Posted in Fiction, General

Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and incidents portrayed in this story are products of the author’s imagination. Well, the storyline is slightly derived from real life. Not the author’s life, but from life in general. What story isn’t a little derivative right? The names and characters are definitely fictitious. But then again, can names really be called fictitious? What the author is trying to convey is that certain existing names have been used in the story, but they have been assigned to characters that are based on people with different names. With that clarification, the author has inadvertently admitted that some characters in the story are actually based on real people. Damn.

Since that bridge has been crossed, the author intends to confess that he assigned a despicable character in the story, the real name of the person that character is originally based on. The author enjoys the fact this is one of the perks of being an author in the first place. But as long as Kuldeep does not read the story, it should be alright. Now that the author is being unnecessarily honest, the cryptic line in the story referring to an upcoming actress who “invaded Tollywood like Israel invaded Gaza; and had taken over the industry like Elon Musk took over Twitter” is based on Sreeleela, obviously. Other than that, everything else portrayed in this story is fictitious. Really. Some characters in the story smoke cigarettes and live in Delhi. It is pertinent to mention here that smoking and living in Delhi are both injurious to health. There are reports.

The incidents showcased in the story are definitely totally fictitious. Well, not completely. The author has made references to war, subscription based deep fake adult websites and global warming. But all the events in the story have been based on fictitious portrayals of the real events, and not the real events themselves. So by transitive, reflexive and symmetric properties, they can be deemed semi-fictitious. Talk to a lawyer. There is a mention of a show “Tann ki Baat” on the aforementioned website which, while sounding similar, is not in any way based on the arguably more popular monthly radio show. It is therefore established irrefutably that the names, characters and incidents in this story are fictitious. Almost. 

It may further be noted that no identification with actual persons (living or deceased) is intended or should be inferred. Other than Kuldeep and Sreeleela that is. Talking about the deceased, the author is cognizant of the fact that the protagonist’s father character in the story may be inferred by some to be based on the author’s real father. But that is certainly not the case. The author has created the protagonist, and the father characters purely from his imagination and may only be seen as such. 

The father’s character in the story has unreasonably high expectations on the protagonist’s success right from his childhood. He however dies after the protagonist faces a huge setback in life, leaving a huge void in the protagonist’s life. A void which cannot be fulfilled because no matter how successful he eventually becomes, there is no way for him to really know for sure whether his father is proud of him. A sense of “if my father sees me now, he would probably be disappointed because he would have expected a lot more from me” keeps haunting the protagonist in everything he does. When he is not constantly fighting away the feeling of “what is the point of all this,” the protagonist can only aim for glimpses of contentment in his day to day life. Happiness is a distant dream. 

At this point in the disclaimer, the author has recognized that the lines between what is fiction and what is nonfiction are often blurred. He admits with sincerity that while some names, characters, places and incidents in the story are fictional,  some are based on reality. You know what? All those things mentioned above about the protagonist’s father, and not knowing whether or not he would be proud of him or not – the protagonist should not care so much about all that. He is almost 35 years old and has his lovely wife and pet to take care of, be happy and build a life with. Why should the imaginary disappointment of a person who died more than a decade ago dictate the mood of the protagonist every morning when he sits down with his cup of coffee? He needs to find a way out of this cycle.

The unexpected contemplation that had just happened in this disclaimer is making the author feel a little overwhelmed. He is not sure if he can go ahead and write the story after all. He is thinking “what is the point of all this.”  He knows that the story is amazing, especially the part where Sreeleela fights and destroys the utterly despicable Kuldeep for running the deep fake website featuring “Thann ki Baat” and the more explicit “Sthann ki Baat” programs. She then goes on to solve global warming once and for all. But the author feels that the story can wait and that he should take some time to process the sudden outburst of thoughts and emotions, especially those of the fictional father. All copyrights reserved.

***

Posted in General

Transcript of a Telephone Conversation

The following is the recently de-classified transcript of a telephone conversation recorded in the Prime Minister’s Office. 

***

De-Classified Information

Subject: Telephone conversation between Mr. Vijay and Ms. Deepthi

Participants: Mr. Vijay, Ms. Deepthi & an unnamed security person in the Prime Minister’s Office

***

Phone rings

Ms. Deepthi (D): Hello.

Mr. Vijay (V): Deepthi?

D: Yes!?

V: Hey, it’s me.

D: You got to be kidding me. I cannot keep doing this Vijay. Stop calling me man.

V: But Deepthi, please listen to me this one time.

D: Vijay….

V: You won’t believe where I am calling you from.

D: Oh my God! Are you watching me through the window again?

Scuffling noise

V: What? No. I already told you – I stopped doing that long time ago.. when my telescope broke. Besides, I am not even in Tamil Nadu now.

D: Where are you then?

V: I am in the Prime Minister’s Office.

D: Oh Vijay… Oh Vijay…

V: I am not joking Deeps. They finally agreed to listen to my pitch.

D: Have you stopped taking your medicine?

V: What? No Deeps. I’m not hallucinating. I am actually in the waiting room inside Prime Minister’s Office, in New Delhi.

D: WHAT?? ARE YOU SERIOUS??

V: Why are you shouting? Isn’t anyone home?

D: Appa (father) and Amma (mother) went to the temple. They will be back for breakfast.

V: This early?

D: Yah… (hesitates) some Pooja rituals I think.

V: For the engagement?

D: Yah… (further hesitation)

V: Please don’t go through with the engagement Deeps. You know this PM thing changes everything for me right? 

D: It’s all over Vijay. Let’s stop it now. You tell me. Are you really in the Prime Minister’s Office?

V: Of course yes! I mean, I am in the waiting room for now. Meeting is at 9:30. I practically begged the security person to let me make this phone call. I really wanted to talk to you.

D: I am really happy for you Vijay.

V: Silence

D: Silence

V: I still love you Deepthi.

D: Come on Vijay. It’s too late now. We had this discussion hundred times now.

V: But this time it’s different Deeps. Are you even listening to me? I am making my presentation in front of the PM.

D: Yes, yes. That’s why I’m asking you to first focus on the presentation for now.

V: This is nothing to me compared to you Deepthi. I mean it.

D: Don’t do that Vijay. Please. You’ve been called a recluse, loner, weirdo; some even called you a psycho.

V: Wow, a psycho!? I didn’t know that.

D: That’s not the point. You’ve been working for so long on this. You’ve lost everything and everyone.

V: I don’t care about anything else Deeps. You are the only thing that matters to me.

D: Oh Vijay!

V: When did you say your parents will be back from temple?

D: By 9-9:30..

V: Silence

D: When is the presentation?

V: Around the same time. I will meet the PM first and then make the presentation.

D: Wow that’s really amazing. I am so proud of you Vijay.

V: Silence

D: Vijay? Are you there?

V: Whimpering sounds

D: Vijay? Are you crying?

V: All I ever wanted was you to be proud of me Deepthi. But I wasn’t crying. Some dust I think.

D: …

V: After that night we made love… 

D: Shut up Vijay…

V: ..and your father walked in.. 

D: I said, shut up!

V: ..while I was on top of you..

D: Vijay… shut up! You are in the PM’s Office.

V: I was in the hospital for more than a week because of the thrashing your father gave me.

D: Vijay someone will listen to you..

V: I know that it meant more to me than you but it was the single greatest night of my life. Please Deepthi. Don’t get engaged tomorrow.

