KILL GHAJNI before it kills the audience

Commercialization is one thing and senseless murder of creativity and depicting mindless nonsense on screen is another.
Verdict?
Guilty of treason to Amir khan’s fans and accountable for killing my few functional neurons.
Ghajni is not a movie, it is a crime, it is a mortal sin, it is unfair to the humanity, it is an idea which has been copied from a Hollywood movie and stabbed millions of times with a razor sharp sword. Ghajni is terrorism. It is a spurious display of intellectual dysfunctionality on the part of the director, actors, producers and each and every one that is involved in this blasphemous presentation of mindless production.
I know life is not fair and sometimes you are dished something that you do not like, but it hurts a lot. I am not a diehard fan of Amir khan and this movie should not affect me that much but the fact that he raised the expectations so much and considering the novel idea of the movie, the movie could have been done in a lot better manner. This movie has brought down the level of Indian movies buy quite a few rungs.
Since so much of money has been put into the movie, the producers are leaving nothing to chance and the marketing of the movie had been flawless which means that more people inside and outside india were looking forward to this movie. A movie which has this much exposure should have been made with an objective towards not only pleasing the audience but also showcasing art and sane situations. Some of the movies have excelled in doing this and have been embraced with gratitude from the cinema lovers in our country but this movie has proved that Indian filmmakers have not yet matured, atleast not all of them.
With the movie hitting the theatre curtains, I was excited to watch it as soon as possible and see if Amir khan would be able to match his past performance or not. My excitement was killed brutally when I saw that a group of suited people (supposedly Amir’s subordinates) are approaching a girl working in an advertisement company. If they had a little sense they would have just called her or met her at her home instead of assembling a whole army of executives to visit her at her work place. Probably the directors were not satisfied with the heroine’s overacting and decided to torture the audience more with Amir khan joining the party. He did work out pretty good and left no stone unturned in showing off his biceps or abs. It seemed as if he was very conscious of his body and looked quite uncomfortable with it. His natural charm waned every time he tried to bulge his muscles.
Giving a lecture in Hindi in front of the international journalists and being stupid enough to offer credit card to pani puri wala freaked me out of my wits. The heroine displayed the epitome of her stupidity when she started giving lecture to the villain who just told her that he has killed two girls and that too at a place where she could not avail any help at a time when even all the owls would have fallen asleep. When Amir khan with his short stature was beating the hell out of hefty villains it seemed like that the law of gravity did not apply for the villains. At one point of fighting Amir khan punches a man on the face and the man falls down on the ground with his neck turned 180 degrees. That was the point I did pray to god to give me “short term memory loss” just like Amir khan so that I would also forget the onscreen torture. Tattoo makers could have had a brisk business outside the cinema halls if they were offering “KILL AMIR” tattoos.
Such a big star carries lot of responsibilities on his shoulders and he is capable of doing much better. I am sure that I will be able to forgive Amir for this fiasco and be able to go to his next movie……but only if I don’t watch ghajni again.

