buy. I think I'll buy myself a happiness cake, a piece of heaven and a big red umbrella for when it rains.

Today's newspaper says that $75,000 annually is enough to buy happiness. Anything above that doesn't really make a difference. So anyone out there with spare change over $75,000 please pass it on to me. Don't worry about me, I'll manage even if the figure crosses the 75K mark.

Chalti ka naam gaadi

2010-08-19T07:37:00.004+05:30

The first time I tried learning to drive was in Bangalore. The main issue was the language barrier. The old man who taught me (or tried to) didn't know English too well and I stumbled on Kannada. So after a disastrous 10 days of "Amma leftu, amma rightu, amma stop stop"... I gave up.

So when I joined up for lessons here in Mumbai, I wasn't too hopeful of getting anywhere with my driving. Surprisingly after 5 days of training, my trainer declared that I am a natural at it and that I should go ahead and take my own car out on weekends (with Chrys supervising of course). It's been almost a month now and my driving lessons are over. There were a few tense moments but mostly it was smooth sailing. I dodged hand-carts, BEST buses, school-children running zig-zag, honking taxi drivers and even helmet-less traffic policemen. I can park into tight spaces, my hand-eye coordination has improved and I can drive a gear-shift vehicle as good as an automatic.

I drive my own car once in a while with Chrys accompanying me. I will appear for the final test next week and once I get my license I will be free to drive alone.

So one of my fears has been conquered. Next step - learn swimming.

Yeh achi baat nahi hai

2010-07-30T12:29:00.002+05:30

The guy who trains me to drive is good at his job, but I still detest him and his car.

Firstly he is as covered in pan stains as the walls of KEM hospital... Oh wait! The doctors cleaned that up themselves. I wish the trainer takes a cue and bathes in a drum of Dettol or something.

Secondly the car he brings looks like it's been reclaimed from the junk-yard. The seatbelt is so tattered that I don't think it's of any use at all. The gear stick sometimes ends up in the 3rd when I try putting it in the 1st. The brakes don't work when you need them to... in fact today I hit the brake and the car speeded up! I swear it wasn't the accelerator!!!

Every time I make a mistake the guy says, "Acha!?!". Just the way Kader Khan says it disbelievingly when his sons come up with some bizarre schemes in "Haseena maan jayegi".

I flinch every time he does that for fear of being hit by a spray of pan juice. I am reminded of the scene in "Main hoon na" where Sharukh Khan dodges the spray of saliva from Satish Shah's mouth by doing a Matrix style stunt. Unfortunately the insides of a battered Santro are not suitable for such stunts.

All said and done, I believe I am proving to be less hazardous to the Mumbai roads than the time I started off.

Godot can wait

2010-07-29T17:43:00.002+05:30

Facebook is interesting yet a little irritating at times. I posted a comment about my migraine and immediately I received a private message from an ex-colleague. She asked me to have it checked coz someone she knew died of cancer. Apparently it had started with a migraine. This really scared me. I mean I don't want cancer. However some people tend to jump to conclusions without first checking. She could have first asked me if I have seen a doctor about it and then gently put this across. I hardly know this girl. What did she gain by scaring the daylights out of me.

Anyway, I went to Breach Candy today. I told the doctor all symptoms. He asked if I had a cold. I said no. He then asked me to get a simple brain scan done. This set all alarm bells ringing. I had the scan done and waited for the doctor to get the result. I waited almost an hour and while I was waiting I imagined all sorts of things. I imagined that I was going to die of cancer. Worse still I had to shave my head (yeah! I have my priorities right). I mentally made a will of my meagre possessions. I planned on telling Chrys to remarry but not too soon else I might come back to haunt him. And loads of such morbid stuff. Then the doctor called me in and told me that my sinus was blocked on the right side and I need to see an ENT about it.

Phew! I'm not dying.

2010-07-27T12:08:00.002+05:30

Since a lot of unexpected reactions are happening before my next embryo transfer can happen, the doctor told me not to take any OTC medication without first consulting her. I never do.

However since the past two days I am suffering from severe headache. The symptoms are all like migraine. I consulted my gynaec's assistant and she has said she will get back to me about what I should do. I have read that taking contraceptive pills during migraine attacks could increase the risk of strokes. Since I am on a pill, I am scared. Hope it's not serious, but this one sided headache just wouldn't go away. The doctor said it's safe to take an analgesic tablet. I had taken crocin, but that doesn't help much. Need to take Crocin pain-relief if it gets worse.

Will try and sleep it off after lunch.

Aage se right

2010-07-22T18:56:00.003+05:30

I finally gathered courage to join driving classes. This morning a set of us newbies were bunched into a Trax and taken to the RTO. Being the only "ladies" in the group I was asked to sit in front with the driver. The RTO is tucked away in an almost inaccessible corner of Tardeo... inaccessible to vehicles that is... someone in authority has a funny bone. Somehow we managed to reach in one piece. As usual the people in charge (policemen) wore their best "I-wanna-kill-you" expressions" and we "kacha" licence walas cowered in the corner. One by one out forms were verfied and then there was more waiting while all the guys stared at anything that looked female.

Then the herd was taken to a hall where we were given token numbers - again the "ladies" got special treatment and almost immediately my number was called. After being photographed, fingerprinted and all we were asked to wait for the "Test". All around us in the waiting room there were large boards with possible questions put up with three options. The driving school had also given me a peice of paper with all road signs.

The testing area was funky. We were all assigned numbers and seated accordingly. There was a table with a there-buttoned instrument kept in front of every chair. These were labled A,B and C. The test consisted of ten questions with three options each. You had to score 6 or above to pass. I got 9 (I knew the answer to the 10th one but pressed the wrong button in hurry). The questions were very easy, but surprisingly a few people failed. The failed ones were detained in the room while the rest were asked to leave. As I was walking out a random guy came up to me and said, "Thank you madam". I asked, "What for?". He said, "I was sitting behind you and copied all your answers". I felt like punching him in the nose, but my self-preservation instinct took over and I didn't. Tomorrow I start terrorizing the roads.

Ande ka funda

2010-07-17T09:24:00.006+05:30

In the past two years I have become an expert in some medical terms. However it is funny to see some people linked to the medical profession use colloquial terms. In Feb we decided to start IVF treatment. The procedure involves taking a lot of injections daily, monitoring the growth of the oocytes and then retrieving them when they are ready. The clinic I go to likes to do all it's retrievals on the same day. So they try and bunch together as many women as possible. Mine was scheduled for a Monday. I visited the clinic two days earlier to collect my final injection dose and take instructions for the extraction procedure which is done under anaesthesia. There is a nurse in the clinic (a Malayalee of course) who I like to refer to as the mother hen. She looks like one, walks like one and even clucks at you once in a while.

So, this nurse saw me and asked if I am ready for the procedure. I said yes. Then she turned around and told the receptionist - "Sabke ande Monday ko nikalenge"

Just before I went under anaesthesia, I remembered this comment and was giggling away groggily.

Follow the art

2010-07-15T19:01:00.003+05:30

I wish life, like a lot of books I read, started at the end. I wish I knew if everything ties up all neatly or if it forms some sort of an abstract unintelligible painting. I wouldn't mind the latter if the process of reaching there is all fun and adventure. Just like throwing paint on a large white wall and hoping that it creates ART.

Confessions of a blogaholic

2010-07-14T18:46:00.003+05:30

My blogs (especially the old one) have borne witness to a lot of ups and downs in my life. I went through several jobs, broke an engagement then fell in love with my best friend, got married and all these events were documented on my blog. So, I don't really know what happened that I decided to not write about my struggles with endometriosis and the resultant infertility. For some reason I decided my public diary couldn't be privy to my most intimate struggle to become a mother. So while I went through painful and frustrating treatments with endless negative results, my blog remained silent about it all.

Today, after watching the movie, "Marley and me", I decided that I want my blog to know everything. What triggered it was a scene in the movie where Jennifer Aniston sits at her kitchen table and browses through the numerous write-ups she had cut out from her husband's column of several years. She says that no matter how bad her day is, no matter how many hundreds of things have gone wrong, she still had those five minutes of her husband's writing to relieve her of her stress and remind her of some good times.

I do that all the time. I go back and read my old blog posts. Most of all I read Chrys' blog. I adore his wit and sharp commentary on everyday stuff. He never fails to make me laugh and that is why I fell in love with him (in addition to the fact that he is extremely sexy).

So, when several years down the line, I come back to read about today, I don't want to miss out some important bits. I know I will have this painful memory locked away in some part of my brain, but writing and then later reading about it somehow makes it less painful.

Without pain one wouldn't value the sweetness of joy. My struggle to become a mother continues but not in silence anymore.

Khoon choos liya

2010-07-03T09:29:00.002+05:30

"Tum mujhe khoon do, main tumhe aazadi doonga" said Netaji several years ago.

Today the lab technician says "Tum mujhe khoon do, main tumhe 30,000 ka bill doonga"

Yes, Rs.30,000 is what my blood tests cost. Khoon bhi gaya, paise bhi gaye.

Keep it aside.

2010-06-27T10:32:00.004+05:30

Thirty five years after Dharmendra climbed on that water tank and screamed - "Soocide", it seems to have become the in thing these days. Farmers are doing it, models are doing it. Heck! Even little kids are doing it. I say, Angrez chale gaye, soocide chod gaye.

But then again, it's not such a modern fad I guess. Cleopatra did it with snakes, Romeo and Juliet chose poison and daggers. Virginia Woolf stuffed her pockets with stones and jumped into the river.

If only these dumb-ass idiots gave it another thought. Well, ok, the way the things are these days with the world - global warming, female infanticide, Himesh Reshammiya movies - no wonder one wants to exit before the final credits roll. But, hey, who are you to kill the bacteria in your guts before their time has arrived? Give a little thought to the little creatures that depend on you. Oh no wait! The bacteria just start eating you up when you die... so they are cool.

But there must be something worth living for you sad little fools! If not anything, live for the feel of raindrops on your face when you are caught in a cloud burst. Live for the irritating sound of crows cawing outside your window every morning (that's the closest thing to birdsong in Mumbai city). Live for the smell of the fresh morning air mingled with delicious exhaust fumes. Live for the high you get haggling with the taxi driver over charging you.

Oh what heck! Forget what I said. Just live ya.... don't kill yourself... you owe it to... well... yourself.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

2010-06-20T10:45:00.006+05:30

When I was younger I was fascinated by men in uniform and if the uniform is of a fighter pilot nothing like it. Of course I never met any fighter pilots in my sleepy little one-horse town, but who's to stop a little girl from dreaming? Some of my male friends have admitted to wanting to grow up and become a fighter pilot (without going through the stressful training involved of course). I knew only one girl who wanted to become one... gender bias exists when we dream too. I'm sure a lot of young girls are smitten by a guy in uniform... the funniest representation of this is shown in the series "30 Rock" where Tina Fey's character 'Liz Lemon' always fantasises being married to Astronaut Mike Dexter who is always roaming about in his astronaut's uniform.

Now, finally Chrys and I have a friend who is a genuine fighter pilot in the Indian Navy (yeah, Navy also has airplanes). Yesterday, we were out for dinner and this (much married) fighter pilot friend of ours was joking that he had a good view. Since we were sitting at a restaurant at the seaside we thought he meant the sea-view. It turned out he meant the view of a table across where four young girls were sitting and chatting away animatedly. Maybe because all of us turned and openly stared at those girls or maybe they didn't really like the table... whatever the case, they shifted their seats to a different part of the restaurant. Our friend was disappointed. I told him that he should have gone up to them and told them that he was a fighter pilot. That could have made them change places and seat themselves back where our fighter pilot could get a good view. Then again, maybe not. He was not in uniform you see.

Raj-peepee Spoofie

2010-06-14T10:03:00.005+05:30

Cast:

Sorryman - Ran-far Kapoor

Logwood Bhaiya - Karjun Rampage

Veermooch Bhaiya - Manoj Loud Baja bhai

Shakuni Mama - Papa Natekar

Kunti Maiya - Somebody

Bade Papa - Nobody

Chotte Papa - Somebody's husband

Tharki Buddha - Screechudin Shah

Jeyshth Putra - Ajay Godgun

Sindoori Bindu - Hurricane Katrina

Blondie - Sarah Tom Tom

Blousie - Shruti Shame Shame

Some assorted goondas and policemen (or both)

It all begins when Sorryman arrives in India to attend Bade Papa's Happy Burdday. At the sight of him Bade Papa pukes and has a stroke... so much for the Happy Burdday. Sorryman is really sorry but Bade Papa has gotten paralysed. Veermooch Bhaiya tries to grab the opportunity to become the president of the political party that Bade Papa and Chotte Papa have built. But paralytic Papa will have none of it. He drools out instructions that are read under a specially built microscope and makes Chotte Papa the president. Automatically Logwood Bhaiya who is the son of Chotte Papa gains more power.

Meanwhile Sindoori Bindu is trying her best to seduce Sorryman. But he says Sorry and she throws away the champagne. Blousie makes an appearance to try and seduce Logwood Bhaiya to grant her a party ticket. He is seduced alright, but his wooden expression fails to reveal that he had absolutely no intentions of granting tickets to women who can't even manage their saree pallu.

