½ boy ½ man

The average age of the army man is 19 years.
He is a short haired, tight muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country. He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father’s, but he has never collected unemployment dole either.

He’s a recent college graduate; he was probably an average student from one of the Kendriya Vidyalayas, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old Maruti, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away. He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or country or gazals or swing, and a 155mm howitzer.

He is 5 or 7 kilos lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting the insurgents or standing guard on the icy Himalayas from before dawn to well after dusk or he is at Mumbai engaging the terrorists. He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark. He can recite you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.

He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.
He can march until he is told to stop, or stop until he is told to march.
He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity.
His pride and self-respect, he does not lack.
He is self sufficient.
He has two sets of combat dress: he washes one and wears the other.
He keeps his water bottle full and feet dry.
He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts.

If you’re thirsty, he’ll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He’ll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.

He has learned to use his hands as weapons and weapons like they were his hands.
He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job.
He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay, & still find ironic humor in it all.
He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime.
He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed.
He feels every note of the jana gana mana vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to ‘square-away’ those around him who haven’t bothered to stand, remove their hands from their pockets, or even stop talking.

In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.
Just as did his Father, Grandfather and Great-grandfather,
He is paying the price for our freedom.

Beardless or not, he is not a boy.
He is our nations Fighting Man that kept this country free and defended your right to Freedom. He has experienced deprivation and adversity, and has seen his buddies falling to bullets and maimed and blown.
But,
He has asked nothing in return, except our acknowledgement of his existence and understanding of his human needs.
Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.
And now we even have women over there in danger, doing their part in this tradition of going to war when our nation calls us to do so.

As you go to bed tonight, remember this shot. . ..
A short lull, a little shade and a picture of loved ones in their helmets!

I know this post is not in sync with my other happy-go-lucky posts but I had to put this here....I've been hurt today....betrayed by my own friend....
I've been stabbed a thousand times over today and left to bleed....
sounds morbid and doesnt make interesting read but hell ya....I'm not here to entertain people...!!!

P.S ...just gimme a few days and I'll be back to my awesumness again!!!(provided I get time, what, with my super awesum time management skills)

The Karan Chronicles!!!

Its funny how alcohol works as a stress buster and a truth serum all at the same time.Some time back when I was in Pune, I received a call from Karan - another equally(if not more) hopeless romantic and a quintessential loser in matters of the heart. A li'l insight into Karan would read something like this - An otherwise normal guy leading a normal life.Life would have been smooth and a bump free ride had he not fallen for a girl-sorry-goddess,named Parul. The girl was way
beyond his league.How way?....way-way! It was a mystery how she had fallen for this dork in the first place.But that is beyond the discussion now.Everyone makes mistakes & everyone realises them sooner or later.Even Parul realised it & left Karan to marry a rich hoteliar.
AWWWWW!!poor guy!!(hahahahahaha-wicked laughter).

Anyways Karan was coming over to my place & in his typical lame Barney-way he exclaimed,"This is gonna be legen--wait for it--dary, yeah legendary!" I knew it right then, that,this was gonna be just like any other evening - getting sloshed to the hilt & passing out someplace between the door and the bed. We went to Kiva lounge - a nice place in Kirkee,Pune. Little did we know then that the place was a hotbed for cupid-struck couples. The ambience was amazingly romantic with only candles flickering on every table. Good music playing in the backdrop added
to it.

With only couples donning every table in sight we felt like couple of gays walking through the door. Not one to be bogged down by societal norms,Karan persuaded me to take the table. With 180ml of his fav spirit in his blood stream he started loosening up(not that he was uptight before). The loud banter,staring right through me with eyes wide open,the constant demand for hi-five's,spilling of food on the table & the clumsy holding of the cutlery were all indicators
'alcohol taking over senses' syndrome. Yet another quarter down, and the series of phone calls started making their rounds. Old crushes, ex-gf's, would be gf's, probable gf's, friends's gf's - almost every girl possible was called. All this while I was looking at the adjacent tables,watching the couples canoodling and coochie-cooing. Truthfully,I was feeling jealous. With such an amazing ambience,great food,alcohol & good music I was stuck with a modern day Devdas to spend my evening. Well, I decided to play my role as Chunni to perfection that evening!

With another round of drinks down our throats I did the unthinkable - I mentioned Parul(wicked me). Karan went berserk after that. What followed next can best be described in two words - 'Vengeance Drinkin!' Then came the lull in the battle - a point wherein your blood reaches alcohol saturation point. I went out to get some fresh air & away from those (by now very irritatingly) love struck couples. I returned back to find my friend sitting at a humanly impossible angle on the chair with his chin dropping to the ground. I realised that the guy was sloshed beyond repair."You have seen enough action soldier!",I remarked and helped him to his
feet. We started our weary journey back. By that time even my speech was slurred and vision blurred. But still, I was the better of the two. As we were walking through the door I noticed Karan wearing a sweatshirt. He definitely was not wearing one when we came. Or was he? The alcohol had definitely frozen my senses and wiped out the memory chip in my brain.We went home & crashed onto our beds.

