Lokesh-ious RJ writes

Facebook

2011-11-12T09:50:00.000-08:00

Facebook has altered my daily routine. The first thing I do waking up every morning is brush my teeth. Facebook has replaced my toothpaste now. It’s an addiction. I wake up to see how many comments on my update, how many likes on my picture, how many comments and generally what the world is up to.

In the days of yore, my idea of fun was bean bags, cups of chai, namkeen or matthi and being with like minded, trust worthy people I called friends. With facebook, even the meaning of friends has changed. People I might not even know reflect in my friend list.

When was the last that we went out on a picnic, watched a movie with friends, lounged at a cafe, played a game of cards or badminton and NOT facebooked about it??
Enter any get together/party/event, most of the people in the room would either be BBMing or updating about their whereabouts, uploading pictures or just telling the world how much ‘fun’ they are having in life. Trust me in this mad race of telling the world about our ‘fun’ times, we actually miss out on the real fun.

We were at a concert the other day. Mohit Chauhan was performing. I have a vivid picture of the stage, the lights, the sound, how Mohit almost tripped over the wires, and how the guitarist just posed and played his part. My friend doesn’t remember any bit. He was busy shooting videos and taking pictures and updating ‘how much fun’ he had at the concert. I fail to understand how one can have fun if you are constantly on the phone. You have to drink in the moment, absorb all that surrounds you, see, hear, feel...only if you lift your face from that godforsaken phone of yours. I guess it’s the virtual peer pressure, the need to tell the world the ‘cool’ things you are doing, the ‘cool’ places you are at and the ‘cool’ people you are meeting.

It’s because of the same peer pressure that I overheard someone complain how badly she wanted to go shopping. Back in the day you wouldn’t repeat a dress in the same circle of friends but could easily wear it elsewhere. Now you CAN NOT repeat a dress, period. Everyone has checked all your clothes in your innumerable facebook albums.

And then there are funny rules to the game. Your popularity is directly proportional to the number of likes you have got on your update or the number of comments on your picture. My cousin and I almost picked a fight coz we chose not to comment on each others’ pictures or comments. Yes this is called virtual ignoring. And this is no exaggeration when I say that couples have broken up because one didn’t comment or like the other’s update or picture.

So you know your quote friend unquote has got married not because you received the invitation card or attended his/her wedding, but because the relationship status changed from being single to married.

In fact a month ago when Delhi was hit by an earthquake, people tweeted and facebooked about it instead of running out of the house. The need of being the first one to break it first might even cost us our lives.
On a lighter note, I read something funny ironically on facebook. A newly married guy updated- suhag raat hain, ghoongat utha raha hoon main. Heights!!

incomplete...

2011-11-12T04:43:00.000-08:00

Like my scribble-stories that I start and leave unsaid
And those thick books, unread

Like a gym membership that works as a charity
Like my favourite TV show losing its popularity

Like the much awaited movies
That I walk out coz I am so bored
And an almost interesting chat
That I log out coz I aint sure

Like the song that I so love
Alas only for a minute
Coz right after the first verse
I start to fidget

Like ideas that excite me
And just excite me

Like the dishes I cook hungrily but hardly sit down to eat
Like many a things I skip and leave incomplete

Like those things that have a beginning but do not seem to end
This verse I promise is no different,
Coz I...

Sardiyaan...

2011-11-10T15:24:00.000-08:00

Garam angidhi mein barsaat ke bhunte huye bhutte
aur sardiyon ki sulaghti moongfaliya...
chashni mein chip chip jalebiyan
aur sust chai ki chuskiyan...
haus khas ke kile pe hawa se baatein
aur ridge road ke thande meethe goonjte sannate...
kabhi kabhi aaj bhi dil ke veeran kone mein sardiyon ki sarsarahat si dastak de jate hain...

Ek baat...

2011-11-10T15:18:00.000-08:00

Ek baat
Shabdo ki mohtaaj
Khud se jhoojthi hui...
Lavjo ko dhoondti hui,
Kabhi aankhon ke raste bahar aana chahe...
Kabhi dabi muskurahat ban ke reh jaye
Aur lab par aate hi
Phir ladkhada jaye

Avaz se dushmani ho jaise...
Yeh baat nikle toh nikle kaise...?

Lokesh Dharmani- 18th Oct 2011 7:37 p.m

Let's find a solution...

2011-07-19T07:06:00.000-07:00

It’s been more than ten days now ever since Mumbai blasts, or shall I say, ever since the latest, most recent Mumbai bomb blasts. (It’s imperative to give reference when we have so many of them!) I have been keeping quiet, acting like a sponge, observing and absorbing everything that people have to say about the issue of terrorism that has been plaguing our country since time immemorial. So right from facebook/twitter updates to news channels to radio stations to blogs, I have watched/read/heard them all. It was almost like preparing for a debate competition back in school or preparing a long literature answer in college. You refer to different books and notes and put all the best points together to come up with the best piece. I wanted to hear everyone and sundry so that I could find solutions, some concrete solutions that would enable us to combat terrorism.

Alas! There aren’t too many.

While the facebook updates either lash angst at the neighbouring country or squeak a lame ‘how long’ post for the sake of ‘being with it’, the TV channels are on a different tangent altogether! From shamelessly reporting the heart wrenching sights of a dying Mumbai, to mercilessly zooming into helpless faces, asking them the lamest, the most inhuman question, how they felt at a loss of a young family member to morally judging a politician for his presence at a fashion show or a Bollywood star for throwing a birthday party for a fellow star, they have titillated enough for petty TRPs.

What disgusts and amuses me at the same time is the lavish usage of the new word- resilience! Resilience is the ability to recover from misfortune. My only question – does a middle class man who earns a few hundred everyday have the luxury to be resilient?? Paradoxical! Painfully paradoxical. Dear Politician, try earning five thousand a month and then dare spell helplessness as r-e-s-i-l-i-e-n-c-e!

I wanted to have some solutions so badly that I struck a conversation with a couple of my colleagues this morning. One fumed with anger and the other shrugged shoulders in a –nobody-cares-dude vibe..ofcourse...coz bomb blasts always happen to other people, not us!

Some thoughts that I still ponder on after absorbing it all-

# 10 people die every day in Mumbai local trains that makes an average of 300 every month, almost thrice the number of deaths in the last bomb blast. Terrorism comes much later, get your trains system right first.

# Can our political parties be ever human? Would we ever see our Prime Minister and the leader of the Opposition call a press conference and take a stand TOGETHER against terrorism?

# Why don’t we hike our police personnel’s salaries? Almost one third of the State Intelligence department’s seats are lying vacant. Have you ever wondered why parents never say- “humara beta toh police join karega?” (After all a DJ spins for a night and earns five times a police officer’s monthly income!)

# Should we have an autonomous apolitical party that’s accountable for terrorist attacks?

# Would some kind of training be of any help?

# How much can we as citizens contribute? Be more receptive to the security checks?

It's high time we found concrete solutions to this problem and stopped taking pot-shots at one another. If you have any more thoughts, feel free to contribute.

They have attacked our malls, markets, parks, pubs, hell the iconic Taj in Mumbai. They have not even spared our Parliament House and we still sign mercy petitions for the likes of Kasab and Afzal Guru and continue giving a fillip to the terrorist morale.

An apology to the inarticulate.

2011-06-03T09:24:00.000-07:00

I want to apologise to many today. I might even take names. I think I am a bit shallow....or at least used to be. Isn’t funny how we always judge people by how glib they are, how well they can talk. Talent, a good heart, passion...nothing else matters but the gift of gab.
Almost half a decade ago, in a conversation with one of my friends, Neelu, I candidly called someone boring coz he wasn’t too articulate! She re torted, frowned and sighed at the ways of the world, how one is instantly written off if one doesn’t have a way with words. I might have brushed aside her thought as an overreaction but I realise now what she meant then! In fact I almost reacted similarly recently when yet another 24 year old judged the world based on the art of communication.
There are a lot of names that I can mention here whom I sincerely want to apologise to coz I thought they were ‘boring’/’worthless’ coz they couldn’t crack an original joke or string a one liner at a drop of a hat, but I would rather not. (Calling someone inarticulate on a public forum like this is not done)
So there was a student who wrote well, a radio colleague who is talent personified, another ex- colleague who has a heart of gold and so many others who faced my silly judgements all because they couldn’t say something funny/witty/interesting!

Words and wit might make good marketing, good packaging and sometimes JUST THAT!

...

2011-02-09T07:16:00.001-08:00

Some memories clutch at the seams of my mind...Delhi and its beings still spasm every now and then in my mind, a native recurrent reminiscence for me! The Earth has taken a full solar revolution since I left India!

Post 56th Filmfare awards thoughts!

2011-02-06T11:28:00.000-08:00

1. Sonakshi Sinha can think on her feet. Her ‘khamosh’ moment did leave the cheeky chandus Ranbir and Imran speechless.
2. Sonakshi’s amateur dance performance shows how she is still so untarnished with the ways of filmdom; her sharp contrast was Priyanka Chopra and her tribute to Madhuri Dixit.
3. Kajol reverently applauding everyone and sundry.
4. Katrina blowing kisses to practically everyone, Imran, Ranbir...err...Kareena. Was it bad editing of the show or the aftermaths of a breakup with Sallu?
5. Far better than any animated character hosting the show, far better than any smart ass act of wit, far far better than any wisely, wittily scripted act, what’s MOST endearing is to see Sonu Nigham go various stalwarts of the industry and weave some magic with his voice. Ah! How I wish I could slip into a song as effortlessly and beautifully as Mr. Nigham!
6. SRK can blah blah blah about his childhood days, how he holds Mr. Bachchan in great regard, how we all look upto him, how he always wanted to be like him, blah blah blah...and some more blah...and some more blah...someone tell the faff ball to shut up!! He can tomtom about his fake love for Mr. Bachchan in public and forget to reply to his birthday wishes.
7. I don’t hate SRK, but he is turning senile. Please tell him that humility is a virtue and silence, gold.
8. Arbaaz Khan’s candid confession of he had been struggling and finally struck gold with Dabangg was truly heartwarming!
9. Mamta Sharma’s very very very very very very very ‘thankful’ short speech was also truly heartwarming!
10. Farah Khan is a funny woman. She is funny when she is not reading from the autocue. After a spate of technical awards to Udan, she comes on stage and thanks GAWWWDD for no songs and dance in Udaan, else she would be deprived of this award!!
11. My most favourite moment- when my all time favourite Manna Da was given the lifetime achievement award.
12. Ranbir’s enactment of Rizwan khan of My name is Khan was spot ON!
13. Ranbir and Imran had a few funny moments!
14. Amitabh Bachchan with that white beard, like what was that dude?
15. So you thought Imran and Ranbir had you all cracked up? The funniest FILMFARE moment for me was- a) Kareena Kapoor- the best actress in a supporting role for We are Family.
b) Shah Rukh Khan- the best actor for MY name is Khan!