Jeyshth Putra is meanwhile roaming around trying to look important but no one pays him any attention till Veermooch Bhaiya takes him under his large moustache wings.

Chotte Papa's film contract expires and he is shot at. Sorryman is really very Sorry now and tries in vain to donate blood and save him. In the process he gets slapped by a cop and says Sorry to him too. Logwood Bhaiya gets arrested on no particular charges. Blousie decides to sue him for sexual harassment. Now that Logwood Bhaiya has criminal cases against himself he has become the perfect candidate for the CM's post. All he needs is money which Sindoori Bindu's father can provide. So Sorryman and Shakuni Mama arrange a marriage between the two. Sindoori raves and rants but shuts up when Blondie turns up to smooch Sorryman. Everyone is sorry that it happened.

Sindoori Bindu cannot accept Logwood Bhaiya as her husband. But one day he returns home after brutally murdering the cop that slapped Sorryman and Blousie. This makes Sindoori change her mind and she decides that it is best to sleep with Logwood coz he is a man of action unlike Sorryman. Sorryman is really sorry to no one in particular and decides to make do with Blondie. Blondie's pregnant, Sindoori's pregnant and everyone is sorry...oops happy.

But wait, Veermooch Bhaiya and Jeyshth Putra have had enough of all this sleeping around nonsense and decide that it's time for a bomb blast in the movie to keep the audience interested. The bomb blasts and Logwood gets burnt like a log of wood and Blondie becomes blackie. Sorryman is really really Sorry.

Shakuni Mama decides to murder Jeyshth Putra only to realise that he is Kunti Maiya (i.e Shakuni's sister's) illegitimate child from Tharki Buddha. Tharki Buddha was a great revolutionary and Kunti Maiya was his chief assistant. However they slept with each other and Tharki Buddha lost his mind and ran away. Kunti Maiya was not married so she dumped the baby in the river. A limo driver found the baby and raised him as his own. Kunti Maiya goes to Jeyshth Putra and requests him to come join Sorryman. But Jeyshth Putra is in love with Veermooch Bhaiya and he finds his moustache a more secure place and chooses to stay put under it.

Sorryman is now really sorry that so many people have died and decides to kill some more. So he kills the irritating Veermooch Bhaiya and Jeyshth Putra for good measure. He then decides he has enough of all this Raj-peepee and asks Sindoori Bindu to become the CM while he runs off the U.S.A to become a teacher. Our judicial system is really sorry for having let go of a murderer.

I am sorry for having watched this movie.

One observation: Everytime someone has sex in the movie, the girl gets pregnant.

Chee Chee Money Shanker

2010-06-10T10:16:00.004+05:30

So, everyone knows this particular Dhongi Baba, who peddles classes to teach you to breath and makes millions out of it, got shot at (allegedly) and a poor bystander bore the brunt. Mr. Dhongi Baba didn't miss the chance for free publicity. He quickly enrolled the bystander into his classes and claimed him for a disciple. Then he went around feeling pity for the shooter.

Next morning he woke up to find that the news had grown cold. So he went about proclaiming that he forgave the shooter. Immediately after, he claimed to have clearly heard the shot and demanded that the police take the incident seriously and arrest the culprit. He made lots of noise to show that he wasn't afraid and even offered to enrol the shooter into one of his courses (of course he would have to pay the price first).

Finally it turned out that it was just some guy on a farm 2.5 kms shooting at stray dogs attacking his sheep. He was shooting in the air and the bullet travelled far. I wonder how Dhongi Baba heard the shot fired from 2.5 kms away. I also wonder if the gun-happy farm owner had shot straight up would he have brought down a plane? Nah!

Weirdos all of them I say!

The rape of a city

2010-06-06T08:09:00.002+05:30

When I first shifted to Mumbai I was only 5 and totally fascinated by the language, the local trains, the low flying aircrafts over my Chembur home and most of all the Arabian sea. We would visit Juhu beach as often as we could or else make do with an outing to Diamond garden in Chembur.

The househelps were always Maharashtrians wearing their sarees the traditional way and called bai. The machiwali was a Koli wearing chunky gold ornaments, shouting and abusing you if you tried to bargain for the fish. Every evening as soon as mummy gave permission (after completing the homework), we ran out to play in the large housing society. There were no slides or jhoolas, but we enjoyed the games of chor-police, I-spy and langadi.

Today this city has changed beyond recognition. The language you hear around is more likely to be bhojpuri than marathi. Your househelp is most likely a Bangladeshi immigrant from Dharavi. There are no machiwalis any more with their wicker baskets. Instead there are machiwala bhaiyas with their plastic tubs and diamond earrings quoting exorbitant rates for a small pomfret. There are gated communities with their high-end security systems and multi-storeyed parking lots; surrounded by the slums where their house-helps stay. The beach is choc-a-bloc with people, garbage and food-stalls and the sea is choking with the tonnes of sewage the city pours into it everyday. Whatever we humans set out to do to this little island city, we have been thorough with it.

Sookha – An asinine blog story - Part III(Conclusion)

2010-05-15T09:00:00.003+05:30

By Seema Smile. With absolutely ridiculous inputs from B

Summary: Bhairav Pati(BP), Pudina Patni(PP) married. Lala interrupts suhag raat. PP faints. Three years later, PP surfaces as a nurse in Amrika (USA yaar!). Meets Doosra Aadmi(DA) who has lost his memory in an accident. DA is being cared for by PP. Another foreplay...knock on the door ruining it all.

Note: PP had fainted on her suhaag raat. She was whisked away by her kind uncle to Amrika, before she could gain consciousness. The sensible reader is not around, so I can safely imply that she already had her passport and visa ready for such emergencies. The kind uncle turned unkind because he too was sautela.(Sensible reader stay away). So after dar dar bhatkoeing(door door roaming-literally) PP lands a job as a hospital nurse.

Read on…

PP opens the door to reveal a very hassled and door-knobbish expression clad BP. He looks at her palm leaf skirt and past her at DA, who is lounging on the sofa in a pair of torn jeans... shirtless.

BP: (borrowing lines from dad) “Kutte! Main tera khoon pi jaunga.”

PP: “I can’t allow that, he is anaemic. What are you doing in Amrika?”

DA: “PP, who’s this door knob? Tell him this is the wrong door he is trying to attach himself to.”

PP: “Shut up DA, this is my husband!”

BP: “PP, why did you do this to me. Wasn’t I an adarsh Indian patni-vrata pati?”

PP: “Oh, Bhairav, forgive me. Believe me, I am as pure as the day of our incomplete suhaag raat. That is of course because you interrupted us. But that is not important. I got carried away. This DA is such a handsome guy, I really couldn’t resist. Take me away BP, take me away.”

DA: “PP, what are you talking about. How dare you? You are mine. You can’t leave me. Come lets complete what we started. Ignore the door knob.”

DA lunges towards PP, BP steps forward. “Kutte! Main tera khoon pi jaunga”

DA: “Say something I don’t know buddy. Get out of my way.”

The gist of the matter is that, DA and BP are involved in a series of fisticuffs at the end of which DA ends up with a bump on his head and a recovered memory.

He suddenly remembers that on the day of the accident, he was on his way to meet Hot Babe-HB (Mallika Sherawat). He knew HB from college and she loved providing back support to him on his bike. But later he got thrown into jail for performing senseless stunts on his bike… involving a woman and ahem some song n dance and ahem… you know what I mean.

HB is married to her dead sister’s husband (Another hottie? Nah! We couldn’t find anyone to do a guest appearance. John Abraham refused to do it. So we have Bobby Deol in disguise as a beardless sardar, doubling up as HB ka pati with the same door-knobbish expression that has become an inspiration to a lot of men in the north of the Vindhyas). All this is shown in Eastman color flashback for the viewing pleasure of the fans of Mallika.

Now, PP is hot with her newly acquired endowments, but HB is hotter- naturally well endowed you see! So, DA picks up his belongings, gives a hurried kiss to PP (much to the chagrin of doorknob…oops BP I mean) and rushes off to find Hot Babe.

Bhairav Pati and Pudina Patni are left alone to complete what they had started 3 years ago. PP, quickly finds a 6” by 6” cloth, covers her head and bends down to touch BP’s feet. BP is taken aback, thinks he is being attacked and tries to escape… he stumbles and falls on to the glass table. Fear not, he isn’t injured, just a small cut on his thumb. Umm… there is no bandage around, so he decides to wipe the blood on PP’s forehead… *loud music*. PP thinks BP is filling sindoor into her maang. She immediately hugs him.

Now, BP wouldn’t resist such advances, he knows what to do next.

Suddenly out of the blue two flowers come into the frame... the flowers are swaying in the breeze, close together, touching each other... you know what that implies. And they live happily ever after.

The End

Sigh! I love happy endings.

Questions that will remain unanswered. This is NOT a quiz, so spare your gray cells.

1. Where was BP all this while? Ok, he was leching at women, but in which gaon?

2. Why didn’t Lala Kirodimal get punished for his vile ways?

3. Why didn’t Hot Babe come looking for DA when he didn’t turn up on the day of the accident?

4. How could PP oscillate between liking DA and BP?

5. What is the relevance of Sookhagaon in all this?

6. Why the name Sookha?

7. Main Kahan Hoon?

Sookha – An asinine blog story - Part II

2010-05-14T09:00:00.003+05:30

Summary: Pudina Patni(PP) is a village belle in backless cholis and low waist ghagras.

That should suffice as a summary. What? You want to know more? Why don’t you just go ahead read Part I. Well, ok, I’ll write a little more in the summary.

Bhairav Pati(BP) and Pudina Patni(PP) are married off in a lavish ceremony held by PP’s step-father, Lala Kirodimal. On the suhaag raat, Lala decides to turn up at BP’s house to demand repayment on a 2 lakhs loan he had taken or risk his house being auctioned... an interrupted suhaag raat, an unconscious PP, a tied to the bed BP, lots of melodrama in between.... read on.

Fast forward to 3 years later.

Location: Amrika (US of A for those who don’t know English)

Scene: A large hospital. PP is a nurse here.

Now as a sensible reader (if you have reached this far), you would ask, how did a village belle turn into a nurse in Amrika. Well, all I have to say to you is - leave now. This story is not for sensible readers.

Hmm, so PP is a nurse. She misses her Sookhagaon, especially her backless cholis and low waist ghagras. But, they are more than compensated by the plunging necklines and rising hemlines of her nurse uniform.

There has been a major accident on the highway. An Indian man has been hit by a car and brought in seriously injured. Blood everywhere. Surprisingly, his face is unscathed except for a casually placed cut on his lower lip. He is mumbling incoherently. PP, appearing very businesslike is accompanying him while he is being wheeled into the operation theater. The OT is filled with doctors of all shapes and sizes. Just a digression, how many doctors does it take to operate on an accident victim? Anyways, so all these doctors are angrez.

PP is the only nurse in this doctor filled room. No wonder they are all sweating in this AC room. So after a lot of tinkering with pots and pans...oops I mean scalpels and scissors, the doctors declare that the man is out of danger, but has lost his memory.

Now the sensible reader (who has the impudence to stay back and read so far) asks, how did they know about the memory loss? There was no head injury, neither has the patient woken up and said Main kaun hoon? . My answer: LEAVE RIGHT NOW.

PP is witness to the operation and the pronouncement made after it. She immediately tries to get information about him. All identification papers have been burnt in the accident. She is a kind soul and decides that she will take care of this poor, memory-deprived man.

This is the second case of amnesia she had come across, so she decides to call him Doosra Aadmi - DA for short. Don’t ask which the first case was coz that’s not relevant to the story. DA recovers consciousness after a week and in a few days he is discharged from the hospital. Where does he go? Well, to PP’s house of course!

PP nurtures him and generally caters to all his whims and fancies, which include her dressing up in a skirt made of palm leaves and dancing in the room. Now, the reader must note here that DA has lost his memory, but he still is a grown man, capable of emotions, feelings and all related stuff. He has a growing fondness for PP, a fondness that has gradually turned to obsession. PP can do that to perfectly normal men, and this is DA we are talking about here. DA in his pre-accident life was a Casanova, who chased anything in skirts. (He was banned from Scotland because of this)

So, anyways, PP is also attracted to DA. Look, she is only human… an Indian… but still human. They end up having another foreplay song-n-dance... again with no extras dancing around. PP is second time unlucky...coz along comes another knock on the door.

Who could it be? Would PP and DA end what they started? Would DA recover his memory in the process? What about BP in Sookhagaon? Was he still reeling under the effect of the draught and failed suhaag raat?

For all this and more, come back for the third and concluding part of Sookha- An asinine blog story.

Sookha – An asinine blog story - Part I

2010-05-13T11:38:00.001+05:30

Note: These posts were made on my old blog right after the release of a ridiculous movie called 'Barsaat - a sublime love story'. I never watched that movie. However, I spoofed it based on the trailers on T.V. My friend B helped and we had a blast writing this one.

After the success(?) of Barsaat - A sublime love story... here comes a path-breaking film....

