To Run or not to Run...

Over the course of the past two weeks I experienced contrasting reactions to an activity I perform regularly. The reactions left me amused and also served as a confirmation that I am now part of a generation that is right in the middle of a curious but affable previous generation and an inquisitive but unafraid next generation.

Last week, I was in Ludhiana for three days and stayed in one of the innumerable hotels on Ferozepur Road. Ferozepur Road is a broad, well-maintained road which is ideal for an early morning jog. I generally jog on the road and try to find long circular routes to avoid monotony of repeating the same stretch over and over. I found a lovely route from Ferozepur Road to Mall road which also had a fairly empty stretch where middle-aged and elderly people come for their morning walks. One such gentleman saw me jogging with my now customary Mobile-holder Armband strapped to my left arm. He stopped me, not with a show of hand, but with a bright smile and a question. 

“Beta, What is it that you are wearing”, he asked, pointing at my armband.

I slowed down to his pace and explained to him about the mobile which also had a running application which tracked my speed, distance and calories among other things.

He seemed really impressed.

“How long do you run every day?” he asked.

“4-5 kilometers on average”, I replied.

“That is very good. Carry on Beta”, he smiled and bade me farewell.

I felt energized by this conversation as it had absolutely no motive other than curiosity and genuine warmth from the gentleman’s side and an eagerness to reply out of deference from my side. I also felt younger by his loving reference to me as beta.

This was an enduring memory of my long trip to Punjab and Delhi which culminated with my return to Bangalore last week.

My early morning office hours in Bangalore has forced me to reschedule my daily jogs to evenings. I usually go for my evening runs at around 6:30 pm which also happens to be the prime playing time for the children in my apartment. I remember my childhood when most of us talked only to our age group or at best to boys or girls just a few years elder to us. But today’s children are altogether different. They have no qualms about speaking to anyone and everyone.

As I stepped down for my evening run yesterday, a badminton racquet-wielding boy came up to me.

“Going for a walk Uncle?” he asked.

I gave myself a once over before replying. I had put on a pretty decent dry-fit tee-shirt over running shorts and was also wearing my Nike Lite running shoes. Even after exuding so much coolness I was getting ‘Uncle’!

That’s when I realized I was not wearing my mobile-holder armband. I immediately tucked in my belly and brought out the armband from my pocket.

“Going for a jog”, I replied, while giving him a supercilious smile as he curiously watched me wearing my armband. I was sure his impression of me being a middle-aged uncle would have changed now.

“What is it that you are wearing?” he asked.

I felt a wave of satisfaction as I explained to him about the running application in the mobile which I was wearing.

“Oh! So you don’t have a Fitbit?” he asked.

It felt as if someone punched me in the stomach.

“No”, I replied meekly.

“You should really get a Fitbit. It is much better than carrying around your mobile in an armband Uncle”, he further advised.

It felt as if someone thumped me on the back before I could recover from the punch in my stomach.

I thanked him and moved away from his eyesight before the impending extra-long inhalation brought my belly back to its original position.

Death

An eerie stillness succeeds the crude shock

As they see the termination of their life’s clock

The warmth when he lived gives way to the grim cold of death

That animal can consume someone even in his prime health

Friends reminisce, relative anguish

Even Foes forgive and join the languish

Stories emerge, nostalgia strengthens

In dire hopes that the inevitable lengthens

The son slowly readies for the formal last rites

The pain in his heart reaches tumultuous heights

He drenches his body from head to toe

Hoping it would drown the piling sorrow

Before proceeding he goes to his mother

Unable to face, he prostrates before her

She raises her hand, as if to bless

Something breaks in me, I become a mess

At no more than twenty six years of age

He is about to cremate his immediate lineage

I think through the heaviness for justification

I encounter blankness, and a lot of frustration

We know what we did this 'SUMMERS'

Disclaimer: This post is a mixture of truth, exaggeration and utter lies, but in order to preserve the safety of my provisional summer internship offer I am not going to reveal which parts are true, which are exaggerated and which ones are utter lies. So I am giving a disclaimer within a disclaimer: I am not responsible for this disclaimer nor the disclaimer outside this disclaimer and whatever I post cannot be taken at face value.

I was under the impression that business school involved this high-funda lifestyle where people got together for group projects as if they were convening an annual general body meeting, cracked challenging problems like they were born business magnates, germinated path-breaking entrepreneurial ideas and, most importantly, had absolutely no restrictions to venture into girls’ rooms. Three months into B-school, only one of the above myths turned out to be true (you might hazard a guess as to which one, but I am not revealing it). We still mugged, we still procrastinated everything to the last moment, we still felt happy when people around us did badly in a particular quiz or exam and we still tried our best to catch the cute girl’s attention (at least most boys, and maybe, a few girls).

Ultimately, most of us had one goal for getting into a B-school – placements (most of us won’t accept this openly). The summer recruitment, which used to be a two-month exposure for enthusiastic management students, has transformed into a genuine opportunity at high-paying PPO giving jobs. So the tension of summers was in the air at least a month before the actual process started at my school. I tried to go with the group and force some tension into myself, but my efforts were in vain. I had found a cosy little group which had troubles similar to mine and we ended up preparing together for the summers. Now, imagine three to four people, all pretty thick-skinned to worry too much about summers, PPOs and ‘day zero’ shortlists sitting together every night to prepare for the same. Naturally, we ended up discussing one-sided crushes, Sridevi’s hottest songs, which different place to order food from, how our future wives should be and other such topics. Suddenly Day zero of placements arrived. Obviously, we didn't have any shortlists, but were expected to be present in something called the ‘common pool’ so that we would feel ‘part’ of the process. I decided to add a little creativity to being part of the process by wearing a bright pink shirt and an even brighter red tie for this common pool assembly on ‘day zee’, as the ones who got the coveted calls referred to it. Day zee was a breeze for me as I just sat around for most of it, only getting up to congratulate the people who cracked their shortlists. I had a heavy lunch and decided to take a short nap, commonly referred to as ‘SNAP’ by us lazy non-day zee people. I reached my room, divested myself off the layered apparels I was forced to wear and slept like a baby. I was woken by someone urgently asking me to come back to the common pool as some venture capital firm had shortlisted me for an interview. I cursed the firm and its owner using some choicest native abuses as I struggled with my double knot. As I sat waiting in the common pool, I was handed a copy which briefly described what this firm did. There was no reason for this firm to shortlist me based on my resume or profile, so I was still hoping for some placement rep. to come over to me and apologize  saying that there has been some mistake and I was not in the shortlist after all. The placement rep. did come, but only to escort me to my interview room. After an embarrassing forty-five minutes with the founder of this focused Venture firm, I decided to never apply to companies just for the heck of it; otherwise such shocks are bound to occur.

