The Truth About Truth.

Woody Allen: “Life doesn't imitate art, it imitates bad television”

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It’s usually something offbeat that gets you thinking. By thinking, I mean really thinking. Thinking about life, love, loss, gain, pursuit, happiness and its usually unholy tradeoff with money.

Recently I was writing an article on stand-up comedy for a magazine. I found that, the basic premise that comedians worked on was that they would bare themselves. They would tell the truth and not leave a single shred of it out.

Lenny Bruce said, “If Jesus had been killed twenty years ago, Catholic school children would be wearing little electric chairs around their necks instead of crosses”. Bruce had nothing against good ol JC’ – he just found a way a telling, what according to him, was the truth, i.e. the hypocrisy of religion.

I believe that all jokes made by even non professional comics, reflect what they really feel… If you meet someone who makes a joke about falling for you, then that’s probably true. Humour has always been the best way to say something without actually saying it. This is exactly what they teach in the 1st class of your comedy course. Speak about what you believe in, not about what you think others find funny.
The analogy here is – SPEAK YOUR MIND & THE REST SHALL FOLLOW.

Comedians were never afraid (as suggested by Chris Rock’s spoken word album Never Scared). They just went out there and said what ordinary people were too scared to say.

Maybe, just maybe, we all need to take a lesson from them.
Maybe, we all need the balls to say things that would usually blow our egos into pieces of shark bait.
What I’m trying to say is that if you want to become a hippy then go do that. If you want to write then do that. If you want to marry your landlady then propose.
If you disagree with your parents then take them out for dinner to a nice Italian joint, and then tell them.

A very good friend is getting more homicidal by the day because he is doing a course he absolutely hates. He wants to write, but then that would be swimming against the stream.

Another bloke earns 6 Lakh p.a. He wants to enter the social sector, but then that what would his neighbors say?

Another guy, and a girl are completely into each other. If only they’d stop tap-dancing around the issue and say something about it.

Besides, think back. How many times have you done something pander to the ‘neighbors’?
And how many times have you done something just because ‘It’s the bloody right thing to do”.
How many hours of your 24, feel “Just right”?
When was the last time you felt excited about what you are doing?

I agree that India’s GDP is almost at the 10% growth mark, but then abandoning everything that’s near to you, in order build that corporate career? Surely you have better imagination. (But if that’s what gives you your kicks then by all means do It.)

However, if you have that once in a blue moon conversation in which you say, “man, I really gotta get out of this shithole”, then you know that your allegiance lies elsewhere.

Life shouldn't be about, driving to work--driving back--and then sleeping. I think too many of us are stuck in the rut. In any case, even if you win the rat race, you are still a rat right?

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Don't get me wrong. This is not just about work. This is about enjoying life.
Speaking for myself, it took a visit to a certain seaside town to figure out that I want to travel, learn a new language, make music, write, be entrepreneurial. I haven't forgotten anything from that trip... And this is just an attempt to continue to remember all of that.

It's when you are not over-analyzing and dissecting what you are about to say before you actually say it, that you are being truthful. It may take a stand-up comedy act to realize, but better late than never.

So keep a tab about the jokes you make, the stories you tell in passing and what you said during that one perfect conversation you had - for they will tell you alot.

Life is too short to figure out what's right and what's wrong.
If it makes you smile, it's probably right.

Thus Robin Williams spake, “You're only given a little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it."

Shantaram

Shantaram, By Gregory David Roberts
Abacus - ISBN 0-349-11754-3 (UK Edition, Paperback)

“I was a revolutionary who lost his ideals in heroin, a philosopher who lost his integrity in crime and a poet who lost his soul in a maximum security prison...”

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I’ve never lived the life of a foreigner. Nor have I lived the life of an addict, or a slum dweller, or the mafia, or a doctor, or a….

In this autobiographical book, the author Gregory David Roberts, does that and much much more. In the year 1978, heroin addict, Roberts was sentenced to 19 years imprisonment in a maximum security jail in Australia. He escaped to New Zealand after making a daring daylight escape. After a brief period there, he arrived in Bombay on a false passport. This is where the story of Shantaram begins.

Roberts or Shantaram or Linbaba, as he is known is the reason why I loved the book so much. It’s heartening to read about a foreigner to takes to India from the very moment he steps foot in it; and this at time when we cant stop criticizing our country.