Sookha – An asinine blog story

By Seema Smile (with unimaginative and senseless inputs from B)

Cast:

Bhairav Pati (BP)- Bobby Deol

Doosra Aadmi (DA) - Emraan Hashmi

Pudina Patni (PP) - Bipasha Basu

Lala Kirodimal - Unfriendly guest appearance by Shakti Kapoor

Hot Babe: Miniscule guest appearance by Mallika Sherawat

The story begins in a small village called Sookhagaon in some part of India...don't ask which part... it is not relevant to the story. Ok, it may have jhoolofying sarson ke khet right next door to swaying palm trees. Ok, there may be karva-chauth vrats accompanied by disco dandiya rituals.... but the location is still irrelevant.

Hmm, so Sookhagaon is going through a bad drought and famine, but that does not stop Lala Kirodimal from planning a lavish wedding for his ik-lauti beti,Pudina. Pudina is a shy Indian girl, a bhartiya nari, who wears nothing but backless cholis and low waist ghagras, with her dupatta hanging precariously on her ...ahem ... ample bosom.

After being the toast of the village, the star of every young man's dreams, Pudina has decided to meekly listen to her father and marry the man he chose for her- Bhairav.

Bhairav is your regular country-side bloke. With expressions that could have serious competition from wooden door-knobs, Bhairav has no difficulty in showing excitement... with a forlorn and lost expression that seems to say 'What am I doing in this movie?". He has been in love with Pudina ever since she slapped him when she caught him leching at the great Indian mela that was held in the Yashraj Films premises (filmed right after K3G Kajol-Shahrukh mela scene). It is an entirely different matter that she had just finished a sensuous dance in the rain wearing a white ghagra-choli in full view of the entire village. It also is coincidental that she chose to slap only Bhairav, from among the 200 odd men who were leching, including the spot boys, director and producer of this movie. Bhairav had no maa-behen at home and therefore he deserved a slap. That slap changed Bhairav's life. He had stopped leching at other women in public.... he now learned to disguise it as brotherly affection.

So there, it was a perfect match... Bhairav-Pudina. They were married in a simple ceremony that lasted 2 song-n-dance routines (with the skimpily clad bride joining in) and had 1000 or more extras doing synchronised jhatkas without missing a beat.

The transformation is quick... Bharav is now a Patni-vrata Pati (henceforth refered to as Bhairav Pati - BP for short). Pudina is a demure Pudina Patni-PP.

The suhaag raat scene has the two indulging in a hell lot of foreplay (another song-n-dance...without extras this time), but before anything could happen, they are rudely interrupted by a knock on the door. The door opens to reveal a wickedly smiling Lala Kirodimal.

It so happens that Bhairav Pati(BP) had taken 2 lakhs ka karzaa(loan) and girvified(mortgaged) his house with him. The deadline for paying back the loan was today and Lala- a heartless man, had chosen this very day to nilaamify(auction) BP's house. Pudina Patni(PP) is horrified. She can't believe that her own father would do this to her. Apparently the marriage was a diversion created so that he could take over BP's property while he was busy at his suhaag raat.

Why did Lala do this? Why would someone ruin his own daughter’s life?

GUAUHAHA.... read on...

Lala is PP’s mom’s sautela pati.... oops doosra pati... by that relation he is PP’s step-father. He had already gained control over PP’s mom’s property. Now he wanted PP out of his way too. So he killed two birds with one stone...or one marriage in this case.

BP is livid with rage... not at the prospect of losing his property (he already knew he couldn’t repay the loan), but at the ruined suhaag raat. PP, as any traditional bhartiya naari, quickly covers herself and falls at Lala’s feet, begging for mercy. Lala lets out a devilish laugh (on the lines of HE HAW HAW HAW) and orders his men to tie BP to the bed and start the auction process. PP can’t take it anymore and faints.

What would happen now? Where would BP and PP go? Will Lala be successful in carrying out his plans? Will BP and PP’s marriage survive this agni pariksha(trial by fire)?

All this and the grand entry of Doosra Aadmi(location:Amrika) in Part II of this story. Come back if you aren’t too bored yet.

Badmash Badtameez Buzz off

2010-05-12T09:18:00.003+05:30

Didn't want to stop at post 69 for too long ;)

So, the seventieth post also marks one year on this new blog. I am glad I shifted. Blogger gives me a lot more flexibility than Rediff ever did, but I am really sad that all my precious old posts are now lost because of some stupid bug in Rediff. Six years of nonsense down the drain!

Speaking about bugs, I saw a strange new bug this morning. It must have crept in through my open window. It was all black but it's wings shone with rainbow colours in the sunlight. I am afraid I got too close in my excitement and it must have bit me. I sense an uneasiness just as Peter Parker felt when a spider bit him. Maybe by tomorrow I will turn into a super-heroine or something. I wonder what super powers I will have! I want one where I could flick out my tongue, grab and consume entire ice-cream cones before Chrys asks for a bite (he says one bite and manages to gobble up almost 70% of the ice-cream in one big one).

I wouldn't mind growing wings and swooping down on unsuspecting eve-teasers and slapping them or giving them a strong poke with my umbrella which will materialise when I say "Umbrella appearum" or something like that. I need to work on my spells.

I wish I had an umbrella two days ago when Chrys and I took a cab from Worli. I happened to sit in the seat behind the driver. For a while I was chatting away quite animatedly before I realised that the cab driver was constantly adjusting his rear view mirror. He was openly staring at me... or a part of me. It really made me uncomfortable. I shifted closer to Chrys and told him the problem. Chrys gave him a stare, but that didn't stop him from continuing to ogle. Finally we stopped the cab and took another one. I was really not in my 'Jhansi ki Rani' mood to bash up that bas...ket.

That reminds me of a scene in 'Badmash Company' that we saw last night. This lecherous guy looks at Anushka Sharma or rather at her bosom and says, 'Aap ne bataya nahi aap kahan se hain'. She quickly covers her bosom with a blanket and says, 'Yeh baat nahi karte'.

Colour discrimination

2010-05-07T08:43:00.005+05:30

This morning I opened the curtains to my balcony and saw that all the white coloured clips from my clothesline were lying on the floor. I picked them up and put them back on the clothesline. The other clips were not disturbed. I walked away confused. Then I heard a commotion in the balcony. I turned around and saw a crow trying to disengage a white coloured clip from the clothesline. Mystery solved!

Sound and light show- groan

2010-05-02T10:37:00.004+05:30

Last evening I met my ex-boss Appy. She recently shifted to Mumbai from Bangalore and loves the city for the freedom it offers single women. We roamed around Phoenix Mills for a while but really got bored of the weekend chaos there. So we headed to Valhalla in Churchgate. We picked up Chrys on the way.

As we were approaching Churchgate we witnessed some amazing fireworks as part of the Maharashtra Day celebrations. At Valhalla we realised that it was a dry day. That really spoilt Chrys's mood although Appy and I were Ok to just sit and chat. However after two starters (really delicious), Chrys wanted to head home and see if we had some booze there for the rest of the evening. Just as we headed to the door our waiter suggested that we should check out if the Dome in Intercontinental would serve alcohol. We called up, they said they served alcohol AND had a table free. We quickly hailed a cab and on the way saw some more of the laser show action on Marine Drive.

Dome is an open air restaurant so I was a bit sceptical about sitting there in the summer heat. However we were pleasantly surprised to note that there was a pleasant breeze and they also had tower air coolers all over the place. It was lovely sitting there watching the laser show outside, however the loud music emanating from the loud speakers on Marine Drive (again-part of the Maharashtra Day celebrations) put us off a bit. Meanwhile our friend A called up and asked if we wanted to pop in to her house for a surprise party thrown by her friends for her birthday. We thought we'll decide that later depending on our inclination after dinner. We hardly ordered any snacks coz surprisingly no one was feeling hungry. Appy and I sat bitching about a rather mismatched couple sitting a distance away. They were continuously making out on the sofa oblivious to the world around. It was actually gross because it looked like a boss-secretary relationship..... Anyway, who cares!

The only thing that dampened my night out was that I threw up on reaching home. Something didn't go too well with the glass of wine I guess.

2010-05-01T16:55:00.001+05:30

Chrys joke (Ok! I'm making a habit of it)

Interviewer to Solar System: Hey, where's your friend Hailey?

Solar System: No Comet!

2010-04-30T17:03:00.005+05:30

Yesterday we were watching this movie called "Ella Enchanted"... nothing great. But, there was this one joke in it (which I missed coz I was in the kitchen).

Apparently there was some big party thrown by the royalty and this really old bitchy type character wanted to look young for it. So she is prescribed a face pack of Bat faeces and Ox faeces - BoTox... lol! The result - she looked like a cross between a very surprised bat and an angry Ox.

Although I don't think an Ox can be crossed with anything because it's a castrated bull!!!

Speaking of which, I am reminded of a very old Chrys joke.

If Aishwarya Rai had breast augmentation, would that be called "Rai ka pahaad banana"?

2010-04-17T07:40:00.007+05:30

Since Chrys is too lazy to make any posts, I'm posting a couple of his latest jokes (mostly second standard level)

Father Lion to cub: What do you want to do when you grow up?

Cub: I think I'll get into the roaring business

Speaking of which tabloids these days are doing roaring business exposing sleazy scandal after scandal in the IPL franchise. And now some underworld dons have also entered the crease. Rust in pieces you corrupt fellas.

Oh! Another Chrys joke

Don ko pakadna mushkil hi nahi... nobody's interested either!

Prince - the king of all cliches

2010-04-12T12:23:00.005+05:30

The most awaited movie of the year, "Prince It's Showtime" released this weekend and Chrys and I watched it last night. Wow, what an experience! (I'm being sarcastic here)

Here is a blow by blow (or should I say shot by shot) account of our harrowing experience (although Chrys thoroughly enjoyed it)

So our hero is this master of disguise and can pull off a jewellery heist in a high security setup. How innovative! You've only seen this before in Snatch, Mission Impossible, Ocean's eleven and twelve and thirteen and a dozen other movies. What you haven't seen probably is that the diamonds are stolen using a powerful vacuum cleaner :O

The title credits show a very paunchy Vivek Oberoi trying to imitate Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt and failing miserably. Oh and like the Iron Man, our hero is also an innovator with a shady lab at his disposal where he generally impales random objects with his arrow shooting wrist-cuff or whatever you may call it. He also does a Minority Report type of scene, randomly moving his hands in the air, thereby operating a hologram type computer.... WOW!

Then suddenly he wakes up one day and has no memory of anything. Bourne Identity anyone?

Taking advantage of his lost memory a lot of skimpily clad girls try to sleep with him claiming to be his girlfriend Maya and then try to kill him (was he so bad in bed?)

The villain makes an entry in a swimming pool with large dogs for company.... gross! Oh wait, the dogs were outside the pool. My bad!

So the white collar criminal proceeds to walk around in expensive suits, blow up expensive airplanes and generally act as a pain the wrong places for people all around. He also has terminator style hand to strangulate anyone (or break open walnuts or coconuts for all I care).

The main hero of this movie is a coin that keeps disappearing. Everyone is after it coz it has some magical chip embedded in it that can alter people's memories. The CBI officer explains that this could have a lot of use in defence... Yeah we can make all Pakistanis forget about Kashmir!

The movie is so random that it is just a sequence of stunts performed by all and sundry (at one point one 'Ramu kaka' type character also turns out to be a bad guy and starts shooting at people). The girls keep appearing out of nowhere... sometimes parasailing, sometimes dancing at sleazy bars, sometimes walking out of steamy showers curtains. Lots and lots of bullets are fired but everyone is a bad shot and no one gets killed (except for the audience).

If you want a truly mind-numbing experience, go watch this film.

Love, Cheques aur Mauka

2010-04-08T10:23:00.004+05:30

This Ayesha aka Maha is one cool operator. First, she allegedly trapped a young and good-looking cricketer in far away Pakistan into marrying her solely based on some stolen pictures and some hot chat room romance. (I refuse to believe that Shoaib could have actually married this girl being shown on T.V.) Then she slapped a case on him just as he was about to get married to a 'real' woman. When she saw that all her mother's histrionics aren't working, she produced clothes from her wedding night supposedly unwashed ever since.... Yuck! In cricketing terms this is called 'Mauka dekh ke chauka marna'

I guess Shoaib Malik and his family had enough of all the drama so they convinced him to divorce the girl. They took no chances and in the divorce papers the girl's name reads Ayesha alias Maha. The girl's parents seem maha pleased. I wonder how much money has actually changed hands. I don't buy the 15k figure. Mumbai Mirror claims that Shoaib had to shell out 15 cr. to close the chapter.

Hopefully the circus is over. Oh wait! The wedding still remains. Next is what? The Maharashtra government is going to sue both the parties for using only the acronym of the state. No amount of arguments that Maha refers to a girl and not the state will pacify them. They will go about breaking random shop windows and burning buses before they realise that these shops and buses belong to them.

I'm going to hibernate. Call me when all this is over.

Words Worth!

2010-04-06T11:52:00.008+05:30

Although I have always been a voracious reader, the books I read were limited to plays and the Classics such as Shakespeare and the Bronte sisters (Wuthering Heights is my favourite). The depth of my reading was expanded only after I met Chrys. He introduced me to the wonders of Douglas Adams, J.D. Salinger, Joseph Heller and the likes. Together since the past 4.5 years we have added to our collection of books. Our house is filled with books and we have run out of spaces to keep them. We hate lending our books and sometimes re-read a lot of them, especially Catch 22 and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

Recently I purchased a book called The Pregnant King by Devdutt Pattanaik. The author specialises in mythological fiction. This book is a delicious tale with gender-bender situations in them. It was in the 'Crossword Recommends' section of the book-store and had a money back guarantee on it. I don't think I'm ever going to return it. Another book I'm waiting to read is Dork by Sidin Vadukut. It comes highly recommended by a friend and I saw Chrys chuckling his way through it.