Day zee was followed by the group discussion day, where all the marketing and general management companies’ shortlisted people for group discussions and these people got together and did everything but physically and verbally abuse each other. I got the first shortlist that was out and felt pretty pumped up. It was scheduled at 6:30 am, so I was expecting a day packed with group discussions after that.

That was the only shortlist I got; of course I didn’t convert it.

So we trotted on to day zero-point-five (don’t even ask me to explain the logic behind this bizarre numbering). With no shortlists in the vicinity and people around me getting placed left right and centre, a group of us started to see the funny side of things. We realised that we were the ‘paneer’ gang – the group which stood at marriage hall entrances and sprinkled rose water (paneer) on the guests. The only difference was that we were standing in the common pool and showering wishes on the people who got placed. We formed a circle, discussed random topics, waited for the caterers to appear with the morning tiffin, intermediary fruit plates, tea/coffee, afternoon lunch, evening snacks and night dinner. Overall, it was a perfect marriage-hall experience. I got a group discussion shortlist in between my ‘paneer’ commitments. This time, I buttered up the panel by thanking them for giving us this chance to discuss. Apart from that whatever I spoke had tremendous likeness to whatever I excreted in the morning. As you would have guessed by now, I cleared the Group discussion round and got an interview shortlist. The interview went better than I expected and when the HR lady asked if I viewed their firm as a long-term, say twenty year, career option I was pretty certain that they would be extending an offer to me. I came out of the interview room, phone ready in my hand and my home residence number already scrolled and my thumb on the call button. The placement rep. came and informed me that I can go and wait in the common pool for other interviews as the firm was not considering me for further rounds or offer.  I switched off my mobile and went back to the common pool. I resumed my paneer commitments for an hour or so before another PR came to me, stating that a major media firm is calling me for an interview. I trudged along once again, my mind almost blank and my eyes droopy. I remember being asked about brand perception and brand image during the interview and if you ask me even now, I would not be in a position to answer these questions. I do not remember how I answered them during the interview, but the company extended an offer to me.

I entered the common pool with a smile plastered on my face. The ‘paneer’ gang continued its work albeit a touch emotionally, as it had lost one of its members.

The ‘sprinkler’ had become the ‘sprinklee’

SHACKLES

From an obscure mass curled up in a womb

To a lifeless form asleep in a tomb

Surrounded we are everywhere by shackles

In vain do we make an attempt to grapple

The chain adds a link everyday anew

Thousands claim stake for places too few

Everything’s a comparison with our peers

We toil and struggle, all for empty cheers?

Schooling opens paths trodden to the limit

Interested or not, you have no say in it

Colleges manufacture degree certified machines

Who land up in companies with numerous dreams.

A year or two at work

brings questions to the mind

Masters or Management

else y’are left behind

Blinded by the need for money, power and fame

We choose a path seeing others do the same

Every step taken to release oneself from shackles

Is nothing but a journey within vicious circles

Then what is to be done to break free and go?

All we need is freedom, to say Yes…and a firm No

GMMSCC - The Way Forward

It is that time of the year, again. Yes people, the time has come for us to say goodbye. We bid adieu with a heavy heart and resign ourselves to undergo that frustrating wait till April 2012, when we can rejoice once again. No, I am not talking about the IPL 2011 which came to an end two months ago (Though Chirayu Amin, whose full time job consists of sitting and yawning at cricket grounds for two months and plan for the succeeding year’s yawn session for the next ten months, might deny the very fact that the IPL 2011 has, in fact, concluded). I am talking about a far superior season than the IPL, Big Bash or, for humour’s sake, the SLPL. I am talking about the MANGO SEASON.

With the summer down to its last embers and monsoon accentuating its stronghold all over India, the Mango season (I turn yellow with fear every time I even think about it) has come to an end. Yes, the king of fruits is set take a nine month vacation and there seems to be no visible escape route from the perpetual torture of ‘Sweet Lime’ at least for the next ten months.

Mangoes bring us happiness, satisfaction and a sense of fulfillment every time we devour them. The realms of ecstasy we experience when we suck at the enormous mango seed till each and every drop of its pulp gets deposited into our digestive tract is something unrivaled. These are reasons enough for us to wish for perennial cultivation of mangoes and start an aggressive agitation called ‘Global Movement for Mango-Suited Climate Change’ with Jairam Ramesh at the helm and Baba Ramdev lending moral support. But there are some other prominent points which we have overlooked for a long time now. With my pointing out of those, I have a feeling that GMMSCC will gain massive foothold in the coming months.

Mangoes have always strived to transform little known people into famous personalities. I mean, would we have even known Kylie Minogue, the now famous Australian pop-star, if a variety of mango hadn’t been named after her? And don’t tell me you knew any Sheila other than ‘Sheila ki Jawaani’ before reports started flowing in that there was actually some Sheila dwelling in the capital city of Delhi and a variety of mango has been named after her and not Katrina Kaif! It turns out that she was the Chief Minister of Delhi. And though Aishwarya Rai’s case is a little different as she had already won some local beauty contest organized by the UK and by the virtue of that had become somewhat well-known, even she can’t deny the fact that she began to gain more and more popularity after a Mango-variety got named after her. Recently, she has been storming the news reports and bulletins of all media houses in the country. The fact of her being pregnant might have played a slight role in this but one can’t ignore the ‘Mango-Effect’. Now, there are strong rumours from RCR that extensive efforts are being put in to cultivate a variety of mango to be named after the Prime Minister of India in order to turn him into a famous personality. As per ‘closed-door rumours’, the first trial cultivation has yielded a bland, tasteless variety.

Mangoes are also the perfect companions for Single guys. They go through the never-ending struggle of trying to landing a girl friend day in and day out. But at least during the three months of the Mango Season they will have something similar to a girlfriend for company. Mangoes are, after all, sweet-smelling, nurturing, tender, smooth-skinned, delicious and supple.