Helter Skelter

You let a small thing a little leeway and before you can blink, you have a huge problem in front of you. America with its Spendthrift inclination and its propensity to attack any un-inundated land for the sole purpose to support that spendthrift disposition has the whole world in shrieks of agony. I have been avoiding the business page of the Newspaper since last few days as I am bored reading the same thing again and again. Recession, depression, illusion, separation (from job), Suspension and god knows what other –ions (attrition has understandably been left out) have been reported so often in the dailies that they have actually replaced the bomb blasts news all over the world as the most frequently occurring manmade disasters. Terrorism has taken a new face.
The economic crisis has got everyone worried. Jobs are tough to stick to, not because they have become difficult but because they have become so far and few. People who bought lot of clothes and jewelry are now worrying about their house which they got through a broker and paid for it from a bank loan. They are not buying the clothes anymore which were manufactured in factories and sold in retail malls because their jobs are on the verge of oblivion. They plan to default on their home loans due to which the bank is going broke. The brokers are not finding someone else to buy that house and are going broke. The factories are going broke while waiting on the stockpile of clothes which malls are not taking, who themselves are going broke because people are not buying them. The beggar in my street is now not emphasizing on 2Rs and 5Rs coin and instead accepting the 1Re coin which has suddenly seen its image improve due to credit crunch and every company is vying for every rupee that they can get hold of. ‘Broke’ has been awarded the word of the year by the financial circles with every other person and company announcing that it is going broke.
Scotch on the rocks has been replaced by coke on the rocks and cost cutting has taken up a gargantuan stature. Airlines are planning to scrap the business class seats as even rodents have resigned going over there due to lack of food morsels dropped by travelers who prefer the economic seats or would even take up the job of janitor on the airlines to travel free. Software engineers who used to brandish their badges have had a lesson in humility with dwindling numbers of prospective brides who are willing to board a sinking boat. Pink color has become quite unfavorable and for a change people with jobs are more tensed than people without job.
So who is to blame for all this? Who is responsible for the recessionary trend that is gulping down companies after companies and countries after countries? Is it America which started this domino effect? One would certainly think so because there were no recessionary cues before America declared its dismal figures. But I guess that Americans are not the only one to be blamed. The banks should not have been so greedy, People dealing in stocks should not have been so greedy, builders selling homes for a staggering premium should not have been so greedy, the oil countries should not have been so greedy, environment spoilers should not have been so greedy and Exporting countries should not have been so greedy. It was we who brought this problem upon us and just like how the home sapiens lugubriously got through the ice ages we will also get through this phase (speaking of the indomitable spirit).
After all humans are the smartest creatures on earth, or so I thought.

The exotic feline just passed away

Life is difficult. You have to bear with the everyday abuses that your bosses make, do the work to see the credit go to someone else, stand in the bus because you have to offer that solitary empty seat to a lady and the fly just committed suicide (overwhelmed with its own difficult life) by drowning in your morning cup of tea.
Difficulties have a way of coming at you and pounding you but in the process it makes you stronger. There was one such difficulty which consumed many an intellectual personas this week. Some fought to live another day, some conquered the difficulty and some simply gave in to the sheer pressure and nervous wreckage that it caused. Never was this feline specie so daunting and so coveted in the history of human kind. This 16th November was a very important date for some of the people.
CAT commands a fear and respect just like the Yuvraj Singh’s centuries against England, but more than that it has the power to change the lives for some which is beyond their imagination. I was one such candidate who was subjected to this treatment on last Sunday when I sat to write down the entrance exam to the most coveted institutes in India. Oblivious to the fact that I am competing against some 0.3 million aspirants I was attempting the paper at my own peril. Vying for that elusive seat at the acme of the institutes which teach management, I was quite amused at the proceedings of that consequential day.
Frowned brows were the expression of the day accompanied with faces of sheer concentration, sly smiles of overconfident aspirants and happy faces of those who had lost all hopes. God must have had a busy day with plenty of suddenly turned spiritual beings thronging the centre. I was bowing to the spirit and the never ending quest of knowledge of a middle aged lady who had come to write the exam. I was thinking that when I am of her age I would never have the courage to battle out a CAT paper when she promptly destroyed my inferiority complex by giving some words of encouragement to her daughter whom she had accompanied to the centre. There was a huge crowd of students blocking the entrance of the test centre but there was another small group of extremely desperate people who had gathered at another door which got me curious. My curiosity was swiftly answered when that crowd broke into jubilations on the opening of the door which I realized was named “Toilets”. They were literally under pressure before the test for quite some time.
In between the frenzy, the gates of the centre finally opened and all of us rushed into it like we were some hungry earthquake victims vying for food aid. As I sat on my desk with the weapons of my choice – two wooden pencils, eraser and sharpener, I could not help but notice a pretty girl sitting next to me quite anxiously. Regaining my concentration back I focused on the formalities and waited tensely for the paper to arrive. The exotic feline arrive just as I had imagined, neatly covered in a plastic wrapper like a freshly wed bride adorned in wedding dress waiting for someone to open the hood of its sari, and there it was lying before me like some angel with a halo around it. The test started at the stipulated time and my requests to god for an all India earthquake strong enough to just postpone the test to some other time were evidently ignored.
Silence……Pin drop silence prevailed and you could hear the smallest of shuffling and coughing. I feverishly started marking answers hoping that they were right. Nervousness and tension were on the top of my mind when grappling with a particularly tricky question. Such a question which you think you can do and want to take advantage of it, but still you are not able to arrive at any answer. The limited edition of my brain with some pretty tired neurons was working at its full capacity and the world seemed suspended in all the dimensions when suddenly the ice was broken when the guy sitting ahead of me farted. The sonic boom reverberated through the classroom attracting some giggles and calming the nerves though our olfactory organs were not that amused.
The stipulated time got over and I was relieved. The exotic feline had just passed away with promises to come next year bringing with itself hope, fear, excitement and testing the audacity of aspirants like me. Difficulties in life can be quite amusing some times.