The book starts with Roberts forging a close friendship with his guide Prabhakar who lives in the slums. Through Prabhakar, he meets several interesting characters whose distinct personalities take you for a roller coaster ride throughout the book. There is Didier, who is almost never without his whiskey, and then there is Karla, the mysterious lady who never quite reveals what’s on her mind. In the words of Karla, “Happiness is a myth. It was invented to make us buy new things”

Roberts appreciates everything around him; the crowded slums, the 5 star hotels, the touts, the underground businesses, the mafia and so on. He starts to make his living by serving as a guide to visiting foreigners. At the same time he even lives in a slum. While the initial few days are hard for him, he soon adjusts. Just when you thought that a foreigner living in a Bombay slum was implausible enough, Shantaram goes and creates a clinic within the slum.

Society would have you believe that an escaped convict couldn’t piece together a nursery rhyme, let alone a tome of the magnitude of 940 pages. Roberts does that and more. His command over the words that make up Shantaram is masterful. His sentences stay with you long after you have passes the page.

For example when he advises Karla, “If you make your heart into a weapon, you always end up using it on yourself”. These and many other profound statements are bound to stay with you, the reader, long after you have finished reading the book.

Roberts even finds his was into the Bombay underworld. His musings with the don Khaderbhai make for superb reading. Khaderbhai shares his theory of how the universe works with Roberts, a discourse reserved for his most trusted aides. This fascinating portion of the story deals with his work as a loyal foot soldier in the currency changing, gold smuggling and fake passports business.

All throughout the book our protagonist is faced with choices. Should he stay with the girl he loves, or be loyal to the man who saved his life?
Should he help someone knowing fully well that it could get him killed?
Can he continue to live normally if his closest friend dies?
Perhaps the biggest virtue of the protagonist is his ability to learn from past happenings. Shantaram perennially searches for the truth. However, he finds fresh perspectives on it as he muses, “Truth is a bully we all pretend to like”.

You wonder to yourself, will Roberts ever stop risking life and limb.
It’s the promise of answers to these questions that spur the reader on through each of the 900+ pages. This book is a page turner.

I’ve never lived the life of a foreigner. Nor have I lived the life of an addict, or a slum dweller, or the mafia or a doctor. But while reading this book I’ve lived them all.

Roberts notices things about India, I fail to notice. While in the slum he understands that it’s all about ‘heart’. You think and do with your heart. Friendships are above all else and honor the cornerstone to life. He loves his friends to bits, and they love him back.

Read this book for inspiration. Read this book for a glimpse into India. Read this book for the literary masterpiece it is. My guess is that you will come out of it a new person.

ALL you need to know about the CAT exam

I recently had the pleasure of preparing for the CAT (Common Aptitude Test) exam, conducted by the IIM's. A few random observations, if you'll allow me.

You can tell a CAT aspirant out of any lineup. Their eyes are wider, pupils dialated and a with hint of madness which screams, "Look I know I'm going sanile - but bugger off!!". It like being high on dope, without all the trouble of scoring. Thats right - be forwarned. Your friends are going to become monsters.

If your friend calls you for a walk and mutters under his breath, "ok.. ok.. 2 m/s and 2m/s .. ok .. ok.. relative speed = 4, ok.. ok.. 100 m / 4 = 25sec" & exclaims... "Ya dude, if we continue to walk at this speed, then we should pass the pretty girl in exactly 25 seconds", THEN, that is your cue to RUN... Because your friend is infected with the CAT virus.

Thats right, ordinary people suddenly start to talk funny. (Something like Shoaib Akhtar, who sounds like a unholy cross between Tony Greig and Kumble.) They say annoying stuff like,

"Dude, voh kya keh rahi thi - full on esoteric laga. Voh
toh Raj ke taraf Partisan hai, and
Bhai, main to ek Egalitarian ladka
hun. Sabko equal chance. Pakka CAT ke tareh."

And then there is the other class. The backward classes of CAT (no, not the lucky ones). We are the ones who observe the commotion from a distance. The fly on the wall. The invigilator in the CAT exam hall. The sitter in between 5 IIT level questions on Logs.

I'm one of them. These days everyone has been asking me, "Dude, how is CAT prep going". I turn around and say, "Man, it feels like I'm on the wrong end of a Sine curve." That pretty much sums up my CAT saga. It's like seeing art-house French movie... without the subtitles.