Mangoes have also provided a significant contribution to the English Literature. It has metamorphosed one of the most complicated sentences in the English language. Instead of saying ‘The advanced anthropological evolution of a species of Australopithecus makes a retreating motion’ one can, now, simply say ‘Man goes’.

With such telling impacts it has on society it is high time we take up a cause in favour of Mangoes and popularize GMMSCC.

I might have sounded like a starry-eyed romantic ranting on about some silly fruit, but it would suffice to say that I am an ‘AAM AADMI’ after all. 

HOW OMNI AARUMUGAM GOT NOTICED, GOT FAMOUS AND GOT ARRESTED

Before proceeding with this interesting little anecdote I would like to put to ease the doubts that may have arisen in many of you upon noticing this title. Yes, the title is indeed an honest rip off of the title of another book which went one step further and became the total rip off of another whole book. Ok, enough said. Let’s get on with the story…

Now, before we get to the business of how Omni Aarumugam got arrested, it is important to know how he got famous. In order to know that it is important to know how he got noticed. So, as always, we have to begin at the beginning.

At the beginning, Omni Aarumugam was not Omni Aarumugam. I am not, of course, implying that this is a chilling story of deceptive impersonation. On the contrary, Omni’s original name was Dhandapani. Dhandapani was born to the poor, middle class couple of Aarumugam and Muthulakshmi in the remote village of Atthipatti in Tamil Nadu, which became even more remote once the Tamil movie, CITIZEN, got released. Dhandapani was lucky enough to get enrolled in school at the age of four. As he was their only child, both Aarumugam and Muthulakshmi harboured high hopes on him.

‘Our son will become collector’, they thought.

He came back with a bag full of garbage collected from the school dustbin, one day.

‘Our son will become scientist’ they thought.

He gulped down 250 ml of Hydrochloric Acid in the chemistry lab and became bed ridden for a month, once.

‘Our son will become engineer’, they thought.

He refused to pass out of fourth standard for four consecutive years.

So, after the fourth year of fourth standard, they stopped fantasizing about the future of their son. They thought he was destined to become a manual labourer, like his father.

How very wrong they were!

***

Dhandapani was such a quiet and sweet kid that nobody knew he had a hidden talent. In fact he himself didn’t know about it. This was because Dhandapani rarely opened his mouth. In fact, for the first four years of his life, his parents were almost resigned to the fact that their son was born dumb and could never speak. This myth was broken when four year old Dhandapani used some choicest swear words he had learnt from the housemaid on his father. Aarumugam’s joy knew no bounds when his son referred to him as ‘son of a prostitute’ in chaste Tamil. Tears flowed from his eyes as he hugged his son and called his wife to share the good news.

Even after that revelation, Dhandapani’s speeches were few and far between. Most of them were mere monologues of one or two words, some times extending to a simple, grammatically incorrect sentence of four words. So it took thirteen years for their parents to realize the hidden talent in Dhandapani that paved the way for his meteoric rise to fame.

Now, before we come to this talent, let us spend some time on ‘meteoric rise’. This phrase has always intrigued me. From what I understand, Meteors are solid objects which move around in interplanetary space and occasionally land on planets like earth. Thus, it is quite clear that meteors do not rise but, in fact, fall. But still, authors universally use this word as an adjective to ‘rise’. This proves that very few authors think like me when it comes to words and their usages. I am expecting the phrase ‘meteoric rise’ to fall and fade away into oblivion with nobody attempting to use it after reading this snippet of yours truly.

Coming back to the hidden talent which paved the way for the meteoric rise of Dhandapani, an incident in a train showcased this talent. Aarumugam’s family was travelling in the general compartment of a passenger train bound to Chennai. As is the case with Passenger trains, or any other Indian trains for that matter, hawkers selling eatables flooded the coaches. Incessant ranting of ‘Masal vadai’, ‘Bajji’, ‘Samosae’ and so on filled the ears of all the travelers. In the midst of this came another shout – ‘Biscuits-Chaai-Coffee-Cooldrinks’. Some seventy one heads turned upon hearing this pitch, though most of them might have been for the purpose of blood circulation in the neck region, still, seventy one was a good number. They all looked in the direction of the shout. It had come from the rarely opening mouth of Dhandapani. It had caused quite an uproar in the coach. A few people, in fact, went to the extent of offering money from their purses in order to buy one of the auctioned items of Biscuits or Chaai or Coffee or Cool Drinks. Such was the clarity and genuineness of the shout. Aarumugam was dumbstruck. Clearly, destiny had planned something other than manual labour for his son. He could already visualize it.

‘Dhandapani Aarumugam- Mimicry specialist’.

Now, only one thing stood in the way of his son’s path to glory – his name. Anyone familiar with the mimicry industry will tell you that artists’ names have to be short for their careers to be long. Nerella Venumadhav became NV, Damodaran became Damu and Srinivasan Jayanth became Chinni. And anyone familiar with the name Dhandapani Aarumugam can vouch for the fact that it is a tad too long, like this anecdote itself. So Aarumugam took an instant decision. Dhandapani retained only ‘ni’ and this ‘ni’ was preceded by the auspicious ‘Om’.

Thus started the meteoric rise of OMNI AARUMUGAM!

***

Omni’s success story, being an oft repeated one, shall not occupy this cramped space. Instead, I shall now go on to describe some attributes of Omni, the mimicry artist, or, as they call it in the west, the impressionist.

First and foremost, Omni the impressionist rarely made an impression with his performances when he started off as an impressionist trying to make an impression with his performances. This was because Omni rarely improvised during his performances. He stuck to his script and refused to think on his feet. Some people opined that Omni didn’t even think. Others felt that Omni was a robot with a sound recorder/transmitter fixed in his mouth. This opinion intensified when Omni was asked to give a live interview for a famous English news channel. The interview went like this

Interviewer (Female): Hello Sir! It’s a pleasure to meet you.

Omni (considered Male): Hello Sir! It’s a pleasure to meet you.

Interviewer: Wow! Really great sir! That was exactly like my voice!

Omni: Wow! Really great sir! That was exactly like my voice!

Interviewer: How do you do it Sir?

Omni: How do you do it Sir?

Interviewer: Ya. That’s what I asked you.

Omni: Ya. That’s what I asked you.

Interviewer: Can we get to the interview part more seriously now?

Omni: Can we get to the interview part more seriously now?