I love fantasy and my favourites are The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. The Harry Potter series was good while it lasted. I have read all three books in the Eragon series and am waiting patiently for the final one. I'm not sure if I will like the Twilight series, but they are worth a try considering how popular the movie was.

Asimov's Nightfall, the novel disappointed me. H.G. Wells' The Time Machine is a book that brings goose bumps on my flesh when I read it.

Although I prefer fiction, I have read a couple of auto/biographies. The best one is Losing my Virginity - Richard Branson. There was one about Clark Gable which I found slightly boring. I attempted reading Charlie Chaplin's biography when I was really young but left it mid-way. Maybe I'll re-attempt it now. I have read parts of'My Experiments with Truth, but Mahatma Gandhi's philosophy has to be taken with a pinch of salt.

My romance with books continues and I hate it when some film maker messes up a perfectly good book (except for Five Point Someone - 3 Idiots was far more enjoyable than the book).

Biker Blaze

2010-04-05T10:23:00.004+05:30

After a really long time Chrys and I undertook a bike trip... this one not so long, just to Khandala. But, we soon realised that we are really and truly out of shape... either that or the bike isn't serviced well enough. Our collective bums started hurting even before we hit the mid-way mark.

We started off around 7:45 am on Friday. The roads were empty and the skies were cloudy. Pretty soon though the clouds cleared, however it wasn't too hot. We encountered a little bit of traffic in Chembur, but from the time we reached the Vashi creek bridge, it was smooth flowing. We took a little drive-in break at the McDonald's in Panvel and shot off over the old Mumbai-Pune highway.

From our trip we have learnt that the expressway is actually more crowded than the old highway and it's a boon that bikes are banned on it (read: grapes are sour!)

We stayed at the Dukes Retreat which is neatly perched atop a mountain overlooking a gorgeous valley and several other towering mountains. The view from our room was slightly obscured by mango trees but I wasn't complaining. Lovely exotic birds perched on it's branches and provided for wondrous entertainment.

The first day we relaxed most of the time and jumped into the surprisingly warm pool late in the evening. Pretty soon we sheepishly climbed out coz some little kids really embarrassed us with their amazing swimming skills. I can't swim, neither can Chrys (although he will stiffly contest that)

The evening was nicely rounded off with drinks and dinner at the open air cafe overlooking the valley. Chrys however was disappointed with his long island iced tea which strangely tasted like pan and was served in a glass with Budweiser written on it. Later we lounged on the swinging chairs watching the stars gradually shift across the sky.

One more day was spent lazily and pretty soon it was time for us to leave. On Sunday we had a nice heavy breakfast in their restaurant (which too has an amazing view) and set out (after a little bit of haggling over the charges applied for items in the mini-bar which we never touched) around 11 AM.

We liberally applied sunscreen on our faces and exposed parts of our arms. But we truly under-estimated the power of the Sun God. Within a few kilometres, the blazing sun started sapping our energy. To top that Chrys felt the bike swaying and suspected a puncture. Thankfully there was none. We took a wrong turn at Panvel and went several kilometres the wrong way... along really desolate and depressing landscape with a lot of quarrying activity throwing up clouds of dust everywhere. Finally we stopped to ask someone and we were told to take a U-turn.

By now we were really parched. Thankfully I had carried a bottle of water (which had turned really warm in the sun). Cribbing and cursing we reached home only to find ourselves badly sunburnt. Since Chrys is so fair-skinned he took the major hit. His arms and face are an angry red and burning hot. We applied tomato juice which provided only temporary relief.

So here we are, nursing our sunburns, but glad for the amazing weekend we had.

Well done Abba

2010-03-28T10:38:00.004+05:30

There are dramatic, topical movies with the protagonist fighting for a cause like in MNIK and Kurbaan, and then there are sweet little movies like 'Well done Abba'. Here too the protagonist is after a cause, but in a tragic-comic way which is never overly dramatic, but always subtly humorous.

A few days ago, Chrys and I watched a talk show about 'Moderate Muslims' on NDTV. The discussion panel included bigwigs like SRK, Karan Johar and Kabir Khan. Kabir Khan made a valid point that even today the main lead in a Hindi movie is never depicted a Muslim unless his religious identity is somehow central to the theme of the movie. Other than that this section is depicted as the benevolent Rahim chacha or the terrorist.

'Well done Abba' is however different in the sense that although almost all characters are Muslims, religion is no where central to the theme of the movie. These are normal people with everyday problems like water scarcity. Shyam Benegal brings the little village called Chikatpally in Andhra Pradesh alive with it's Rehman Chacha and Salma chachi, village sarpanch Balamma with her dominating husband, an ever harassed inspector and his two odd-ball constables, an engineer who is only interested in exploring the workings of his wife's anatomy and several others.

Boman Irani who performs the role of both Armaan Ali and his brother Rehman Ali, has yet again given an endearing performance as the oppressed common man. Ila Arun as the chachi is as loud and brazen as her 'Ramsakhi Pannawali' in 'Welcome to Sajjanpur', yet different in some traits. Sameer Dattani and Minnisha Lamba are two extremely talented people who are sadly unexploited in mainstream Hindi movies. Every little character adds to the charm of the movie and just like in 'Welcome to Sajjanpur', this movie has no heroes or villains, just some regular people who can be sweet or mean depending on the situation at hand.

A must watch for everyone.

City of the dead

2010-03-25T07:56:00.002+05:30

In Hindu mythology it is believed that ancestors who have died take offerings from their living relatives through crows. By those standards Mumbai seems to have too many dead souls hovering about. There is an explosion of crow population in the last few years.

It is extremely saddening to see a large group of crows bullying sparrows, parrots and other little birds. Every morning instead of the soft chirping of birds you are rudely awakened by cawing. Now, I don't grudge crows their space in this all absorbing city, but I wish there weren't so many of them. Every tree I see around (whatever few you spot in the city) is covered with them. They are everywhere - on building tops, swooping down on unsuspecting passers-by, scavenging at garbage piles and even taking free rides on the tops of passing vehicles.

Crows are probably the best suited for city life. As are rats and other pests. We city dwellers create the pollution and waste in which only the most sturdy can survive - humans, crows and rats.

One must not forget the ever amorous pigeons. They are always looking for nooks and crannies to build nests and lay eggs. As soon as the young one is healthy enough to fly, they lay more eggs. Whatever time is left between meals, naps and laying eggs, they spend in the courtship dance and the most irritating cooing rituals. Many an afternoon nap is spoiled because of their incessant gutar gu.

2010-03-16T10:47:00.004+05:30

Although I have lived in Mumbai all my life (almost), my earliest clear memory of Gudi Padwa (or Gudhi Padwa as the right pronunciation is) is the fact that I had a chutti in school. We lived in a large colony of Malayalee Christians in Chembur and nobody there seemed to know the significance of this festival.

If was finally in standard eighth after we shifted to a Maharashtrian neighbourhood in Kalyan that I realised that it's such an important festival for the Maharashtrians. The festival marks the arrival of spring (not that it makes any difference in our Mumbai weather!)

There are so many little stories associated with it's origin, starting right from the creation of the world by Brahma after the deluge to the coronation of Lord Rama.

The market place is filled with the sweet smell of jackfuits and the first mangoes have started to arrive.

When in Kalyan, I loved the sight of shiny copper pots and bright yellow zari cloth hung on bamboo sticks outside windows and balconies. Most of all I used to love the delicacies that were sent to our house by our neighbour. Puran Poli and shrikhand-puri were the main items.

These sights may be missing in the place I stay currently, but these memories are enough to cheer me up.

Happy Gudhi Padwa!

TGINF...Y (Thank God I'm Not Fat... Yet)

2010-03-09T11:22:00.004+05:30

These days I divide my time between being a couch potato and a sleeping beauty. This morning I looked at my face and I realised that it has puffed up beyond recognition. So, now I have resolved to cut down on my T.V. time - right after I have finished watching the 15 odd movies I've taped.

I tried doing some stretches this morning, but they can hardly qualify as stretches. Shrugs more like it.

This morning the newspapers announced that a lady has won the best director's award at the Oscars this year for the first time in the history of the event. That didn't shock me more than the fact that this woman - Kathryn Bigelow - looked barely into her 40s but was actually 58! I wonder what I would look like when I hit that age. I think I'll stop looking at the mirror lest I scare myself to death.

The other day Chrys and I went to the new TGIF at the Palladium (drab, boring, bad service, bad music- avoid like plague). Anyway, there were a lot of people trying to get in and a lot of people with kids in prams trying to get out - and we were seated right at the entrance. Chrys pointed out a girl to me who was obviously anorexic. She had straws for legs (including thighs) and reeds for hands. The rest of her body could be called a stick. Her boyfriend was seen helping her finish her salad - he looked quite healthy and pink as a result.

As if to off-set this sight, I spotted a white woman who probably weighed anywhere between 200-300 kgs walk in (amble rather). She was accompanied by other fat people who looked rather slim as compared to her.... people choose friends that make them look good. By that standard the fattest one must be friends with a whale or something. She reminded me of the blob type humans in the movie Wall-E. Gross!

I think I better get on the treadmill now.

2010-02-01T19:09:00.004+05:30

Ever since we got a set-top box with a recording function, I have been obsessively recording movies that seem interesting. Sometimes I read the synopsis, sometimes the title grips me. One such movie is a French one called "I always wanted to be a gangster". Shot mostly in black and white, the movie has several stories, not interconnected yet tying in with each other due to the fact that each one of the characters aspires to commit a crime. I was relying on the subtitles to understand what's going on, but the performances are so brilliant that you forget about the language barrier. The narrative is subtly funny yet poignant. There are no over the top scenes nor any colourful dialogue but this movie is definitely a classic.

Maintain Overweight

2010-01-29T11:12:00.008+05:30

Yesterday while I was trying to pass a really boring afternoon reading a Sherlock Holmes book, someone rang the bell.

A woman carrying a large black coloured bag stood there and asked me if there were any children below the age of 10 in the house. Now, I was used to being asked about kids below 5 years by these "Polio vaccination campaign" ladies, but this was new to me. I replied in the negative and was about to close the door when she said, "Actually, for ladies problems there is a seminar.... ummm... could you call your mom please?"

My Sherlock instincts perked up.

"Why call my mom?" I asked.

She said, "I need to talk so some ladies"

"Don't I look like one?"

"Aap ladies hain?" (Are you ladies?)

Notwithstanding the grammar in that statement, I was incredulous that I don't look the part of the female of our species.

Then she said, "Aap lagti nahi hai" (You don't look like one?)

I asked her if I at least looked human.

That's when she clarified that by 'ladies' she meant married women and apparently I looked too young to be classified as either... 'ladies' or married!

Now, I consider myself well endowed in all departments almost tending towards the over-weight (although my mom wouldn't say that)

I told her that I had crossed the psychological thirty milestone and the last I checked I was definitely female and a married one at that!

Then she asked me if I had any children. I replied in the negative.

She says, "Aapne apne aap ko bahut acha maintain kiya hai. Plus bache bhi nahi hai na. Main to aap hi ki umar ki hun lekin mujhe dekhiye, bache-wache ke baad kaisi ho gayi hun"

I couldn't help laughing at that... I am far from "maintained".

Then she peered around me into the room and saw the treadmill.

"Aap treadmill karte hai kya?", she asked.

I said, "Main nahi mostly my husband uses it"

"Kyu? Woh overweight hai kya?"

I just laughed and laughed and laughed and closed the door before she tried to sell me any products to combat THAT problem.

PS: There was no seminar. The idiot was selling Aloe Vera juice to combat 'dark circles and hair fall in six months'. She decided herself that I didn't need it and didn't try to sell me any.

Need to complain to the watchman to not let any salespersons in the building, not even entertaining ones.

PPS: The title of this post refers to the stand that Financial Analysts take when they think a particular stock has potential for price increase. Although Chrys usually uses it to refer to my potential - Too fat to be in the Olympics, too ugly to be on T.V.

2010-01-28T11:54:00.006+05:30

Although the old version of 'Mile Sur' is timeless and beautiful, I loved the new version too (Phir Mile Sur By Zoom TV)

One might argue that it is dominated by faces from the Indian film industry. However there are brilliant musicians, sportpersons and a lot of other people in the video. Besides, movies have become an integral part of the Indian culture whether you like it or not. Taking that away is like cutting away a toe albiet a small one.

In a video such as this with a song so beautiful you need seasoned performers. Only putting sportspersons would make it look awkward. However I loved the bits with children especially the section with the deaf and mute little ones.

I find that the video does justice to a lot of features that make up India. The beautiful landscape is interspersed with visuals of the modern Indian (including the Bandra-Worli sealink).

Nostalgia is good as long as it does not hinder our vision of the present and future. I am all for the sentiments of 'those were the days', but I also like where we are today. Why do we have to compare and choose? Why can't we enjoy both?