But seriously, what do you expect unless you were born with a little extra lumps of brain. Do NOT dismiss it as impossible. Doesn't Hrithik Roshan have an extra thumb?? Scientists do not want to prove it, because then the secret of their success (and single status) would be out.

For example: Have you SEEN the data interpratation sets in this years AIMCAT series. (slow death, i call them).

"Irfan is an allrounder in cricket and is good at all three aspects
of the game. batting bowling and fielding. He has a weekly training schedule,
such that all three aspects as practiced for exactly 3 sessions, in the period
of seven days. Gap b/w any two consecutive sessions of any of the 3 aspects must not be more than 5 days. He rests on 1 day of the week, only on wednesday he practices all three aspects. During a period of 6 consecutive days he practiced feilding on first day, bowling on second day , bowling on third day, feilding on fourth day, bowling on the fifth day and may have died by the sixth day. the above is only a partial list of of some of the days during which he could have practiced multiple aspects on the same day."

Question: On what day did he rest?????

NO WONDER HE IS NOT IN THE TEAM!!!

Anyway, here is my theory on how AIMCATS get there crazy DI questions.

• They have captured and chained a mad russion scientist called Igor Ivanov who produces DI caselets like the above one. He gets his kicks. Its like sex for him.
• A bunch of reformed axe-murderers who used to be mathematicians in their hayday produce these by the dozen.
• There is the One, (like in the Matrix), who was hired by these guys. He can be identified by the Dr. Phd. MPhil. MCom. CA. CISA. FPM next to his name. He wears white shirts and red chequered ones, when he's feeling particularly adventerous. Also, he has an autographed copy of Newton's Principa Mathematica.

Why would anyone subject themselves to this? and yet, 2,50,000 people... !

What NOT to do while watching ' The Lord of the Rings'

It's important for you, the reader, to precisely understand what is the motivation for a post like this.

All around I see pretentious assholes who think that their parents doing the humpity-hump behind the Columbus ride in Appu Ghar was the best thing to happen since the Big Fuckin' Bang.

You know these guys... They have a new hairstyle every month, they wear t-shirts with slogans like "Via-Agra : Man's Greatest erection for a Woman" and the only thing they ever read is the "Whats Hot & Whats Not" section in stupid fashion magazines.

So this is the 1st in my series of Top-10's so that this particular lower race of homo sapeins with the IQ of a newly born frog; may look, well, just a wee bit brighter.

What NOT to do while in the theatre when watching "The Lord of the Rings"

1. Stand up halfway through the movie and yell loudly, "Wait...where the hell is Harry Potter?"
2. Block the entrance to the theater while screaming, "YOU.....SHALL NOT..... PASS!" - After the movie, say "Lucas could have done it better."
3. Point and laugh whenever someone dies.
4. Ask everyone around you if they think Gandalf went to Hogwarts.
5. Finish off every one of Elrond's lines with "Mis..ter Anderson."
6. When Aragorn is crowned king, stand up and at the top of your lungs sing, "And I did it.... MY way...!"
7. Talk like Gollum all through the movie. At the end, bite off someone's finger and fall down the stairs.
8. In TTT when the Ents decide to march to war, stand up and shout, "RUN FOREST, RUN!"
9. Every time someone kills an Orc, yell: "That's what I'm Tolkien about!"
10. When they go in the paths of the dead, wait for a tense moment and shout, "I see dead people!"

Another Top 10 next week... More of people you love to hate !

We promote gambling on this blog! (Rounders, a review)

I'm a big supporter of gambling....

Last Diwali, when gambling for the first time, I discovered how easy is it to take money off ignorant half-wits whose faces contort into grotesque Mr. Bean tributes everytime they have bad cards.

And Of course, when their cards are good they waste no time in letting me know. Its usually in the form of a very intelligent question. "Uhh... What is the maximum I can raise the bet by?".

So, with a big Thank You nod! to all the people who made the above faces and asked the stupid questions, last Diwali - I present to you a review of the movie Rounders. The perfect motivational tool for all you wannabe gamblers out there.

You really should see this movie before you hit the Diwali parties this season.

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ROUNDERS : 1998
Cast: Matt Damon, Edward Norton, Gretchen Mol, Martin Landau, John Malkovich Director: John Dahn Classification: R - (Profanity, violence)

Rounders starts off with a poker game with Mike McDermott (Damon) and the Russian gangster KGB (Malkovich) squaring off a high stakes poker game. Predictably enough Mike loses the game, and with it all his life savings.