Interviewer (irritated): Fuck you

Omni (Calm): Fuck you

This proved that interviewing Omni was not a very bright option as he tended to take that also as part of his act.

The repercussion of this hastily cut short interview was the termination of the interviewer for using swear-words on public television. As for Omni, well, he had merely reciprocated.

Thus Omni delivered prepared performances only. It was enough if he heard a person’s voice just once and had a script in hand. He could give a performance of that person reading that script instantly. He didn’t even need any time to practise perfecting the voice. It was all inherent in him. In short, Omni was a stupid man with a genius-like voice.

It was precisely this attribute of his which will get us to the crux of this anecdote.

How Omni Aarumugam got ARRESTED

***

I remember a wise old man’s quote in English which roughly translated itself into English again as ‘Imitators never prosper’. Though that saying was a cheap imitation of the more famous saying of ‘Cheaters never prosper’ it did have some meaning. And in the case of Omni, it indeed became true.

Omni had become a sought after star in Local pubs, where inebriated idiots couldn’t even differentiate between an imitation of Manmohan Singh and Harbhajan Singh. They simply couldn’t get enough of him as Omni did his little act in front of them. Most of them threw up, but some of them also laughed.

It was on such a routine night in the Adyar TASMAC that a burly spectacled man, adorned in Reid & Taylor suit and carrying a shining blackberry, noticed Omni. He was simply overwhelmed by the act. He looked meaningfully at his safari-suited secretary. The secretary gave an Understanding nod. Both refilled their glasses.

Hardly a day had gone by since that performance when Omni received an audio CD, a written script and a blank cheque. When he played the CD he heard a loud, its-ok-to-be-called-feminine kind of male voice with a very curious accent. As usual he didn’t pay attention to the content of the CD as he memorized the voice.

Later, as he sat leafing through the script, four masked gentlemen entered his apartment and abducted him in a van. They travelled for half an hour before the van stopped at the entrance of a street. Omni was pushed out of the van. One of the Gentlemen got down beside him and pointed to a building

“Go to the first floor of that building and enter into the room to your left. It will be empty. Do not touch anything. Simply perform this script and return”, he stated menacingly.

Just as Omni started to repeat this very sentence, the gentleman, remembering Omni’s live interview, pushed him away towards the building.

The four of them watched as Omni entered the building. One of them dialed a number on his cell phone.

“He has entered as per plan. Voice recording system is in place in said room. I will deliver the CD personally once the act is completed”, he spoke into the phone.

There were some instructions given from the person at the other end, but since we are seeing this anecdote from this end we will stick to our side of the story only.

The four Gentlemen waited for sometime. Ten minutes elapsed when, out of nowhere, they heard sounds of police sirens. They quickly boarded their van and waited with bated breath. Through the windows they saw numerous police vehicles make their way towards that very building. They looked on confusingly as almost fifty policemen instantly surrounded the building. They were pointing to the second floor of the building while discussing amongst themselves. The four gentlemen stole a glance at the second floor. They saw a large hoarding which read:

OHO FM 94.6! Chennai’s Premier FM Station.

There was a window beside this hoarding. Behind this window appeared the face of OMNI AARUMUGAM.

***

The four gentlemen quietly made their exit from the area. Thankfully, neither the CD nor the Script could be traced back to them or their boss.

Omni, having given a performance in an empty room, was happy to find some audience outside the building at least.

He descended the steps and exited the building only to be surrounded by this very mob of audience, albeit with guns in their hands.

***

THE TRANSCRIPT OF OMNI’s PERFORMANCE WHICH GOT HIM ARRESTED

Hello to my dear friends in India. First of all, I would like to say that this is a confession. Through this speech, I am going to admit to many of the crimes I have committed till now, abusing the power given to me.

First, I admit that I own the Rajasthan Royals IPL team and its cheerleaders.

Secondly I admit that I own the Kings XI Punjab IPL team and its cheerleaders.

Thirdly I admit that I own Emerging Media and Multi Screen Media.

Fourthly I admit that I also had a minor role to play in the 2G Scam.

Fifthly I admit that N. Srinivasan is a suited saint.

Sixthly I admit that N.Srinivasan is not gay.

Seventhly I admit that I am not gay.

Eighthly I admit that I am absconding from Indian law and seeking refuge in foreign land.

Ninthly I admit that this CD is purity personified and absolutely unspliced.

Finally I admit that I am LALIT MODI

PLEA OF A BILLION

When I was a boy, barely aged four

I saw you decimate villains galore

Fights were violent, till you came along

They became pure joy, just to see you on song

Even your unkempt hair made a style statement

Your films gave meaning to mass entertainment

We thronged the theatres for ‘first-day-first-show’

Decibels lost their meaning, when we saw your intro

Your lopsided smile made people go senile

Your majestic walk soon became national talk

A twirl of your fingers captured million hearts

With each of your movies a new festival starts

Charisma as a catchword could fit none better

Sunglasses without you, Ah! Do they even matter?

Dialogues packed a punch only when said by you

Who cares about storyline? Your mere presence will do

You gave strength to the weak and courage to the meek

With every new movie you scaled another peak

So we geared up for the next in your winning streak

But now we hear that your health is very bleak

The whole of India waits with bated breath

For you to fight this villainous ill-health

Inside the hospital as you lie

Our only plea to you: THALAIVA! Please don’t die…

IDEAL WAY TO GET A GIRLFRIEND

I have thought about this long and hard and have finally thought up a scenario. Having given this situation an eagle eyed view from all angles, I have come to the conclusion that this is the best situation for everyone involved.

SCENARIO

I get into the company bus at the usual godforsaken time of six in the morning. I am surprised to see a girl occupying my very own left hand side window seat in the third row. I give her a questioning look; a look that will simply send shivers through a demure little creature such as this one. In my mind I remind myself about these types. One small smile and they will be all around you. ‘I have to put her in place right away’ I think morosely. She gives a nervous smile and says that she is the new process engineer in the ‘advanced super semiconductors and micro-ceramics’ division. What? I didn’t even know there was such a division in my company. Of course, I manage to hide this shock quite admirably from her as I give her a knowing, almost careless, nod (Brain wink!) while all the time memorizing ‘advanced super semiconductors and micro-ceramics’ in my mind.