Here is the video ... 16 minutes long :)

Paved paradise and put up a parking lot

2010-01-22T09:46:00.007+05:30

"Dirt cheap" is no longer a valid phrase if the dirt comes attached to land. Every other day I see the newspapers advertising the sale of plots in remote and pristine village areas. They show pictures of lush green grasslands or thick forests which are obviously going to be mowed down to make way for so called "condos" and "villas".

What becomes of the original owners, the farmers or tribal people living in these areas? Nobody seems to care and those who care are bullied and threatened into submission. I am no activist ... I probably don't have the guts required, but I do cry at the pain of the poor trees that are chopped down and the little animals and birds that lose their homes to a virus called human.

2010-01-16T19:26:00.002+05:30

In all my lethargy I didn't realise that I have crossed the half century mark on this blog.

May there be more mundane and stupid things to write about.

Yesterday we visited this place called TIGs in Andheri. There was some private party going on... some really sad office crowd. The fat bummed women just stood on the side pretending to dance to the really loud bollywood tracks while the loser type guys danced with each other. Believe it or not there was something that looked like a mix of jive and general ganapati procession wala dance. The men were almost climbing onto each other in their excitement. Gross!

We got fed up and left for this Mexican food place called Sammy Sosa. Although our friend informs us that the food is not really authentically Mexican, I liked the food and ambiance. For beer lovers, there is some amazing international beer. Wine lovers too will not be disappointed. I liked that the owner took interest in suggesting drinks or food to the patrons. They also customise dishes if you want. The vodka-jalapeno chicken was amazing... a little spicy but good. Everything else was really good too. Chrys loved the crepes filled with strawberries and vanilla ice-cream dessert.

Wish we could travel to the suburbs more often. There are only so many places to eat out in South Mumbai.

2010-01-07T10:26:00.002+05:30

I don't think I can survive on a breakfast of one peanut butter and jam sandwich. This dieting thing is not for me ... not that I am trying it. I feel guilty when I get on the weighing scales for subjecting it to so much torture, but the moment I get off I have justified my weight gain to myself and I'm feeling good again. I can't believe I have gained 6 kilos since last year. Where did all this fat come from and do I still have the receipt so that I can return it?

I am afraid that I might turn into that fat blob in that movie I saw yesterday. He kept asking, "Can we have pancakes for breakfast tomorrow?"

All I need to do is start with simple exercises, cut down on fatty foods and sweets and I will be back to being my old slim self again. See! It's not that simple... I mean difficult!

Oh! Who am I kidding? I AM FAT!!!

Utter Nonsense

2010-01-06T11:11:00.004+05:30

This wasn't in my contract. I wasn't sent to this world for this. I know I should have negotiated more, but then there is only so much you can do when arbitrating with arbitrary mediums.

I should have asked more questions, but then I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answers... not exactly the answers... I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the voice. Not very pleasant. Sounds like a thousand frogs are being stung by a million bees and they are enjoying it (the bees I mean... but it could be the frogs... I can't be sure)

There weren't any papers signed. They would just float away, besides no pen would work. I knew I shouldn't have thrown away my pencil. And I hate these clothes I have to wear. Things were more elegant before I landed here... more natural, eco-friendly if you may.Who exactly is this eco and why does everyone want to be friends with him/her.

I wish I didn't have so much time on my hands. Better take off a couple of the wrist watches. I could start demanding bed-tea but my bed prefers coffee. I know my thoughts are as scrambled as my eggs on toast. This circular or elliptical thingy is too small for me. I'm sure there is a way out but till then I better stick to my contract - eat, drink and be merry.

Poochri aap manne

2009-12-25T12:35:00.005+05:30

Lagan nu bhonu means wedding feast in Gujarati, but this term is applied to all sorts of Parsi dinner occasions provided the following things are served - Margi na farcha (large chicken piece batter fried), Patra ni machchi (fish in banana leaf), sali ma gosht (whatever), Akuri (egg stuff), Mutton/chicken pulav with masala dal and lots of coke, fanta, duke's mangola and raspberry drinks to wash all this down with.

When Chrys and I were to leave on our vacation, my MIL sent a message asking me to bring a saree to wear. There was some Parsi thread ceremony (Navjote) that we had to attend. Of course we were not to attend the ceremony itself but a reception that was to be held in the evening. These ceremonies are as grand as weddings with tons of money spent on decoration and food. Since I have now grown out of all my wedding time saree-blouses I decided to wing it with some salwar kameez. But MIL was not satisfied with my mediocre taste and wanted me to wear something "fancy" and hence took me shopping. I dragged Chrys along. We shortlisted and rejected loads of stuff before we narrowed upon something that was acceptable to all.

So finally the day arrived and we were all decked up. Several days in advance it was decided that we must head directly to the dining area and finish off the eating bit before we even wish the family.

On the way we received a call from one of our relatives who warned us that the dinner was about to start. We asked him to hold 4 seats for us. On reaching the venue Chrys led us directly to the dining area. People - decked up in finery - were already seated on plastic chairs lined up in front of long tables. Banana leaves had been spread out in front of every chair. We quickly grabbed the chairs that were saved for us. Then began the choreographed serving. First came the lagan nu achar which is basically sweetened carrot pickle. This was accompanied by some sabu dana wafers. I looked towards Chrys for guidance and ate as he did... dipping the wafers in the achar.

The chappatis came quickly and you could hear old women calling out to the bearers asking for rotlis that are not burnt. The rotli was to be eaten with sali ma margi (leg piece aap manne). Then came Chrys's favorite patra ni machchi. You are supposed to ask for the tail piece... I didn't but I got it anyway. Since Chrys didn't get the tail piece the first time he had a second helping and specifically asked for it.

While we were still polishing off the fish, the pulao and dal were served. Immediately they served the ice-cream too. The moment the ice-creams were placed on the table there was a large influx of new people into the dining area. They walked in purposefully and stationed themselves behind the chairs of people who were still eating. I was a little confused. Chrys explained that the arrival of the ice-cream signalled the end of the dinner which meant that the next batch could book their seats. A girl standing behind me was shouting to her friend, "We need 8 seats... count till that white uncle" (White uncle being an old man in a white shirt still working his way thru the pulao). I got a little unnerved and got up carrying my ice-cream with me. My seat was immediately grabbed by the person standing behind me.

Later we wished the family (hardly took 10 seconds) gave them presents, chatted with some relatives and left for home. This morning I am struggling with an upset stomach... lagan nu bhonu also comes with a lagan nu motion.

Dubri in Udvada

2009-12-22T11:50:00.008+05:30

Udvada is described as a coastal "town" 200 kms from Mumbai which is an important place of worship for Parsees. I disagree with the "town" bit. This is a village that is caught in a time warp. Everything and everyone seems to be moving at a remarkably slow pace keeping in step with the chirping birds and the barking dogs. Even the dogs don't bark the usual way, they give short low pitch sounds that sound like they are clearing their throats. We stayed at a place called the Globe hotel which is right behind the Iranshah. The name has nothing to do with the structure. It must have just caught the owner's fancy several years ago. There are a couple of two-storey cottages here called 'Homi Cottage' and the 'Annexe'. We stayed on the first floor of the Annexe courtesy of a couple of lizards in the room on the ground floor that was alloted for us earlier. There was a quaint little balcony attached to the room where all the meals were served. (At the end of our stay a little lizard appeared in this room too... THAT is another post)

Speaking about meals, I haven't had such rich and delicious albeit fattening food in any other hotel in my life. Breakfast on the first day consisted of eggs to order, kaleji-bukka (chicken liver and kidney) with bread, butter, jam and milky sweet tea. Even before all this could be digested, lunch arrived. There was a type of fish which is a specialty of this place called boey (B-O-E-Y nahi, B-O-I says Chrys) fried to perfection, mutton gravy(melt-in-mouth tender meat), fish curry, rice and rotis.

After an afternoon siesta, we spent the evening walking around the largely empty village. There are several abandoned or unused houses here - ancient structures that may be over a 100 years old. The population of dogs is more than the local human population. We paid a visit to the beach which was sadly disappointing because of sand erosion and illegal quarrying and all that was left was a rocky bottom exposed by the low tide. With hardly anything left to do, we returned to the room when it grew slightly dark to avoid being followed by the over-friendly dogs. Dinner was a lavish affair again with tandoori chicken, mutton curry, fried boey fish and rotis.

The next morning started with a generous dose of dudh na puff which is considered a delicacy by all Parsis and it's a tradition to have it every time they are in Udvada. It's basically just sweetened milk bubbles which is prepared overnight. I personally didn't like it too much.

Speaking about tradition, these Parsis attach the word 'tradition' to every little thing. It's a tradition to brush your teeth (according to my MIL, we non-parsis i.e dubros are very untidy people). It's a tradition to perform the birdy dance at weddings. It's a tradition to eat eggs when you are ill or have a stomach upset because it's 'light food'. It's a tradition to eat dhansak every Sunday and sleep away the rest of the day. It's a tradition to buy only Kolah's brand pickles. It's a tradition to eat/drink dudh na puff in Udvada. It's a tradition to over-eat when in Udvada. Actually it's a tradition to overeat, period. Almost all traditions are to do with eating. I have gained 8 kilos in the three years that I have been married to Chrys. At this rate I would have gained 58 kgs more by our silver wedding anniversary.

One more pampered day was spent in this quiet little place and we got bored of the sedentary lifestyle. We left the next morning to Ahmadabad by the Shatabdi. Getting bored and being pampered continues for a few more days here before we leave for Mumbai.

Susegad

2009-12-16T12:20:00.002+05:30

It means 'relaxed but not lazy'. Some say that it means to kill effort at all cost.

When you land in Goa you don't take too much time to reach the Susegad mode. All it takes is ordering one meal at any of the shack type eateries around. They say five minutes and mean twenty-five. So you wait and wait for your food to arrive, fret and fume while guzzling beer till you reach a stage where you have that glazed look that everyone seems to have around here. The waiters around you can't understand your hurry. 'Where you want to go men?' is the question in their minds. Not that they would ponder on that question too long. The moment that question completes itself in their minds, they have forgotten it.

So, back to your glazed state. When you have given off a few burps courtesy the beer, the food arrives... most of the times it's some prawn starter (what Chrys orders in Goa is very predictable... prawns, prawns and some more prawns). One bite of the food and you are in Susegad mood. Now you keep ordering some really delicious stuff with names like Rechad, Xacuti and Vindaloo (spelt differently in every menu so I don't know which one is right). At some shacks every stuff tastes the same irrespective of the name, but some rare eateries have amazingly differentiated tastes. But being susegad means not caring about such piddly things. You just eat what you get... as long it's the fresh catch of the day- which it almost always is- you don't need to worry about an upset tummy.

In between meals you can float in the sea, frolic in the pool or generally take a nap at the nearest available bed/chair/lounger under an umbrella. Some over-enthusiastic honeymooners may do what all honeymooners do... NOT what you think... I meant shopping. You could also hire a scooter and drive around aimlessly, waving at the local children, smiling at the local adults, barking at the local dogs and meowing at the local cats. Or you could get duped into going in search of dolphins (which almost certainly will not show themselves to you) or parasailing (for TWO whole disappointing minutes) or water-scootering (mind-the-rocks-or-I-will-take-the- damage-money from-you-men). But all that is too much trouble.

Susegad men!

Hyperventilating

2009-12-07T11:35:00.004+05:30

I have always been hyper-sensitive, hyper-active, hyper-tense, hyper-everything (even hyperbolic sometimes). Some of my ex-colleagues used to call me over-enthu or enthu-cutlet and not always kindly. I have to plan and plan and plan till my brains are oozing out of my ears.

So while I look forward to my little relaxing vacation in Goa, I am going hyper with the thought of the packing and preparations. Chrys says that we'll hardly take 15 minutes to pack. I KNOW he is right but I still have to fret over what to take and whether we would forget our tickets or swim-suits or sunscreen or some random thing that could easily be bought in Goa. I have even made a list that has over 20 items in it including items like soap and toothpaste (with a question mark after them) although that will be provided by the resort we are staying in. The unexpected relapse I have had of my slipped disc pain has stopped me from actually packing all the stuff two weeks before our trip. I know I will drive Chrys mad now that we have only six days left to the big trip.

I don't think I know anyone else who gets so worked up over a relaxing vacation. After all this I really do need to unwind.

2009-12-02T20:24:00.003+05:30

Most people use fillers in conversation. Maybe I do too, but I'm not sure what. Someone will have to tell me.

Is it like 'like'. Like 'Can you like walk faster or get out of my way? Like?'

Or basically is it 'basically'? Basically, I'm against starting sentences with words that indicate something to do with bottoms.

Generally it is 'generally'. But, generally, I like being specific.

Oh I know, it's you know, 'you know'! You know, I really don't know what this whole obsession with you know is, you know! You know, if you already know it why should I tell you?

Basically you know I could like generally go on but like you know I am like done here.

Weekend with a bear

2009-11-27T12:27:00.005+05:30

One fine day my little sis called up and asked me to write a one page essay on 'A weekend with a bear'. I ask her why and she says 'Because I said so'.

So I sit down and write the lamest essay I have ever written. She hated it. But what the heck, I'm gonna post it anyway. Here goes...