D: Vijay…

V: Or at least wait for me. I will reach Madras in two days and I will come and talk to your father once again.

D: It’s not that easy Vijay. He really likes Dhruv. He is a mechanical engineer. Please don’t do this to me.

V: I am in the PM’s Office GOD DAMNIT.

Security person: Yelling in hindi.. inaudible..

V: Oh sorry sir… sorry sorry. Yes, I will kept it low. No, no… 5 mins sir.

D: What was that?

V: Some security person came in and yelled at me.

D: I told you to shut up!

V: Listen to me Deepthi. My life is going to change after today. Everything is going to change. I am probably going to be on the headlines tomorrow morning.

D: I really wish you do.

V: Just tell me that there’s a chance Deeps. Wait for me and I will come and convince your father. Hell, I will bring a recommendation from the PM.

D: Haha.. you’ve always been cocky.

V: I’m telling you I have a really good feeling about the presentation. Even though no one in the PM’s Office seems to be interested, the PM listened to my pitch on the phone yesterday and really like it.

D: Wow, so you actually spoke to the PM on phone.

V: Of course. It was the PM who wanted me to make this presentation to convince everyone else. But if the PM likes it, it’s a done deal.

D: Wow, Vijay I am super happy for you. Aren’t you nervous?

V: Not really. I know I have this in the bag.

D: Great!

V: There’s some lame British dude called Peter Ustinov waiting to interview the PM. My meeting is immediately after that.

D: Wow that’s great. I know you will do well. But best of luck.

V: Thanks Deeps. So it’s basically a formality today. You know how powerful the PM is.

D: Vijay… hesitates

V: Yes Deeps. What is it?

D: You really think you can convince my father?

V: Of course. I am going to be headlines material by tomorrow Deeps. Your father will practically beg me to marry you.

D: You know what? Let me talk to him once he’s back. I will tell him about your meeting and I will ask him to give us another chance.

V: Wow Deepthi. You will really do that for me?

D: Of course I will Vijay. I believe in you.

V: (Silence)

D: I really do love you Vijay.

V: (Silence)

D: Vijay.. can you hear me?

V: Hahahah..

D: Vijay.. what’s wrong?

V: You say you love me?

D: Yes, I do..

V: Then why is it that until I called you just now, you did not give a shit about me? Never cared to see how I was doing?

D: … Vij..

V: You were getting ready to marry that chemical engineer..

D: Mechanical engi….

V: Yes, that mechanical engineer. But now that I am basically going to be friends with the Prime Minister, you suddenly believe in me and say you love me?

D: Is this some kind of a joke?

V: I don’t know you tell me? You made my life a big joke. Not any more you snake.

D: Oh my god! Are you serious? What is wrong with you?

V: Oh is something wrong with me? I don’t know let me ask the PM and tell you.

D: You are sick Vijay. Really sick..

V: Am I? No issues, I will ask the PM to take me to AIIMS for treatment. Haha.

D: You really are a psycho!! Starts to sob

V: Hahahaha….

D: Go to hell you psycho!!

Call ends

Dails again

V: Hahaha…

D: Sobbing … I said go to hell you psycho! Stop calling me.

V: Haha…

Loud noises followed by huge commotion 

V: Wait, what is happening?

Alarm bells ringing

D: Sniffs.. What are you doing now you psycho?!

V: Nothing. Something happened here. Sir, sir… what is happening?

Security person: you…. inaudible.. leave at once.

V: But why? What happened?

D: What is happening?

Security person: ..incoherent soundsget the hell out. Now!!

Line disconnects.

End of transcript.

Location: 1, Akbar Road, New Delhi

Date: 31 October 1984

***

On 01 November 1984, Indian Express carried the following headline:

“INDIRA GANDHI SHOT DEAD”

***

Posted in General

Stressful Weddings

You know how people say age is just a number? That makes my number ’28’ which is an interesting age to be, especially in times like these. I know that I should feel older (and mature) but somehow I simply can’t. In fact it feels like I am becoming more and more silly with each passing year. Nevertheless, I know that time is passing by.

Children I’ve known as toddlers in my school are sending me Facebook requests. That super cute junior from college is now a mother of two kids. I cannot show you her photos but very funny I say. Still, you know how I really found out that I am getting older? My favorite teen pornstar started to feature in the milf category, my favorite milf pornstar started to feature in the mature category which means that my favorite mature pornstar is most probably dead by now. RIP 😦

As we all know my dear reader, an important part of growing up is getting married and it goes without saying how stressful a wedding can be. I have a different kind of problem with weddings though. Since I have decided not to get married, I don’t stress myself out and since I have an unmarried elder brother, I don’t have family pressure as well. Since I don’t have any responsibilities, I don’t have to help plan any weddings. Then what problem do I have with weddings, you ask? I get invited to weddings.

“Is that a big problem?! stupid fellow!!” Is what you might be thinking. Please keep reading. You might understand.

Let me first begin with the invitations. There was a time when I used to think that Facebook invites were real invites. After that I used to have a doubt whether I was invited or not. It took me time to realize that if there is a doubt, it is obvious that I am not invited. Here are some types of invitations that I usually get.

— One card for the entire department invitation: As soon as we get one, I start to think how much money they’re going to collect for the gift and whether or not I could justify the cost in the dinner at the wedding.

— No card but a phone call invitation: Usually from some old friend. Which is kind of sweet. Even though I feel super shy talking such calls, I enjoy these.

— WhatsApp group e-invitation: Soon after the obligatory congrats messages from all the members, including those who never ever send even a single message ever, people who are planning to attend the wedding form another group to discuss the gifts and rates. I was once kicked out of such group with out any good reason. I still don’t know how distributing blankets (with the couples names embroidered) to slum kids is such a bad idea for a wedding gift. Now you see my dear reader? If the invitation stage itself is this complicated, imagine what my level of stress will be after that.

 

Let me systematically explain this with the help of Elisabeth Kübler Ross and her five stages of grief concept. Here are the different stages.