Ten months later we see Mike living in with his girlfriend (newcomer Mol), enrolled in a law course. He has given up cards for her, but when his old buddy Worm (Norton) is released from jail, Mike can't help but play a few games.

Work, however, is back on the streets with a huge debt to pay and, consequently, his life on the line. Mike decides to vouch for Worm to the loan sharks and thereby puts his life in danger as well. Now they have 4 days to gamble and make $15,000 to pay off the debt.

Dahl (The Last Seduction), departs from his usual non linear style of direction in this movie. The story is of one persons strength of character, and it remains that. It could very well be a baseball movie - just with cards; But do note, it's the cards angle that makes all the difference here.

Damon (Good Will Hunting) and especially Edward Norton (Fight Club) put in fantastic performances. Norton is the guy you hate for what he's put his friend into, and Matt Damon plays the "Oh God, how can you be so damn nice" character. While the predictability of the movie takes off some of the shine, Rounders remains as out and out entertaining movie.

The gambling angle, along with some well researched New York slang used in the gambling dens, give this movie its uber cool factor. The movie is also supported by a great script that very convincingly takes you into the world of high-stakes poker.

I liked this movie....

Goodbye Dear Friend, 2001 - 2006

It was 4 days back when he left our house, but I still remember how he came there in the first place. The story dates back to 2001.

Sometime in 2001:
I had earned enough cash by washing cars, and walking dogs. It wasn't a very enriching experience to say the least.

"6:00 AM, a cold winter morning.
Its so cold, your nipples are as hard as diamonds.
Your only friends are the other car washers... Raju and Suresh have their words of encouragement; They say it gets much better after the frostbite... You cant feel anything then. The monotony is broken with a bird shitting on my head... aah, the warmth."

By mid-2001, I had enough to make the purchase. It was a humid day. The bylanes of Lajpat Nagar in Delhi was our destination. After looked at the others it was clear that for Rs 9500 I was only going to get this bugger. The others were much more expensive.

Initially he was just supposed to help me impress the chicks. Period. Finito.
But over the years things changed. He helped with the chicks, and alot more.
We went everywhere Reydhun, Pepsi Storm, Youth Nexus, Pulse @ AIIMS, and many other places. He was friend, brother, the bile of my creativity (sorry ashwin).

All through school, I'd bunk thanks to him; And college, he was the excuse that let me keep long hair.

I could get drunk, hammered, wasted, sloshed, blown, intoxicated, bombed, canned, inebirated, juiced, tanked, pissed, plastered, sozzled, zonked ... And all people would say, It's OK ... he's a musican.

Then I sold the bugger... and to 2 guys in fake Nike's from Manipur.
This so they could start a punk band.... P U N K !!!
fuck punk. punk sucks.

....What was I thinking !!















"...It's OK, He's a musican."

...of Supermarket Temples, Levitating saadhus and Blatant Disregard for Construction and Land Use Norms

The Akshardham temple : Either you are one of those who has seen it, or you are one of those who missed out - For it is a spectacle like none other.

or as I like to call it, "The Disneyland of Hinduism"


A quick primer on the temple.... Location: Nodia Mor, East Delhi.
- It is positively huge. The parking lot is probably as big as some of the islands in Indonesia.
- It bright, and always lit up, just like your friendly neighbourhood drug addict.

Yes, the Akshardham is unique. In fact, a bit too unique. Perhaps the levitating saadhus hadn't envisioned a few alternative uses for the temple, but here are a few to help them out. Jai Ho

1. The Lights.
When an kid sitting in Jaipur goes, "The temple is blinding my eyes", you know there are far too many lights.
I'm thinking maybe, we could use the place as Delhi's next international airport... Hey, its already got the lights and the parking space... All we need now are duty free booze shops and Nigerian drug peddlers.

2. The Water.
When your high school geography teacher takes you on a class trip to the Akshardham temple to show you, streams, creeks, brooks, rindles, rivulets, tides, torrents and fucking river deltas - then trust me, there is far TOO MUCH WATER, smack in the middle of a dry riverbed.

Maybe if the DJB (Delhi Jal Board) tapped this water, Delhi would finally get those alcohol distilleries its been hankering for all this time.....