Weekend with a Bear

When you spend a weekend with a bear, you always get the weak end of the bargain. But in my case it was different. How? Let me tell you.

I am not much of an outdoors person, but I like going camping and driving around in the countryside once in a while. The ‘once-in-a-while’ probably has come just twice in my life. The first one was a total disaster that ended with water all around and a dead frog. But that is another story. This is the story of my second excursion into the wild.

It wasn’t planned. It was a Saturday and I had set out on my motorbike for a nice ride around the hills near my house. All I wanted was some quiet time to myself. I had a backpack which had a couple of books, a matchbox, some frozen chicken, some canned food, some apples and a bottle of Worcestershire sauce. There were also some other knick-knacks that I will tell you later about. The later is now. The knick knacks were a pocket knife, dental floss, Bandar chaap toothpowder, one extra large pajama, one towel - rather frayed at the edges and my phone plus charger – although I didn’t know where I was gonna plug it in.

So, there I was, driving around on my Harley Davidson, feeling like the wind. I had set out in the morning and had covered a lot of distance by noon. The road was winding up a mountain and it was becoming narrower and narrower. There were huge trees all around. Suddenly I felt a commotion in my stomach which told me that I was hungry. I decided to park the bike behind a small clump of bushes and set out into the jungle to find a place to settle down and eat. After I had walked through the thick undergrowth for a while, I came into a clearing which looked like heaven. The light from the sun was streaming through the large trees but not quite reaching the ground. The leaves cast shadows all around and moved with the wind… as if they were dancing. Right through the center there was a small stream running. It had perfectly clear water and was shallow and narrow enough that I could step on the stones and jump across to the other side.

I did just that because the ground was higher there and so a little more dry. I sat beneath a tree and pulled out an apple from my bag and munched on it. Everything was quiet except for the occasional bird or the rustling of leaves and of course the soft gurgling of the stream nearby. After I had finished the apple, I filled some water into my water bottle from the stream and drank the sweet water to my hearts content. Then I sat down to read a little, but about an hour later I started feeling sleepy. So I curled up, put the bag under my head and dozed off beneath the tree.

I woke up a short while later when I thought that I heard someone. I looked around but could see no one, but I felt like I was being watched. The sun was still up in the sky and I was sweating a little. I pulled off my jacket and shoes and washed up at the stream. When I returned I still couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched. Then, I saw him. He was larger than me, but not that large for a bear. He had thick brown fur, large brown eyes and a round black nose. He was standing on his hind legs and peeping from behind a tree. He was a young bear probably just recently weaned from his mother and never seen a human before. Bears have a great sense of smell and can smell food from several miles away. It was the smell of the chicken that attracted him I suppose. I was terribly scared, for although this was a young bear, he could still be very dangerous. All the horror stories I had heard of people being mauled came to me all at once and I think I fainted.

When I regained consciousness I felt something wet on my cheek. I opened my eyes and stared into large brown eyes. The bear was had his nose on my cheek. I gave a little shout and that scared him. He quickly ran off into the trees again. That surprised me a bit. I quickly wore my shoes and jacket, gathered up my bag and stood up to leave when I heard a little whimper. It was the bear. He was peeping from the trees again and making sounds as if he wanted to say something.

I turned around and said ‘What?’ He got scared again and hid behind the trees. Then slowly he poked his head out again. Then he said something that sounded like ‘Wua wua wua’. Was he repeating what I said? I don’t know yet. So I said ‘Are you hungry?’ He said ‘Wua wua wuaaaa’. I slowly put my bag down. The bear shifted a bit out in the open. I said, ‘Stay there. I will throw you some chicken and then you can let me go.’ I was opening my bag when I felt that the bear was moving. I looked up and said, ‘I said stay there!’

That’s when I noticed that he was limping a bit. It looked like he had hurt one of his paws. But I was too scared to take a closer look. He took my hesitation as an invitation and started walking towards me… limping rather. I stood rooted and terrified. Then, when he was so close that I could almost smell his breath, I shook myself and started backing off. ‘Wua wua’ he said again. I stopped and looked. He was holding up his right paw. There was a thorn in it. I didn’t know if I could help him, but I felt sorry for him. I thought, ‘Let me at least try’. I put down all my stuff and moved to take a closer look. The thorn was stuck close to one of his enormous nails and cut into his flesh a bit. It must have been really painful.

‘Stay still’ I told him… not that he could understand a word! But he seemed to understand and sat down holding up his paw. I gently took his paw in one hand and touched the thorn with the other…. ‘Wua wua wauaaaa’ he cried, but held still. I closed my eyes, sent up a prayer and pulled out the thorn in one quick jerk. ‘Wuaaaaa’ he cried, but not in pain. He was happy and got up and did a little jig which means he went round and round as if chasing his tail. Then he looked up at me and I could swear that he was smiling. I quickly opened up the pack of chicken and offered it to him. He looked at it suspiciously first, but quickly grabbed it and gobbled it up in an instant. Then he ran off into the trees again. I thought he was gone for good and turned to go my way when I heard a ‘Wua’ again. He returned rolling a large water melon with him. He came and put it near my feet as if offering it to me. I looked up questioningly. He seemed to think I didn’t know what it was, so he took it and plunked it on the ground and it broke into several pieces. Then he took one piece and scraped the tender red flesh off it and offered me one piece saying ‘Wua’. I took it that he wanted me to eat it, so I did. It was the most delicious water melon I had ever tasted. We sat down and polished off the rest of it. By now the shadows were growing longer and I had to leave. I patted the bear on his head and said goodbye. I hurried back to my bike still not believing what just happened.

When I returned and told my friends this story, they didn’t believe me. It seems a bit unreal to me too, but all this really happened. I had the most wonderful weekend with a bear and lived to tell the tale.

2009-11-23T13:39:00.003+05:30

A lot has been said about Kurbaan. The critics have praised it and a lot of people have liked it. I liked it too. It's entertaining. Besides that, I disagree with the view that it's hard-hitting and realistic. Real terrorism is far more scary and too disgusting to be depicted in a main-stream movie. If I had to choose I'd rather watch entertaining films than realistic ones. Then again some fantasy/unreal films like District 9 are extremely disturbing too.

Mooch wali ka badla

2009-11-20T19:06:00.008+05:30

Two more down... lighter and less wiser.

This time Chrys asked me to inform the doctor to remove only the tooth, the whole tooth and nothing but the tooth.

This was a post I made about the ordeal of tooth removal six years ago.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ek teeth bhari kahani

One thing I like of my appearance are my perfect set of teeth... yes I gained wisdom long ago and now sport a nice set of 32 teeth.
To preserve this natural work of art, I visited a dentist recently. That’s when he informed me, through his funny mask, that I had a cavity in one of the Wisdoms. What? Me? Cavity? Oh my tooth fairies save me!
Then began long consultations with friends who had been through the de-enlightenment way (read ‘wisdom removal’). One wanted to know if I would take a month’s leave to recover. Another non-wisdomer wondered how I would chew food with one less tooth. I informed him that Wisdom teeth are never used for chewing, not that I’m into chewing... more into swallowing, what with deadlines being forced down my throat (pun absolutely unintended!) My tooth was the hot topic of discussion in our weekly office meeting besides R’s premature hair-loss.
Finally I decided to heed the dentist’s advice and get it removed and it was done yesterday. So now I feel lighter and there is no noticeable loss in wisdom.
Mummy will you give me the ice-cream if I finish eating the vegetables?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This time too my mommeee is tending to me..... she is soooo sweet.

Btw, the mooch-wali didn't do the extraction. It was a chashmish. Mooch-wali just stood around gloating at my discomfort.

2009-11-11T11:06:00.002+05:30

Chrys is off to HK and Singapore on a business trip and I'm left alone at home. If my mom were here she would come down to give me company, but unfortunately she's only reaching India next week.

My cook asked me if I was scared. I said I'm not scared since there is a good security system in the building. However, I remember the first time I had to stay alone when I was at my old home. That was for a duration of 6 months. I used to be scared of the monsters under the bed and behind my closet. I was terrified of the assortment lizards and cockroaches that would enter my house. I spent sleepless nights sitting at the window and watching the bats flying around and listening to the owls hooting away.

So last night I assured myself that there was nothing to be scared of and went off to sleep only to be woken around dawn with large clanging and banging noises. First I thought that someone was bursting fire-crackers. Then my mind ran wild and imagined a shoot-out somewhere close by (I know, I watch too many movies). Finally I decided to get up and investigate. I looked out of the window facing the road and saw some workers trying to push a heavy piece of equipment to a spot. This thing did not have wheels so they were using the ancient method... two steel pipes were put on the ground and this equipment was loaded on top and rolled on them. Then the pipe behind would be taken out and brought up front and the process continued. The clanging noises were them shifting the pipes and the banging noise was the equipment hitting the ground everytime they rolled it forward. I wanted to scream at them and ask them to stop. Then I remembered that I was alone at home and didn't want them exacting revenge on me (Yeah, yeah... very filmy)

Mooch ado...

2009-11-06T19:12:00.004+05:30

Speaking about weirdos... I was waiting at the dentist's when I saw this lady - shabbily dressed, holding a large cloth bag which was almost like a potli - walking up to the two Parsi ladies sitting next to me. She leans in close to the younger one and whispers something which couldn't be heard. We could only see her lips moving.

The Parsi lady says, 'What?'.

The potli-wali says, 'Aaaa oooo eeee ooo?'.

Now the Parsi lady looks around for some help. Then the potli-wali repeats those sounds. Now everyone is curious. The Parsi lady seems very uncomfortable.

Then the potli-wali tries again and this time I could make out the words, 'Are you Hindu?'

Finally, the Parsi lady says, 'No'. The potli-wali moves on and comes to me, leans in almost 6 inches close to my face and asks, 'Are you Hindu?'.

I say, 'Yes!?!'

Then she says, 'For long life and good health, pray to Tulsi mata'

Then she moves on to another fellow sitting next to me. Thus she goes around the room and whispers to everyone.

Now the older Parsi lady is really agitated. She calls out to the potli-wali and asks her, 'Excuse me, why did you ask us if we are Hindu?'.

The potli-wali turns around and says softly, 'Because I'm a social worker'.

Yeah, I know - weirdo!!!

Later when I walk into the dentist's cabin, I notice this young, really short and really fair young girl. It turns out that she is the doctor. She has her face covered in a mask all the time that she is examining me. Then she takes off her mask and I notice the most perfect set of pearly whites I have seen in my life. And to go with it, there was a nice little moustache on her upper lip.

So, she has enough time to take care of her teeth but no time to get rid of her mouthbrow.

2009-11-05T11:54:00.003+05:30

I just realised that I have been blogging for more than 6 years now. My first post was on the 30th of Sep, 2003 and this is my third blog. Wow!

O Fish!

2009-11-04T13:05:00.008+05:30

Why do I always encounter weirdos? I think my problem is that either I attract them (birds of a feather philosophy) or I am just too sensitive.

The other day I took a walk in the Kala Ghoda festival along the numerous stalls selling over-priced junk. There was one stall selling tiny cakes of handmade soaps for Rs.200 each.... and people were buying them. They were so tiny that Chrys wouldn't even be able to clean his big toe with it. At this stall I heard this SoBo types discussing all sorts of flowers, fragrances and spices and their uses on the human body. This guy had an accent which was neither Indian nor Brit and definitely not American. What's with these rich dudes and fake accents. I think when a guy puts on an accent he sounds effeminate. Stick to what you know men! Anyway, this guy ended up buying up almost the entire ensemble of soaps, creams, body butter, hair cream (he had long hair) and what nots. How do I know all this? Well, I had nothing better to do so stood around for some amusement.

Then I went to this stall that was selling stuff which looked like wind chimes and some wall hangings and other knick-knacks. Everything was superbly expensive. There were these bunch of papers cut in the shape of fish that attracted an old lady. There were about a dozen of them tied together and each page had some shlokas written on them. This whole thing was really small (about 3 inches X 2 inches wide) and actually looked quite shabby to me. The lady asked the fellow what it was. He said that these were the names of all the avatars of Lord Vishnu and they brought luck to whoever kept them at home. She then said asked the price. He said 500 bucks. She looked so shocked that I almost laughed out loud. Then she said that she wanted only one page. He said that was not possible. It was a booklet and she had to buy the whole thing. Then what she said was extremely funny and I did laugh out loud. She said, "But, I am a Parsi. I don't care about Vishnu. I only want one fish"

Chrys says that Parsis consider fish and fish shaped objects lucky. I would like to tell the old lady that if she had a grandchild, she could ask him/her to cut out fish shapes from craft paper. That would definitely be neater than the ones at that stall.

----------------------------------------------------------

I almost forgot. While I was there, a live performance was on. The singer, a lady (I think) must have had her big toe stepped on by a horse or an elephant on her way to the festival. She just went 'Aaaaaaaaaa' (pause) 'Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa'

I could see the listeners going 'Aaargh!' and 'Egads!' ... like in Archies comics. Since I couldn't understand anything, I just said 'Duh!'

Swing it baby

2009-10-28T19:53:00.005+05:30

Why do women get mood swings?

I know it's hormones and all that nonsense, but I also think some external factors or some ancient latent memories contribute to it.

So this is my list of irritants that need not occur immediately before a mood swing:

1. Men can walk around in shorts showing hairy legs and be called sexy - not so for women. Do you even know how painful waxing is?