Passion...

2010-12-28T10:49:00.000-08:00

Every six months we come across a new set of words that people use so lavishly and without any context, for example 'rocking'. There was a time when in Delhi, everything was rocking, from food to weather to people to an auto wala to errr...say a room lizard on the wall. The word for this season is 'PASSION'. From celebrities of all shapes and sizes to reality TV contestants to businessmen to housewives, everyone seems to be passionate.
But I experienced real passion on my vacation. Passion for life, for dreams, for things one really wants to do.

Mrinali Sinha (Name changed, coz she doesn't like being discussed in public). My bestest friend everrrrr! Our friendship began in our school (not where we studied but where we taught!) She went on to become some fancy editor in some fancy Multi national and I pursued radio. This time when I met her, she had given up on a well paying job, had used all her savings to pursue her passion for photography. So here's a lady almost my age, going to a class of almost teenagers or college pass outs and fearlessly following her dreams. From driving a Santro in Delhi to travelling by buses and trains in Mumbai, from the comfortable confines of an air-conditioned office to the streets of Dharavi, horse stables and other such shady places, she has resolved to do what she really wants to do. The future is unsure, the pocket is almost empty, the expenses are super crazily high, but her sheer passion for her vocation keeps her going. Truly INSPIRING! All my choicest of prayers for the love of my life! (She is planning to start a course in basics of photography, if you need her number, get in touch with me. I promise it will be worth your money!)

Saransh Goila- Our friendship began once again in a school, a school where I taught and he studied. Saransh is crazy about movies or passionate, the word of this season. If there is a movie, he has watched it- cast no bar (starcast silly), language no bar, length no bar. If we are going out, he wants to watch movies, if we are not, he still suggests to watch movies except this time he made 'movie watching at home' an experience to remember a lifetime. Saransh bought a new house, read up on the net about speakers and screens, did his massive research and turned his living room into a mini theatre. And no it's not a home theatre system we are talking about, instead a theatre in his home. So there's a hundred and ten inch big screen that covers one full wall, there are amplifiers, speakers, projectors, a labrynth of wires and a thousand other things that I can't even phonetically articulate. He painted the side walls with movie posters, fitted some blue-tinged, dim theatre lights and hold your breath and jaws for this one- got the superexpensive, supercomfortable LAZY BOY recliners. (Yes he is a rich bugger!) Now that ladies and gentlemen is what I call true passion, the kinds that leaves me stunned!(So proud of you Saransh! Hugs!!)

Sanjay Dharmani. No we didn't go to the same school. We were born in the same family. My elder brother. I might not relate to him on a lot of issues but he never ceases to inspire me with his ambition, dreams and yes you guessed it right his drive and passion to translate his dreams, his ambitions to reality. Now a chicken like me (sans any major responsibilties) can never dare think of giving up my job and pursue what I really really want to do. But my exact opposite sibling does exactly that. He is married with a kid and yet he dares give up his fat package job to pursue his dream of running his own business- BRAINVILLA (in Bangalore) where you can rent out and buy books and toys. The man is a true genius. He has a mind of a business man, nerves of steel and a heart that oozes with optimism and passion. He is a shinning example of the fact that hardwork always pays off. So now he is a senior manager in an MNC and is running two outlets of BRAINVILLA successfully. Guys if you are planning to buy some books or toys, look up for Brainvilla on the net and do the needful.

So the long and short of this is that we all are chicken inside, we all have zillion fears and trillion doubts, but we all have just ONE life. Just the sheer passion of these three gives my heart a lift, my flesh goose and my throat a lump! A biggggggggggg hug to them!

Musings

2010-11-22T10:35:00.000-08:00

I still believe in smiles. The fake ones. They always look real to me. Do we ever learn from our mistakes? I don't. I fail to make that change in me. I can't change me. I believe in smiling genuinely. I can't tell the fake ones from real. Or maybe I can but I don't.
Sometimes I wonder if age is inversely propotional to self confidence. My funky oranges and yellows that I wore in the days of yore rot in the attic now. That says a lot. That air of self assurance and shabbiness that only 17 permits you.
Awkardness is an offspring of mocking judgements! (Aren't judgements always mocking?) I suck at retorts. The wise ones. The witty ones. Or of any type. I grope for words. I fear of bad blood. How come they never?
I sometimes hear them whisper too. I hate it. They would rather say it on my face. That would make me sadder.
I honestly don't find them funny. Mostly I don't get the context. Honestly I don't even care, hence don't even try. I am there, but I am not...like I was...seemingly attentive in my Physics classes that I HATED. LOATHED!
I miss soul mates, the kinds who make tea sessions, coffee tables long lasting memories. Maybe they don't exist. Maybe the problem is in me. I get bored easily. Like I am right now. Bye

That November morning...

2010-07-24T02:18:00.000-07:00

I never bunked. Be it school, college or any job. I was quite a loser to be honest. I never had the guts to just take an off and vegetate at home. I would die of guilt and boredom if I ever did that. If I ever took leave, it would mean a dozen pending bills, electricity, phone and water and forever impending bank work. But that day I got lucky. Few days are so simple yet so special that they are etched into your minds forever.
It was some day in November. I was working at Archies greetings and gifts ltd. The office was in Naraina industrial area, some 18 odd kilometres, three blue line buses and ninety minutes away from my home. I reached office well in time. There was a crowd that had gathered outside the office. I usually don’t care so I went upstairs to my office. Murmurs around whispered that the office had been raided. The top notch bosses were in the accounts department. Nobody had started work in hope of getting a day off. We waited for half an hour and were told to go back home. For the first time in my life, I felt nice working in a country that pays tax and takes it seriously too.
I stepped out of the office and instead of catching a bus; I caught a quick cycle rickshaw to the bus stop. The sun was delicious. November suns are usually delicious. I quickly boarded a mudrika, special buses that run on Delhi’s ring road. A ride back home at 11 am meant less traffic, both on roads and in the bus. I comforted myself on a seat and opened my lunch box to munch on alloo ka parathas that mum had packed for lunch. It felt like an early off from school due to heavy downpour or some other emergency. Parathas tasted better in the bus. When I looked out, the city buzzed with activities. I could smell petrol at traffic signals and see lamp posts flashing by.
I also saw effigies of Ravan, Kumbhkaran and Meghnath in some distance. I could only see their heads behind some buildings. It was such a festive reminder of Dusshera and Diwali. The sun filtered through the bus’s window and I basked in it, feeling rich in vitamin D.
I got down at my stop from where I could either catch another bus or take a rickshaw to my place. I decided to walk. On my way I saw a road side food vendor who had then started making fresh kachoris. Interestingly he had two burners on his cart, one in which he fried kachoris and the other, hot gulab jamuns. The man had figured his commerce pretty well. Hot, sweet gulab jamuns served after hot kachoris dipped in spicy aloo ki sabzi. I devoured both. As I walked ahead, I passed by DAV school. It was lunch time. The school reverberated with children’s carefree laughter. Recess time in school was so much fun. It taught us time management. We could do so much in those 20 minutes- polish lunch, quick trips to canteen, a short game of cricket, copy Maths homework, buy maps from stationary shop and cover our notebooks with brown paper. I stood there reminiscing my good old school days. I then delved into those narrow streets that run behind our homes. The sweeper was late. His broom kicked up a dust making clouds of fine dry particles.
There were aunties perched on little moodas suitably parked in that patch of sunshine that flooded one corner of the street. Their hands ran in an effortless rhythm to knit sweaters for their families, some of them peeled oranges and pea nuts, some of them haggled with sabzi walas over the price of coriander and some of them complained of approaching winters as they dried clothes on the clothing line. Old uncles had huddled in a park either on charpoys or on chatais. In sharp contrast to aunties, the uncles were very silent. I wonder if it was just a game of cards or their basic nature.
A little walk ahead, I passed by a festive house. I could see a lot of ladies sitting in its veranda, their heads covered and their hands folded. There were double the number of shoes and chappals outside the house. Suddenly the mike shrieked, some fingers ran on a harmonium, someone started beating the dhol and everyone started chanting prayers in praise of Sherawali Mata. It was the sixth day of navratras. Navratras are the most festive days in Delhi. These are the nine days before Dusshera when women observe fast and end up eating more than on a regular day. There are rich elaborate treats of fruits, vegetables and pakoras made of alloo dipped in different flours. Markets are dolled with up different kind of potato chips and red dupattas that mark the celebrations in every house hold. I love these days.
I reached home and surprised mom. She was cleaning the house. The floor was wet and smelled of fresh phenyl. The sunshine reflected from a little poodle on the floor and made fluid images on the wall. Mum had switched on the fan to dry the floor and I suddenly felt cold. We stood in the balcony for some time, chatted over cups of tea and soon I retired to my room with a PG Wodehouse and before I knew, I had buried myself under a comforter, hugging my pillow and my knees and slept like a baby.

Eureka!

2010-05-10T10:14:00.000-07:00

I ate like a pig. Added layers of fat!
103 on weighing scale, I am still not thick-skinned!
Alas!

Kitchen enlightments...

2010-05-10T10:11:00.000-07:00

They all are like onions that I am peeling right now...
So many layers!
They make me cry too.

Wagging tongues...