Coo chi coo chi coo

The other ｄay I went to meet my aunt’s mother in law’s daughter’s second cousin on the occasion of her daughter’s first birthday (they called me Gaurav ? didn’t even know my name and here I was celebrating with them).
The toddler was pretty cute and with red chubby cheeks (thank god kids are not heath conscious) and looked really pretty in that parka. And like me everybody wanted to pluck at her cheek and cuddle her and peck at her cheeks and ruffle her hair. Kids are really lucky I wonder if all the girls did the same to me when I was small (damn why don’t I remember but I am sure that I must have chuckled giving them all the more reason to continue doing it with greater fervor)


It was a pretty sight with all the ladies in saree showering adulation on the baby and the "gents" forming a group around and talking about how bright the future of the baby is going to be and which school should their parents enroll the name (i have heard parents enrolling the names even before the child is born-what must they be giving in gender?).
And suddenly there was a commotion. It reminded me of the days when I was in my school doing the march pass on 26th of january 2001 and the earthquake with ferocious intensity struck (sorry like the K-serials i also have the habit of going in the back flash, fortunately i don’t cry that much and my mother in law doesn’t harass me too).
The ladies were moving away from the baby in embarrassment and the gentlemen were also moving away muttering something. The reason was that the baby had just performed one of the god's wonder and confirmed the universal principle of Einstein that mass gets converted into energy. The baby had pissed into the lap of one "aunty" who was the most excited and now the most horrified at the sight of the soiled sari.
The excited children squealed in pleasure and started shouting causing another lady in pink sari to startle and accidentally overturn the cake on the floor. Well well i thought after all the party didn’t turn out to be as boring as i had thought earlier (i have a feeling that wherever i go something always go wrong- my friends can testify to it).


Now here is my main point. Maybe it was all a coincidence that the child has an urge to destroy its own party or maybe it was an act of vengeance. My cerebral hemisphere is inclined to believe that the people constantly cuddling and cooing the baby incurred its wrath as it was getting annoyed. I mean when somebody is constantly pulling your cheek and articulating undecipherable words like "coo chi coo chi coo" and "shi shit (i swear i didn't mean that)" leave alone that kissing on the cheek with the lipstick on the ladies and the mouchstache on the men, then the child is bound to get irritated. Even i must have done the same thing when i was small (one of my aunt still looks in a very frightened way at me whenever she is wearing a new sari) but as we grow up we start getting embarrassed more and more at the cuddling of our elders in public. When you are in your teens then you say to your parents that stop calling me by my pet names in front of my friends and then you slowly move out of your house. Perhaps to work or go stay in a dormitory in college and then when you are in your early twenties that’s when something happens to you which had happened to me when i went home this time around.

I started to wish that my parents call me out by my "good" name and not the original boring name that everybody calls me in office. I started wishing that my mom would take my head in her lap and give me a massage or give me a big kiss on the cheek or my dad would give me a big bear hug whenever i meet him. I constantly longed for that extra attention and my parents obliged me.

Now i don’t remind them that i am Gaurang and not "chintoo" and i let them scold me in public or let them give as many advices as they want.

So people the moral of the story is? - Stay away from kids when they are annoyed - naaa.
The moral is that everybody (yes even spiderman) requires that bit of extra attention be it from your friends or parents or that neighborhood street dog. Don’t ever turn anyone down when they extend their love to you.