***

We get down from the bus. By pure coincidence (not due to any purposeful scattering of my bag contents just outside her seat and thus making her help me pick them up) we get down together at the very last. I keep looking at my phone, giving scant regard to her vanilla-scented hair, her perfectly smooth facial features, her neatly manicured toenails and her full, curvy…

“How do I get to the advanced super semiconductors and micro-ceramics division?” she asks.

Again, I hide my internal confusion pretty neatly from her as I quickly bring my phone to my ear and start talking on it, while indicating a vague direction to her. ‘I want that data mailed to me in one hour, no less’, I shout into the dormant phone. Suddenly ‘Dhan te Na’ from Kaminey starts playing loudly from my phone as I feel a ticklish sensation in my ears. I immediately press the button to silence the ringtone and shout into the phone about switching off the radio while at work (Brain wink!).

I quickly walk away towards my division. I casually glance back and see her smiling slightly. ‘Another dame floored instantly’, I think.

‘Girls! Show them a well built (parts near the midriff can be called very well built) handsome, ‘Rahul Bose-type-receding-hair-styled’ hunk and the things they do to catch his attention!! Ridiculous!

***

For next few days I keep a low profile around her. Though a part of me feels that I can keep the lowest of profiles by simply not being around her, another part reasons that, being a Gandhian, I need to follow his principles and learn to control my desires. I feel proud of myself in general. Then, one day, after some seventeen weeks of low profile I decide to learn more about her. As I am now aware of the stop she gets down every evening, I plan to casually be there when she gets down the next day. So I apply for casual leave the next day. I arrive at the stop just one hour before the bus comes. As it stops I grab my phone, make sure it is switched off, and start shouting into it. I catch her eye and carelessly wave at her. She smiles (Girls! No?).

“So, you live around here?” I ask her patronizingly.

She replies that she knows I have been ogling at her for past seventeen weeks (Such a psycho! She has been counting the weeks!) And that I need not feel nervous and that she too likes me. I look shocked at this blatant accusation and tell her that I need to think about it as things were going pretty fast for my liking (Brain wink!).

***

After intense self-brainstorming for a solid duration of eleven seconds I decide to finally relent to this crazy psycho female, lest she take some untoward decision. I call after her just as she takes a turn into a by-lane.

I clearly tell her that I am not like those hopeless romantics who fall head over heels for girls and pursue after them without a care in this world (She smirks a little which, I am sure, is due to some muscle pull in her left cheek).

“Don’t expect me to spend hundreds of rupees on you every other weekend” I tell her sternly.

“I don’t mind spending hundreds of rupees on you” she replies.

I look shocked at this insult but manage to grin through the pain in order not to hurt her feelings.

“You think I am cheap enough to come after you just for some hundreds of rupees?” I ask in a hurt voice.

“I don’t mind spending even thousands of rupees” she replies.

I manage an even wider grin amidst all the emotional turmoil in my mind. I decide to relent. Obviously this female has low self-esteem and I have to help her with it, I think.

“I am all yours” I reply (Brain wink!)

GOLD CUP - A SASTRA SOBRIQUET

After a strenuous jogging session on the beach shore, I stopped by at a bakery and decided to quench my thirst with a 200 ml bottle of Fanta. It was the first time I was having a soft drink in the 200 ml bottled form since my college days. I was surprised at the pricing - Rs. 10/-. My mind immediately went back to the good old days in college and our very own SASTRA endemism - GOLD CUP.

Bottled in the small village of Pillayar patti this refreshing soft drink came in four unique flavours - Orange, Lemon, Grape and Paneer. While Orange did taste a lot like a liquid concoction of the erstwhile 25 paise orange candy known by the name of ravelon, lemon offered a very unique taste which could never be matched by any of the other famous drinks of the same flavour like limca, seven up, nimboos or LMN. It was the most sought after of the four flavours simply for its uniqueness. Grape was more on the lines of Kalimark's Bovonto, only a little more watery. It was the least moving flavour and often remained unasked for in a corner of the refrigerator. Paneer was a rival to our very own Goli Soda which came in the same Paneer flavour. Though 'Gold Cup Paneer' was a lot sweeter, it had all the essential ingredients to make it a worthy competitor for the fabled Goli Soda. 

Though the flavours were nothing much to boast about, the main attractiveness of the drink was its cost. Priced at Rs. 5/- per bottle of 200 ml, this was the perfect thirst quencher/after-dinner drink/gas-relieving agent. It was also the main sponsor of our bitterly fought hostel cricket tournament and was often presented to the umpires as a form of refreshment for the thankless job they did under the scorching sun. We hostelites didn't mind spending our allowances on this 'budget beverage' and even the most miserly guys were all for buying this 'quintessential quencher' for themselves and their friends. We SASTRAites built a strong foundation for our friendship through this wonder drink and even went to the extent of planning a visit to our college, after passing out, just to grab at the first visible bottle of GOLD CUP. 

So, why am I harping on about this little known soft drink? Well, I just wanted to convey a message of importance and it is imperative that all you readers get acquainted with GOLD CUP so that you will be able to grasp the essence of the message: 

"After witnessing India's shoddy performance on the cricket field for the past two weeks, forget about the WORLD CUP, Our team does not deserve even a GOLD CUP!!"  

THE STORY OF AN APPLE

The tent was dark; the night was long

Nocturnal birds had just started a song

Of severe hunger did five stomachs growl

As some animals outside began their prowl.

The sturdy tent held five male members

With them were apples, only two numbers

The old man, seventy, was given one of two.

His age did deserve the respect it was due.

Now the rest were left with one not two

One fruit for four, what were they to do?

****************

A decision made about the apple of ‘gold’

It would go to the one whose story was best told

The oldie ate his fruit and sat down to judge

A story telling round, where none would budge

He cradled the prize and sharpened his senses

The first guy began without pretenses

It was grey; it was dark; the suspense was chilling

‘Ah!’ cried the oldie. ‘A start so thrilling!’

Next was the second guy with his take on history

A story full of suspense, and shrouded in mystery

‘My my!’ cried oldie. ‘Judging this is tough’

‘Now now!’ said the third. That’s not nearly enough’

And so he started narrating, a chilling little story

The details were raw and the ending very gory

‘Oh god!’ cried oldie. ‘What a bloodbath!’

‘Yes’, said the fourth. ‘Now get set for your last.’

Thus began the final one, an emotion-filled tale

With love and betrayal, and a twist in the tail

‘So!’ said he ‘Who’s got the highest score?’

There was no answer, just a fat, rhythmic snore.