  1. Denial: The initial reaction is mostly denial. I once got an invite in Facebook for a wedding and my first thought is, How can she marry? She liked my Facebook status that one time and wrote ‘lol’ as a comment. Clearly that meant something. I could not believe that she was getting married. Another time, I got a call from a senior whom I had a severe crush on. I was giggling like anything while I talked to her. But she invited me to her wedding. The crazy thing is that there was never going to be anything between us. I did not even remember her or that I had a crush on her until she called. But at that moment, no matter what, the reaction will always be denial. That’s just how it is.
  2. Bitching: This is not a stage in Elizabeth’s theory but I had to add it as it is an important phase. Once the wedding announcement is made and sometimes a trailer is released (Trailer? For a wedding? What the fuck?!) we usually catch up with old buddies and bitch left and right about that couple. Is it true that she is getting married? What happened to that guy she was with? What must be the dowry? Isn’t he a little too young? What about that pregnancy scare that time? What about that pregnancy scare that other time? Actually so many times. Why is he marrying now? How much does he earn?  Doesn’t she look much older than him? You think they had sex? I am sure he is a virgin. You think their parents know about the affairs? Love marriage? Aha. Means they had pre-marital sex. Hehe. You get my idea right?
  3. Anger: Since I am not someone who is prone to anger that much, this stage is very short. Mostly involving, why the hell should I give that much money for the gift? or Mom, what does his wedding have to do with me being fat? Ok ok I will stop drinking Pepsi and start working out. Most importantly, Hindu wedding means vegetarian food yaar!! Moving on…
  4. Fear: This is the most important of all the stages. What if my ex girl friend is at the wedding? What clothes should I wear? and with my overall ugliness and utter lack of any sense of style, how will I present myself at the wedding? What if they take a selfie/groupie and I end up at the corner with a weird expression from a bad angle? How long will I have to suck my belly in while they take those photos. They’re going to tag me on Facebook from which I cannot untag because that would be disrespectful. What if they hire a professional camera guy with those fancy HD pics. Those things are the worst nightmares for ugly people like me. What if I only know the bride. How do I greet the groom? What if he gets a phone call just when I am about to shake his hand? What if this awkward moment is captured on video and they will later look at my awkwardness and laugh! The worst of all, seeing how everyone is getting married and finding love (and in a few rare cases both!) and thinking what am I doing with my life?
  5. Bargaining: I am, or atleast I think I am a reasonable fellow. The next logical step for me would be to evaluate the pros and cons. What is the menu at the wedding? Will there be cute girls? How much will I be spending on the gift and how much I will get in return (general entertainment and food) Will I get to skip work? How far is it from my house? That uncle is a good friend of my dad.
  6. Acceptance: Last stage this. Marriage is undoubtedly (or doubtedly) a holy union of not just two people, but of two souls and two families. There will be plenty love and joy along with delicious food. Most of all, when someone actually took time and invited me to be a part of perhaps the most memorable day of their lives, it is undoubtedly super assholery on my part of I act like this. Well it is true that I am an asshole but they need not know that right? If not today, may be one day I might understand the significance of marriage. Haha or may be not. But I admit to myself that people don’t care about how I look on normal days only and it is ridiculous of me to assume that my looks or my clothes or what I do would matter at someone else’s wedding. If looks did matter that much, why would Hrithik’s wife leave him? Wait, if a girl can leave someone with those looks, what chance do I have?! LOL. Forget it. Anyway the point is, even if I don’t go to the wedding, I will definitely wish them all the love and peace in the world from the bottom of my heart.

That is all for today. There are many things that I want to add but may be some other day. For those you who are getting married, I understand if you don’t invite me and you please understand if I don’t show up at your wedding. Cheers.

Interesting fact: I know a girl who had several lovers (often simultaneously) and had atleast one abortion. She invited me to her wedding which was an arranged marriage with a new guy. I did not go for many reasons. I  however did see their photos on Facebook and laughed for at least 20 to 25 minutes. She might’ve been exercising her individual rights it would’ve been nice if the guy knew too. LOL. Marriage.

Posted in General

Updates pending

Charles Darwin once said, or not, I am not sure, that it’s not the strongest, fastest or the sexiest that survives, but those who can handle change and can adapt to the changes that are happening around them. I remember a conversation I once had with an old girlfriend (now ex-) when she passive aggressively, asked me

“Why do people change?” clearly targeting me.

I genuinely thought about it for a while and answered, “Because they are people.”

While my answer made sense to me, it did not help sustain the relationship. For better or worse, now that I think of it, anything that is real can change. It’s not a bad thing though. We are here as human beings today, because we have been through so much and while we might not be aware of it, we are constantly undergoing several changes. The outcome of these changes may not have results that are clearly visible. Sometimes they take time to show themselves. Or sometimes, people like me spend their valuable time thinking and predicting the changes that are going to come very soon. Written below are ten of the possible evolutionary changes/advancements that are long overdue and will show up anytime now. Or let’s put it this way; these are some of the improvements I would like to see to make this silly ride a little more interesting.

• Farts that smell nice: Okay I know this is a gross way to start but this is something that is bound to happen soon. Farting is something we all do without exception but it still continues to be a social taboo. Imagine if it’s the same with coughing or sneezing? How embarrassing would it be if sneezes had the stink of farts. It is because of the lack of stink, sneezes get a “bless you” while farts get disgusting looks even in the washroom. Imagine a scenario where you enter a room with a dead rat and all you have to do is let out a good fart to freshen up the room.

“Wow…. What’s that great fragrance? Sudhams, did you just fart?”

Aaahh what a world would that be!!

• Several sex things: Talking about how the human body will change cannot be completed without mentioning sex. But let’s just keep those aside. Since I am the biggest pervert I know, several pleasant and even more not so pleasant thoughts came to my mind while writing this bit. But since the possibilities are too many and requirements being vigorously graphic, let’s leave this section here and try to get back some other time. We shall just focus on other simpler things.

• Self-cleaning teeth: One of the most boring things to do is brush our teeth every day. But it’s something we cannot ignore. It has to be done every morning because unlike Hollywood movies, we cannot just wake up in the morning get dressed and go to work. That’s disgusting. So as per my prediction, the body will develop some glands which produce enzymes that clean our teeth and by the time we wake up, our mouth is all fresh. Why didn’t this biologically happen already?

• Better audio system: The practical implications of this may not seem relevant to most but for people like me who use public transport often, this makes so much sense. I don’t know if earphones have become expensive or some people just want to watch the world burn but in almost all of my commutes, there will always be one guy playing his music out loud with zero regard to the tastes of the co passengers. At times like those, it would be better if I could just lower the volume of my hearing. If evolution has given fish, the ability to absorb the dissolved oxygen with the help of their gills, it is only fair we get this simple update.

• Dreams: It is pretty obvious that a major chunk of our life is spent on sleep. We just lay there most of the times we don’t even remember our dreams. Even if we do, we’ll forget in a couple of minutes. My doubt is, in the thousands of years of human evolution, since every person had their share of sleep (and thus, dreams) why did we not develop the ability to control what happens in our dreams? I mean, come on man!! Birds that nest on cliffs lay eggs that are slightly pointed at one end so that they will not roll down but stay there rolling in circles. If evolution can do that, why not this? There is lucid dreaming but its practical application is far from reality. Just imagine the possibilities man. Since I already said, there wouldn’t be any talk about sex, imagine the other possibilities man. If that is too much to hope for, we should at least get the ability to remember our dreams. That way we can at least remember and relive few of the wet dreams.

• Special organs for narcotics: No I am not talking about organs that can handle large doses of drugs to protect from Od-ing. I am talking about special organs that produce the drugs inside the body itself. All you have to do after going home after a stressful day at the work is to go sit on the couch, play some Lionel Richie songs and boom you’re high. On your own. How amazing would that be? Just like how the pancreas produces insulin to control the sugar levels in the blood, these glands will, at appropriate times, produce these high inducing chemicals to keep the mind happy and lets you chill. After all, that’s all we need right? To chill!!

• Zoom: The sense of vision is a beautiful one and filled with wonder. The science behind it is truly mind boggling and indeed goes on to prove how the human body is truly a master piece. I for one did not get a fair deal as I had to wear glasses from the age of 12. All that there is are some lenses, nerves and muscles. So it will not be long before the body naturally develops this adjustment facility. I am talking about real life transition from 240p to 1080p. And taking this a step further, just like how we can adjust the focus, how great would it be if we could also have the zoom system. The implications are too many. If only it could happen one day.

• Retractable finger nails: When I started to write this piece, I promised myself not to go into X-Men.

“No Sudhams, no retractable adamantium claws or sexy blue boobs.”