3. Multiple square miles of parking.
Miles and miles of Parking? In Delhi? Are you sure? ... What are all those surrounding lights for? That's right, its a Cricket stadium.
(and God is right next door... the Indian team can't possibly lose again).... Can it ?

Can you add to the list? ... Comment.

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Refrences:

• "Killing Delhi's lifeline", An article on encroachment on the Yamuna bed [link] [alternate]
• "The monstrous Akshardham temple, aggressively encroaches on public space by flouting all rules" [Hindu, Nov, 2003]
• "It is worth mentioning that the Master Plan has been violated far more systematically and ruthlessly by the rich and the powerful and the government itself than by anybody else. The entire Asiad 82 infrastructure, including stadia, hotels, flyovers etc. were built in violation of the Master Plan. Thousands of farmhouses encircling Delhi are again violations of the Plan. From Akshardham temple to the Metro Rail Depot to even the Secretariat of the Delhi Government- all these are violations" [link]
• And this rant would be incomplete without one by Carlin. "No God, transcript" [link]

and Whats the point again, of evicting traders, when even the Delhi Secretariat is a flaming example of illegal construction.

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Politics of the Terrace

Prima facie a terrace is just some, of the very few uninhabited square feet of a building.
It is also where cats take dead pigeons to eat, and hobo's frequently make their home for a couple of weeks before being discovered and discarded.

But, in a housing society a terrace is precious - Strange, considering the animal kingdom is at its wildest there.

Recently I found that the lock I had secured the terrace was broken, and a new one was put in its place. On further investigation I found that 2 ex-lawyers (at ages way beyond the scope of Viagra), had put their lock on it.

Lawyers !! Damnit !!
They just have to meddle with any status-quo they come across.

(one lawyer to the other)
L1: Hey.. Look, in the park, they look so happy. I dont think we'll get any business out of them.
L2: True, lets file a PIL for the closure of the premises, slap them with a quo warrano and go cetris paribus on their ass.

Similarly,
L1: Look, all the youngsters in the society are so happy. They go to the terrace - drink, smoke, and get women
L2: Women... whats that?
L1: You fool, lets put a stop to this.

The question is where do we go?
It's not fair. Everyone should have access to public places where they can drink, smoke and pass out.
(Fundamental Right: Part3, Article 19 : Freedom to assemble peacefully and without arms)
THATS RIGHT ..!! No one said anything about vodka.

It must be made clear that the terrace is a forum for free exchange of thougts and ideas.
Kid 1: Dude, I think the hot chicks, curtains are open.
Kid 2: Dude, Its a man and you are drunk.

Its also the place where many of us grow up.
Me: So you wouln't mind if I kis...
Her: (((SLAP))) !@#!#^!#

The point is that the terrace is a very important place for many of us. Its where I've gotten to know my best friends, and where the secrets of the universe have been unraveled.
It is where you can enjoy a binge, and also where you can say your goodbyes to a friend (going to America.. where else), over some Cointreau.

It is magical, and has an uncanny ability to make two people connect.

It should not be locked. There is no point, no gain, and no evidence in the last 10 years to show that it may be used for suicide.
(the last one was 11 years back)

An Ode to the Terrace: ..As easy as 1. 2. and 3.

So we got a hammer and smashed the fucking lock.

Uncle Chips Sells Out !

Uncle Chips Sells Out : Lays chips, has bought out Uncle Chips.
It is indeed a sad day for us all.

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…That's one small step for PepsiCo and one big-ass retrograde step for Uncle Chips.

1:

I can imagine how the events must have played out.
Some Yankee sitting in PepsiCo's offices in Atlanta must have picked up the phone and said, "ssup homie dogg, gemme the number of Mr. Uncle. I just found out that my wife is blowing the neighbour and my therapist says I should let out mah feelin's by takin' over another dude's company".

2:
But where does that leave Us? Don't our sentiments matter?

Pamela Anderson couldn't see her feet for different reasons. But here, in India, for us, it was Uncle Chips. I take one look at my huge tummy and get this warm fuzzy feeling, knowing fully well that Uncle Chips is responsible for each for those 52423668557 Billion molecules of saturated fat. That's right !! An Indian chip.

Where is the Hindu right-wing when you need them the most?
Where are all the Indian products?
I mean what's next in line?

Today:
Doodh si safedi,
Nirma se aaye
Sabki pasand Nirmaaaaa…
Washing Powder Nirma .. Nirma !!!