The next morning,as always,was full of headaches,giddy feelings and uneasiness.I wriggled out of bed and my eyes darted to the sweatshirt hanging."Nice sweatshirt", I mentioned hoping to elicit some kinda response. All I got was a half drunk-half puzzled look from Karan. "Please dont tell me that's not your's",I remarked. "NO!It isnt." "WTF!...who's is it then?"
"I dont know",he mentioned. Till date we have no idea how that sweatshirt landed up on Karan.
To make matters worse it smelled of some girly perfume.
Karan's conclusion - It belonged to a girl - his soulmate maybe!
My conclusion - Belonged to an apparently very gay guy who "made merry" while I was away and maybe left a souvenier.
Whatever it was, Karan still clings on to that piece of clothing at night, all the time dreaming(read fantasising) about his "soulmate" he nearly brushed into on that fateful evening in Pune.


P.S - Some facts from the real incident have been left out on purpose by the writer.Penning them down here would probably mean the end of the civilised road for Karan. So, I'll keep them a secret - for the time being,that is!!

Just another day in 'PARADISE'!!

I just finished a book - 'Ofcourse I Love you.....till I find someone better' by Durjoy Datt and Manvi Ahuja. Nothing spectacular about the book but there has been an attempt to portray the gen X and their wild lifestyles. Totally a mediocre book....definitely not in the league of 'Five point someone'. The protagonist and his friends(both male & female) are some kind of sex raging machines hunting down one prey after another. Reading it made me conscious of my own inability
(read opportunity) to indulge in such promiscous behaviour. The protagonist almost
gets laid wherever he goes. Wow...is it that easy? Or is this just another attempt by IIT/IIM grads to derive sadistic pleasure by describing explicit details of my generations sexual escapades(also known as sexcapades) so that guys like me who arent so cool or who dont indulge in promiscuity are pushed to the edge of an unending pit of inferiority complex.

Another totally pointless thing in my life happening at around this time is the phone talk I have with a girl I dont even like. These late night phone convo's started as harmless flirting but we ended up talkin mush recently.Things started taking an ugly turn when in a drunken stupor I started getting thoughts of committing to her(Gasp!).Just when I was gonna call her I received
a msg which read 'Wassup?'. This was the breaking point - the quirk of fate! For the past fortnight whenever she wanted me to call (which was generally at late nights)this was the msg she sent.My msg inbox was flooded with only this word from the past fortnight. I mean, come on....
cant you get just a bit original...
a li'l bit creative in atleast initiating the conv.
My drunken stupor was immediately broken(a dumb girls msg works as an antidote to these drunken fits of romance). I switched my phone off and went to sleep with a smile on my face. After all, it is not everyday that one has such narrow escapes.

Just the other day, me & a junior decided to go for a movie - 'Love Aaj kal'. At the very last minute the junior was called for something much more important(read girlfriend). So now I was stuck with two tickets for a movie which seemed mushy. Another friend and his gf were coming for the same show. So I asked him to get another female for the movie. Wat started out as a request ended up with me pleading,convincing and finally asking him to get somebody.He flatly
refused. Sheesh!...so much for friendship.So I finally watched three hours of Saif-Deepika intimacy and their antics, all ALONE!..I swear I could've switched on my phone and blared the song "Lonely.....I am soo lonely" right in the middle of the theatre. To add to my misery I could hear(I preferred not to watch) girls giggling as their bf's acted 'naughty'. I could hear whispering and I imagined that they all were laughing at me sitting all alone(with my bike helmet resting on the vacant seat). Were they??....I'm not sure....the movie was strictly average(since I couldnt relate to any part - neither the falling in love part nor the falling
out of love part). 'Hangover' seen the previous night was much better since I could relate to it(minus the strippers ofcourse).....well...born in the wrong country it seems...huh??

Amnesia - a la Gajini!

Blame it on the long runs in the morning,lack of interesting women around(and I say this with all due respect to all the women coz everyone is interesting in their own way),boozing binges or just lack of expresso in the mornings.....my dysfuctional brain refuses to be creative. Add to this sullen brain, a lazy body(having gained 7 kgs in one month) and what you will get is ME. That's exactly how I've been feeling for the past two months. I havent put up anything here for ages(and nobody noticed...sheesh...so much for blogging) considering a lot of uninteresting,unimportant and worthless events have happened during that time. I dont know how long this purple patch will last....but my thoughts have been revolving around a lot of other things(sex,girls and booze are not one of them). Lets hope I get back to writing my thoughts down in sum semblance of order soon. Till then *sob* .... wait!!!
P.S ...and I'm not GAY just coz I'm careful about my weight!!

Who wudnt fall in love with this cutie???

This sweetheart here makes me go weak in my knees....cant wait to meet him
Is this wat they call "falling in love' feels like???

Lost in translation!!