Then I had this itch on my back; and just yesterday I have cut my nails. I felt more helpless than Bruce Wayne in Bane’s prison. “Eww.. Disgusting.” My biology teacher used to say, looking at my fingers back in school before punishing me for growing nails. In fact I didn’t grow them on purpose, they grew on their own. I didn’t bother to cut them often. So why do they have to grow? And why do all the itches seem to come only after you cut your nails. Because of these reasons, it is clear that very soon, we will be developing retractable nails. This might also be a sex thing but like I said, we’ll leave that aside.

• Love: While I have mostly dealt with the physical aspects till now, let me talk about emotions as well. All the updates till now, I get how they didn’t happen already. But this, this I don’t understand. Why isn’t love a simple thing already? Considering the intensity of the feelings and the joy or pain that it causes, why aren’t humans already armed enough to handle love and all that comes with it? We still fumble, fail, recover, fail again and continue to struggle in finding love, keeping it and living with it. Why is it still such an enigma? Humans managed to understand sub-atomic particles, send things beyond our solar system but then why is love still what it is? Crazy and stupid. Come to think of it, have we already evolved? Is this how it is supposed to be? With love, will there ever be a point of feeling content? Since love is the greatest and the most beautiful thing that can happen, it perhaps is foolish to try and tame it, to quantify it or to control it. All the uncertainty and hurdles that come with it are perhaps the evolved way of experiencing love. Or with this sudden realization, did I just evolve a little bit? I don’t know.

Ok so that is it people, some of my predictions about the updates long overdue in humans. I am sure the requirements vary from person to person. There are many I missed out, like growing back limbs after amputation, better immunity, X-ray vision, automatic fat flushing system etc. Do share your views and who knows, one day we will be flying with our leather wings while synthesizing our own food from solar power. Whatever may happen, all we can be sure of is our pursuit of happiness and the best we can do is to keep this journey fun and interesting with love and peace.

Posted in General

I have a difficult life

To,

You know who you are,

I have a difficult life. Not a ‘difficult’ difficult, but difficult nonetheless. For example, I took a couple of books from my office library the other day and while I was singing, the librarian ma’am smiled and told me that I have selected excellent books and that I would really like them. Now since I have the attention span of a 5 year old human and a two month old puppy, I did not read the two books and watched old Telugu movies over the weekend. The problem now is, when I go back to return the books, she will no doubt ask me if I liked the books, for which I have no good reply to make me not look like an idiot. If I tell her the truth, she might assume that I was just being pretentious and if I lie and tell her that the books were really good, I would be insulting two great authors and their works. See, this is what I mean when I say my life is difficult.

“Where do I fit in all this?” You may ask and that is what I am here to explain. You see I go to office travelling around 30kms (total of about 60kms) every day. There are so many battles I have to fight on the way, usually on my way back from office, since I will be exhausted and therefore vulnerable to pain and angst; my own battles. Like most days, after my work was over, I got into the bus not before watching at least few hundred people spit on the road. What is it with those people? Do you have any idea how difficult it is to walk beside an open-windowed bus or car without the constant fear of being spat upon by some indecent jerks. They all seem so proud while they make disgusting patterns, often colourful, on the road using it as their canvas as if they knew they were making Pablo Picasso proud (and me puke.) I don’t know what’s wrong with these people I tell you. Anyway it is a daily ritual for me to stop myself from puking and take the ac buses more often mostly because their windows are closed. As if things were not difficult enough in my life, you came into it unannounced (actually it was announced. Sorry.)

Back in the bus, I sat listening to songs on my iPod, escaping from the world outside and a scarier world inside my mind. As anyone can agree, one does not pause an iPod for listening to a song on the radio unless it is an “Ilayaraaja” song. “Suvvi suvvi suvvalamma” song was playing and so, like any sane person would, I paused and began to listen. And it was when the song ended, I heard your voice. Well, to be accurate it was first the radio jockey, who was named Rim-Jim Ria or Fatafat Jayalakshmi or Chalaki Chaitra or something else on similar lines I don’t remember. But then it was you, the caller. I don’t even know what you do for a living. May be make calls to these radio stations. That would be a good job. Please send me an application via email if it is indeed what you do. Anyway, I began to listen as the RJ, whatever her name is, announced that it was SPBs birthday and that you were the first caller to her show. Since Sripathi Panditaradhyula Balasubrahmanyam is the greatest singer to ever walk on this planet, (perhaps the universe) I switched off my iPod and began to pay attention.

You see, before going any further, let me tell you a little bit about myself. I am a man, or a boy of very simple thoughts. I like good food; I listen to music and make my living by working in a public sector bank. However if life is all about fighting battles, I have a thing about getting confused while choosing my battles. I get extremely annoyed if people talk loudly in public places, but I don’t feel disturbed after reading about government inefficiencies or charges of murder against political leaders. I remember who gave me my first erection (I will not be revealing it) but cannot recognize half the people in my Facebook friends list. I cannot empathise with suffering children in India but will begin to contemplate causing fatal injuries to security guards who show unnecessary authority when I try to park my vehicle outside supermarkets. The immigrant crisis in Europe or the ISIS problem in the middle-east do not bother me as much as you are doing right now. You might begin to recollect now and you should be realising that this happened a long time ago. That itself should make it clear how much you have disturbed me. Now let me get back to that RJ and when you called to talk to her. This is the gist of the conversation:

You: SPB sir is an amazing singer. The greatest
RJ: *shouting so loudly and quickly that I couldn’t process her words*
You: Hahaha.. Yeah…
Me: *thinking nothing* *burp*
RJ: What is your favorite SPB song.
Me: *thinking how ridiculous the question is*
You: My god. It is so difficult there are so many.
Me(thinking): Ofcourse Ofcourse there are.
RJ: Yes there are but tell me one favorite song.
Me: *Thinking what would be the song that I would say had I been asked the same question*
You: Ummm,…
RJ: *Shouting something or having fits, I wasn’t sure*
Me:  *thinking of Geetanjali and Abhinandhana songs*
You: Haaaa there are literally thousands..
Me(thinking): yeah haha no wonder this girl is finding it difficult to choose she must also have a huge collection of good music like me.
RJ: tell me one.
You:  The best should be the song from Chudalani vundi
Me(thinking): Wait what? ‘Ababaa idhu’, ‘manassa ekkadunav’ and ‘simbale simbale’ are good songs for sure; and I am a huge fan of Mani Sharma’s music. But the best?! Really?!
RJ: which song? Sing it for us.
Me(thinking): yes please
You: Yamahanagari.. Kalakathapuri….
RJ: Awesome.. What a song!!

I don’t remember the conversation after that. Not even the song that played after that. At that moment, I was pretty sure I felt like Asin in Ghajini when the villain hits her on the head while the hero watches helplessly. I looked at my co-passengers who didn’t seem to bother and were clearly not paying heed to what just happened. On the other hand, I was feeling like Pawan Kalyan, giving a speech; by which I mean, very vague and having no clarity about what I was thinking or saying but visibly emotional, very emotional.