He neared the sleeping oldie, did one of the four

‘Alas!’ he shouted, his throat turned sore

‘He’s eaten the fruit and left us the core!’

Note: Wholly inspired by and totally dedicated to William Sydney Porter (More famous as 'O.Henry') 
         a masterful weaver of Short Stories.

JAYALALITHA - SHE STILL GOT 'MOVES'!!

If you happen to meet Mr. A. Raja, our honourable telecom minister, and ask him if he knew how many zeroes were there in 1.77 lakh crore, he wouldn’t tell you. He might ask his security people to rough you up but the reason he will not answer is not because he would feel indignant, but because he would actually not know the answer. The magnitude of his 2 G scam is such that even the perpetrator gets floundered by the sheer power of figures.

Amidst all hobnobbing about monetary figures, another figure of immense importance has started to raise its neck above the troubled waters - The electoral figure of majority - that magical number of 272. Congress were shameless and forthright when they pulled the plug from the ventilator for Kalmadi and Ashok Chavan. The fact that both were from their own party helped in their decision making. But with A. Raja they are in a sticky situation. Some might call it gum – ‘A Raja Gum’. 18 MP seats lie in that old wrinkled lap of the Tamil Nadu chief minister and unflinching supporter of A. Raja. He doesn’t need to make a statement proclaiming threats with respect to those seats. It is already implied. That is the reason why Jayalalitha’s statement offering open support to the congress in case of any coalition fall out is one of the shrewdest political statements ever made in the recent past. By giving out such an offer she has opened up 2 possible political scenarios.

First, a political fall back in the TN assembly poll scenario. A brief look at the current TN assembly composition tells us that the 36-MLA-Strong congress holds the trumps in the TN coalition government. Jayalalitha’s statement offering support shows us how well the veteran has played the numbers game. She has been brave enough to go against the ideologies and sentiments of her allies in TN (CPI, CPM and MDMK, all three of who are open critics of the Congress). They make up a measly number of 17 MLAs which she might not even lose once the settlements are done. Even if she does lose them it only further widens the distribution of the vote bank as all three parties are unlikely to ally with DMK.

This scenario, though, is likely to happen only if congress considers Jaya’s olive branch. What if they don’t?

This scenario is, again, favourable to AIADMK. The congress’s current clacking about TN house being full and Jaya’s offer being a desperate attempt at restoring lost stronghold in the TN assembly is just an initial show of bravado. Even if it does abide by its stand, there is no question of the fact that it faces serious pressure to terminate Raja as a cabinet minister or force him to step down. This offer by Jayalalitha comes in the exact nick of time that she can proclaim it to have instigated the reaction from Congress. This will serve as a DMK image tarnishing tool during her campaign for the 2011 assembly polls.

By going after A. Raja, initiating opposition and people frenzy and putting out an unconditional offer to the ruling party, Jaya has indeed set the cat amongst the pigeons. What answers do the rulers (or, should we say, ruler) in 10, Janpath have?

FOUR-POINT FORMULA TO EARN YOUR PLACE IN THE SOCIAL HIERARCHY

Disclaimer: This formula works only for those people who incorporate it diligently in their lives. The author has absolutely no bearing on the results of the formula.

Many people, especially the educated employed youth, tend to have this ‘Social status aphrodisiac’. What will he think of me? What will she think of me? What will my neighbour’s father’s friend’s sister’s brother-in-law’s 3 year old daughter think of me? Well, for those of us who do fall in that category (come on, I know you do! Don’t sit there and roll your eyes…) I have conceived a four-point formula which has, until now, worked for me.

1. Speaking Style: This point is of immense importance in work life. Whenever you are in a meeting or a conference you will, more often than not, be forced to say the following: ‘That’s a good point!’; ‘That’s true’; ‘I agree’. Always remember to add something extra before those phrases. ‘Actually, that’s a good point!’ sounds far more sophisticated, mysterious and intelligent than a mere bland ‘That’s a good point!’ Your peers and bosses are bound to be awed by you. “That guy! Look at the way he uses ‘Actually’! He must really have some layered depths of knowledge!” they start to think (Or at least that’s what I think they start to think). Instead of saying ‘That’s true’, try and say ‘Exactly!’ in a clear, ringing voice, at the same time clicking your thumb and your middle finger while pointing your index finger at some random point on the ceiling. Believe me, That creates instant impact.

2. Computer manners: Most of us cannot live, let alone work, without a laptop or a desktop. So this point comes in as the most universally applicable point. Whenever you are sitting in front of your computer, arrange your face so as to give the impression of something life-threateningly serious going on before you and you are the only person capable of handling it. When you have an office with a privatized cubicle, there is no need of auxiliary equipments like myriad documents, age old technical diagrams etc. to cover what you are actually doing (read-minesweeper, cricinfo, solitaire, Wikipedia). But when you are part of an open office or when you are at home, it’s better to keep any of the aforementioned documents open. Or at least a pre-planned excel sheet with scores and scores of unrelated, complicated and absolutely unfathomable numbers spread across important sounding columns (‘Tax Invoice No.’, ‘R05 Value’ , ‘Production quantity’, ‘minimum specification’ etc.) should do the trick. In the case of software professionals, minesweeper/cricinfo/Wikipedia should themselves do the trick. Even at home this point is extremely important. With an open, complicated excel sheet on the task bar and a sober expression playing on your face you can watch Friends/How I met your mother/Two and a half men with a free mind. This exercise also helps improve you control your emotions as you will be experienced enough to watch a sitcom without laughing or pretending to laugh along with the laugh tracks (Note: The said exercise is not recommended for Dr. Vijay, Captain Vijaykanth and T.R Films as they are in a totally different league when compared to petty American sitcoms).

3. Expand your area of work: By this, I don’t mean you have to actually butt your head into all functional departments of the organization and increase your knowledge about their respective functioning. No, you don’t need expansive work. All you need is expansive talk. When you talk about your job profile you should sound as if you are the only person apart from the CMD because of whom the company is running. You don’t need to know what are the functionalities involved and technical details. Just a lot of important sounding English words ought to be enough. ‘Product Development’, ‘Strategy analysis’, ‘Catalogue management’, ‘Market development’, ‘Software Systems management’, ‘consulting champion’, ‘Production planning’, ‘Customer relations management’ etc. Sound Important don’t they? Just brush up some support data for each of the aforesaid, actually existing, job profiles and you are good to go.