2010-04-13T11:39:00.000-07:00

I had always been scared of people's judgements about me. Nearly altered me, myself and I, for the fear of "what would they think/say?"
They would never stop!
Even NOW, they label some new smart ass adjective on my identity...
I am the newest SNOB in town.
WHY?
Coz I don't respond to their facebook pings anymore!!
Is it really my fault that I couldn't log out before dying?

God is...

2010-04-13T10:45:00.000-07:00

like a sister-in-law of some random Ekta Kapoor's serial!
Always eavesdropping to my thoughts,
Grinning,
Scheming,
And laughing at my plans!

Depression...

2010-04-13T10:36:00.000-07:00

Is like swine flu. An Epidemic. Rampant!
Will elaborate later! Might even write a book! Right now, wallow time!

Life is like a cruel mother...

2010-04-13T10:31:00.000-07:00

Shoves reality, like milkshake, down your throat!

P.S- Sans Sugar!

P.P.S- Thanks white dust!

Gone

2010-03-29T12:28:00.000-07:00

Appendix and Tail Bone are passe. Spine is the new vestigial! Hardly find it in people these days!

Lifeless!

2010-03-12T23:10:00.000-08:00

Just blankly looking at the ceiling,
eyes half droopy.
a sudden sigh,
a puff of wind and a sprinkle of spit.
tossing and turning when the buttocks hurt.
constantly curling up to the past,
and cursing the present.
struggling not to face the rigours of reality...
imagining myself dead
with sullen faces dipped in eerie silence...
me grinning with a sadist grin.
hallucinating...
in the train, at office, anywhere.
seeing pictures on the wall,
talking to myself,
ALOUD!
Dodging suspicious glances...
And sniggers too.

If someone took the smallest denomination of coins from your huge piggy bank, would you know?
CAN I DIE?

Hush...listen!

2010-03-10T19:53:00.000-08:00

Yak yak yak...

What’s the wittiest way to say it?
I think I can be a bit louder!
Pearly whites! Just flash it silly
Is my cleavage showing?
Suck the fucking tummy in you fatso
Is my Gucci wearing off?
Sniff sniff...
Spray spray...

Bak bak bak...

Weirdest analogies that no one can think of
Picasso’s paintings and Hemingway’s books
The coolest gadget
The hippest hangout
Flaunt your mobile
Disgust at others’
Choicest of expletives
I will keep quiet
They will notice

LOOK AT ME I AM SO COOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yak yak yak...

A fleeting thought...

2010-03-03T23:51:00.000-08:00

The only side affect of growing old is...cynicism!

Dubai Again

2010-02-16T22:18:00.000-08:00

The first thing that I saw when the flight landed was a Carrefour neon sign smiling at me from a distance and I said to myself “welcome to the world of Carrefours, Burj buildings and everything AL. At the airport a hoarding screamed in big bold blacks and yellows- “send money in minutes- western union money transfer...”and my lips blossomed into a nostalgic smile. I have been in Dubai earlier; I have seen the same landmarks, breathed and smelled the same air, the same smell that reeks of affluence, ambition and a hush sense of nostalgia.
Funnily the last time when I landed, I excitedly went and kissed a Mercedes parked at the airport. This time the hotel guys had actually sent a Mercedes to pick me up. It was a good sign and a rare experience. I almost sank into the seat. From a bumpy Air India ride to the inviting seats of Mercedes, it was indeed quite a progress. Like one of the Silver poets would say, it was such a heightened moment of my life, that I wouldn’t mind dying.
Death could very well wait. There was a better surprise lined up. The hotel room. It was a five star at the very famous Sheikh Zayed Road that’s lined with high rises on both sides. My room looked over the dazzling Dubai city, glittering with life and style. The speeding cars' head and tail lights blended with city lights which further merged with stars in the sky, blurring the horizon.
Different emotions mated in my little head- happiness, joy, ambition, failure, success and pangs of homesickness.
The office and people are thankfully hospitable. The chicks are hot. You don’t even know them from Adam’s yet they rush to you with full gusto, warmth and familiarity to give you a nice assuring welcoming hug and if you are lucky you might find few of them tripping and crashing into your arms. No reasons to complain! After all, for a newcomer what matters the most is a sense of acceptance sans any judgements!
So it’s been a week, two days and 23 hours. The fact that I am effortlessly keeping a track of time shows how much I am missing home and people. My TAG still smiles the IST at me and after a couple of days of excitedly watching “Keeping up with Kardashians” and “Battle of the hotties” on E! I am desperately switching to Star Plus to watch “Sabki pyari Bebo” or catch news on NDTV, the only two desi channels flashing on my hotel’s LCD, my lame efforts of holding on to my roots back home.

Adios...

2010-02-16T05:54:00.000-08:00

I have never felt so many breasts in a span of four hours. That’s the good side of farewell, lots of warm-tight hugs from the fairer sex. The flip side is ‘equal number of stinking underarms.’
Honestly and strangely, it didn’t feel much that it was my last day. It hadn’t sunk in that badly. It felt like I was leaving for a vacation and would be back soon. However I somewhere knew, it was a different day for sure. It meant the end of my three year long stint with Fever.

Goodbye is a funny word, especially the way it is said. Some said it causally, some meant it and some meant it so much that they couldn’t say a word and some said it so many times that one could tell that they didn’t mean a word. However, two of my female colleagues even cried... and I celebrated! Two women crying on your farewell clearly indicates that you must have been good.
So until my hands were tired of waving good byes and my cheeks ached of smiling and my friends got mighty bugged of seeing my face again and again after every good bye, I finally decided to leave.

I crossed the Kasturba Gandhi Marg. I shifted my bag on my shoulder, looked back andfroze for a momengt. The HT building slowly blurred behind the emotions that had emerged in my eyes...

Wonder who goes to this bank...err...branch?

2009-12-08T16:56:00.000-08:00

Howlariously Ironic!

2009-12-06T17:12:00.000-08:00

I was travelling by Metro. A middle aged man teased a young girl. She flared up and gave him a piece of her mind, ruffled a few around. The middle aged man protested in his defence. A hot-blooded guy around stuck up for the "damsel in distress", slapped him on his face, mouthed a few profanities and while alighting from the train, he said-

"pata nahi is desh mein aurto ki izzat kab hogi, BEHAN-CH*D"

My favorite body part...

2009-11-18T18:06:00.000-08:00

The middle finger!

Blurt it out!

2009-11-17T20:32:00.000-08:00

It could be hell obvious in your little head...but not as much for others till you actually voice it!

Little ironies of Life...

2009-11-17T16:24:00.000-08:00

To SHUT DOWN your computer, you have to first press the START button.

Salon Enlightments...

2009-11-16T19:58:00.000-08:00

Just realised at the salon yesterday. There's a hair-line difference between "faith" and "taking for granted".

The barber would do a good job of a smooth shave. That's faith.

The barber's razor wouldn't slip and slice my throat. That's taking for granted!

Sue time...

2009-10-25T18:09:00.000-07:00

Ok I grew cynical, pessimistic and all things negative. And then Imtiaz Ali told me in one of his happy-go-lucky films- "jo aap real mein chahte ho...woh apke saath jaroor hota hain."
Even Farah Khan told me- "Kehte hain ki agar kisi cheez ko dil se chaaho to puri kayanat usey tumse milane ki koshish mein lag jaati hai."

So I tried- real mein...dil se chaha and all that crap. IT DID NOT WORK! I want to sue Imtiaz and Farah now.

KFC vs KNC

2009-10-22T18:19:00.000-07:00

The distance between life and death is as close as an english alphabet rightly/wrongly placed!

Talking tits, thinking dicks!

2009-09-21T18:26:00.001-07:00

ALAS!

Maybe I should blog more often...

2009-01-29T17:06:00.000-08:00

I have a vivid picture. I clearly remember it was March…the only month with holidays sans homework; 20 days of full leisure and play. It began at 12 o clock or an even lazier hour of the day. I would sit with my assorted colors; crayons, pencil, water…all kinds…and with all patience and interest would devote ample time to thinking, drawing and painting… three hours later, when the bones cracked, the torso hurt and eyes squinted, I would sit straight all happy to see what I had created. It was quite a contrast- the dirty hands making a beautiful composition. It gave me a kick like nothing in this world. I would sprint to the market, happily fetch milk and bread, go to the park, swing like a monkey on the trees, play with my friends and just be happy coz I did what I liked the most. Sometimes I would behave crazily too. I would look at the painting at different time slots of the day to see if it looked any different in the morning light from the twilight light. 20 days meant at least 15 art works. It could be anything- a greeting card, a composition, a pen holder made of old boxes or a kaleidoscope made from mum’s broken bangles. Sometimes I wonder where those paintings are. Are they rotting in some filthy corner of a street or if they have adorned someone’s drawing room wall or simply biodegraded back into our ecosystem. However just a few of them are making for good lunch and dinner for a zillion bugs in some dark corner of the attic.
There were so many things that we did as kids, things that we liked. My brother played cricket with everything that he laid his hands on- spoons, chess pins, stationary… I painted, wrote poetry, my sister danced, tried a variety of wardrobe combinations and admired her endlessly in front of the mirror. She and I were really close. I was like a little guinea pig at her hands. She tried her short skirts on me, made me mount on the dining table and taught me the sleaziest dance moves. And beat this- I happily obliged!! It wasn’t really that difficult to be happy those days. Half an hour of chitrahaar a week had us humming for the entire week. There was a constant smile that flitted across our faces all the time making us look slightly demented but genuinely happy smiley souls. The mind was always thinking creatively. The nights seemed endless if I thought of an idea in the midnight that I wanted to pen down and couldn’t wait for the dawn to break and sit with my pen and paper and just let it flow. Sometimes I tied knots in my pyjamas strings that reminded me of the idea till the next morning. Every little painting, every little poem was like an Oscar for me. I flaunted it to the world.
It’s been ages I felt the hair of the painting brush, smelled the aroma of Camel watercolors. Why we stop doing things that simply make us who we are, that simply complete us and give us a sense of being, a sense of completion. Happiness has become so elusive these days!
Maybe I should blog more often. SIGH!!