In case you are still wondering why? The song you said was not sung by SPB. It was Hariharan. I would understand if it was the other way round but how could you get this wrong? Were you drunk that day? If so please confirm via email so that I could put my agitated mind to rest. If not, why? How? I mean if you could pick any song prior to 2000, there is a good 80% chance that SPB is the singer. How could you choose a 90s song, as if you knew what you were saying, and still get it wrong. Sigh. It should be like selecting a crook from the LokSabha or like picking a Rajnikanth fan in Tamilnadu. It is supposed to be so easy. Like I said before, I am very poor in selecting my battles and this battle is the kind I have no option but to lose. This silly blog post is my feeble attempt to give closure and put the horror behind me. I am going to move on now with my life of difficulties and you go on calling loud radio jockeys and talk about how Puri Jagannath directed Magadheera and how Devi Sri Prasad composed music for the Slum Dog Millionaire. That RJ, who I recall is named Sexy Shakila (or not) will go on yelling gibberish and agreeing to callers claiming to have killed Veerappan. Sigh. Meanwhile I will keep fighting a lone battle to try and escape from the armed openwindowed spitters while silently praying for a cleaner planet.

P.S Okay I will tell you, it was Stephanie McMahon.

Thanks & Regards,

G Sudhams,

Assistant Manager – IT and a fat person

Posted in General

Mr. PM, please let me play my flute.

Yesterday evening something happened. Like everyday, after finishing my evening snack consisting of a veggie salad and green tea, I was about to go for my evening jog, which I do everyday to maintain a slim and trimmed figure, along with my chiseled abs. The wind was very harsh and just as I started, a price of paper flew into my face. I threw it away ignoring it. When I finished my first round of jogging (5kms in less than 10 minutes. True story) the same paper flew into my face again. Just like how Amba’s letter flew into Aamani’s face in Jambalakadi Pamba. As soon as I remembered that movie, I open and read what was written on the paper. It was a letter. Addressed to someone named Mr. PM from some middle aged person with a strange name. I had nothing to do with it. I swear. Even though this story seems ridiculously fake, it really happened. I am just sharing the contents of the letter as it is. I don’t know the person who wrote this is. I am just sharing this like how people share missing SSC mark lists and lost children/old people photos on social media hoping that the original owner finds this. Or at least Mr. PM, whoever he is, gets the message.

Dear Mr. PM,

My name is Arjun Palwai and I am 35 years old. I am married and I have a 5 year old son. I named him Micheal Velayudham just for fun. I have something to tell you. You because I feel only you can make a difference. It all started a few months after I turned 12. I don’t remember how it started but I got used to playing the flute. Whenever I was alone or sometimes even in company, all I wanted to do was to play flute. Since I did not have anyone to play it with, I used to do it by myself relying upon magazines with pictures or sometimes from songs and movies from television. English movies in star movies were very useful. After the Internet cafés started popping up in my town, everything changed and things were never the same again. I got introduced to a whole new world of flute playing by a friend who showed me in detail how and where to access videos and photos that help me play my flute. Since it was a public place, I used to memorise and once I am home, with the help of my imagination, I used to play the flute usually in the shower or if no one is at home, in the living room. I have to admit, what was available on the internet was something that can be called a treasure. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. One guy playing two blonde flutes at the same time, flutes of all colors and sizes being played in all different styles. In one rather unorthodox video, I remember 10 guys playing a single flute. I also enjoyed watching a flute play another flute. Those are still my favorite. Or should I say ‘were’ my favourite.

I never had many friends Mr.PM. Even if I did, non of them were friends that I could play the flute to or with. Our little town did not really permit us to do things like that. It was in times like that Mr. PM, those videos were my companions. Soon after we bought a computer along with a dial up internet connection, apart from 8-bit gaming and custom animation on PowerPoint, all I did was play the flute. Since both my parents were working professionals, I often used to skip school, stay back at home and continue to play the flute. I used to be exhausted by evening but like a famous man once said, a man’s finest hour is when he lies exhausted on the battle field. Now that I remenise those days, it might seem wrong but times were like that Mr.PM. When my computer crashed eventually, I remember going to the CD rental place. They used have the musical CDs (local flautists from Malayalam) at the corner. I was young and embarrassed to purchase those so I once stole a CD but left the money in that place so that I won’t feel guilty while playing the flute. You see Mr. PM, like many people say, flute playing videos and media donot mislead and spoil kids. It’s just the way it is. There are no harmful implications.

Today I am a middle aged man working in a public sector organisation. Not necessarily a bank mind you. I have a kid who I know is also playing the flute in his room or when no one is home. Who knows may be he already has someone in his life with whom he plays the flute. The thing Mr. PM is that yesterday when I tried to access one such sites, it was blocked. I later learnt that hundreds of such sites are also blocked. How could you let this happen? Don’t you live alone? What will you do in your free time? What will you do when everyone in the house goes out and won’t come back for at least 15 mins? Will you not practice playing the flute? What will happen to my child’s flute playing habit? I am sure Mr. PM you understand how this will impact the social structure. Friends are blaming me for not downloading enough material to have as a back up. I admit I was not prepared for such an apocalypse. I am sorry for trusting the convenience of modern day technologies. People also suggest me to go back to downloading from Torrentz. That reminded me of my days in college and hidden folders. You see Mr. PM, just because there is a buffet available, does not take away the beauty of an absolute BBQ where you can just pick what you need while the guy keeps refilling till you decide to stop and move on. I am talking about flutes in case you forgot.

People have vastly contrasting views on trivial things like capital punishment, women safety, communalism and Indian cricket team captains but on much more serious issue like the blocking of these sites, you should know that there is no difference of opinion. We all stand together. I also would like to add that this is not an all male issue. Even women like to play flutes. I am sure you might be aware of all the statistics by now. I am not ashamed to admit that sometimes me and my wife play the flute to each other while watching those videos and it really helps us keep our rather routine lives eventful and thrilling. There is also no truth in the statements claiming that it is against our culture. There are several temple complexes built in the ancient times, that portray gods and goddesses playing the flutes or at least showing off their flutes. Lord Krishna for example is famous for his flute playing skills. Also there is a misguided assumption that those sites have the capacity to spoil youth of the nation, posing a threat to women’s safety. However Mr.PM I assure you that that is not true. Also, to add to that, I am positive that elders who keep saying these things are ignorant of what their children do in the incognito mode. From experience I confess that infact I have never played a flute with a girl till I was married even though I starting playing it from when I was 12. Those things are mostly mutually exclusive. There are several other more practical ways to protect women which can be a lot more efficient.

You might also be aware how refreshing playing a flute can be. Each morning after playing the flute, one can happily concentrate on other things in life and be more productive in their work. This in a way helps in growth of the national GDP in a way. After a stressful day at work/school/college, there is no better stress relief method than a few minutes of flute playing. Blocking these sites will have a rippling effect on this otherwise peaceful arrangement which will have a psychological, sociological repercussions. To be frank Mr.PM, I hope and pray that this entire issue will settle down in a few days and things will go back to normal. This is something that need not be given the importance or the thought that it is being given right now. There are far more dangerous evils that one can fight against if he/she chooses to. Like poverty, rural infrastructure development, education, health etc. You can try to save and protect people who are said to be exploited due to this flute manufacturing industry by better and practical ways. Blocking these will not solve the problem. That is all sir. I bring my issue like a corpse in front of you. You may bring it back to life like Jesus Christ or take a lecture on how death is inevitable like the Buddha, whatever you do  Mr. PM, please let me play my flute.

Yours faithfully,

Arjun Palwai,

Flute enthusiast.