FATHERS AS FIENDS

Daughters have a special bond with their dads. Mothers are left seething out of the equation, and later suitors suffer because they can never measure upto the first man in a girl’s life. This was the credo, reaffirmed by all of us who have either glowed or seen their sisters glow in this unabashedly biased relationship. This was until today morning. Glancing at the paper over my morning coffee I chanced to see the gruesome details of a girl from Mira road,Mumbai being raped by her own father for 9 agonisingly long years. The monster of Mira rd had shattered the idyll. It’s difficult to think of a worse betrayal. The blood of every father’s daughter must run cold to read about the 21 year old who had been continually raped for nine years. A father as perpetrator, a mother as accessory, and a so-called godman not only calling the shots, but pumping in his own dirty bullets as well. How many idols were smashed in that burgeoning outpost of Mumbai suburbia? Everything supposedly sacred was defiled. It’s difficult to think of a worse perversion.

Every daughter who has snuggled into her father, charmed him into submission, had him indulge her every whim to her own delight and her mother’s disapproval, must surely have followed this story in disbelief. The Mira rd incest is not an aberration. It happens everywhere, all the time, as routine as water cuts in summer. Too often, ‘family’ is not the benign unit of protective Mama-Papa and loving uncle-ji, but a whitewashed sepulchre of poisoned innocence. To the curios in the showcase add the skeletons in the closet. Alas, not dead, but jumping out to paw, grope and molest. On a regular basis. The difference at Mira rd was only one of degree, motivation, and the fact that the pustule burst open. This happened only because it reached new depths. When her 15 year old sister was also dragged into this pit, the long suffering girl found the tremulous courage to inform her maternal uncle and her grandmother. So, add one more dimension to this perverse roster. We must be thankful for the doubled evil because that’s what finally led to the end of the sordid tale. And for the small mercy that the girl’s appeal did not typically cite ‘family honour’ to slam the lid back on what was its demonic opposite.

Child sexual abuse by a family member; most often the father himself, extends from the pavement to the penthouse, leaving no economic, educational or ethnic group unstained. It sits there masked in normalcy, like a porn covered in innocent brown paper of a school exercise textbook, like a festively wrapped mithai box swarming with maggots inside. The statistics may be conjecture, but they certainly aren’t damning lies. I had read somewhere that an act of domestic sexual abuse takes place every 7 mins. In this depraved milieu, we must be grateful for the 6 mins of security. And we, who as children had considered our unmolested cocoon to be the unremarkable rule, must now fall on our knees for the blessing of exception. When the parental protector turns predator, every other violation pales by comparision, arguably even turns kosher. The father raped his elder daughter for nine years and, inured, felt no shame in pulling the younger daughter into the sex vortex.

The mother emotionally blackmailed them into submitting not only to him, but also to the instigating tantric. To be fair, she threw herself into the hissing cauldron as well. The parents abandoned their most sublime duty for the sake of mere crass reward. The ‘godman’ had convinced them that this was the divinely ordained route to the father’s business success. The silence of the lambs of Mira rd is deafening. But the current empty din of electoral invective is unlikely to pause and listen. I had read about the German father who kept his daughter in the attic for 20 odd years and even bore two children from her. Back then, I never would have believed something like this happening closer home. Don’t we boast of ancient culture and rich heritage? I guess, these “Monster Dads” thrive everywhere irrespective of geographical, cultural or social differences.

LIFE IN A METRO


Hailing from a metro has its cons! You are expected to be a city slicker who’s sophisticated, socially presentable & with a gift of the gab. Then you meet the other kind – ME!! Of the last 23 years of my stay in the city I’m pretty much an oddball & a social misfit there. I hate the fake accents, the oh-so-glamorous lifestyles & the hustle bustle of the city. Then again, there’s the constant – “Ohh!!...staying in Mumbai and still single?” They just cant comprehend the fact that I’m single. Yes I am, at 23. Is it a crime? Go ahead then, send me to the gallows.

I’ve grown up on a staple diet of movies like – When Harry met Sally, Sleepless in Seattle, Gone with the wind & Casablanca(before you brand me the mushy-kind, just for the records, I even watched the usual violence filled sci-fi movies). Believe me, the ‘damsel in distress’ species has ceased to exist and so has the ‘knight in shining armour’. The damsels have been replaced by the mascara covered, eyeliner lined females who bitch, gossip & shop. The knight’s armour has been replaced by the wallet & credit cards. So there are the ‘damsels in mascara’ & ‘Knights with fat wallets’. There’s no place for the third kind.

So, when you end up surrounded by Roadies-loving, alcohol binging 20 something’s(whom you refer to as friends), I feel like a 60 year old grandpa who’s just lost his way from the old age home. And then there’s the flurry of fake accents & flying kisses exchanged to add to my already bag full of worries. Its almost become a habit for me to turn up at a party in a formal shirt & neatly creased trousers(not to mention the inexplicably shiny leather shoes). Then I look around and I’m greeted by the ‘barely hanging of the waist’ jeans, the technicolour shirts & T shirts and a mix & match of what seems like leftover frills from last years Brazil carnival.