Carpe Diem...

2008-09-12T23:19:00.000-07:00

...was the mantra of the Pindy P-a-h-t-y!

Yesternight revealed the SPIRIT-ual side of every one- SPIRITS like Vodka, Pina Colada, Bloody Mary, Screwdriver (ahem!!) Blue Label (Vinay has his second heart attack) and many others that I can’t even phonetically articulate!

Just a few post party thoughts-

- Chandrima- Mayya Mayya

- Tuhin – WOW! I have taken Vinay’s pictures. Will morph and make a raunchy MMS and mint some money!

- Suhas- Rasik Balma (his new gmail status!)

- Chandrima- Mayya Mayya

- Richa- Vegetarianism is the way to go! (Lokesh concurs!)

- Anirban- Pappu CAN dance sala, only after downing a couple of drinks, teehee!

- Chandrima- Mayya Mayya

- Aoneha- Damn dancing- it washed away all my layers of make up- foundation, rouge, mascara and exposed my real SULTRRRY, SEXXXXXXY and sweaty self! Ouch!

- Paran- What the Hic was that?

- Vidhi- Did I really buy a top before the p-a-h-t-y?

- Priya- Piyo Pilao, life banao!!

- Chandrima- Mayya Mayya

- Lokesh- An ultimate cross between chamiya and ‘Aee Sala’ Mithun Da!

- Megha- I must be so drunk- It wasn’t a pole but a bloody WALL!

- Rajat- Happy is my middle name!

- Vinay- Who the fuck guzzled two Blue Labels? My weak auricles and ventricles are still hurting!!

In Shape...!

2008-06-30T18:35:00.001-07:00

Six months back I was in shape. Yes round is a shape. Six months hence, I am thankfully in shape. Kudos to my gym instructors Aditya and Darshan who have a sadist pleasure in making me do some hazar abs and hours of cardios. The funny bit is that every time you tell them you can't do a certain exercise, they have this Nile-long "you-loser" kind of smile that embarrasses the little mickey in you. But it has worked at the end.
I have lost some 5 kilos and 3 inches.
I can happily fit into my old jeans. I can atleast think (if not eat) of food and not put on weight and most of all, I no longer have to tuck my tummy in and hold my breath every time I run into a beautiful girl in the elevator or elsewhere.
I am enjyoing my new shape. :)

Get Together!

2008-06-03T19:17:00.000-07:00

my father is dead, hardly two hours-
his body stone-cold,
gently blending with the coldness of the marble,
his mouth agape, eyes shut

some old woman wails in the background
amidst which, gives a thousand instructions, sometimes angry, sometimes irritated~

"get some fresh flowers"
"the oil is on the top shelf"
"curd is in the refrigerator"

and with every new entry in white,
she instantly resumes her dramatic wailings

my brother is on the phone convincing relatives to pay a visit
the man on the other side has a genuine reason for not coming~
his whites are in the laundry

a gentle man looks genuinely shocked...
he says~
"what a gem of a human being he was..."
and the next moment he looks around for a cup of tea...

i even hear gems like~
"only two slices of mangoes in lunch today?"

during my father's months long illness
i didn't see a soul
strangely at his death, i see the entire world

huh! what a get together!

I am bored stiff!

2008-06-01T20:24:00.000-07:00

You know there's so much to do in life...but offlate I have been too demotivated to do anything. It's funny that post 25, you start losing interest in everything around you. Complacency becomes your second name. I just don't feel like doing anything- no work, no talking, no writing, no reading....just nothing at all! It's a very funny phase of life. I so want to write a book, do a show on TV, produce my own TV shows and so much more...and here I am, like a bloody dead pan, wanting to hibernate somewhere till eternity!

Happy Birthday SID!

2008-05-19T23:30:00.000-07:00

Gawd he is celebrating his 28th birthday today...and I am smiling my big shark smile. I am sick and tired of running into 18-20 year old interns in our office and it gives me a lot of sadistic pleasure to know that some one, miles away is ageing as fast as me. Teehee!

Sid is not only my best friend, he is my simian twin! I don't remember our first moments of friendship but it started in the classroom (6th), budded during games period and was a full bloom when we passed out school. Sid and I hated sports. When the entire class played football, we stood behind one of the goal posts, under a tree, wow-ing at the crawling black ants and counting wild mushrooms around. Our discussions as irreverent as our mutual crush on Sri Devi and as stupid as the number of hair strands in Sir Vijay's moustache.

Then there were art classes. We both were the Michael Angelos and MF hussains of our class. Though Sid was good. He was bloody good man. Art runs in his blood as aunty ji is an arts teacher. Sid always helped me in the subject. I had a wild imagination and he helped me put it on canvas. I can never forget those wintry mornings when we spread across the lush green grounds of the Army public school to participate in NAFENS, a poster making competition. I loved using his colors and he never fretted. In fact he gave his final touches on my painiting after he was done with his.

And then there were afternoon fridge raids at his house. Aunty ji caught her siesta in the background and we roasted Britania slices, all red and crispy, slapped it with sinful layers of cheese and stuffed it with some irresistable Haldiram namkeen. And as we gobbled the most unhealthy snack of the world, the microwave made some frog-hopping sounds in the background popping some really delicious corns. Sid's lunchbox too holds a vivid picture in my mind, a white one with a colorful cartoon character on it. And the insides were more interesting than the outsides- world's best French fries that could give any Mc Donald's or Nirula's a run for their money.

Prima facie it might appear as yet another stupid silly childhood friendship but to me it means so much more- a sense of belonging, a feeling of acceptance, amazing compatability and most of all a large-hearted gem of a friend- Siddharth!

Love him to death!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SID!

he...

2008-04-23T23:41:00.000-07:00

he looked like an angel when he took bath early in the morning, his wet hair neatly combed in dev anand's style, his cheeks shinning all pink in the morning sun that seived through the window. i think i even saw a halo behind his angealic face. he sat cross-legged and mom served him hot aaloo ka parathas. he had a very dude- like walk, just like shashi kapoor of yesteryears...although he looked like raj kapoor. he had a killer dressing sense, though i didn't like the way he tied his pants a little too high on the waist (there speaks the low-waist jeans generation!!) he had a dream too- he wanted to wear a white full suit on bhai's wedding, a dream that never came true...with a thousand dreams that died a tragic death...he didn't drive a fancy car, didn't vacation on a hill station with his family, didn't play squash in the morning, didn't splurge at all, didn't sport a gold bracelet like his peers, didn't even use a mobile phone, never took a flight to any indigenous or foregin destination...the only flight he took was heavenwards!

it's been almost a decade that i said papa...! i miss him!

An Indian Idle reviews American Idol

2008-04-11T23:32:00.001-07:00

Let me begin with the good things-

1. Ryan Seacrest- I think he is the saving grace of the show. He is witty, funny, tongue-in-cheek and so much himself. I guess once you are engaged in a job for years, one tends to be repetitive or monotonous. Ryan Seacrest is a rarity for sure. He is fun and seems to have lots of fun on the show. And mind you, he is the ONLY one who can shut Simon's obnoxious trap and make him shift in his seat!

2. Participants-
I have two of my favorites. The first one has to be the cow-girl Kristey Lee Cook. I don't know much about singing, so can't really comment on that, but boy!!!!! she looks stunning man! She has the kind of smile that will light up any room and lift your dead spirits! My second favorite is David Cook. He seems like a good package- looks, style, singing, every thing decent enough to earn him a mention on my blog.

And now when we have got the good things out of our way, let's focus on the not so good things. There is so much of faff these days on these reality shows that it makes me wonder how on Earth can anyone speak so much. Don't they ever run short of words? I mean one can be tongue-tied sometimes or may be too confused to comment. But our esteemed judges have shit loads of things to say after every performance, half of which, even they don't understand.

Randy for example. I am sure amidst his- "check-this-out-dude-yo-yo-cool" comments, there are a plenty thoughts buzzing in his little round head. Just imagine how hilarious it would sound if we could hear his words and inner thoughts together-->
"OK check this out dude...I haven't been paid at all for this season...you were good...yet here I am giving you my useless feedback...but it wasn't the kind of performance that would make me jump and swing...and why the hell is this Paula smelling like a camel today?...so the competition is tough...and my underwear is itching...so you gotta pull up your socks...and I don't understand a word that I am saying, so I better shut up...yeah yeah??

And then there is Paula, verbally challenged. Somebody please tell her that there are a thousand and forty synonyms for the word soulful. Also if she can remove her doll-like hair from her for head and eyes. She reminds of this Indian comic character- Billoo.

Simon seems to be the most sensible of all judges but in all his comments there is this constant undercurrent of -hey-I-m-the-official-rude box-of-American-Idol-so-watch-out-for-me. If you have missed me in the last seasons, no problem, here I am, unchanged, an exact replica of the last season, the same OBNOXIOUS SIMON COWELL!
But thankfully his candid remarks do make sense sometimes. At least he (unlike Paula) doesn't find every performance breathtakingly soulful!

My last thought- the Idle team of American Idol really needs to revamp the show to save this msucial Titanic from sinking!

Tummy VS Tongue

2008-03-20T23:19:00.000-07:00

and the obnoxious size of my tummy these days announces the terrific triumph of my tongue.

Aren’t our body parts so brilliantly bonded? There is this unheard, uncanny connection among them. The nose smells the aroma of delicacies, the eyes come alive with the riot of their colors and finally the mouth oozes Niagara of drool.

Good food always excites the little Tommy in me. I can smell great food from miles, wag my tail behind it and keep panting till my dangling tongue polishes the last morsel of everything that’s served.

During my vacation, I am sleeping like a log and hogging like a pig. Everyday begins with my eyes feasting on some grilled sandwiches filled with sinful layers of cheese and jam and some exotic veggies or parathas of all kinds, methi, aaloo, gobhi, paneer, soaked in Amul butter or Pastas cooked in three tangy sauces or Lasagnas richly baked with spinach and cheese. And of course the day also ends with my quick trips to the loo?