Tomorrow, we got Britney Spears endorsing Nirma in push up's:
Romp in the hay – all night – all nii-iight
Nirma is Just plain Right !! – plain rii-ight
Cos there ain't nothin' better…
PPS. Join our war on terror

3:
Wherever I look now-a-days:Tide, Surf, Pepsodent, Harpic, Lux, Bata, Timex– All foreign brands.(though I don't feel bad about using Harpic – comes in handy cleaning shitpots).

But then, this is globalization. Unsuspecting foreigners trying to get their cable TV to work dial a local number and get connected, to an Indian sitting in Pune, halfway across the world.
And, and unsuspecting housewife buying the new Tide detergent, only to send a part of the profits halfway around the world.

Peace.

So what got YOU into Rock Music ? (Part 1/2)

Let me just start by saying that I never, never let an opportunity go by when I can tease my sister about something. It usually ends with her stomping off - actually not so much of a stomp, as a tip-toe. She must be 22.5 Kgs... women these days, I tell you.

About Tonight:
I came back home at about 12:00 AM and she opened the door. After exchanging grunts, I headed to my room. Somewhere between then and now I heard the delicate strains of Nirvana's Lithum playing in her room and her friend was staying over.

I could'nt resist.
Me: "So, Nirvana and all huh"
Sister: "So"
Me: "Wow... u guys are so cool and all"
Sister: "HUH !@#%!@%"
Me (on a roll now): "2 angst ridden teenagers... Find a common soulmate in the raspy voice of Kurt Cobain"
Sister: Slams the door.

I walk away smiling, knowing fully well it was I who got her into rock music and the wanton rebellion thats included in the package deal.
And knowing fully well that somewhere behind that door was a quivering new subject for my sister to work on. A fresh sacrifice that must be taught the wicked ways of the rock underground.

She should be able to tell the mainstream metal (Metallica) from the new age kids stuff (Linkin Park), the classic rock (Deep Purple) from the elitist rock (Dream Theater).
She should be taught how to barf on instinct at the very mention of boy bands.
How to pretend she likes it, before actually liking and loving it.














*sniff* ...Smells like teen spirit

Corporate Whore, No more.

It's that time of the year again.
Seasons change, the leaves wilt and fall, people catch colds thereby making snorting noises all day long and I ... and I, make a post on this rusty ol blog.

Except this time it's different. There shall be more posts, and more shit hurled at you - the unsuspecting reader - from my Samsung keyboard. (hoping for sponsorship here)

It's only fair that I tell you what prompted this. As of this moment I would have quit for 26 hours. Thats right, I quit. I showed them who's boss.

In my exit interview I talked about St. Tropez, The French riverera, Books and how scantily dressed famous people would do wonders for Goa's economy.

True, No more hi flying consultant.
No more Jet Airways boarding passes littering my room.
No more stealing staplers from office, but SO WHAT !

I feel like my 2 friends in the pic below. Much'fucking'Better.

"I need some TP for my Bunghole" : Bevis


 

To Chandigarh & beyond.....

Chandigarh, 1:32 AM:
Question: How do you know when you’ve worked too much?
Answer: Remember that noise which used to come between programs during the Doordarshan days - With the static screen and lots of bright trippy colours… Remember now? … Well that ALL you hear.

So its 1 AM and you are walking back from the cab to whatever, hole in the wall, place the client has hooked you up - you acknowledge the guy at the reception and even make acquaintance with his pet rat. Collecting your keys, you walk to your room. It's finally time to sleep.

Zzzz...

Chandigarh, 1:37 AM, and now the kicker:
Some Punjabi munda is singing ‘woh lamhe’ in the lane outside.
I don’t know what the guy was thinking – but he sure as hell woke me up.
Maybe he has steamy dreams of Abhijeet Sawant and Indian Idol,
Or maybe it has something to do with liqueur vends being open till late in the night (aah…sweet bliss),

But either way something had to be done. So I grabbed a left over chicken leg from last night’s dinner and made my way to the window, determined to end the agony before he hits the chorus.

Now, regarding the chicken, it is important to realize that, in Punjab, a well made chicken tandoori is more common than a PCO.

But back to the agony. I was almost ready to launch the national symbol of Punjab (the chicken of course) at the offender when without warning the chorus arrived…. woh barsaate, woh bheegi bheegi raate, and at least 5 more incoherent voices joint in the Mongolian cluster fuck.