Then comes the hair part. I always loved the crew cut ‘coz it left me with less time with the comb. Now I have guy friends who take longer than an hour to get the hair straight – or at odd angles, should I say. I cease to understand the connectivity between a persons hair & his attitude. Does looking like a cross between a human and a porcupine cool? Then, there are the females who are just not content with the hair colour nature endowed them with. I had heard of blondes and brunettes, but streaks of blue, yellow and purple rising from your temples are not something I would be comfortable with.

Another startling revelation hit me hard a couple of months back. A half drunk friend blurted out that his girlfriend thinks I’m gay. Comically I quizzed him for the same. His reply – since I’m still single I ought to be gay! I was stumped! Is it taboo to be single in Mumbai? There is a desperate rush to pick and choose a gf/bf even if that meant ‘Crash & Burn’ a couple of months then on(in some cases a couple of weeks).And God forbid if you are single and a virgin. You risk being labeled gay or impotent. Virginity is no longer the flower that girls & guys alike, preserve for their ‘special someone’. Promiscuity is the ‘in’ thing & losing virginity at the earliest, the craze. Well, I have been sentenced on two charges so far – single and a virgin, and have been found guilty on both accounts. Is this something I should be proud of? Well, my friends think otherwise.

Well I may be running the risk of being labeled a moralistic tightass after this post, but who cares. The phenomena of true love might just exist. After all, hope is what keeps us all alive, isn’t it?

CRITICAL ANALYSIS OF THE CONGRESS LED UPA GOVT


After nearly five years of conspicuous confidence, the UPA govt’s focus on gloom and doom in the year ahead looks debatable. Five years ago, voters rejected the idea of “India Shining”, ushering in a govt that pronmised outcomes as well as a happy balance between high economic growth and social development. Now within kissing distance of yet another general election, it must be asked : has the “dream team” – P Chidambaram and Manmohan Singh really delivered on its promise of equitable development and good governance. I will broadly be covering my views under the following heads –
1. Social & economic sectors.
2. The defence sector.

Social and Economic sectors

India is foing through a most exciting transition. A confluence of good fortune on many fronts has created a range of opportunities for Indians to benefit from. There is a large and constantly increasing section of population of working age combined with low dependency. The monssons haven’t failed for many years running. An ongoing electronic comn and IT revolution is making it possible for individuals, firms & countries to respond rapidly to changing circumstances. Then there is the recognition internationally that India is an important market to invest in, export to and import from. And since the govt had started a process of openness a decade and a half back, many of the markets that were missing in the pre 1991 era are working efficiently enough. Given such conditions, how has this govt been?

Well, quite good on maintenance – and extremely poor on preparing, repairing and creating. As ‘inheritors’ of the “India shining” glory, the UPA govt did a great job of maintaining the sheen. The budget was (atleast initially) kept somewhat in check, macro economic mgmt was decent and minor tinkering continued. Partly because of decent maintenance, India continued to sparkle – tax revenues were looking up like never before, investment spiraled like never before, and it seemed everyone in the world wanted to be in India.

But did the govt build great infrastructure beyond what was already in motion? Did it provide relief for the highly strained environment? Did it do something about meeting the educated manpower shortage – and tackling the poor quality of education in govy schools and other institutions? It did none of this. Instead it set the stage such that all governments will have to give hundreds of thousands of crores in schemes that will not build anything of lasting consequence. Preparing for the future requires building infrastructure. The rural roads scheme was started during the NDA regime – an indubitable fact, for it was not named Rajiv or Indira or Jawaharlal. E-governance remained paper bound. Indian educational institutions cannot hire international faculty – and our doctoral pgmes are in a shambles.

On the environmental front, water levels continued to fall, we continue to discharge tonnes of sewage into our rivers and keepon building coal plants while natural gas lies unused. This govt talked a lot, high minded commissions were set up and provided very well thought out recommendations. But in the end, the govt did zilch. This society and its people need more than just assurances and money consuming programmes. It needs results and the statistics say the story. How is it that such a phenomenally talented group achieve so little? I for one have no answers.



DEFENCE SECTOR

The one million strong Indian Army needs change. And I’m not just referring to the equipment allotted. With the constantly changing war scenario and the fluid geo-political role India plays in the sub continent in particular and Asia in general, the Indian Army is in desperate need of a makeover which involves men, material and mindset. The govt has done little to empower the Defence forces with high quality weapons and equipment. We still continue to buy WW II vintage weapons from our “ally” – Russia. This govt did nothing to improve the situation. Millions of rupees were spent on setting up committee’s and enquiries into the security lapses the country witnessed with bombings in almost all parts of the country. Had that money been utilised to arm the jawans, the casualties could have been reduced.


Another grey area the govt failed miserably to tackle was Naxalism. It continued to breed in the backyards of those very politicians who assured us safety and well being during their political rallies. To add to the woes of the Army, the govt further explored the option of sending in the Army to fight off Naxalism. Already faced with a crunch of officers and few willing to step into the shoes of the aeging veterans, this came as a big setback. Still, it remains to be seen whether this option will be used in sctuals. My heart says, wisdom will prevail.