“Good judgment comes from bad experience and a lot of that comes from bad judgment.“

See he is speaking the 's' word...

I really enjoy the moment when kids come up with questions. Is sky the highest point? No son. Then what is beyond that? Universe son. Then what color is the universe? Colorless son. Then how come the sky has color. Do you think that God is partial? No son that's the way it is. And the questions go on.

But the most hilarious situation occurs when the child asks questions like "papa where do the babies come from?" (i sincerely hope to God that the papa also knows the answer) and there is poor papa blushing and looking here and there making sure that no one has heard what the kid has said. "Keep quiet son, don't ask such questions, i don't know" and the kid goes that "papa you don't know? Mummy was saying that there is an angel up in the sky that comes down on earth and blesses the ma with the kid". Overhearing it the big brother says "that’s not true otherwise why they would invent honeymoon".
Indian people are very afraid of saying the 's' word (can you imagine i was telling a friend the topic and she is asking "what do you mean by 's'").

I mean in a country which has the second largest population in the world (here is one area where we are going to beat china soon) how can the people avoid or avert discussing the 's' word (see i am still writing 's' instead of......oh my god even i cant say it). Someone might say that this is the reason that we are contributing so much to the exhaled carbon dioxide and that perhaps is the right reason.
Let me analyze the reasons as to why are we so afraid of saying that word.
Reason number 1 : we feel shy. Hey who was that? Who said that? When you don’t feel shy pissing the wall in public and when you don’t feel shy hitting the fairer gender in the family (although it increases the employment and gives work to employees of women rights groups), then why is that you feel shy saying the word (the last time i felt shy was when my parents joked that they are looking for a girl for me).
Reason number 2 : our culture doesn’t support it.
That’s the most preposterous thing i have heard. Probably the dude who said this isn't aware of the ancient Vedas and literature (kamasutra is the best selling book on this topic. My friend says-what’s kamasutra?) adorning the history of India along with epics like Mahabharata and Ramayana.
Reason number 3 : ummmmmmm. Maybe because the pituitary gland located in the hypothalamus over secretes hormones which affect the medullar oblongata and thereby affecting your spinal movements and deactivating the current discharge in the synaptic space between two neurons - infact i am not finding any other valid reason to not publicly say that 's' word.

So my point is that sex (phew finally i am able to say it) education is extremely important in today’s atmosphere where AIDS is spreading like an epidemic. Sounding too swami Ramdev baba type of blog right? But people sometimes the right thing is pretty boring
The next time when your little brother or sister asks you that where do babies come from then i am sure that you will at least give that child some true facts and not a reason to think that you are a fool (today’s kids know everything)

so sex is not a
Severely Embarrassing eXasperating word

rather its a
Sound Enlivening and eXeedingly socially acceptable word


"You do not need a parachute to skydive. You only need a parachute to skydive twice."

Gender bender - battle of the sexes

Doesn't the topic sound somewhat weird and abstract (i usually think up the topics when i am in the loo or in a stupor in the office). Yes my friend it is exactly that. Weird, funny (if i were serious then i n would be in ICU), dramatic and somewhat path breaking.

So i believe that i always keep you people stranded wondering what the contents of the blog are going to be. This time around the topic revolves around what men love and hate the most. Yes it could be going out to a party and visiting your mother-in-law (not necessarily in the same order if your boss is also coming to the party and your mother　in law is beautiful) but unfortunately the answer is only one so its the wrong answer. The right answer is one of God's most amazing creation which is not completely understood by god too (the 'too' is for the men). Yes and no prizes for guessing but its wo(o)men.
Women=the topic of discussion when more than 0 men get together.
Women=the proud owner of a wardrobe filled with so many clothes that it directly contributes to the Indian GDP.
Women=who makes the sabzi wala shudder with dread at the thought of bargaining with her.
Women=the pain and panacea for all the men.
Women is one definition which i never had to by heart as i am now practically conversant with the subject along with all the derivations and equations.