So that’s that. Word to word I have just typed the contents of that letter. It clearly is about some guy worried about what would happen to his flute playing because some sites are blocked. Some Mr.PM is perhaps in charge I don’t know. I hope what ever his problem is, it is solved soon because I could sense the passion and love this man has for his flute playing habit. And for those who might want to see the actual letter, sorry I lost it. Lost it when I was trying to protect a handicapped person from getting run over by a lorry. This happened while I was going to an orphanage to give my monthly donations. Tough luck.

Posted in General

Je Suis Asshole

Some days are different. I mean everything seems normal first then out of no where you end up on a metaphorical roller coaster. A few days back, soon after brushing my teeth I sat down to eat some local made chai-biscuits from a plastic bag while watching YouTube videos. Anyone from Hyderabad would be willing to back me up when I say that they are delicious. You know how, after finishing all the chips in a Lays packet, we gather all the tiny pieces on our palm and lick eat them? That is exactly what I did with the plastic bag and it left me feeling content….but only for an instant. At the bottom of the bag, I saw a hole. A hole in the bag chewed open by a rat. I knew immediately why there were so many crumbles. I’m pretty sure my internal organs puked uncontrollably while I sat there in denial. Those crumbles I just ate.. Those Rats.. Their tails… Their Teeth… I ate licked those crumbles. All of a sudden, it came back to me. The horrible flash back.

When I was in 9th class we used to stay in a house owned by people who had a suppliers business. They rented out equipment like tents, chairs and other stuff for functions. Their godown was downstairs and so the entire building was to rats, what the shire was to the hobbits. They were everywhere. On one dreadful night, my dad was out of town and it was just me and my mom. In the middle of the night she woke me up, pointing at a small rat that was stuck in the window and was squeaking non stop. She wanted the man of the house, in this case me, to go and see to it that is was dead. It had already ruined quite a few of her sarees leaving her unapologetic I suppose. With this newly bestowed responsibility, I went and in a moment of rage shut the window hoping that it would cut the rat into two ending this once and for all. But it didn’t end. The rat fell to the ground and kept making louder noises. The worst part was that even though it was cut in the middle, there were some parts still attached. Blood was everywhere. It was as if Tarantino just had a shot rehearsal in our corridor. One of the most disgusting/horrific things I have ever seen in my life. I then proceeded to give it one more try by smashing it’s head with a stick. But that upper piece, of its now two-piece body, displayed reflexes of Mohammad Kaif calibre. It kept dodging my blows by rhythmically tilting its head left-right-left in perfect harmony. It all felt so ugly and I almost gave up in disgust when my mom came rushing, took the stick from my hand and then BAMMM!!

**This content is removed as it contains vivid and gore descriptions of dead rodents and inhuman behavior of average human beings**

So the rat that ate the biscuits from my bag is perhaps the universe deciding to get back at me after all these years. I wonder how many such biscuit crumbles my mom ate till now, Hahaha.. poor thing. Anyway, after all these thoughts ended. I decided to move on and make peace with the rat community and connect with them like the Piped piper of Hamelin. Come to think of it, I really liked Ratatouille and The tale of despereaux. After all, rats are like squirrels, without the fluffy tails and I have always rooted for Jerry and laughed at Tom’s failed attempts in trying to catch him. I’m not that Ewwww-what-the-fuck to them anymore really. I am fine with cockroaches too only if they are on the ground in crawl mode though. Once they open their wings, my shorts need washing. But wow.. What a way to start my day. I admit I have puked for a good amount of time and promised myself never eat what is at the bottom of a biscuit packet.

Moving on then, since we’re talking about rats, you might’ve seen that news in Paris right? The attack on the satirical news magazine Charlie hebdo. Boy, it left me thinking. People stood for what they believed in, fought and are still fighting in what they believed in. Okay wait who am I taking about? The terrorists or the cartoonists? See that’s why these things confuse me. I don’t want to fake a few emotions so let me just be honest like always. I felt indifferent to the whole thing. I am unable to take sides since I don’t have any emotional attachment to either. Since I consider myself an asshole, I allow myself to stop trying to be ‘righteous’ all the time and think instead. Of course there is nothing I want more than love in this world. But I still understand when people hate. After all it is not about any religion in particular, we are human beings. When were we ever known to be a humane race? I’ve been over all these how-can-we-be-intolerant type of thoughts. I don’t give a shit about most things now.

But hey I am not being inconsiderate. I know how being intolerant is getting more and more unacceptable by ‘progressive’ thinkers and on the other hand, I also know how it feels to be offended. It probably comes from attaching emotionally and investing on sentiments which I don’t do that often. What I am trying to arrive at is that these things happen man. People die. People kill. We’re animals. You always have those idiots who take things too seriously and then when they showcase their assholery this is what we’ll get. In condemning these acts we, for a brief moment, feel as if we are invincible and we matter. While the fact remains that everything perishes.

My instincts prompted me to feel sad for the talented cartoonists even though I have never followed Charlie hebdo. From the way I look at it, the idea of being hard hitting, offensive and on the edge is what gives political or religious satire a sense of power. The makers clearly know this and still continue to do so without falling back to safer and simpler dick and fart jokes. They know very well what they are getting into. I absolutely love South Park (it’s the best I’ve seen no second thoughts) Family guy, Hicks, Carlin, Louis CK, The Onion, Colbert Report (which ended 😦 😦 ), The late night talk shows, SNL and tons of other extremely funny and what people with sentiments might call offensive material. Trey Parker and Matt Stone did get many threats for South Park but they continue to give zero fucks and that’s how it should be. There’s no point in trying to hide, or run away from the hatred. No matter what we do, there will always be people who are offended. It’s just that those threshold limits vary. And then there will always be something out there which might offend you (if you let it.) Ever read the comments section of any news article or a movie review? I continue to wonder at the level of hatred people spread just because others have a different opinion. People passionately spend time in calling names and insulting others if they mock their favourite actors. Then why should we be surprised when some religious fanatic looses his mind when someone makes a crude depiction of his prophet or when a movie mocks their religious rituals or when a foreign religion tries to forcefully convert ‘their’ people. I have also seen people taking advantage of this incident to spread some more hatred on Muslims. How can I possibly wrap my head around all these thoughts?

That is why like always, I choose to believe that, like everything else, with time, this too shall pass; and I now take a moment to thank the universe for my sense of humor and my ability to forget and be indifferent. I am scared to even imagine myself otherwise in this sad sad world. Let me also thank the people who make my laugh despite being the objects of extreme criticism and critical extremism. Keep doing what you do not just because I love it, but because you love doing it. Even if one day I feel offended by some of your content, feel free to make fun me. But never stop doing what you do. It is because of assholes like me, the world need more people like you.

P.S. It’s just a ride :https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMUiwTubYu0

Posted in General

Stressful Interviews

Now that I sit and think about it, how the hell did we end up wearing what we are wearing now? I mean our clothes in general. Of course there are countless geographical, social, cultural and plain stupid reasons. But hey man, what ever, the point is.. dressing up for an interview is such a pain. I know I need clothes. All of us need clothes to protect our junk and to protect others from passing out after seeing our junk. But still, interview clothes make me feel like Hannibal Lector all locked up in that iconic poster. The fake smile I have to wear is like his mask. Why can’t we be happy with less clothes? Like Charmi in most of Krishna Vamsi’s films or Gandhi during our freedom movement. So there I was tucking in my shirt for an interview that kept me waiting for more than two months. I admit I worked hard (relative) for it and wanted to do well and nail it. But things got stressful like always.