I sat down exasperated, cursing my luck, when it hit me. The Punjabi’s as a race are a fun loving group. They are equally at home dancing in a field of bright yellow sunflower, as they are eating chicken in a truck, while transporting sugarcane from Karnal to Bhatinda.











My point is that, instead of chucking chicken, I should embrace the culture and what the hell… maybe sing a few lines myself.
That, and there was not enough chicken to throw at all of them.

The Next Day:
Fresh from my revelation of last night I decided to take in more of the experience that was Chandigarh and the wonderful people who were our hosts. Standing in front of the spotless glass door I adjusted my tie, took a deep breath and walked in.

As part of my resolve to be less antisocial and more inquiring about everyone here, I ask the receptionist her name. Harpreet she replied.
Much later on, the office boy decided to grace us with his presence, and some tea and biscuits. I was still in a social mood, and asked him his name. Harpreet he replied.

Wonderful I thought to myself… obviously they haven’t put much thought into naming their offspring.

All the better for me – remembering names isn’t going to be an issue anymore. I mean where else can you yell ‘Happy’ in a canteen and half the people there respond with a haanji.

I can picture it now:
This year’s Bestseller – ‘Names for your Punjabi Baby’.

An 80 page book with all they information you need...
Page 1 has the suggestions: Harpreet, Manpreet, Aparpreet, Gurpreet, Navjot and Happy.



Page 2 to 69 is for more important things like Chicken recipes.
And, Page 70 is an impassioned plea to join the movement for the separate state of Khalistan…

And finally:
Yup, complex creatures they may be, but fantastic hosts they are. This was the first audit where we had a ford Icon at our disposal, and the manager of the Supply Chain group, was as much a Process head on weekdays, as he was a travel agent on weekends as he planned out stuff for us to do.

Now, if only I could remember his name… was it Harpreet… or Manpreet.
Eh what the hell… or as the Punjabi’s would say, “Koi Gal Nahin”.

Fwd: Fwd: Por Favor, This is not a forward

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If this is corporate life, then i want out !

Either that, or my own personal secretary, dressed in Red, with fishnet stockings, with a whiff of Elizabeth Arden of course, and direct credit of my tax free salary to my Swiss back account. But since that's not happening.....

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

Ok. I'm in Hyderabad now.
The flight was interesting. First time I've been in an ATR.
An ATR is a brand of aircraft made thru a French-Italian combine. It's supposed to safe and everything.... but... it's got propellers!!

Now in this age of Airbus's A370'sand 340s, flying in a aircraft with propellers gives you the jimmy's. Especially when you fly through clouds. It's a bit like that ride in Appu Ghar, which no one ever dared to go on.
Though, it must be mentioned that the Air Deccan air hostess was ... pretty !! (surprise surprise) Weatherwise, not a very nice change from Bangalore. It's a good 5 degree Celsius higher !!!

But, the place where I'm staying has a lot of greenery. It's Chandrababu Naidu's dream, vision, and baby. Affectionately called: Hi Tech City (some imagination huh !!)

I realize that, while you can build buildings called cyber towers, cyber gateway & cyber center (nope... AP'ites dont have much imagination), all encompassed in glass - You cannot stop people from taking their pets out for a walk on the road, Or from taking a piss at the side of the road or simply having a bath at the end of a long day.... also at the side of the road. It's simple not done.














And of course, when I say pets I mean Cattle.
It all adds up to the wonderful experience, that is Andhra Pradesh - All we need now, to complete the picture, are a few gun wielding Naxals.

This place has a lot of techies from all parts of India. And as you must be knowing, where you find techies, you will find an over abundance of 2 things -
1) Check Shirts
2) Men's Hostels.

Some of the more scary names I've seen today are:
1) Balaji Working Mens Hostel (ok... i have a problem with the phrase 'working mens')
2) Passion Men's Hostel (perhaps it was meant to be Mens Passion Hostel... either way, Stay AWAY)
3) Ricky's Rooms ( w t f ?? )














Thankfully, I'm staying in a company guesthouse.
Since I arrived in Hyderabad today, I have a lot of free time. You must have realised that I don’t have much to do today :-) Tomorrow is when I have to start slogging again.

I'm seriously overworked. (but it's been fun) & Where is the National human rights commission when you need them...

Thankfully Hyderabad in only 15 days. I can’t wait to get back to home.
Cheers
-CC