It’s like a constant battle between my tongue and tummy. The greedy tongue drops to the floor even at a little glimpse of food and the turbulent tummy retorts in vain.

I have been eating like there’s no tomorrow and I can’t help it at all. I feel so romantic about food. It always feels like the excitement of the first kiss, the first touch, the first night! And I can never get enough of it. After numerous gross farts and burps after every meal, my leg keeps shaking in anticipation and my spoon keeps digging in the leftovers of plate.

As I write my endless romance with food, I see my empty plate that prompts me to raid my refrigerator yet again.

Shaaaaaaaaaaaat Aaaaaaaaaap

2008-03-20T23:05:00.000-07:00

was the crux of my meeting with my ENT specialist, though he sugar wrapped it with a million polite words and a zillion unpronounceable jargon (and needless to say charged a bomb of a fee for the same!)

My throat had been acting up for a long time, so I went to see my ENT specialist during my vacation. After numbing my throat with some yikes anesthetic drops and some jazzy mouth sprays and drilling some 50 meter long tubes (fitted with cameras), down my throat, my doctor concluded that my vocal chords were terribly inflamed and the only way to save them from further damage was to keep mum for the rest of my vacation. In other words-

“Shaaaaaaaaaaaat Aaaaaaaaaap.”

Now that’s too much to ask for from an RJ like me. Not that I go yak-yak through out the day, but to play Rani Mukherjee of Black and answer my family and friends in sign language during my vacation is very irritating.

So here I am, all zipped up, frantically smiling, frowning and nodding to everything that happens around me. The up side is that nobody will ever defeat me in dumb charades in future and the down side is that I can’t reply to my two year old nephew who innocently asks me in every two mintues-

“Ka kal lahe ho chahchu?” Alas!

So now is the golden chance for all those people who hate me. Come, shout at me, ridicule me, mock at me, abuse and assault me with the choicest of words that you so wanted to tell me all your life and my only retort would be a sheepish-

“oooo...” like a helpless puppy!

2008-01-25T16:07:00.000-08:00

This was my long awaited visit to Qutub Minar. I just couldn't stop myself after seeing its beauty in films like Cheeni Kum and Sunday. I clicked some pictures and here is the mad collection. I got a bit carried away while shooting. I respect our country's monuments as much as you do. I apologise if I hurt someone's sentiments.

1. Mine is bigger than yours!

2.

Now that's painful!

3.

Our "Dil Chahta Hai" moment!

4.

They shut the Minar to cut down on the suicidal cases and happily left this deep well open right outside the monument! Mera Bharat Mahaan!

5.

Gifting the Minar!

6. a)

Another 9-11 in the making! (Please use a microscope to spot the plane next to the Minar)

6. b)

Just Missed!

7. a)

My insane moment!

7. b)

Now I have lost it completely!

8.

One of my favorite pics!

9.

Muaaaa! Love you!

10.

India's answer to "The Statue of Liberty"!

11.

Served on a platter!

12.

My daily breakfast!

13.

Few more favorites of mine!

14.

15.

16.

17.
Initially I thought that it's a mosque and a temple outside. (Check the pillars and the bells on it and some flying gods too.) It was so heartwarming to see the two religions co-exist in the modern times of Ram-Janam-Bhoomi and Babari-Masid. But soon the revelation dawned on me. My friend Neelu, my Raju guide for the day told me that the Minar was once occupied by about 20 Jain temples. These were demolished and the stones reused to build the present complex.

18.

Not only the bells, there was a Buddha like figure too on the walls.

19.

Love the corridors!

20.

Excuse my Geometry but the nonparallel Minar and the pillar makes the Aryabhatt in me think- which one is leaning?

21.

Under the tree, behind the rock- discussing the future in the ruins of history! Teehee!

Just a Thought!

2008-01-02T22:53:00.000-08:00

Yesterday in the gym, it just occurred to me-
"My life is so much like a treadmill. I am running endlessly and reaching nowhere!"

The toothless grin is back...

2007-12-20T00:05:00.000-08:00

...and it no longer makes me feel childlike. Alas! On the contrary it makes me realise that I am ageing. I have had some signs before, like streaks of grey, everywhere- in my head, stubble, nostrils (and I dare not go any further down-WINK WINK!) but it's only my "sans tooth" status that makes me feel really really archaic. It happened on a (not so) fine morning, coz I woke up with a toothache. As expected I ignored. Two days later I derived the formula of my life yet again-
Toothache+Carelessness*Procrastibation = Dentist => Excruciating pain.

So there I was at the dentist seat, inclined at an awkward angle of 45 degrees, with my jaw wide open and a variety of tools digging the life out of me.
My eyes still hold a vivid picture of the devil of my dentist, gritting his (not so) pearly whites and asking me all sorts of questions-
"Is it paining?" No way! It's like cookies melting into my mouth!
"How does it feel?" Heavens man! I wish it happened everyday!!
But all I did was nod in affirmative or negative. If I said anything anyway, it would all sound just the same gibberish- aa..oo..aa.a.wa...!

My tooth was decayed but strong, resolved not to leave its roots! The dentist's hand got firmer, the face more grave and his muscles more tense. All this while my dentist kept singing- "Just pulling out the filling, not your tooth" and I was like "Yeah I was born yesterday."
The ordeal went on forever. My fingernails dug valleys in my palms making some serious alterations in my love and fortune lines. (Remember Ogden Nash's This is gonna hurt a lit' bit....?)

Finally the dentist's frown blossomed into a smile. He gasped- "It's done!"
You mean done with life?? Phew!!
I gargled the blood out, felt the numbness of my swollen cheek and shelled out a heartbreaking fees. This is funny. You lose your tooth and you pay for it!

I stepped out of the clinic. The first thing I see is an old man, sans one leg, on crutches, limping his way into a barber shop. Instantly I had revelations, full Buddha style- I will grow old, lose all my faculties and eventually meet the dirt...I would have no one to look after me...I should give up my materialistic pursuits...I should zip to the Himalayas and meditate...
Looks like there is some connection between teeth and brain! Ha!

Life in a Lounge

2007-12-11T17:32:00.000-08:00

Whenever I write anything on my blog, I am so sure that there will be a bunch of people who will be able to relate to what I say. But this time I am a bit doubtful. Tell me honestly - Do you like to wait in those long serpentine queues? Well! I do. In fact longer the queue, the better I feel.
Last week I had gone to a bank to open an FD account. (Talk about mammoth savings dude!!) So I fetch my token number and am thrilled to see that it's some 40 numbers away. I grab a seat in one corner, yawn, stretch myself and dig out a book from my bag and bury my head into it, like an Ostrich. Time just flew by and I didn't even come to know when the machine beeped my number. In fact I was so reluctant to go to the counter coz I was hardly a page away from the climax of the book.

Then a couple of days back I had gone to see one of my friends at his office. He was away for lunch so I had to wait. AND I DIDN'T MIND THAT AT ALL. I just sank into the inviting arms of the leather couch that adorned their fancy lounge area. I feasted my eyes on some breathtaking beauties that passed by in their full yak-yak giggle glory. It's nice to observe people sometimes. There were so many different species-
The brand babes. It starts from D&G at the top and Mango(es) in the middle and ends at Anne Klein or Nina or Hush Puppies. They make sure that you at least take a dekko at their ensemble and cajole a compliment or two too.

Then there was the ALWAYS-BUSY-BREED. Even if they are checking their Gmail account or fetching a cup of coffee or even peeing, they will always have this super busy expression pasted on their face.

Then there were the cutie love birds prancing around, some uptight bosses in designer ties and frowns, the ever so watchful guards and the bunch that keeps any office going- the coffeemakers.

Suddenly a tap on my shoulder breaks my revery and my friend greets me with a string of apologies for getting late...and in my head I am like "dude you came a bit early...I was having fun."

Then yesterday I was at my dentist's clinic. Two RCTs. OUCH! But the COUCH was o so comforting, with a Film fare in tow. Life was set! I devoured every article, all oblivion to my tooth-ache. Suddenly I was summoned. I wanted to tell- "I can wait; kindly attend the other patients" but I lethargically dragged my sunk backside from the couch and made my way to the torture chambers.

So the point that I have been trying to make for past 50 hours is that I like to wait in queues. I live my life there- thinking, reading, observing, day-dreaming...

Do you feel the same? Please let me know. You can see the comment column neeche- yeh sirf dikhane ke liye nahi hai- is par kuch likhna bhi hota hai...huh!

Diary Entry

2007-12-07T18:55:00.000-08:00

My mom is talking to my nani on the phone who is schemingly hissing some fancy ideas of my marriage into her vulnerable head. I smell the rat and quietly sneak out of the house.
I must have hardly walked half a kilometer that I walk past three marriage processions on the road. How ironical! The shadi wala buildings look gorgeous, dolled up in strings of neon lights, roses and mongras. Suddenly a rocket shoots up in the sky. I crane up and witness an explosion of a thousand stars with a VIBGYOR of colors. Suddenly a smile shines on my face. I love fireworks. (No pun intended!) I guess it's only the festive vibe of weddings that can convince me into getting married!
So before I shake from my resolve I head towards Durga mandir park, my favorite get away in the evenings. I rest my bums on a bench and do my favorite thing- THINK!
The entire day replays in my mind. A lot of people since morning has tried talking marriage into my head and I love them all for their concern but I ain't convinced enough.
I think marriage is one of the most overrated institutes in our country. No matter you have a job or not, no matter you are responsible or not, if you are 25, you should be married. I don't want to sound too cynical about such a pious institute; just that I am not prepared for it yet.
What is marriage anyway? In one word, it's companionship, like they say during wedding vows- "together in health and sickness."
But for me - me, myself and I are my best companions and trust me that's not a polite term for LONER! I love my evening walks into the sunset, my quick trips to the terrace to practice my Oscar Speeches and my ever so quiet moments with my favorite books. I even go and watch movies alone and I simply love the fact that I have no one to fret and fuss over the biggest reason of war in every household- TV remote. So for me it's aloneness (solitude) than loneliness...(Gawd! there comes my masters degree in language handy!)
But I will be honest with you. No matter how much I value my privacy, I do miss a good company over the weekends. But it's more of missing a friend that a life partner!
As I keep thinking about this, I get restless and stride back home, my mind pregnant with marital thoughts (I actually wrote martial instead of marital) and I see yet another marriage procession with the groom mounting on the horseback and the Sindhi band's trumpet playing--
"yeh desh hai veer jawaano ka, albelo ka mastano ka..." just the right song to play before the veer jawaan is sold into slavery.
And if that wasn't enough, I reach home and encounter my mom.
She frowns at me and sees away- towards her dearer offspring- Sony TV, where a 64 year old Amitabh is getting married to a 34 year old Tabu and singing in the UK- Cheeni Kum hai, cheeni kum hai...
And suddenly Enrique's song plays in my mind in a truly different context-
"You can run you can hide but you can't escape..."