Did your ever feel like the universe suddenly shifted mode and started behaving like most customer care helplines offering no help whatsoever when you need it the most?

“Please press 3.4.8.2.9.1.5.3.3.3.8.8.1.7.2 then do three push ups and later brush your teeth to talk to our customer care unit as your call is so valuable for us.”
“Hahaha.. Fuck me.”

It turned out to be one of such days for me. I should’ve guessed it when the venue shifted from an old office building to the best star hotel in the city. But little did I know that it was just an attempt at giving the term “royally fucked” a new meaning. For half an hour outside the main gate, I waited alone rehearsing my greetings and smile, practicing my answers for all the standard questions, reviewing my paperwork and checking if I tucked in my shirt properly. However, there is nothing I could do to the zipper design that always made it look like I was having an eternal boner but let’s just leave it there. Hard to deal with now (no pun intended.) As I walked into the certificate verification room, I noticed all the other participants sharply dressed. By sharply I mean, can make me seem like a hobo sharp. Some guys were even suited up. What.the.fuck. I am an idiot.

“Please give us an undertaking as you don’t have the original graduation certificate. We’ll take the provisional for now.”
“Ok”
“Why haven’t you applied for it till now? It’s a long time ago.”
“Heart break. You have no idea what I had to deal with in that city lady. Too many memories. I could vey well be killed by an overdose of nostalgia if I ever stepped in that campus again.” Ok I didn’t actually say that last line but implied all that with a smile and shrug.

Thank god, making conversations with the fellow participants is not a criteria they look for in an interview or else I would’ve been black listed from every interview I have appeared. As one can imagine, I sat there in silence (as much as possible) watching the beautiful paintings and designs on the roof and floor (star hotel man) I promised to myself that I wouldn’t go near the coffee table as one might assume that I might be a lower grade hotel house keeping staff. Goddammit. I should really start being at least a little sophisticated. It wasn’t long before I was called in to meet the panel. Luckily.

The interview itself did not feel that bad. It was over pretty fast and frankly I don’t remember even half of it. Something about crude oils prices, banking sector, off spinner bowlers and database systems. My initial feeling after coming out the room was confusion. I didn’t know how I should feel about the interview. Strangely however I felt a pain in my chest soon after I left the room. Is it a sign of some sort? After wishing the other participants in the waiting room all the best (immediately realising that it wasn’t going to help my chances) I left the venue and untucked my shirt right away. I also wanted to get back into my shorts but that had to wait.

Here’s the thing with these interviews. You know that feeling after ending a stressful relationship and after the initial blame game on the other person, you slowly sit and realise how there were signs all along that it was going to end some day. You were just blind to read in between the lines. That was exactly how I felt sitting in the bus while returning. My interview went terribly bad. Fuck. Shit. And some other curse words later, I move on and started listening to Manisharma’s mass numbers. It’s not the end of the world. I already have a fun job (read less pay but fun anyways) Only one thing can bring back joy to my life at that moment. International quality fried chicken made using several herbs which makes it crispy and juicy. Whose recipe has been kept a secret for several decades and also which is finger licking good. God bless colonel sanders. If any one deserves those 72 virgins in heaven, it is that man.

“One fiery grilled rice bowl and four piece hot and saucy chicken.”
“Time padathadhi Saar”
“Grilled aa?”
*nods*
“Parla nenu dhaani kosame ocha..”

I sat there in anticipation and disappointment. Anticipointment…(Applause) While I waiting there, I saw an old man trying to bargain the prices with the cashier. He had a very normal face. A face whose name could be Venkateswarlu or Satyanarayana and I swear to god, it was one of the most funniest and yet saddest things I’ve seen. I almost felt like paying his bill but didn’t want to put him in that awkward position. The cashier fellow was a calm chap luckily. Anyways after I got ready and was about to eat, I felt that tingling sensation in my heart once again. Am I having a stroke? Fuck. I’m still 25. Should I stop eating junk food. But but.. KFC.. That Advani is like a billion years old and he’s still alive. Several other meaningless thoughts later I finished my meal and got back home forgetting about the interview once and for all, immediately planning my next moves and how I should execute them. Like I said, it’s not the end of the world. At least I’m alive and I have the capacity to love which is the greatest gift of all. Yes I just said that.

Back home, as I sat and started my PC, I felt the pain increase. It was as if a needle is being used to dig a small hole in my heart and then hot wax is being poured into it. I thought I should stop and do something about it but still proceeded to logon to twitter. There it was. The reason why I was feeling that pain all day.

Trisha got engaged.

How can the day get any worse… I mean damnit. Have some mercy god. There’s no point in doing anything in life anymore. Who the hell is that guy. That blessed bastard. It’s not like I had a chance anyway. If you really love her, you should let her go. What the fuck idiot are you crazy… And so on happened for some time. I also contemplated the idea of digging a deep pit and burying myself on a permanent basis. However I recovered like always as my heart is prone to such feelings and has developed a response mechanism on its own. Listening to “Omana penne” I wrapped myself in my rug and tried to sleep… in my shorts.

Posted in General

Stressful evenings!!

Leaving office should be the best part of any employee’s work day. Except ofcourse if you are a porn star.. but that is irrelevant here. Anyways what I am saying is sometimes, and in my case, most of the times things don’t pan out the way we want them to. Here is how stressful things usually get after I pack up from work in the evening.

The first culprit here is the architect who designed my office building. Why do I have to walk all the way to the end of the corridor to go to the washroom? As soon I reach the elevator on my way, some senior staff (usually middle aged women) hold the elevator for me inviting me in. I cannot possibly tell them (while the entire crew inside the elevator stare at me) that I need to take a piss. So I hold back and go in convincing myself that there is a wash room in the ground floor as well. While in the elevator, I try not to start a conversation as again, I have to cut it short once we’re in the ground floor in order to excuse myself to go and take my glorious piss. Meanwhile the elevator stops in the 2nd floor just so the people can say one last prayer for the day to the Ganapathi statue that faces the elevator. They do it in such unison that I have to join them just so I won’t ruin their perfect sync. After what feels like 3 to 4 hours, we reach the ground floor and I run to the wash room pretending as if I am busy and late for a meeting. As I get ready to do the much anticipated, my boss walks in and takes the stall next to me.

“What man.. how’s it going?”

“Oh hehe hi sir..” my usual greeting and then there is the awkward silence. Here’s my problem. I take piss in privacy and when people, especially older men are around in public rest rooms, my body seem to disagree with my intentions. So there I am talking to myself,

“Come on man. Three of your four grand parents are respected teachers. The other is a nursing superintendent who assisted in saving countless lives and you cannot even take piss in the public rest room. Shame on you.”

It takes time for me but once it is done, I go to the sink, wash up and wipe my hands dry and just as I am about to open the door, I see the handle is wet. Goddammit!!! Why do people do that?? Can’t they dry their hands first? Idiots. But the problem here is much bigger. As soon as I leave, my boss is going to think that I was that asshole who wouldn’t wipe his wet hand before opening the door. That leaves me with one awful choice but I cannot clean that handle. That filth belongs to some idiot who might have Ebola or whooping cough. I don’t want to catch that shit. So before my boss could finish, I come back to sink and start washing my face just to save time.

“Aah the idiots who won’t dry their hands before opening the door!!” by boss says visibly irritated.