But hold on for all the men who are rubbing their hands in glee, i am with the women and not with the men this time. Why??
Once Henry Kissinger said that the battle of sexes can never be won by either of the groups because there is too much fraternizing with the enemy and you can gladly call me the vidur of Ramayana.
For the girls, don't thank me i am just giving you what is your due (and trying something different than lamenting females every time).

So for starters here's a quote
"the perfect man, flirts not, smokes not, drinks not, exists not". Hey it’s true. For once in my life i want to be completely truthful and honest and tell you people what guys think.
Whenever a beautiful lady passes our way (i call them ladies keeping in mind the crowd reading this article-my friend calls them something else) we usually stare at her dumbfounded and not even giving a thought to what if that lady notices us and she has a boyfriend who is a gym instructor, then which cemetery should we be buried in. But here i would like to praise the spirits of the darker sex cause if by chance the lady is present with the boyfriend then we don’t get demoralized but utter the epitome of optimistic lines like "he must be her brother (then how come the girl is so fair and the guy so dark)" or "they are just friends (that’s what i call undying spirit)"

There is a joke on the men "what is the difference between men and pig-pigs don’t turn into men when they drink"

Okay so maybe i am being too harsh on the males and i am sure that some of them are already waiting for me with baseball bats to beat me (if something happens to me then all the males who read my blog are responsible) but its because i believe that men have got some unfair advantage on women. Take the example of the office itself.
When a woman works in a traditionally male field ...She must be twice as knowledgeable, twice as proficient, twice as accurate, and twice as humble as any man to be considered half as good at the job! And that’s not true vice-versa. Take the example of cooking. Most the restaurants will have male chefs as preferred to female.
Exaggeration is integral to me but some of this stuff is really true. Men are physically well built than women and intellectually too (i challenge somebody to say that there are more female scientists than male scientists). So God gave women some powers like emotional superiority, ability to take care of children in the house (the difference between women and men is that women love their children. They know everything about them, including birthdays, allergies, likes and dislikes. Men are vaguely aware of some short people living in the house.) and greater debating qualities. It is said that there are two theories to arguing with women - and neither of them works.
I know that now the blog is getting increasingly long so i will be concluding it.
But i just want to express something to the male species listening to me. Its called unsolicited advice and here it is. It is men's duty to take care of the women around. Maybe its too old fashioned but courtesies like not letting the lady pay the bill when she is with you, or pulling a chair when she is coming to the table should never become obsolete. A gentleman is not a gentleman if he doesn't respect women.


Ending with a poem by an unknown person
Sometimes we must be hurt in order to grow,
sometimes we must fail in order to know,
Sometimes we must lose in order to gain,
because some lessons in life are best learned through pain...
Face the truth, it has no Bias

Strike out

Baseball was my favorite game when I was in school. Getting a strike out was like a big insult to me. I made sure that I at least reach any of the bases even if I am not able to make any run and an occasional home run certainly helped my cause.
But as I grew old the English lessons got tougher and I started learning the other meanings of word “strike” and I also learnt the idiom that “stopping at the third base adds no more runs than striking out”. To strike hands together, Brutus struck a dagger into dying caeser, lightning struck the spire, may god strike you dead, to strike a balance blah blah… I thought I knew everything about the word strike until today when my life’s ship struck a striking rock called “strike” I know I have got you confused and you probably want to ban me from the blogging fraternity so let me make myself clear.
Bangalore is currently facing a strike where private buses and taxis are not allowed to venture the road until their demands are met, which are : to implement a meter on the vehicles which does not allow them to go above the 60 kmph mark and hence will result into less number of accidents. Have you ever been tickled with a peacock feather with your hands and feet tied to a pole? Well nor have I but I know how exactly it feels now (can’t stop laughing at their demands)..God is witness to the truth that it is simply impossible to accelerate a car above 40kmph leave alone 60kmph in Bangalore’s traffic. Ok so I thought that it must be just a passing thought from the grey matter void mind of some babu who impulsively called a strike to attain some much needed attention for his party, and dismissing it as an odd event we went to the company by the public buses yesterday.This morning I woke up expecting the matter to be cleared and to my unfortunate disappointment the strike is still on. Ok I said let us take the public bus again. The main roads were empty but there was a strange phenomena on the footpath. Electronic city where I work is home to some 20,000 employees from all the companies and all of them were on the footpath. I mistakenly polished my shoes the morning to match with the newly ironed shirt and trouser and entered a bus which was overflowing with software engineers. It required a lot of jostling and elbow hitting before I could find a place to stand. Tell me what is your record of standing on one foot? Certainly not more than mine. Suddenly I find a foot and an arm redundant as I was totally balanced on the other foot while one hand was on the railings to balance myself while the bus constantly experimented the newton’s second law of motion. I realized the value of real estate and the importance of Tata’s Nano.
By the time I got down my crisply ironed shirt was in tatters and my shoes did not even remotely resemble when I last polished it.
And now I am dreading how am I going to go back home in the evening.I sincerely hope that it strikes the babus get together to strike out a compromise to strike out this strike culture and strike a balance between playing politics and playing with our time and energy.