OM Shanti OM

2007-12-05T21:58:00.000-08:00

It's 8:08 a.m. by the studio clock. The computer is playing Diwangi Diwangi from Om Shanti Om and here I am writing the film's reviews. Honestly I didn't want to watch the film...yeah yeah I am one of those pseudo kinds, a sucker for meaningful cinema and anti all these teenybopper pot-boilers and the usual blah blah blah...

So the breaking news of Shah Rukh's shirtless six-pack act for the first time on Indian cinema, coupled with his bulging biceps, erect nipples and rippling muscles in his much hyped "butt cracking" Darde-Disco wasn't convincing enough for me to watch the film. Neither the new nymph on the block (Deepika Padukone) had me sold over the movie. Farah tried hard by telling me on every freaky TV channel about this song in the film which is pregnant with 31 stars of the industry...but alas! I wasn't ready to budge. She even tried emotional blackmailing-
"I am 35, married to an editor who gets work from ONLY me and my films. I am pregnant with three kids, need money to bring them up, so please help me and watch my film and blah blah blah... " but sorry mate I was resolved and all I did was laugh my wicked Gabbar Singh laugh- heehaaaaaaaaaa...!

But I love my mom a lot who loves SRK a lot. And we were in the theatre watching the film.

The struggling actor(SRK) loves the beautiful star(Deepika Padukone) who loves the producer (Arjun Rampal) who decides to kill her because she stupidly tells him the most disastrous line of hindi films- main tumhare bachche ki ma ban ne wali hoon...
So the hero is dead and so is the heroine. The villian gets richer and zips to the US of America.
But picture abhi baaki hai mere dost...

SRK is reborn and so is Deepika (don't ask me why). Arjun Rampal who has been hibernating in the US all this while comes to India. SRK has flashes of the previous birth, reunites with his boodhi ma (Kiron Kher) and friend (Shreyas). He wants Arjun to pay for the heinous act of burning him and his purane janam ki heroine alive. But he can't do that alone. He needs Deepika for the same. So comes Deepika in her micro-mini-bubble-gum avtaar from Bangalore first flight! They all gang up, spook the little mickey out of Arjun Rampal by showing him the ghost of Shanti and finally he dies of a senile decay. And the whole country is 5 years old, sucks its thumb and still sleeps in its diapers and we all shall buy this crap as the biggest grosser ever.

FISH! Such brouhaha for such a yucky, pucky, constipated, dehydrated, castrated, electrocuted (and all those unmentionables) movie!! Damn!

When I was walking out of the theatre- this middle-aged aunt in front of me gasped in shock and doubt- "I think Shah Rukh's 6 pack is morphed- it's unbelievable for anyone to have a 6 pack at 42."
Are you freaking nuts?! This is all you come up with after watching the whole movie. You could believe in SRK's rebirth, Deepika's unwanted rebirth too, could also buy the fact that Deepika's spirit waited for 30 years to freak the living daylights of Arjun Rampal but you have a problem with SRK's 6 pack. I guess this shouldn't be too difficult. I mean if we can still believe that Arjun Rampal can act, we can believe anything. Wotsay!?

Main apni Favorite hoon...

2007-12-04T22:00:00.000-08:00

says Kareena Kapoor in Jab we met and I see so many people echo the same sentiment these days. I can name three of them- Kanupriya (my colleague), Meenal (my student) and Priya (an aquaintance).
The funny filmy conversation begins with a full effervescent vibe- "You know what Lokesh- main apni favorite hoon!!!" to which I usually reply- "watched Jab we met last night?" and the obvious answer comes in affirmative and goes on to another excited one "I am so much like Kareena's character naaa?" And the rude answer in my head is- "NO! Far from it". But obviously I don't say it loud. I mean life is more beautiful when the things on the back of your mind don't come on the tip of your tongue. You know what I mean, right?

Hmm..so the question is whether I am my favorite or not?
NO! I just Hate myself...
Hate the jelly belly that I am blessed with these days...and hate it even more when I find myself doing nothing about it...and hate it the most when after cribbing about it endlessly, I find myself on the dining table with a platter full of desi-ghee ke aaloo ke parathe...haaye meri ma ka pyaar...

Hate the fact that I am growing so complacent in life...
Hate the fact that I don' have too many friends and that my weekends are o so boring...
Hate it when I don't blog often...
Hate my hunch...
Hate it when I see a dozen opportunities on television and myself without any job. Sob sob!
Hate the cribber in me who seems to be working 24 by 7...
Hate the fact that I hate so many things about myself and hate it to make it public on my blog!

Nahiiiiiiiiiiin!! My apna favorite nahiiiiiiiiiiii hoon.

Gym Smokers

2007-11-28T16:33:00.000-08:00

This one can be a dummy guide to all the people with a huge waistline; who have been promising themselves that next will be the month to hit the gym. Wonder how one can avoid exercising especially when your exterior challenges the fact that monkeys have been our ancestors.
Gym is a small world where you have all kind of items dropping in and I call them different kind of Gym Smokers each belonging to a specific category.

The Gluttonous Lion
He is huge, with breasts putting Pamela Anderson’s to shame. He has a huge appetite both for food and weights.
He loads the heaviest dumbbells in the bar, sees around proudly, making sure he catches everyone’s (read every girl’s) attention. If he fails, then wait and watch. He roars like a true Lion at every repetition and by the time it is the tenth one, everything brittle around is cracked, the earth shaken and every eye gawks at him.

All fart no shit
He comes all branded from tip to toe. A Fila cap, a Nike tee, Puma lowers and a pair of Reebok sneakers. Not to forget the accessories- an Adidas bottle and Lotto head and wrist bands. He walks either like Salmaan or Saif dropping his shoulders up and down, in perfect rhythm with every step. He can also be called the Gluttonous Lion wannabe. He too loads the heaviest weight in the bar. He holds the bar, brings all his focus, grits his teeth, tenses his brows, draws the last ounce of strength gushing from every organ of his body and ends up inching the bar for a split of a second. He feels a vain sense of achievement. He does it everyday unaware of the chuckles, he evokes all around. Don’t blame him. Blame the extra mass he is blessed with and he just wants to throw around some weight. Pun intended!

Gym Virgins
He is new to the world; few days or maybe a week old. He looks around naively and continues to wow at practically everyone and everything around. He dreads even the slightest weight. His hands shake terribly during a work out. He is everyone’s pushover. He will very humbly give you way if you both happen to be on the same machine. He trusts everyone and sundry. You ask him to lift weight with his legs to puff his biceps and he would actually buy that.

The Obnoxious Roadside Romeo
Comes for the babes in and around the gym. Flexes his muscles against his skintight tee, ogles at all the babes, hawk eyed, and passes a few lewd comments. He is entertained, as he knows the gym instructor’s deep dark secrets.

The Morose Member
Sluggish, sagging shoulders and is always complaining about this perennial pain either in the back or neck or some part of the body. He has some genius reasons to avoid his exercise
- It’s too crowded today…
- I have an appointment…
- I didn’t have a proper meal today…
- I don’t know but there is a slight pain in my upper back and so and so forth.
He crawls in and shoots out of the gym. He is constantly looking at the clock.

Paisa Wasool Kinds
He has a different interpretation to the saying- all good things come in small packages. Perhaps that’s the reason he originally thought the gym would cost less than half of what it actually does. And now for the money he shells out on the gym, he is compelled to think that gymming is really not a very good thing!
Works out rigorously for every part- chest, shoulders, legs, arms, back, head, fingers, hair, nails and that too every freaky day. Wants to make every dime he spends worth it. Has been known to even carry home, dumbbells, CDs and even water bottles.

So which category do you think you fit into?

O' Fish

2007-11-21T16:24:00.000-08:00

I am an RJ. People ask me about my most embarrassing moment on air and I always say- my mouth- every time I open it, I am embarrassed to pieces!

I remember many moons ago, I used to work for an Asian radio station in Dubai. There are more dos and don'ts in Dubai radio stations. So Lord Rama and Krishna are struck out of your dictionary, saying "dude" and "babe" is blasphemous and most of all nothing is sexy in Dubai, everything is just beautiful.

Now in such a scene, imagine someone say the F letter word on air!! No points for guessing, it was yours truly who did the honours!

I had to give away tickets of the movie called Aksar. Remember one of those first few crooning glories of Himesh Reshamiya- Jhalak Dikhla Ja and Lagi Lagi Lagi! That one.

I anyway speak a bit fast, so with full enthusiasm I scream "your chance to win couple tickets of Aksar."

Now you might think where is the catch?

If you say the same line in my style and pace, you will get it-
"tickets of Aksar...ticketsof--Aksar...ticketsa F-A-K-S-A-R"

But come to think of the cast of the movie, it wasn't much of a faux pas. I mean what would you call a movie that casts Emraan Hashmi and Udita Goswami. Teehee!!

Nokia didn't help...

2007-11-20T16:19:00.000-08:00

in connecting people, yet again.

Last evening, I was getting too irritated and bored so I thought I would call my friends and have a chat with them and make myself feel better.

My first call went to one of my students who is more of a friend now than a student, Saransh. I called him up because I usualy don't call him up and he is the one who always takes the initiative and speaks to me in his full enthu-cutlet style "hiiiii sir, longgg timeeee..." So I thought I would return all his calls. I punched the number with full gusto. The bell rang. He answered and said-
"Sir I am driving right now, will call you later!"