4. Complete and unabashed utilization of ‘The near-miss factor’: (Note: though this point may sound applicable only to those people who managed to ‘Bell the CAT’ and get interview calls from IIMs, only to later find out that they were mere add-ons, it is actually applicable to others also. They can actually modify it with a single letter – P. After all, the only criterion to get a call from ‘IIPM’ is to be Homo sapiens. And at least most of us fulfill that criterion.) Many of you might have got interview calls from prestigious institutes like IIM/SP Jain/IIFT etc. All others are automatic call getters of IIPM. Try to bring almost all conversations that you participate in towards your ‘thirty minutes of glory’ (In case of IIPM, just walk in to a branch nearest to you immediately to have a firsthand experience. They have perennial openings for MBA, E-MBA, Global MBA, International Executive Entrepreneurial Programme, Dare to think beyond ‘IITs/IIMs/YALE/HARVARD/STANFORD/OXFORD’ Programmes and other such exciting initiatives). Let me give you an example of how to go about this particular point. Below is a conversation I recently had with an acquaintance:

Acq: Hey Jagan! What’s up?

Me: Nothing much. Work is hectic as always. Just had these additional responsibilities of market analysis and product development thrust on me.

Acq: Oh! Great man! So much responsibility! That’s good for you right?

Me: Yes of course! But it’s hampering my CAT preparations. Also with 3 previous IIM calls (You can make that 18 in case of IIPM), there are increased expectations on me this year.

Acq: Wow! You got 3 IIM calls? That’s great man! You must be brilliant then…blah…gifted…blah…blah…prestigious…blah blah blah…toughest exam in India…blah blah blah blah

Easy isn’t it?

Thus, we come to the end of the four-point formula. These points have been made public after extensive research, firsthand experiences, market surveys, quality assurance procedures, strict conformance to international standards, customer satisfaction initiatives, simulation of business models, five year development plans, defense measures…er… stuff like that.

Have you noticed how much of an exponent of the four point formula I have become?

NEWS AS IT IS...WELL, ALMOST!!

• Rahul Gandhi's RSS, SIMI Equation
• Railways on a Recruitment Frenzy
• LED Displays on Vodka Bottles
• India's Last Gasp Victory at Mohali
• A 'Golden' Twist to the CWG Tale

In some unusually blatant remarks, Rahul Gandhi has described RSS as ‘Fanatical’ and no different from the banned terror outfit SIMI (Student Islamic movement of India). The fundamental reason behind his comparison is the fact that both groups held ‘Fundamentalist’ views. “I only know that both RSS and SIMI hold fundamentalist views”, he said. On being pointed out that RSS, unlike SIMI, is not a prohibited group, he reiterated that he only knew they were fundamentalist. “As I said, I only know that they are both fundamentalist. That supports my theory. All this crap about RSS not being a prohibited group doesn’t help me, so I don’t know about it”, he stated nonchalantly.

Indian Railways have started a recruitment frenzy and plan to fill 2 lakh vacancies in 6 months. Mamta Banerjee, the Raliways Minister, unveiled the conceptual brilliance behind this recruitment drive. “Anyone found staring lovingly at an Electric/diesel Engine or the respective coaches will be recruited with immediate effect”, she announced. Following the announcement there has been mad mobs of dewy eyed youths at most railway stations across India. In a totally surprising but related development, Indian off spinner Harbhajan Singh’s name was found on the first recruitment list. Apparently he had given a playful hug to Indian ‘Coach’ Gary Kirsten which was taken right into cue by the Recruitment board.

Two New York based Liquor Lovers have come up with vodka bottles that carry a programmable LED display that scrolls a personalized message of your choice in bright lights around the bottle. Medea vodka is the first one to start the quirky and innovative message-on-a-bottle trend. Like a news ticker, words scroll by, delivering birthday greetings, sweet nothings - even a marriage proposal. “We were always seeing dazzling displays on our Vodka bottles after drinking from it, so we thought ‘hey! Why not!’ and that’s how this happened”, they say proudly. To a question on whether any sort of message display is possible they say that though the desired display is possible, the best effect is felt when you drink from it and then look at the display. “That way you can see any message you want. Heck, you can even see a movie!” they say, causing instant panic in the Indian Film Industry.

V.V.S. Laxman played a soldierly knock to guide India to a thrilling 1 wicket win over Australia in the first of the two test series in Mohali. Battling back pain, a determined bowling attack, an ambitious opposition captain and an Indian captain confused about the concept of By-runners he steadied a sinking Indian Batting order to reassure their dominance in World Test Cricket. Speaking about his knock, Laxman said that he was happy to be of help in a winning cause. “I am very happy to have contributed to the win. Hopefully I repeat the feat if I get picked for the next test”, he said. On being reminded that he was no longer playing for his place in the side and was now a permanent member of the test side, Laxman sounded surprised. “Is that so? Gosh! Nobody said anything about this. That’s why I have kept on playing like my place was up for grabs. Well Well. That does put things in a different light doesn’t it?” he winked sending out strong signals to the Indian dressing room.

Meanwhile, in a surprising twist to the CWG 2010, Actor Vijay has claimed that the main reason behind India’s brilliant performance and Mad Rush for Gold in the CWG has been his JOS ALUKKAS Advertisement.

ENTHIRAN - THE MATH THAT MATTERS

Why can’t Enthiran bomb at the BO?

Though the above question can be answered in just one word (RajniKanth), for the sake of so called doubters let’s do a little primary school math. Now, the number of prints releasing world over, as we all know, is somewhere near 3000. For the conservative critics, let’s keep that figure as 2500. Foreign theatres will have lesser capacity but their per ticket cost is almost triple the amount being charged by Indian theatres. Indian theatres have a much higher seating capacity while the ticket rates are some generous notches lower than their foreign counterparts. So, let us keep the average seating capacity as 500 and average cost per ticket as 150/- so that both Indian and foreign theatres get balanced out of their prominent points. Next comes the number of shows per day. Again, for the sake of conservatives I am limiting this figure to 4 (Most theatres in Chennai have lined up a minimum of 5 shows per day, with some of them offering shows at as early as 3 am in the morning).

So, all the muddle headed nincompoops can take out their calculators to do the math. 2500prints x 500 seats x 4 shows x Rs. 150/- which equals??? Yes, 75 Crores per day from theatre collections alone. Number of days required to break-even? 3 days!