Phewww…narrow escape.

“Yeah I know sir. Lazy people.” I say giving him a cannot-change-these-people look. I quickly follow him out so that I need not touch the door myself. Mission accomplished. No wait, this is just the first 10 minutes. My god it is stressful!!

After another ten minute walk to the railway station, I wait for the local train which usually is a few minutes late. Only when I am on time that is. Come late one day, and be assured the train is on time and you missed it. That is perhaps how the universe takes revenge on me for not being empathetic enough I guess (I laugh at people who have a lisp..hahaha) So I wait there trying to ignore the judgmental looks of about-to-retire aged uncles working for various government offices near my office. I keep my headphones on looking at the pigeons fly and reflecting upon the poor choices I have made in life. Meanwhile, a couple of these gentlemen look at me strangely and keep saying something to each other. I silently pause my iPod without removing my headphones and try to listen what they were talking about.

“Kids these days… Wasting money on things like these. They don’t talk to people anymore.” I hear one of them saying. Promptly supported by vigorous nods from the other. They thought I was some college student, which I have to admit is a little flattering but then, I can be a jerk under pressure. Calmly removing my head phones,

“Listening to the same songs again and again is better than talking to people who likes judge people just by looking at them not trying to understand their story. Especially the kind of people who seem to misunderstand the difference between being wise and being old and outdated (This obviously came out much worse when I said it in Telugu.) They then proceed to throw tantrums at me which were not audible as now I have my headphones back on. By the end of two more tracks, I see people leaving the platform. The train is cancelled and the next one isn’t coming for another hour.

Love it, hate it or envy it, the biggest advantage the IT industry has provided us is the cab service. Not the kind that rapes you though. Or yes that too may be but thankfully, nobody raped me so far. I hope. So anyway I come out of the station and take a cab which will drop me somewhere close to home from where I have to take an auto. Not so bad when compared to the bus where random men crush me from all directions while intensionally or unintentionally feeling up most of my body inappropriately. In the cab, A co-passenger tries to start a conversation about computers and smart phones and how his son is asking for the latest galaxy tab saying that it is an absolute necessity and asks me for my expert advice. I feel bad for the man as his son will probably use it to watch porn only.

“Ask him to earn it by proving himself in the next semester exams.” I tell him which seemed like a fair deal.

He gets down the cab after thanking me, gives the driver 10rs and leaves quickly before the drives asks for an extra 5rs. His poor son won’t be getting that porn tablet anyway I think. I get down soon too. The thing with taking a share-auto is that no matter what, you end up sitting with the driver because… Girls. But hey I’m not a misogynist so let’s leave it there. They truly deserve the back seat. Chivalry isn’t dead ladies and gentlemen and our auto rickshaws are diesel powered proofs. After almost an hour and half journey from office to home, I get unusually hungry as usual and decide to take home a heavy dinner. I walk towards the parcel counter in one of our multi coloured bawarchis. Even before buying the token the guy sees and shouts,

“Ek chicken afghani, chaar roomal roti aur ek chicken fried rice.”

I nod in approval (as it was my regular order) feeling proud and embarrassed at the same time. Once again I wait looking at the heavy traffic on the road and laughing at mankind for chasing around things that don’t matter in this whole drama of life and realizing that everything perishes in the face of death.

“Mr. Afghani” he calls me showing me my package.

People look at me confused and at this point I don’t even have the energy or intension to give a thought to what was happening. All I want is to go home, take a warm bath, eat happily and read. After the first is over, and soon after I open the package, I find paneer butter masala instead of chicken afghani. I have not met a guy who was offered a blowjob but ended up getting a circumcision. But if I did, he would know exactly how I felt at that moment. So much for Mr. Afghani!! Too tired to go back and fight for justice, I eat the paneer curry and by the end of it, drown in some guilt induced by my weightloss plans. I try to recover with a chilled bottle of diet Pepsi (shamelessly) and proceed to make the obligatory phone calls and messages before going to sleep hoping that tomorrow is going to be better.

Love and Peace.

Posted in General

FML #3

I get upset when people misunderstand me. Yes it is true that I love non vegetarian food. Yes it is true that during my 5 month stay at Infosys I did not eat vegetarian even on a single day. There are many such successful streaks in my career. But hey that doesn’t mean I hate vegetarian food. It is the kind of misconception that assumes all straight people are homophobics. In fact my parents never allowed me to take non vegetarian food for lunch during my school days. We even had this stupid rule that who ever brings non-veg should sit separately away from the group for that day during the lunch break. Which come to think of it, is very messed up. Seriously, that is Manusmriti level messed up man. Anyways in this session of FML, I would like to suggest a vegetarian food.

Potatoes are one of my favorite foods. The reasons include my mom’s potato fry, Lays american cream and onion, Potato bajji near my college back in the day, fries at McDonalds and the mere fact that it is called a Po-ta-to.. Haha what a funny sounding name. Without any hesitation I admit that one of the reasons my 6 pack is now hidden deep under the warm and thick layer of fat is the carbohydrate delight called the POTATO.

The item is called Potato Shots. The place is The Snack Room. Opened recently near Madinaguda close to Allwyn crossroads, it is a small eatery just outside Suguna super market. While there are many other items there (which you can try and let me know if they’re any good) potato shots is the sure shot winner. Those tiny crispy and soft balls made from potatoes is one of the best vegetarian snacks I have had the pleasure to taste in recent times.

The Snack Room, Near Suguna super maket, Madinaguda, Hyderabad.

>> They have their own dipping sauce which complements the dish perfectly like Ravindra Jadeja to MS Dhoni or like Kona Venkat to Sreenu Vaitla..oh wait…nevermind.

>> You can check out their Facebook page. They seem to have some cool offers too.

>> Not that I am being a Vegophobic (I just coined that term) but in case you feel suffocated and start to crave for chicken, there is an RFC just beside the super market. You can go there and get fried chicken that is as tasty as Kfc but at half the prices.

>> Back to the snack room, they also have Panner rolls and milkshakes. There are also dishes made with baby corn and others. Please note that there are non-vegetarian items also but I am conveniently ignoring those parts as I want to focus on veg this time.

>> This is what happens on a usual weekend. I have a heavy lunch featuring at least two different dishes made with chicken and a liter of Pepsi. What comes next is a couple of hours of sleep which is promptly followed by shame and regret. However it will last only until I take a nice hot bath. Then I feel fresh and ready to explore new territories in the world of eating outside. If you face similar situations and have difficulty in choosing where and what to eat, then this is a perfect choice.

Now to songs. I am no doubt a perpetual lover of my childhood and I believe anything and everything from those days is way better than anything that is now and that will ever be. So no wonder I have a huge collection of songs from those good old days. Here are two random songs from my Telugu Old playlist that I picked in shuffle mode.

Jabilamma Neku antha: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iXbeqntDU8c
Meghalalo: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=34BOXxGJSN4

These songs once again strengthen my belief that my iPod is a tiny machine that gives me the ability not just to travel through time but also through space. I can go to different places in different times when I listen to these songs. Like the house I grew up in or my uncles Maruti 800 with a cool cassette player. I hope you have similar memories that are attached to these songs and please feel free to share them.

That is all for now. Visit the snack room for the potato shots and be assured that you will not be disappointed. Share with me some more songs that you like. Thanks for stopping by and do stay tuned for more. 🙂