Alas!

My next dial was to my best friend, Amit. He has been blessed with a baby girl and I so wanted to ask him about her, if he had christened her and tell him all the names that I had thought for her. He answered my call and responded to my volley of questions with restrained monosyllabic answers. The little Sherlock Holmes in me prompted that he was busy and the usual- "will call you later" ended the call.

Next I called up one of my very good friends, Neelu. She can be outrageously cynical sometimes and cracks jokes that she only finds funny but she is a darling anyway (and sometimes proofreads my blog too). And the fact that I can be just myself with her makes her one of my most special friends. Her phone rang and rang and rang and is still ringing.

Manhar was taking his mom to the dentist.
Sid was unavailable.
Sushma's phone was out of range.
And the usual- the vodafone you are trying to reach is currently busy. Please call after some time.

Phew! After such a marathon, I just curled up with a bowl of tomato soup and a book, the title of which (funnily) reads-

ALMOST SINGLE.

Do I need say more?

Fun is not coming!

2007-11-16T17:26:00.001-08:00

What to do?

Humility...

2007-10-26T23:38:00.000-07:00

is like Tyrannosaurus Rex...Extinct!

Like I promised in my last post that I would share my thoughts on humility, so here I am keeping my words. (Ain't that a smart way to make you read my last post?)

Humility is not traveling by bus when you can drive your Mercedes. It's so related to our inflated egos, self-importance and self-obsession.

Imagine the enormity and the expanse of this universe? So many galaxies...one of them is ours- The Milky way which comprises of the solar system. Nine planets. Then the Earth. So many countries. One of them- India. So many states, one of them is Delhi. So many places in Delhi, CP is just one of them. So many offices in CP, Fever 104 office is just one of them. So many rooms in the office, on air studio is just one of them. Millions and zillions of living things (micro-organisms) in this studio and I am just one of them.

Come to think of it...in comparison to such a vast cosmos...I am such a petty, measly of a being...so paltry. Not that I am saying I am worthless but the whole hue and cry of "nobody-takes-me-seriously", "my-views-mean-the-most", "no-body-asked-me-for-my-opinion", "am-i-not-important?" seems so worthless.
Phew! Looks like this "me, myself and I" world is a much bigger world than any world in the world! (And that's like 4 worlds in the last sentence! Tehee!)

And haven't we had enough already? Free sunshine, free water, free air...for donkey's years. We have been hogging like gluttonous pigs man. Time to thank God. It's pay back time now. Remember the thought of the day that you so proudly said in the school morning assembly--Service to mankind is service to God.

So no matter your boss screams at you, your siblings/relatives cheat you, your beloved ditches you, your colleagues scheme against you, just be kind to them, pray for them and serve them.
That I believe is the ideal definition of Humility.

Now you know why I paralleled Humility to Tyrannosaurus Rex?

Picture this

2007-10-24T23:09:00.000-07:00

You are on the pot.
The pot in the office loo to be more precise, in the busiest hour of the day.

You are happily crapping.
Uuuuhhh.
U-u-u-hhhhhh.
Pitter. Putter. Pooh. Bamb. Crash. Boom.
ploP! plOP! PLOP!
Sigh!
Relieved.
You look around. There is no tissue. The sprinkler's handle is broken. No source of water.
What do you do?
Any solutions?
I am still waiting!
Phew.

(I)(M)portant

2007-10-23T16:36:00.000-07:00

Okay in the title of this post I was trying to write " I am important" in a creative sort of way but now when I read it, it sounds like something else only, if you know what I mean. (Okay now your eyes move to the title...read it? Smiled? Now read on!)

This had been riding on my mind for a very long time and I thought I would better get this outta my system- you know, this intriguing phenomenon of "self importance". Not sounding too judgemental about the whole issue, I wouldn't categorise it as good or bad coz, if on one hand, I find this "I-am-important" thingy to be really juvenile and strange, on the other hand, strangely enough, I kind of aspire to be in the same bracket of people, (well sometimes at least).

When I look around me, I find so many people with such mammoth egos. They walk with a sense of pride, look at me as if I was the most trivial thing to happen to this planet and speak to me as if doing me a favour. It's almost like a cartoon film; Tom walking in full inflated glory, takes giant-thunderous steps, finds little Jerry on its way, scoops Jerry in its gigantic palm and smashes it out of the window.

I am so itched to name so many people right now, in my office, my friends, my family. But my big mouth always lands me in trouble so I better club them all in safe types.

1. I-am-a-dude. The whole facade of I-am-a-dude is actually quite a facade. They speak in pseudo deep baritone voice, mostly with a twang in their accent and are practically deaf to whatever you have to say. It's really funny. You say something. They behave as if they didn't hear. Two moments later they say exactly the same thing and give their shark smile, all smug, revelling in some stupid vain glory. And you are like- "WOW! how original dude".

They also crack some stupid jokes and laugh out loudest and pulls a long face if you try your hand at humour.

2. Screamers. This type is always screaming. I guess they were born screaming, instead of crying.The psyche is that people would take me more seriously if I screamed the loudest (yeah only if frequency was directly propotinal to respect). I remember one of my ex-bosses. Every time I craned my head to see if my devil of a boss was away, I always found this water-melon of a face, full red with rage shouting into the phone. The funny bit was that I couldn't hear anything through his glass cabin so all I saw were stretched muscles wildly mating with frowns on his face and his mouth going yak-yak-yak, like a mime-comedy show.

3. Don't-mess-with-me-types. It's a cross between Abhishek Bachchan's looks, Amitabh's walk, Ajay Devgan's intensity and Himesh Reshamiya's frown. Ah! Quite a breed! They walk like a storm, gaze set at the horizon. (I so wanna throw a banana peel in their way.) If you come in their way, you might be just crushed. So watch out! Nobody exists for them. They don't talk to any small fry and for them everyone around is a small fry, which means they prefer to keep mum most of the times. If you muster up all your courage and dare strike a conversation with them, the only reply you get is a "Umm.." or a deep disgusted sigh that subtly says- "you little nonentity, back you off".

There are so many other types too, like look-at-my-brands types, I-am-so-fair-charitable-generous kinds and many others. And suddenly I can see so many names flashing in my mind who are shining examples of all these types but diplomacy is such an under-rated virtue for me. So there!

And no matter you are a cog in the wheel or a top-notch boss, the "self-importance" bug thrives practically everywhere.

Funnily this post has made me think about humilty big time. Will discuss that in my next post. (Ooo...that sounds like a teaser!) Till then me, myself and I (winks) take your leave.

It would not come

2007-10-21T16:50:00.000-07:00

My apologies for stealing the title of my post from my most favorite singer's song- Alanis Morissette's- It would not come. In fact it was her song and my o-so "happening" weekend, that prompted me to write this post!

On the weekend, my vegetable avatar disgusts the hell out of me and I feel very grumpy and I keep telling my mom; "life has turned into a wooden duck, there is no excitement, it's so lacklustre and arid...and there is something amiss...and it feels... like- "it" would never come...

So no matter I frantically browse TV channels,
It would not come.
I go and shop the world,
It would not come.
I listen to my favorite tune on radio,
Smoke my muscles in the gym,
Jog my guts out,
Feast my eyes on some breath-taking beauties on TV(hush when mom is away)
It would not come.
Go on a Drive,
Park at a mall,
An amusement park,
Or my favorite food joint,
Gorge and gulp,
Lick and slurp,
Fart and burp,
It would still not come.
I throw a party,
Or go to one,
Letch and lust,
Boob and bust,
I come home and realise-
It would not come.

If I were sexy and seductive,
Clever and manipulative,
And everything superlative...
It would still not come.

If I were naive, vulnerable,
A door mat, a push over,
Totally submissive,
It would still not come.

I tried laughing, screaming, crying...
Alas! "It" would STILL not come.

LD meets SRK K Jo

2007-10-14T19:19:00.000-07:00

Can I be honest? I met up with Shah Rukh Khan on the last weekend and I wasn't really excited as you would expect me to be! No I am not one of those pseudo-intellects who looks down upon hindi films and raises an ignorant/disgusted brow at the mention of all the big stars. On the contrary I thrive on hindi films and meeting my favorite star would surely tickle me pink. But Shah Rukh isn't too top on my list, so there! In fact I like Karan Johar more and was grinning from ear to ear when I met him along with SRK.

We were parked outside one of the halls of The Taj, Delhi, near the escalators. Sudeenly there was an eerie hush, a grave silence coz people had sniffed SRK's presence. He was coming down the escalators with a band of punters tailing behind. He was dressed in a white shirt with top two buttons undone revealing his newly attained cleavage :). (Shouldn't he have opened the last two buttons to flaunt his much talked about 6 pack?) He wore a black pair of trousers and his long hair were gelled and tied in a tiny pony. He wore black shades. (Can never figure this out why these stars sport shades indoors?) I heard people take deep sighs, sensed them shake in their boots and go- "O-my-gawd!"

I didn't feel anything o-my-gawd-ish about SRK. To me he appeared like a distorted Indian version of Michael Jackson. Indeed- O-my-gawd!!

His cheeks were sunken, his waist giving competition to Shilpa Shetty's and he had a slight hunch. He looked so plastic that I felt his skin would peel off any moment like plaster from an old, dilapitated building's wall.

But I have to give him due credit for his qucik wit. The man shows amazing spontaneity and can never let anyone have an upper hand in the battle of wits. Though he suffers from verbal diarrohea. It's like you ask him a question, catch a power nap, go for a walk, come back and he would still be giving you the answer of the same question that you asked him ages ago. Phew! You have no clue during the interview how many times I must have said- "got it due...can we move on now...?" I am sure SRK can never be a jock on my station- Fever 104, less talk more music, teehee!

On the other hand, I was thrilled to meet Karan Johar. Effeminate. Homo. Pancy. Sissy. None of this matters. What matters is the fact that he comes across as a great human being. There are very few people who indulge in self-depricatory humour (genuinely) and he is the epitome of the same. (And if I dare say I relate to him on this so so much).
He sported a black blazer with a very neat white shirt. He is much taller than I expected him to be and much broader too. He looked much more alive in sharp contrast with the doddering SRK. Most of all, he gave a fantastic interview. My regard for him has gone much higher now.