2. Not only do we have to wax, we have to get manicured, pedicured, plucked like chicken and then put bizarre colours on our nails, lips and eyelids, apply moisturisers, body butter/lotions, expensive perfumes, lip balms; use two types of brushes, dragon toothed clips and leave-on conditioners on our hair... and still appear natural.

3. We need to carry large expensive bags to carry all the above products.

4. We can never find our keys in the afore-mentioned bag.

5. We have to wear really constricting undergarments or be branded feminists (the bra burning variety)

6. These undergarments cost the sun and the moon and then you see some bai-types wearing a similar variety (strap peeping out of the blouse) obviously bought from some roadside vendor for a fraction of the price.

7. Jewellery - Earrings, necklaces, bangles, bracelets, anklets, armlets, chicklets (got you) - that stuff is heavy man! Men can get married in a lungi and no one would notice.

8. If a man gains weight after marriage, they say- "Oh that's the wife's love showing". If a woman gains weight she is asked - "Any good news?" - extremely embarrassing and NOT happening.

9. Guys can make do with one pair of shoes, we need several to match our outfits - and heels may be sexy, but really really uncomfortable.

10. Last but not the least - we can NEVER stand and pee at the nearest lamp-post.

2009-10-26T11:39:00.003+05:30

Last night we had dinner at this roof-top restaurant called Koyla in Colaba. This place is so discreet that it had no boards advertising it at the entrance and from the road you would definitely miss it. Thanks to our friend's directions we reached there after hunting around a bit. All the tables were occupied and the attendants had an attitude that reminded me of the New York pub scene that I have seen in movies. Finally when we were on the verge of leaving we were given a table. The place has a lovely ambience - sand covered floor, little tent like structures with cosy bamboo furniture inside, soothing music and candle lit tables. We had a great time.

I was in a talkative mood and I went on and on about the several people who had been infatuated with me. Now, I am no beauty or Miss World, but in my younger days I always attracted people. They either really really hated me or loved me, but just couldn't ignore the loud, sometimes obnoxious me. One story stands out because of it's unusual twists and turns.

At the age of 18 I started working at a computer training institute. On the first day I was introduced to everybody and was told that the Marketing Manager of the company was out and I could meet him in the evening. They kept raving about how smart, intelligent, funny and good looking he was that I was not surprised when I saw this tall, dark, handsome and curly haired young man walk in the door in the evening. I was introduced, he said hello and walked into his cabin and shut the door. Then later in the evening, he called me to his cabin and asked, "Do you know me?". I said, "Of course, you are the Marketing Manager of this company". "No", he said, "Do you know me before this?". I was confused and I said that I had never seen him in my life before. I had just completed my twelfth standard and I was studying for a Diploma in another college. He said that he had been a student of the same college where I completed my twelfth standard. He also said that he had been really popular and had won the personality contest there. Obviously I wasn't part of the group that revered this guy enough for him to think that he was God and so I continued to show my ignorance of the fact that God was walking this earth in the form of this pompous dude.

That was the first and last time I spoke to this fellow in my one and half year tenure in that organisation. After that day he ignored me and I saw through him. Then, one day he announced that he had been selected into the Air-Force and that he was leaving for the two year training course. He gave out his address to everyone and asked them to write to him (those days email wasn't so popular). On reaching there he sent a letter addressed to the entire team and everyone decided to write him one long letter with little notes from the entire team. I was forced to write something too and I wrote something funny and left it at that. A couple of weeks later a letter arrived at the office addressed only to me. Mr. Dude liked what I wrote and wanted to correspond with me further and asked for my residential address. Since his letter was funny and since I had nothing better to do, I wrote back with my address.

And so began a two year pen-friendship. Our letters were funny, light, much anticipated and a great way to communicate without any promise of a commitment or any ulterior motives. Meanwhile, some people in the organisation also informed me that Mr. Dude had been my admirer from college. He was in his final year and I was in the eleventh. However our classrooms were the same. When his class ended, ours started. Usually I would arrive a little early and wait outside the class for the professor to leave. As soon as the bell rang, I would rush in without waiting for the class to empty out and put my books on the last bench (my favourite). Apparently Mr.Dude sat at the very same bench and saw me everyday (I never ever noticed him). He would scribble some messages for me on the desk which I always thought were for my partner (a green eyed little pip-squeak). So, that explained the "Do-you-know-me" on the first day. Eventually after corresponding for two years, we met. We had great expectations for the meeting since now we had become friends (although we never spoke - not even on the phone).

The meeting was a disaster. I couldn't talk at all and this fellow kept talking about how well he did at the training and how he was the almighty's gift to humans. Although we were together for about 2-3 hours, I hardly spoke and was extremely bored. We broke communication after that and for a long time there was no news of him.

Then one day he called up and asked me my email ID. The communication lines were open again. We wrote to each other - although not that frequently. Then one day I received a very malicious mail from his ID written by some girl who knew the both of us. Apparently he had been going around with her and had cheated on her with some other girl in Hyderabad and some nonsense. I couldn't understand where I figured in all this mess and I told the both of them to resolve their differences with each other and not drag me into it. I stopped writing again. A few weeks after this incident I received a call from him at home. I picked up and before he could say anything I told him that I was not in a state to talk since my father had just expired that day. People were making preparations for the funeral all around and that was the day he called.

A couple of years later I received an email from him again. He had seen me at a railway station. He wrote that I had changed a lot - had started wearing "tank tops" - and he found me very attractive. He said that when we were "seeing" each other, I had been a plain jane. I was shocked at this mail. I gave him a fitting reply and blasted him for believing that I was ever "seeing" him. Plus I was NEVER plain jane. He called up to apologise. I was so angry that I ordered him never ever to call me again.

Life has moved on and Mr. Dude has contacted me again through one of the networking sites. He is married and has a kid now. I don't see any harm in adding him to my friends list, but am still apprehensive of what unexpected things might happen now.

Gym Shim Scam

2009-10-25T12:49:00.007+05:30

Working out is tricky. Almost two years ago, I decided that I needed to get fit and visited a gym to enquire about their charges. My mom came along since she had never seen a professional gym before. The guy at the reception took a good look at me, asked me how much I weighed and then asked why I wanted to join a gym. When I answered that I wanted to stay fit, he seemed very amused and told me that I was fit. How did he know that? Well, because I wasn't "fat". Almost everyone at that gym was trying to lose weight and he couldn't understand why I would want to join when I didn't need to lose weight. My mom tried to dissuade me. I should have understood that this was the wrong place for me, however after dilly dallying for a couple of months I went and signed up.

They didn't assign any trainer to me, but a young girl drew up a chart for me to follow. Cardio and weight training alternately. A break on Sunday. Treadmill for 20+ minutes everyday. She also showed me some stretching exercises to be done daily. I went regularly for the first couple of weeks. During the days for weight training, the trainer helped me out with some exercises. I protested that the weights were too much for me to handle, but she insisted on adding on the kilos to the machines. I should have protested more assertively - I didn't. The result was that after a couple of weeks I started dreading the weight training. I would purposely skip the days for weight training and turn up only for cardio. My back hurt a bit, but I ignored it. Then I was diagnosed with endometriosis and after the surgery I took a break from the gym.

One day I was feeling good, but there was this niggling pain in my back. I decided that it was due to my break from exercising. I started doing some stretches bending forward and extending backwards - immediately the pain increased. I stopped and sat down. The pain wouldn't go away. When Chrys came home he asked me to lie down and rest my back. However the pain was worse the next day. We rushed to see a doctor and he said that I may have a slipped disc. An MRI scan confirmed it. The weight training without proper precautions had caused it. I was laid up in bed for over a month and had to take physiotherapy for 3-4 months before I could spend an entire day without pain. Due to the forced rest I gained a lot of weight.

Today I have started exercising again, but at home. I stick to simple physiotherapy exercises, light weights and walking on the treadmill. And I blast any caller who tries to sell me a gym membership!

Soap Bubbles

2009-10-22T20:40:00.003+05:30

Some people go through life without ever being touched by love. Some find so much that it's a smothering crowd out there. Me, I found several little treasures that looked like love but when I poked and prodded them, they burst like soap bubbles. Then, I found the real thing. When it didn't burst, I hung on to it, clung to it as if my life depended on it until it enveloped me and kept me secure... still does.

But the soap bubbles were fun too till they lasted. Light and free, tricking you into seeing beautiful rainbow colours on the outside yet totally colourless and empty on the inside. And when they burst with a pop, nothing remained but a distant memory which faded over time till I can't remember the faces or how it felt. But, I knew there was some minute change in me. Every encounter is like a chemical reaction, no two parties remain the same. You may attach no importance to a teenage crush or a college romance- dismiss it as part of growing up - but deep down you know, that, if not for that experience you would have been a different person. Life is all about the little diversions that lead you through unknown territory and bring you where you are today. One different turn and you could be someplace else.

I love where I am today. I don't know where I am going, but am relaxed and enjoying the scenery with my companion, my one true love.

Pls do not disturb

2009-10-07T17:22:00.006+05:30

I am always sceptical about hyped up movies, but since I have liked almost all of Konkana Sensharma's work in the past, I decided to watch 'Wake Up Sid' even though only second row seats were available. The movie is enjoyable, a typical tale of coming of age yet superbly original. The title indicates that this is the coming of age of the character Ranbir Kapoor plays. However, the movie also subtly depicts Konkana's character's journey to being more mature and falling in love with someone she considered the complete opposite of her Mr. Right.

So we enjoyed the movie. But, what Chrys and I hadn't bargained for were some totally immature people in the audience. There were kids of course making the usual ruckus, but what got my goat were some adults behaving like teeny-boppers. These were middle aged pot bellied men, kidding around and generally disturbing everyone around. Either they had come to a multiplex for the first time or they were drunk. No amount of shushing and angry comments could make them stop.

This behaviour would have been understandable if the movie was 'Do knot disturb', the worst movie we have seen in recent times. I won't waste another word on it.

2009-09-29T13:43:00.002+05:30

I feel a little strange today, maybe a little deranged

My hair is washed and clean, yet so messy that I want to pull it all out.

My breakfast was burned but still tasted good but I can’t get the smell of smoke out of the house.

The light hurts my eyes and I’ve got a headache that’s pounding through my right eye like a wild boar

The injections hurt a lot and now it itches too, I just don’t want to do this anymore.

I want to walk away from it all and keep walking till I’ve scraped out my shoes’ sole

And then walk some more just for the heck of it till my feet are sore.

Maybe I’ll learn to drive some vehicle, but I know I won’t.

Maybe I’ll make do with a cycle and ride like the wind, but I don’t.

Maybe I’ll jump into the pond and scare the frogs, maybe I’ll just sit on the side listen to them croak.

Maybe I’ll try fishing or maybe bird watching. Maybe I’ll do nothing at all and look at the sky.

I’ll look at it at dawn, when the birds wake up and the bats go to sleep.

I’ll look at it in the morning when the flights take off with their lights going beep beep.

I’ll squint at it at noon and grumble about the light

I’ll look at it in the afternoon and see the kites get in a fight

I’ll look at it in the evening when everything is bright hued and beautiful

I’ll look at it in the night when the stars come out and all is wonderful

Maybe I’ll start rhyming every line

Maybe I won’t

Maybe I’ll just stop and it'll all be fine.

Balloons, Boys and Barcelona

2009-09-28T12:18:00.008+05:30

Ever since it has released, I have been wanting to watch 'The Ugly Truth'. Finally we got around to watching it this weekend and it was well worth the wait. Katherine Heigl is the new romantic heroine(the new Meg Ryan as Chrys says although I disagree). She plays a fierce career woman(T.V show producer) craving to be swept off her feet by a Mr. Right. She has a list of qualities that he needs to have and only goes on dates once these are verified and a proper background check is done by her secretary. Gerard Butler plays the male agony aunt with an evil twist. He hosts a show on a rival T.V channel which preaches lust as opposed to love because boys will be boys. He ends up in the same T.V show as Katherine's much to her chagrin. He literally hijacks the show with his brand of relationship advice and the audience loves it forcing the producer to keep him on and try to keep him happy. The rest is predictable... the lead pair fight a lot, the guy trains the girl to snare her Mr. Right, but falls in love with her too in the bargain. Even though it may be predictable, the wit and crackling chemistry between the lead pair, makes this a beautiful movie.

Yesterday we did a movie marathon and watched two back to back. The first one was a well recommended 3D animation movie called 'Up'. I like the trend of making animated movies targeted at all age groups. This is not a kiddie movie coz it has some complex human emotions that kids may get confused by. It's the story of Cane who has a love for adventure since childhood. He marries his childhood sweetheart Ellie who too is an adventure enthusiast and who wants to one day travel to the mystical Paradise Falls in South America and build a house right over it. They never get around to doing it. Time flies by and they grow old and one day Ellie passes away. Cane is shattered and one day decides to attach numerous balloons to his house and fly away, house included, to Paradise Falls. What he doesn't account for is a castaway in the form of a little kid who is in search of some adventure too. The child's character is so adorable that you forget that it's animated. The old man too comes alive. So on their way to the falls, they have several adventures, encounter villains and come back home triumphant. 3D is an awesome technology, but I hate wearing those oversize glasses which are invariably scratched and damaged at multiplexes, especially after paying exorbitant cash deposits for them. This movie is good, but not so great. It's got it's moments but I would have been OK with it not being 3D and watching it on DVD.