So, GET READY FOLKS…

Footnote: I have not even ventured into the money from advertisements, the glitzy music release, trailer release, trailer screening with tickets and collections from Hindi and Telugu versions. Anyone out there who still doubts the success (read, stupendous success) of Enthiran??

THIS IS DUE...ADIEU

After 6 months of grueling job-hunts (during which period my posterior stayed put on my desktop chair except when ablutions were in order) this 2009 graduate is finally going to jump into the real world, the real industry and face real challenges to enhance his realistic chances of a real career (the word ‘real’ doesn’t really mean anything real here). The past six months have been a sugar coated pill for me; sweet outside but bitter inside. This page has helped me in reducing that bitter part to an extent. Besides the aforesaid activity of yours truly, updating this page with some frivolity has also been a pastime. It is now time to reduce, if not put an end to, that frivolity; more so because of lack of time than because of lack of ideas. This is bound to have a positive (I hope not a very exuberantly cheerful) effect on the million or so readers of this page (I can feel your eyes rolling with mirth already). It’s time to thank all of you for putting up with my amateurish short stories and impulsive epiphanies. I would particularly like to thank the 16 people who battled the personal odds of boredom and time-waste to follow this page. Some of you might have really been following this page while some might have just stuck their names in the list and forgotten all about it after that. I am very thankful to both of those sections of followers, as I felt a thrill every time I looked to the right of this page and saw the number grow gradually from 1 to 16. I should of course offer my profuse thanks to the guy who opened the world of blogging to me and has since been a constant source of encouragement and support to my attempts at short stories, reviews and blog posts in general. He is none other than one Mr. Hobbes (you will be able to see his comments in almost every post in this page). Thanks a lot mate!!

Finally, I leave you with one more frivolity (for last time’s sake). The last line is especially significant and expresses my gratitude. Cheers and keep visiting now and then…

22 years since I opened my eyes to see light…

It’s taken me all of that time to see what’s right.

For a decade and a half life was candy floss…

When I used to live like I was my own boss.

No struggles, no tension, no decisions to make…

I could dream, I could fly, the moon I could rake.

Then came six years like a bolt from the blue…

Events unfolded, limits crossed, without any clue.

Now as I sit back in realms, wondering if my life’s a trap…

I have no option but to thank you for reading this crap!!!

A CAREER DILEMMA SOLVED!!!

Posted below is a snippet of conversation between 2 people as heard by the writer, either during his early morning walk on the beach, or in his dreams (he is not very sure about the place). As the writer’s senses were a bit muddled when he was hearing this conversation, he has used some writers’ license with respect to some proper nouns by giving them names which he feels sound similar to what he heard from the two people. The writer assures us that the conversation which took place is not a figment of his imagination (though if it did occur in his dreams he might go back on his word) and that the views expressed are purely those of two individuals with whom or with whose views the writer has no association or affinity. The writer also warns the readers that they may correct the doubtful parts of the snippet (marked by “??”) in the comments column below, but at their own personal risk and that he will not be answerable to their corrections.

FRIEND 1: I am really confused about my career.

FRIEND 2: Me too. What are the options you have in your mind? Let’s discuss them and arrive at a conclusion.

FRIEND 1: I was thinking of, maybe, becoming a media person…A journalist or a reporter, something like that…

FRIEND 2: Now now…don’t get too hasty. Didn’t you see what happened to those CMM-IBM (??) journalists? They were attacked for criticizing Shin Seva (??).

FRIEND 1: Yes I did. But I will stay away from all that when I become a reporter.

FRIEND 2: Oh come on! Do you honestly think you will become a celebrated reporter if you shy away from Shin Seva, the most happening party in India?

FRIEND 1: You have a point there. Ok, No to media. What about, maybe, a public figure, a celebrity?

FRIEND2: Oh no. Absolutely no. You have to make national statements on TV and in papers. And look at what happened to Tachin Sendulkar (??). He told that he was an Indian and was heavily criticized by Mr. Pal Tacker (??), the Shin Seva leader. He became so afraid of being attacked by Shin Saiviks (??) that he refused to leave the cricket pitch even after the opposition captain offered to call the day off. People might say he was nearing a century and so only didn’t leave the field, but I am sure this was the main reason.

FRIEND 1: That’s true. But if I become a celebrity I won’t crane my neck into these controversies. I would rather highlight Shin Seva’s contributions towards National Interests.

FRIEND 2: Now, either you are exercising your paradoxical muscles or I completely heard you wrong. Did you just use Shin Seva and national Interests in the same breath?

FRIEND 1: I get your point. So it’s a No to public figure as well. What about, maybe, a Banker?

FRIEND 2: Hmmm…what qualifications do you possess which you think will help you?

FRIEND 1: I have finished B.Com. I have been preparing for banking exams for the past six months. I am sure I will clear the exam. I have a 6 month internship experience in a private bank.

FRIEND 2: All that is very good. But do you know Marathi?

FRIEND 1: How does that matter?

FRIEND 2: Didn’t you hear? People from other states cannot work in Maharashtra Banks. They are eating into the Marathi quota, according to NMS (??) leader Mr. Rai Tacker (??). Soon he is going to bring this amendment to all industries in Maharashtra.

FRIEND 1: Can’t I work in other states?

FRIEND 2: You must of course be sensible enough to realize that this rule will slowly be applied all over India. You must be knowing by now that taking parliamentary oath in Hindi is punishable by violence. It has to be done in Marathi. So, it is only a matter of time before Marathi becomes our National language. Hence it is absolutely necessary for us to know Marathi to have a career in India.

FRIEND 1: So, No to banking also. What other options are left?

FRIEND 2: We need to take Marathi lessons. That’s the only option.

FRIEND 1: You are right. Hey!! I have a better idea. Why don’t we join Shin Seva or NMS? That way we don’t need to spend money to learn Marathi as they will make us learn it. We will be free to carry out any form of Violence on whoever we dislike in the name of oppression against Marathi Criticism. And if we perform our duties to the letter, we will be making innumerable appearances on news Channels, CCTV footages will capture our real life stunt sequences and we will become famous in no time. Who knows we might become MLAs also some day. What do you say?

FRIEND 2: Brilliant!! What are we waiting for? Let me go and book tickets for Mumbai. Thank you for the ingenious suggestion…