With volatile neighbours, the Indian Army has been stretched from the length and breadth of the country. The govt tried to lure the young generation by offering the Sixth Pay Commission in general and the MSP in particular. It failed to create a flutter in the college campuses. The serving jawans, NCO’s and JCO’s got a raw deal in the process. The increments did not commensurate to the professional hazard they faced. Discontent amongst the ranks and JCO’s prevails as they go about their job.

The govt yet again showed ‘spineless-ness’ when it failed to retaliate to the terror attacks in Mumbai. The political will was clearly lacking and resignations by the Home minister and Defence minister were dished out. But did it solve the problem? No it didn’t. The ‘economic meltdown’ and ‘international pressure’ were some of the reasons cited by the govt for not pursuing a military action. My question to the ‘wise men’ – Is there ever a perfect time to attack?

Had the same incident occurred in Israel, the outcome would have been more aggressive. Accepted the fact that military action meant bloodshed and economic pressure, but, then aren’t these the situations wherein the ‘sovereignty’ of the state has been attacked? If this isn’t then I’m not sure why we are still stuck up on Kashmir. We might as well gift wrap it and save ourselves some money and lives in the process.

The judiciary was mocked first, then ravaged and ransacked by the pseudo ‘human rights’ activists who defended Afzal Guru. The govt yet again took a backseat and failed to controlthe situation. Result- yet more disappointment for the Indian Army , police and other agencies involved in safe guarding the nation


The moderates(read govt) may view my opinions as illogical, unreasonable and chronic to the overall well being of the nation. My answer to them – If blood has to be shed, then why not let it flow on the battlefield rather than on the streets of Mumbai, Jaipur or Ahmedabad. If difficulties have to be borne then let it be through a war and not because of the constant terror strikes, bandhs and regional divides. But then, this Cong led UPA govt lacked the political will to take such tough decisions lest it affects their vote bank the next time. Isnt it time we realized the folly of our submissive attitude or is another terror strike on Mumbai required to wake the govt from their deep slumber. Food for thought – ‘coz I for one have no answers!

The Commando chronicles!!

It was all over….finished!!After a long ordeal of 44 days(not to mention the excruciatingly longer nights).Days which were filled with grime,dust,sweat(no dearth of that in commando school) and third degree torture. A detailed account of what goes on inside the “school”(also popularly known as Hell in Army parlance) may not be feasible due to the extreme nature of the training and the incapability of the comman man to come to terms with it.But here’s an effort to pen down a li’l of what goes on inside the “Hell”…….

Sunlight drifted through the half open window of the train window as I saw Belgaum station nearing. Involuntarily my heartbeat quickened(yeah…u can call me chicken hearted…but I’m being honest about it). We were frisked away like sum hardcore prisoners from the station itself. Our ranks,pips and medals were the first to go, followed closely by our hair. Wat followed next can best be left to the imagination of the reader. Our rooms were just meant for keeping of the luggage and not for us. The bed in the room was the least utilized amongst the other furniture. Sleep was unheard of in “Hell” and walking was a rare privilege. Food & water were rare commodities and we had to “earn” them(all the commandos will best understand this term of ‘earning’).

Another thing which has long made its impact on us is the “Khooni Nala”.For the uninitiated and the ignorant, it is a sewage tank. I’ll again leave the reader to do the imagining. We were frequent visitors to this not-so-hygienic place, so much so that, we forgot the count after the first 20 times. By the 15th day of our course we had all turned into sleep deprived blood sucking zombies. Our brain’s had long ceased to think rationally and commands were obeyed without an inkling of doubt(even if that meant breaking a few ribs in the process).

But amidst all this gut wrenching training and mind numbing punishments our only solace were the memories of our loved ones back home and the pride of our Battalions who had nominated us to do this course. A lucky few amongst us who had girlfriends took out time to call them up whenever they could and returned afresh for the next session of training. For the rest of us….we just conjured up images of bikini clad babes in Goa(which all of us had planned on visiting on termination of the course). They say, the character of a man is best determined during the worst of conditions. I experienced that in “Hell”….

But I’m happy that we completed the course with some minor bruises and some amount of brain damage(a la Gajini style).Now I’m a proud commando ready to take on the bad guys.I have no fear,no remorse or pity ‘coz as rightly said….

“PAIN IS TEMPORARY BUT PRIDE FOREVER!”

10 Reasons for being a Hopeless Romantic!!!

Knowledge is a tricky thing and I plan to do no harm. But here it goes.

1. The only girls I know are married , cousins , committed or stay in a far off land.

2. The last time a girl smiled at me was on 13 Sep 2008(yeah I remembered the date).It was only later that I realized that my fly was open.


3. My conversation with a girl on the phone :

ME : Hello, wassup??
She : Nothing much…just the regular stuff.
ME : ..and wat else…???
She : nothing yaar…u tell wat else??
ME : nothing here too..
(long pause)
ME : ok then….take care…keep in touch!!
She : bbye!!

4. My scraps to a girl read something like this :

1st week : Hi there!!...watz up??
(no reply)
2nd week : hey there…long time no see!!!
(no reply)
3rd week : hi there… do drop in a scrap sumtime..tc!!
(…still no reply)
4th week : they tell me persistence is the key…so here goes..Hiiii!!!
(….still still no reply)..
….u get the picture right??