Those slimy, wet, swiveling delicious worms………..

I assure you that the contents of this blog are not as disgusting as the topic name makes it out to be. Before you try guessing what the topic means I would just like to flash back into my past…
I used to be a very gluttony kid indeed (as a matter of fact all kids are) and my propensity to gulp down each and every edible thing in sight always kept my mother on her toes. She was really perplexed by the unanswerable question that where exactly so much food disappeared down my throat. It was always an artistic and creative challenge to keep me well fed. Artistic because of making nutritious food look attractive (ever noticed how all the nutritious food tastes equally bad) and creative because when the hunger really struck she had very little time to gather stuffs and make me a meal before the neighbors called the police complaining of my increasingly dangerous wailings.
It was the time of 1991 when International pressure forced the Indian Govt. to open gates for International companies to enter the Indian market. Apart from all the good that this move caused to the Indian economy I am sure that my mother was one of the happiest. One brand that made her job easier was Nestle’s Maggi noodles. Yes it is this slimy, wet, swiveling and delicious worms that I am talking about.
This 2 min noodles which changed the snack culture of my life contributed a lot to my mother’s well being right now. Instantly her troubles were over. A stock of maggi noodles always found a reverend place in my home’s store room.
Undoubtedly maggi is one of the premium snacks in today’s life. Look at it. It doesn’t require refrigerator for storage, requires only boiling water for preparation and it is readily prepared in 2 mins. On top of it, it titillates the taste buds like no other snack and it can be served hot!!! The only word that I can think for maggi is “beautiful”
I used to be really possessive about my maggi. Although my sister and I prepared two packs I took utmost care not to give even a quarter of an inch of the noodle, that rightfully belonged to me, to my sister. Apart from creating acrimony between me and my sister, it did a lot of good too. Like it introduced me to the world of cooking and I learnt to operate the gas stove for the first time. Yellow became my favorite color and I really rarely went hungry or repented my lack of cooking skills. Since I was a kid the maggi hasn’t changed even a little bit but still liked by all, be it poor or rich, big or small, black or white, except for my grandmother who still refers to the this as slimy, wet and swiveling worms

The Diwali dream

Rat – a – rat – putt putt rat – a – rat went my gun. It was berserk with all the soldiers hiding from the incoming hail of bullets. Grenades were exploding showering shrapnel all over. A friend of mine was wounded just in the abdomen and blood was pouring out in bucketfuls. Another of my colleague was on fire and people were trying to put out the fire. The smoke in the air was suffocating everyone around adding to the fear lurking in the psyche of the people. Suddenly the bullets stopped and the cacophony of the guns halted. Was this the end of the war or calm before the storm? Zeeeeuuuu came the noise of the missile which was fired at the other end and which was surely heading my way. Jumping out of the pit and running towards the forest was my only escape but the missile kept following me like it had the infrared target on me. I could see the cone of the missile smiling with an evil grin like mocking me. Boom was the last sound I heard before I woke up from the nightmare. Sweaty and startled I looked around as my room partner was snoring away oblivious to the shock I got from the nightmare and prodding me to think whether the boom noise was from the nightmare or from the cracker bursting somewhere or from the snoring of my friend or did he simply fart?