One problem he shares with SRK is that he too talks too much. They just go on their spree. One thought put in 10 sentences. It's like never ending man, like my intelligence doubted big time. I can grasp things in one go dude! Phew!!

So that's that. The SRK-K Jo meeting. I am sure the world would give a right arm to rub shoulders and share space with them. And I had a hearty half an hour chat with the two of them. It pays to be an RJ sometimes, eh?

Crush

2007-10-11T16:47:00.000-07:00

I am smiling my Shark smile right now. At 5 in the morning people say their choicest of prayers and here I am blogging about my latest crush(es). I know it's a bit juvenile to have crushes now, but who said I have grown up!! Moreover I feel like a school kid everyday. And for Christ's sake I am just 27 not a 60 year old hag.

Now that's quite an explanation for me having crushes! Moving on...

Number One.

Deepika Padukone. Boy aint she Drop Dead Gorgeous? A perfect atheletic body with well shaped legs (and I dare not go any further up coz it's a family blog afterall- ) and a million bucks smile. And despite being a model, she can TALK and to top it all, she can talk SENSE! Ah! too HOT to handle man! (Why the heck is she romancing a man double his age? SRK- you lucky a**! I wish I had friends like Farah Khan and Karan Johar! Alas! The J Loks cringes big time.)

Number Two.

Sunidhi Chauhan. My all time favourite. She is such a bundle of talent man. I have had the privilge to interview her. She is quite mad in many ways. She is a bit brash, a bit immodest and such an attention seeker and yet makes no bones about it. No pretence. No facade. Maybe that's what I love the most about her. She is quite a shinning example of "what you see is what you get!"

And when she performs on stage- boy she is a LIVEWIRE. She gives a completely new dimension to every tune that she sings.

Number Three.

Advaita Kala. Now who the hell is she? Well if you read, you would know her. She is the author of Almost Single. I first heard her interview on my friend Ginnie's show (on radio) and I was completely bowled over by her wit. She comes up with wise cracks at a drop of a hat. And then I saw her on NDTV. She looks pretty. She is plump but - pleasantly plump, and pretty too. Her book is such a reflection of the person that she comes across on TV/Radio. Her non-chalant way of writing had me sold over her. Almost Single- highly recommended.

So that's that! Now you know my lady will be quite a cross between Deepika, Sunidhi and Advaita. Simple recipe- A dough of Deepika's beauty with a dash of Sunidhi's talent and a bowl-full of Advaita's wit and lo! Lokesh's Lady is ready!

So here I am on my wild goose chase on the little Chimera that I have just created. Hope it doesn't leave me singing like Akshay Khanna in his debut movie-

"I am a Bachelor, akela hoon bimaar hoon..."

Diary Entry

2007-10-11T15:42:00.000-07:00

Phew! It's been a long day and the funny bit is that it aint over yet!! The day started at 4 in the morning (11th October) and let me add, not on a very pleasant note. The office cab driver decided to snore a little longer with the office gaurd to give him company! (Whoaaa! That is scandalising- the gaurd and the driver sleeping together- WINKS!) (For all those, who don't know- I do the breakfast show on Fever 104, Delhi and I gotta reach the office by 5 in the morning and the office cab comes to pick me up!)

So there I was at the road looking for the cab and the driver. I wait, wait and wait some more and when there is no sign of him for good 15 minutes, I decide to call the office gaurd up and ask about the driver's whereabouts. The gaurd responds after an eternity, calls the driver up, wakes him up, the driver brushes his teeth, sits on the pot and finally appears after ONE fregging hour. Boy he has some luxury I tell you!

Damn! Can you beat this- I was left high and dry for 60 minutes on the street! (I could say one hour too- but 60 is always greater than 1, you see).

And the day hasn't ended yet. I had work throughout the day, a press conference to attend in the evening and finally I had to record an interview with AR Rahman in the night. He is quite a night person, you see, and prefers to compose, sing, record and do a whole lot of obvious things only in the night. ;) So that explains the interview in the night!

So the official lark of Fever 104 (that's me) meets the musical NIGHT-ingale. (I was so itched to write OWL, but that sounds a bit derogatory for a genius like him.) The interview went pretty fine without any major faux pas. (You can actually catch the excerpts of the same in the morning between 10-11 am- 12th Oct 07).

But to be honest, I was a bit nervous. Actually I am usually not nervous, coz I love people and enjoy talking to them and it doesn't really matter much to me if I am talking to Amitabh/Rahman or any big shot. I respect them for what they are and their repertoire of skills and work but their stature doesn't shake me in my boots. It's like probing a bit more into their body of work and having fun, like I would have a buddy chat with my siblings or friends.

But this time I was nervous coz right across me, I could see a collage of faces and palms sticking on the studio glass; the CEO, the station head, the programing head, my producers, the music manager, the other jocks, the engineer, the coffee maker; you name it and I had it- EVERYONE, breathing down my spine, looking at me hawk-eyed. Despite my layers of clothing, I felt stark naked!

Today I understood the real meaning of the proverbial "Sword of Damocles". AR Rahman was my meal and my colleagues were daggers of all shapes and sizes, dangling on my head. :)

Anyway, the interview was pretty neat. I am quite satisfied with my performance, considering the pressure cooker that I had become then. And now I am just three hours away from my show and preparing for the same! Just stole a few moments to post this happening day of my life, which hasn't ended yet.

My mind is actually throbbing with calculations right now and not that I scored a whopping in my Mathematics exam, but from 4 in the morning (11th Oct 07) to 11 in the morning (12th Oct 2007), it makes some 31 odd hours and I worked at a stretch!

ARE MY BOSSES LISTENING?

zzzzzzz....

Dancing Woes

2007-10-01T18:27:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, I was home, (yeah, like most of the weekends). My cousin called me up- in an all happy-party-weekend mood. She threw the unwanted question- "What plans for the weekend, dude?"

And before I could think- I excitedly quipped- "I will watch Nach Baliye and Jhalak Dikhla Ja today." She hung up on me the next moment and I realised I seriously needed some life.

Seriously yaar, this has been happening over a period of time- when the world is out to party on the weekend, I behave like a kaddu or a tamatar and vegetate away to glory at my home. I so feel like a stick in the mud watching the world go by. (And you thought RJs had the most exciting lives, eh?)

Anyway so there I was, in my glorious couch potato avtaar, glued to television, watching the two dance shows. It's pretty funny that things that interested me at some recent point of life hardly impress me these days. These two shows being no exception!! (The hysterical age-phobic Lokesh in me screams- AM I AGEING that I have become so critical?)

My first bone.
Anchors and Script Writers.

"Apne husn ka jalwa aur nach ki thirkan pesh karne aa rahi hai agli jodi..." BURP!!
"Hosh uda De apke baar baar- jodi number chaar" FART!!
"Ada hai nirali, mizaz hai dil-phek- jodi number ek" PUKE!

Gaush I might just throw up with such winsome original rhymes!
I mean who on Earth ever speaks like this these days? We have been hammering the importance of realistic cinema, real people and all that jazz, and here we are in a
REAL-ity show with such killer lines!

And can someone please kill the teleprompter? Every time the anchor’s eyes dance from right to left, struggling to read from the teleprompter, there seems to be a slight squint in his/her eyes and I wonder- “What’s wrong dude?”

The worst example of the same is Tina of Nach Baliye fame. She goes-
“Aur apni favourite. (Pause) Jodi ko jitane ke liye. (Longer Pause) Message kariye. (Pause in which you can easily catch your zzzzz.). Is she related to Mr. Atal Bihari Vajypayee by any chance?

My Second Bone.
The participants.

They come. They perform. And they cry. Even before the judges speak a word, the participants are ready with a string of explanations- toe fracture, lack of time, busy schedules and sundry. And if nothing works, the salty Niagra falls does the trick!!

In fact this gives me a little insight into the human psyche. Aint we all are so defensive in our nature right from the begining? Homework nahi kiya- ghar mein shadi thi, office late pahuche- traffic jam tha, kaam nahi hua- team members inefficient hain. Why can't we just calmly listen to criticism and own up to our mistakes?

My third Bone.
SMS.

Agar aap chahte hai apni favourite jodi ke liye vote karna toh SMS kijiye- blah blah MTNL lines wale blah blah, Reliance wale ...blah blah...Airtel Wale...blah blah...
Boy!! Some bombardment of an information man! And how can they ever expect us to spend our hard earned bucks on these celebrities? I mean they hog all the limelight, they walk away with a whopping of lakh rupees of prize money, they get to drive the jazziest car on display and here we are struggling to make our ends meet!
Grrr....PHEW!

(Waise steaming a little secret here- I did SMS once for Shweta Salve when she was competing with Mona Singh in Jhalak Dikhla Ja. And she lost the show after that! :) So there!)

Well after such a nasty post on these shows, I am kind of regretting!
I mean I will be watching the same shows again the next weekend to fill the long lonely hours of my life! SIGH!!

The little devil in me once again mocks at me- "You little loser"
Gawd this little devil can sometimes be a real pain in...(you know where, right?!)

First blog!

2007-09-28T01:07:00.000-07:00

I can so very well put my bucks on this. One in every three bloggers (what the hec, practically every blogger) who starts a new blog gives it a zillion thoughts on how to make THAT FIRST blog look KICK ARSE! A poem, a path breaking thought, a philosophical note on life, love and blah, a breaking news and so on and so forth.

I faced the same dilemma- after many anxiety ridden moments, I came with a gem! Post JUST THAT- "your inability to think of something superb for your first post."

Howzat? What? Has someone already written the same thing on his/her first blog? OUCH!
Toh kya likhu? Mar hi dalo...

Ok now I can understand your situation- donno what to comment?

Hello- how about telling me about those precious moments just before your first post?

Phew! Finally I wrote my first post!!!!!!!!!!

Too relieved!

SIGH!!