5. I’ve never been on a date with a girl. The only time I’ve been out with a girl , we’ve been accompanied with our common friends.

6. I don’t have a girlfriend till date.

7. I don’t have a girls pic as my laptop’s screensaver, mobile’s screen saver or in my wallet.

8. The only time I’ve danced with a girl was in my 4th std for the school function.

9. I’m a social outcast , an oddball when it comes to relationships.

10. I’m too lazy to send fwd msgs!!!....


Note : The views held here are solely of the writer and do not resemble him or any other person living or dead in his vicinity. The writer is very much sane and his sexual orientation is in the right spot (bottomline : He’s straight). Any comments pouring sympathy are unsought for.

AGONY UNCLE

Why is it that so many of us end up with a person who is completely wrong for us? Let’s dissect the problem scientifically. The girl seemed amazing enough when you started out, right? So what is it that now makes you want to sock her in the eye whenever she is within a 5 kilometer radius?

Oh I know, she was just sooo cute back when! Her cute smile would light up your day and her tantrums would make you go weak in your knees while she always played with her hair when she talked.And now she is just so irritating! She laughs like a bimbo at the most irrelevant jokes, her tantrums make you want to strangle her and her fiddling with the hair is such a turn off. Yetch!
A rational reason for this could be that we rush in headlong without grokking the situation. No, it’s not an old wives’ tale.

Just imagine, you are all worked up and your sympathetic nervous system is on overdrive. Your pupils are perpetually dilated and you look at the world as if through a soft focus lens, with all the jagged edges blurred out. All capacity for rational thought goes right out the window. Is it any wonder then that the person you have a crush on seems most enchanting and perfectly perfect?

But how long can this precarious phase last?

A couple of months down the lane the endorphin induced high peters off and all the kinks you found so endearing in the person can now be seen for what they truly are. Six months and they begin to grate on your nerves. Throw in a couple of weeks and you are now wondering what in heaven’s name were you thinking!A crush usually runs its course over four months (to a maximum of one year if you are the really soppy sort. Anything longer than that and you might want to consider making an appointment with your family psychiatrist to discuss obsessive compulsive disorder). This process of course, takes half the time if you strike up a relationship with the object of your infatuation. For the simple reason that that would involve being bright eyed about slave labour.(unless you are one of the rare species that are cool with me drinking with my buddies, don’t mind the occassional pot-smoking sessions I have with friends, love the slanging matches we have over football and rate Prison Break & Mean Machines over the OC and Bold & the Beautiful.) (You are?! Erm... are you straight? May I have your phone number?).

Now, this dude/dame you have a crush on could be a genuine A1 sweetheart with a heart of gold, an infinite improbability drive and the works, but you can’t really rule out the possibility of their being cold, calculating slave drivers who can’t tell people from disposable diapers.(you are incapable of rational thought, remember?)

All I’m saying is that if lady luck never quite liked the shape of your ears it might not be such a bad idea to consider the situation before going on your knees to profess undying love.
Which of course, is useless advice since you are incapable of rational thought, but anyhow.

p.s. :By saying all this I do not intend to sound disillusioned or disgruntled. The ‘true love’ phenomenon might just exist in spite of the superior smirks with which we settle the issue. This could of course be entirely due to the fact that I’m an agnostic and not an atheist; a point of view that isn’t limited to religion alone. Anyhow, we might as well keep room for the possibility, in which case I suggest the contingency plan be to not waste time making contingency plan.

Drunkipidea

“The hard part about being a bartender is figuring out who's drunk and who's just stupid”
- Richard Braunstein


Any bartender worth his Bloody Mary should be able to distinguish between the aforementioned categories. The hard part lies in telling apart the various categories of drunks. Now the behavior of a drunk generally has precious little to do with his or her sober avatar. For example, don't be surprised to see your normally stony-faced tough guy friend gaze around benevolently with a dreamy smile and say "I love you guys" after he's consumed 300ml of his favourite beverage. He may just be a sentimentalist. Here's a comprehensive guide that could potentially make the lives of bartenders a lot easy.

The Sentimentalist:
Generally known to get in touch with his softer side when under the influence, the sentimentalist will talk about his deepest feelings with utmost abandon, Much like if he were reclining on the shrink's couch. His some semblance of a conversation may range from his ex girlfriends to the snobby cute face residing in his colony.Similar to a spiller, but not quite as dangerous.


The Repeater:
As the name suggests, this species may repeat sentences, (or even songs in some cases), without realising it, and possibly with lengthy pauses between repeats.A conversation with such a specimen may proceed somewhat like this:
Somewhat Sober: "Dude, are you drinking?"
Two quarters down: "Yeah, of course i am!"
(5 minutes later)
Two quarters down: "Yeah, of course i am!"
(5 minutes later)
Two quarters down: "Yeah, of course i am!