The other movie we watched was Woody Allen's 'Vicky Christina Barcelona' starring Rebecca Hall, Scarlett Johansson, Javier Bardem and Penelope Cruz. In his trade mark style, Woody Allen explores the relationships between men and women. The story is unreal yet believable. It's about two best friends who go to Barcelona one summer and end up learning a lot about themselves.

The two friends are poles apart yet alike in certain ways. Vicky is engaged to the perfect guy while Christina is a bohemian at heart or so she believes. They meet a handsome painter, Juan Antonio at an exhibition. Someone tells them that he has had a messy divorce after his wife had tried to kill him. Christina is smitten. Antonio wastes no time in inviting the both of them for a weekend of fun, adventure and love making at a small hamlet. Vicky is shocked at his bluntness, but Christina convinces her to come along. Once there, the three spend a day sight seeing and at the end of the day a drunk Antonio invites both of them back to his room. Vicky flatly refuses but Christina is tempted. However due to food poisoning she is laid up in bed and Vicky ends up being seduced by the charming painter the next night. Christina unaware of all this carries on an affair with Antonio once they are back in Barcelona and even moves in with him. Here unexpectedly his ex-wife (played by Penelope Cruz) turns up after a failed suicide attempt. It turns out that Antonio is still in love with her, but can't live with her due to her volatile nature. Their relationship is passionate but mutually destructive. However Christina's presence acts as a catalyst and the three of them become lovers and live in harmony until one day Christina decides that she has had enough of this lifestyle. She leaves the two of them who end up fighting again and separate. Vicky meanwhile gets married but realises that she is in love with Antonio. All the messy relationships culminate in a nicely tied up end.

Although all the actors have done a really good job it's difficult not to notice the presence of Woody Allen in their mannerisms and dialogue delivery. I wish he would let his actors find their own groove and not imitate him. But that doesn't diminish the fun we had watching this movie.

2009-09-25T17:30:00.005+05:30

Why don't people just leave Mr. Shashi Tharoor alone? Everyone seems to be focusing on his tweets than the actual work he is doing. A person with such an impressive resume as Mr. Tharoor is the perfect candidate for the position of Minister of State for External Affairs. Having had served in the UN and written eleven books, he is one of the best known voices India has. To target him so maliciously is totally uncalled for. He has already apologised for what he said ... which by the way was a joking response to a question put to him... it's time now to let it rest.

Jittery ride

2009-09-22T12:38:00.003+05:30

Yesterday Chrys and I got into a cab at Kemps Corner. The driver was freaky to say the least. He kept fidgeting and adjusting his hair every ten seconds. To top it he was driving at top speed and weaving through the traffic. Chrys asked him to slow down, but that just made him accelerate some more. The two of us hung on to dear life. That was when I noticed a hairy creepy crawly on that guy's collar. This was a huge yellow and orange coloured caterpillar. It was really hairy too. It would keep popping in and out of this guy's collar and seemed to be in no hurry to get anywhere. I don't know if that was causing the freaky behaviour in the guy. I was reminded of that character in "The Jitterbug Perfume", a man who was always surrounded by bees who formed a sort of halo over his head. But I think this cab driver was crazier. He might have been high on some drug and we didn't want to freak him out more by pointing out the caterpillar. It was probably harmless. We stopped at a signal and there were some kids there with a begging bowl... this driver screamed at them "Hatt!" even though they were nowhere near his vehicle. Then a poor guy was trying to cross the road and this driver screamed some obscenities at him and that fellow almost fainted.

Finally when we were getting off, I took a look at the caterpillar... it was lifting it's head and looking straight at me as if to say, don't worry... I'll be fine... this guy doesn't bother me!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dialogue mix from Quick Gun Murugan is an absolute riot.

-------------

Why do some newly married women dress up like street walkers? ... brightly coloured bra straps peeping out of spaghetti tops, loud make up, big chunky jewellery... you already got your guy, give us poor souls a break!

Appa and Mamma says you watch it

2009-09-20T10:26:00.007+05:30

When I saw the 4 star rating for Wanted in two different newspapers, I was sure that the producers had paid big money to get a good review. Chrys and I decided to do a movie marathon and watch two movies one after the other. Unfortunately, the first one we wanted to watch, The Ugly Truth was sold out so we settled for our second choice Wanted.

I am not a fan of desi style maar dhaad and had kept my eyes closed during the fight sequences in Ghajini. Since Wanted too is a remake of a South-Indian movie called Pokhiri, I was sure that I could take a nice nap during the action scenes. But as soon as Salman Khan strode in on the screen, I was hooked. As one of his sidekicks in the movie says, he is Terminator, Bruce Lee and Rambo rolled into one. His character is called Radhey (Tere Naam anyone?). He works for anyone who would pay him big bucks and would do anything for money except 'Main aurato aur bacho pe haath nahi uthata' (Does Aishwarya Rai have anything to say to that?).

The Mumbai they depict here seems to be the one it was 15 years ago with gang wars and encounter killings happening everyday. Radhey in spite of being arrested a few times seems to be otherwise immune to the police. In the midst of bashing up the bad guys, our hero also finds time to make puppy eyes at a wholesome good girl (Ayesha Takia). The romance track is really cute and funny. Ayesha Takia is sadly so underutilised in Hindi movies. Thank God the South Indian directors (Prabhu Deva in this case) haven't given up on her. She looks good, slim but not thin, curvy but not fat.

The movie doesn't really have a story but it isn't brainless either. It's a series of action, comedy, romance scenes and lots of witty dialogues. The villain is also quite funny. I don't know this actor's name but I think he is a respected character actor down south. Prabhu Deva has brought out his own personality through this movie... irreverent, bold, funny and absolutely entertaining. Of course, this movie wouldn't have been the same without Salman Khan. Only he can be cute, lovable, vulnerable and menacing at the same time.

District 9 ... whine

2009-09-14T17:08:00.007+05:30

Making gross and depressing movies should be declared a crime. I can tolerate bad movies like Cash, Tashan, etc. But I just can't understand the point of someone making a movie like District 9. Every movie normally has the main characters going through struggles, tiffs with the bad men, etc, but in the end something good happens and you go away satisfied.

Not so in the case of District 9. It starts off as a documentary and quickly degenerates into something worse than the worst horror movie. Some aliens have crashed into earth (Johannesburg) and are stranded here for two decades. They are put up in a transit camp of sorts which becomes their permanent residence and is called District 9. This transit camp quickly degenerates into a filthy slum. There are conflicts with the locals who either totally detest them or utilise them to create business opportunities. In the midst of this walks in our protagonist Wicus. He has been assigned to issue eviction orders to the aliens and relocate them about 200 kms from the main city. It's clear that although he has a good heart, he detests the aliens too. He enthusiastically goes about his job, condoning the killing of some resistant aliens, but relishing the sight and sound of their eggs and little ones being burnt alive. He calls it a mass abortion.

Meanwhile, a bunch of aliens are trying to get their mother ship repaired so that they can get back home. They have been collecting the fuel (alien stuff) for it since the past 20 years. However in the conflict between the humans and them, one of them gets killed and the fuel gets confiscated. While doing that some of it spills on Marcus. Here begins the grossest stuff (although there were a lot of gross things so far). Marcus slowly start turning into an alien. It turns out that his company is a weapons manufacturer and all they are really interested in is getting the technology for the alien weapons. These weapons cannot be operated by humans coz it needs some alien DNA to touch it for it to get activated. Wicus is now able to activate these weapons. He gets locked up and they do all sorts of tests on him. Just as the humans are about to kill him to harvest his body parts, he escapes. He then joins hands with an alien called Christopher and his son. Together they manage to retrieve the fuel. Christopher promises that he can turn Marcus back to being wholly human, however that would take three years. First he needs to get back to his planet and get help for the over 1 million aliens stranded on earth. Wicus is heartbroken. Even then he helps Christopher almost getting killed in the bargain. The alien disappears with his ship and Wicus is left to continue degenerating into an alien. The last shot shows him completely transformed into the alien life form, making a flower from some scrap for his wife who has taken him for dead. Totally depressing.

DO NOT WATCH IT.

Cheap Hang-outs

2009-09-09T12:26:00.009+05:30

Once upon a time I knew a guy called Chadda. The first time I saw him, he was outfitted in a rather ill-fitting jeans, white shirt and a bright red tie. The tie looked like something he wore to school not so long ago. "I wore this tie to school not so long ago", he said. He was 17, tallish but not quite, stoutish but not quite - overall seemed like the kind who had a lot of growing up to do but didn't know into which direction. I was 20 and all grown up (or so I thought). Initially I didn't know his name, but guessed that he was from the prosperous hinterlands of Punjab and I was right.

We were at some sort of boring IT convention which was to run into several days. We were supposed to choose course-buddies and Chadda and I almost simultaneously sought each other out. (My reason is that he was the only remotely good looking bloke around - plus I had this weirdly odd and oddly weird affinity to Punjab). He later said that he chose me coz he liked the Daku-style bindi on my forehead. I don't remember much of the convention, except that we had a lot of fun during the breaks over endless cups of tea and biscuits. That's what conventions are all about... tea and biscuits. From the time we were paired up, we were teased that we were a couple, that we knew each other beforehand and we pretended not to, etc. We used to laugh and joke about this during the tea breaks. Over the course of the convention the joke got a bit too much and I couldn't see the humour in it anymore. So I told everyone (including the guy who was conducting the convention) to back off. Finally the convention ended, we exchanged emails and numbers and that was the end of the friendship... or so I thought.

Those days I used to conduct lectures at an institute in the university campus. One day as I was walking out of the campus I bumped into Chadda waiting patiently for me at the bus-stop. Apparently he had been there since several hours in the hope of spotting me. Why didn't he just call - those were not the time of cell-phones and I guess my landline was out of order - as was the norm during the monsoon. We chatted and caught up. The kid was obviously infatuated and bristled when I pointed it out to him. I told him he would grow out of it. He sulked a while and then brightened up. His 18th birthday was coming up. He invited me to visit his house that day. He stayed in Virar with his mom, while I stayed at Kalyan - a good 2.5 hour journey away. Although I agreed, I didn't really plan to go.

However, I found myself taking an early morning train to Dadar and onwards to Virar on his birthday. He had invited a few other friends and we chatted away while he plied us with samosas and sweets. His mom was out to the market and was expected shortly. I had given him a card that said "It's great hanging out with you. Happy Birthday" and it had a picture of a few shirts drying on a clothesline. I thought it was quite funny. As soon as his mom arrived, he showed her the gifts, including the card I gave. That is when the fireworks happened. He was called into the kitchen and given an earful for inviting a "cheap" girl home, etc. I didn't wait to hear the end of it and walked out. That was the end of our friendship. Sigh!

Random gharelu conversation

2009-09-03T10:44:00.007+05:30

Setting: Chrys is watching some WWII dogfights program on Discovery. The narrator is irritating, so are the fossiled budhas featured in it.

Me: What is this dumb program? Stupid old men sitting and reliving war glories

Chrys: Hey, it's interesting

Me: (to the fossiled budha) Go eat your vitamins or something and go to sleep!!!

Chrys: Shut Up! Let me listen to what he's saying

Me: (blocking T.V)

Chrys: Aye, transparent... MOVE

Me: This is all so repetitive. If you see one you've seen all... same old aircraft flying in circles and firing at Germans.

Chrys: No it is not. Strategies and situations are different

Me: No it is not... it's all the same.... some people get killed, some don't.

Chrys: In that case you will say, why watch cricket, every ball is the same.

Me: That is why I don't watch cricket

Chrys: Ok, it's true of any other sport too.

Me: I don't watch any sport

Chrys: That's why you are weird!

Leave the ladies I say!

2009-08-30T19:19:00.003+05:30

Chrys and I went to watch Quick Gun Murugan yesterday. Coincidentally Goan babe was in town with Sid and double coincidentally they got tickets for the same show right next to our seats. We HAD to have a blast and we did. Right from the title credits, this movie is seriously funny. None of the actors are trying to be funny, they just are.

The movie follows the misadventures of a cowboy without a cow, who tries to stop one Mr. Rice Plate Reddy from converting all veg restaurants into non-veg forcibly. People get killed throughout the movie... almost all of them shot in the head. Everyone kills casually. Our hero tries to teach one of the henchmen(Gunpowder) a lesson, but he says that he will do a correspondence course instead. Cowboy sends him back with a nice partition in his curly hairdo using a bullet.

The dialogues are in Tamil (with English subtitles), Hindi and English... a very tasty khichdi. Our Cowboy is killed, gets reborn and takes a very vegetarian revenge. In keeping with the tradition in South Indian movies, a really plump scantily clad woman helps our cowboy achieve his goal. Meanwhile the villain recruits Rowdy MBA to find ways to improve the taste of their non-veg dosa. Nice plump housewives get kidnapped and threatened with their cable T.V being cut unless they reveal their secret dosa recipes. More people get killed, lots of sambhar and dosa gets eaten. Finally the villain is served with his just 'desserts' (payasam?).

Sooper movie!