The Aggressor:
Exhibits (normally unnatural) violent behaviour when in a drunken stupor.Likely to pick a fight even with the bouncer. Which, by the way, is normally not a very good idea.
Aggressor1 + Aggressor2 -> Drunken Brawl
Aggressor1 + Bouncer -> Bouncer
An aggressor and a foulmouth is NOT a good combination.

The FoulMouth:
If you are under the age of eighteen, please take precautions to see that your eyes and ears are tightly shut when this species is in his/her element. The consequences could be serious.

The Feeler:
If you ever doubted the sexuality of your friend, this could very well be the time to confirm those suspicions. Common symptoms are: befriending strangers of the same sex (generally fellow Feelers, for they have great affinity) by establishing initial contact physically, rather than verbally, followed by a very uncomfortable looking intimate conversation.

The Spiller:
This species is probably the most dangerous of them all. When inebriated to a fair degree, a spiller will begin talking openly about everything that he/she is not supposed to. Secrets shall be revealed. The truth shall be told. All hail the spiller, the overlord of all drunks.

The Entertainer:
If you ever thought that the entertainment business was out of real talent you should see this species in his element.His acts may range from stand up comedy to a sing-and-dance performance.He’s mostly harmless but may turn into a foulmouth or an agressor if adequate support is not garnered from the “audience”.Sometimes his parameters of “adequate support” may exceed a full house Bill Cosby Show or a live Guns & Roses performance.As a ground rule this species mostly houses people with stage fright and sagging confidence levels.


The Robot:
This is the rarest of all species. The Robot's behaviour does not change even under the most acutely alcoholic circumstances. This is the guardian (and sometimes designated driver) of all species.

Note: A drunk may fall under any number of categories simultaneously.
“A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts” - unknown

MUMBAI for Dummies

The eight point guide to enriching your Mumbai experience:

1. When looking to imbibe the true essence of Mumbai, it is best for one to look out for a couple of local low-lifes to show you around. Preferably ones equipped with transportation, gatorade and a morbid sense of humour. Once they're done with you, Mumbai's ugly underbelly will never have looked as good.

2. Travelling around Mumbai is a stress-free experience. There are a few rules to follow though, to ensure your own safety, and that of other's.
First rule: Never hesitate when looking to switch lanes, or you may confuse fellow motorists and cause an accident.
Second Rule: Try not to hit anything.

3. Are you the sort that doesn't fit in? Do you ever wonder if there's anyone out there who's as freakishly weird as you? If the answer to these questions is 'yes' (or if you're fond of yak cheese and coffee cream cake), then Kyani Bakery is the place for you. It is here that one may talk about sex, drugs and rock n' roll freely without the guy at the other table casting suspicious glances in your direction. Well, maybe not rock n' roll. But...you get the picture.

4. Mumbai has no amusement parks in the real sense.Esselworld and the likes ceased to be amusement parks when I was 12. However, if you're the thrill seeking variety, you may just enjoy speeding along the one-way Western Express Highway in the opposite direction. This may not evoke too many reactions from passers-by, but is a fun experience nonetheless. And if really adventurous, one may try the same exercise during the hours that there’s a landslide during monsoons on the Western Express Highway and it is choc-a-bloc. Direction is immaterial in this case.

5. Do you love shopping for clothes? For the latest in high fashion, do visit the road side fashion plaza that adorns the wall outside Bandra station.

6. It is not uncommon for tourists in Mumbai to be unable to come to terms with some of the city's quirks. The consequences are known to be serious in some cases. So as a word of caution, when anything that you see or hear seems inexplicable, take a deep breath, and say aloud, "This Is Mumbai" (TIM)

7. If u spot a few gun totting guys spraying bullets don’t panic, just lie down and pretend to be dead. Resume your journey once they have left. This might just be yet another terror attack on the city.

8. If you are the macho kind and want to test your masculinity the 2030 hrs Virar fast is the perfect train for you. If you come back alive I’ll dish out a few more tips. Till then….Bon Voyage!!!

These few lines are a reflection of the apathy of the general public towards our hardships & the apathy of the government as well!!


I hear, we have crossed the sixtieth year,
Standing guard without any fear,
Another day in the desert sun,
Or a night at height, with a freezing gun,
Tell me my India "What I am worth."
For the Battles and Wars that I fight,
Never asking which one is right,
From Dawn to Dusk and then to Dawn,
Your Bishop, Your Knight Your Eternal Pawn,
Tell me my India "What I am worth."
While you fill your coffers today,
Wondering where and how to make,
Another fortune, another buy,
Your aspirations are now touching the Sky,
Tell me my India" what I am worth."
You make a mention on your political line,
Come to my post, wine and dine,
Then run to your stock, while I stand your guard,
Killing and dying but still fighting hard,
Tell me my India" what I am worth."
The other day I was on TV too,
You came up to me with your educated crew,
Told me to speak cos you seemed to care,
Wrote your story stripped me bare.
I was so naive I didn't know,
For you it was the nine o'clock show,
The country wants to hear some line,
Before they sleep, knowing they are fine,
Tell me my India" what I am worth."
My Men tell me, that they are strong,
Would fight for their country, for all that's wrong,
While I tell them to stand and fight,
You ignore my existence, my very right,
Tell me my India" what I am worth."
I thought I would tell my children in time,
How I fought for this country, this love of mine,
I wonder, if I should mention it though,
Don't want them embarrassed, while they start to grow,
Tell me my India" what I am worth."
I was your ambition, your child hood dream,
Your Pilot, Your Sailor your Jawan in green,
Where did we part as friends,
our ways I never let you down a single day,
Tell me my India" what I am worth."
Why do I still serve you?
How you play with us, did you ever see?
At Seven, I had decided what I wanted to be;
I would serve you to the end,All these boundaries I would defend.
Now you make me look like a fool,
When at Seventeen and just out of school;
Went to the place where they made 'men out of boys'
Lived a tough life …sacrificed a few joys…
In those days, I would see my 'civilian' friends,
Living a life with the fashion trends;
Enjoying their so called 'College Days'
While I sweated and bled in the sun and haze…
But I never thought twice about what where or why
All I knew was when the time came, I'd be ready to do or die.
At 21 and with my commission in hand,
Under the glory of the parade and the band,
I took the oath to protect you over land, air or sea,
And make the supreme sacrifice when the need came to be.
I stood there with a sense of recognition,
But on that day I never had the premonition,
that when the time came to give me my due,
You'd just say,' What is so great that you do?'
Long back you promised a well to do life;
And when I'm away, take care of my wife.
You came and saw the hardships I live through,
And I saw you make a note or two,
And I hoped you would realise the worth of me;
but now I know you'll never be able to see,
Because you only see the glorified life of mine,
Did you see the place where death looms all the time?
Did you meet the man standing guard in the snow?
The name of his newborn he does not know...
Did you meet the man whose father breathed his last?
While the sailor patrolled our seas so vast?
You still know I'll not be the one to raise my voice
I will stand tall and protect you in Punjab, Himachal and Thois.
But that's just me you have in the sun and rain,
For now at Twenty three, you make me think again;
About the decision I made, eight years back!!

SWIGGIN’ JANES

With drinking no longer taboo for middle class urban Indian women, they’re imbibing it with much spirit drinking! “I love dancing when I’m drinking! Dancing when you are sober is just not the same!” exclaimed a female friend of mine. Another chirped “I love how the music gets into you,and your body sort of sways with the music. Drinking makes me happy,chatty and uninhibited.” These friends of mine are one of the thousands of urban middle class Indian women who head to a bar a couple of times every week,to wind down with a drink after a hard day’s work,or pass the night in a hedonistic blur of potent cocktails and shots. Fuelled with their new financial independence and the increasing social tolerance of women’s drinking, more urban women are drinking than before. They might begin their drinking careers with innocuous-tasting Baileys and breezers;comforting the sweet confections which, nevertheless, contain hard spirits. But they soon move on to undisguised and unabashedly stiffer drinks-whisky,vodka,gin.

What’s even more appaling is, more than half the number of women who drink are “binge drinking” – putting the drinks away as fast and furiously as their male counterparts. At most parties, when everybody agrees that one’s level of merriment is measured in direct proportion with the number of drinks they’ve downed, binge drinking becomes almost a social obligation. It’s a daunting challenge to persistenly sidestep your hosts’ outraged cries of “Where’s your drink?” Neither does it win you any admirers. Another female colleague of mine has reserved her most scathing contempt for teetotalers. “Why would you come to a pub and then not drink? That’s boring!” she declares. “You risk being labelled a moralistic tightass, unable to relax. At such parties and get-togethers, sober people don’t fit in.”
It isn’t the same environment anymore, not by any stretch of the imagination. It’s a world where the spectacle of a tipsy woman tottering on high heels isn’t confined to a Bollywood allegory of fallen virtue, but a sight so common now that it no longer raises an eyebrow. Where girls nursing pounding hangovers outdo one another with tales of how cataclysmically ‘wasted” they got the previous night. Where the mid-week ‘Ladies night’ orgy of free cocktails has become the riguer in any watering hole aspiring to be the next it-bar. And with a quarter of the Indian alcohol industry’s 15 % annual market growth being fuelled by women,liquor companies are constantly diversifying their arsenal to make sure women don’t stray away from the bar. Advertising their wares might be banned, but this does not stop them from sponsoring exactly the sorts of events that attract hip young women - rock concerts,club nights,parties-to sample newly launched liqueurs,breezers and pre-packaged shots. For the increasing number of women with the social sanction and disposable incomes to have access to this beguiling array of booze,it’s hard to stop at just one or two.

Well, it’s a strange world we live in these days and even stranger the people we interact with. But I guess the men folk will agree that there’s nothing more sexy than a woman sippin’ on a drink in a bar. Its an equally colossal turn off to watch a pretty face get wasted in an array of alcoholic spirits. So whatever the reason for drinking, watch your step ladies, ‘coz its quite slippery down where the road to “spirit villa” leads. But for now I’m off to the bar to watch some pretty young faces down their drinks almost with a vengeance and see them shed their inhibitions and dance…..till then Adios amigos & senoritas….