Well first of all happy Diwali to all of you and hope that you had a blast (no pun intended) this year. It is actually quite stress busting to see smile on everyone’s face during this time of the year, due to the vacations that they get or the sweets that the calorie conscious wife allows the poor husband to gulp down, or simply due to the discounts and freebies that the shops provide to boost sales in the most busy time of the year. People shop the whole day and then burst crackers all night. Well if there is an earthquake at this time of the year then I am sure that hardly anyone would be able to recognize it until a building nearby falls down and even then some would be skeptical if it was an earthquake or simply a high decibel cracker that brought it down.
The spirit of Diwali was pretty evident in the air as even the animals living down my apartment were howling in excitement. The faithful dog who is always at the entrance of my building was not present over there which aroused my curiosity as to where was it celebrating the auspicious day and lo! I found him in one of the dark corners of the building wincing every time a cracker blasted somewhere. Poor soul must have been under an impression that India was at war.
As I live on an apartment on the terrace I was fortunate to see the lighted sky without venturing out in the open. Unfortunately an old guy also lives nearby my apartment who must have seen thrice as many Diwali’s as I have seen. Suddenly a cracker burst nearby with an intensity equal to the 7.0 on the Richter scale which shook the whole building and I just lay hoping to God that the old man was alright.
I always believed that Diwali is a festival of lights and was never able to understand why people celebrate it with crackers that are not only a torture to the ear but also polluting the atmosphere to a degree where even the God above has difficulty seeing the natural resources of the earth getting depleted. I looked upwards to see if any star was visible there but the blackness looked back at me saying “mind your own business”.

When the going gets tough…..the tough gets going

Undoubtedly that is a popular number from the Boyzone group but that is also a very true adage in real life.
It’s more of a truth than an adage and if you realize this one thing then life becomes much more bearable.
Whenever I hear Himesh Reshamia’s songs on television or on the radio I feel like committing suicide but I believe that God tests its disciples quite often. When the clatter of cacophony comes out of his multitasking nose I feel like I am in heaven (I usually hover in between death and life and since I am a sinless man I feel I am in heaven), the voice triggers my thought process and my brain becomes alert. It switches on the emergency survival mechanism and my muscles become taunt. As I swing between consciousness and unconsciousness I feel my spirits rise and I get the strength to get thorough the ordeal. Finally when the song gets over and I realize that miraculously I have survived the murder attempt on my life I feel confident that I can get through anything. When it was announced that my superman is going to do a movie I heard an inner voice saying to me that “Gaurang this is your chance”. When I was in college I studied something called stress test where in we keep increasing pressure on the metal bar to check how far it can sustain it. What goes around comes around. I felt it was a new challenge for me albeit an impossible one.
Life is not fair all the time. Did you ever feel that Somalians and Ethopians live a better life than you? I did when I heard the speeches of Mayawati and Atal Bihari Vajpayee. Changing the citizenship was one of the many depressing thoughts that came to my mind (the other was indiscriminate shooting inside a US university to relieve stress). The lugubrious speeches that they prepare are so melancholic and soporific that I am sure that if I were reading it then I would be the first person to die of heart attack because of applause by the people given to my speech. What astounds me is the conviction with which they beat about the bush and make promises which even the unborn fetus is confident that they are not going to follow. They truly justify the fact that “promises are like babies, fun to make but hell to deliver”
I feel Oscars and the filmfare awards are mere formality to publicize the movie community. There could be better awards such as “surviving the Sooraj Barjatiya movie” awards or “not dozing even a single time in Pooja Bhatt’s movie” awards or “controlling laughter in a Ramsay’s Brothers horror flick” awards or “resisting the temptation to commit suicide in tere naam” awards or “almost getting mentally retarded in a David Dhawan movie” awards. Have you ever cried watching a movie? Revealing my soft side, I confess I have cried in the movie “Hum Saath Saath hain” not because of the plight of the leading actors and actresses (which were so large in number that I realized I didn’t know numbers beyond a large figure, while counting) but because of their propensity to make seemingly insignificant problems escalate to such a large extent that they have to showcase their crying skills half the movie and then the problem is solved so quickly that I could not stop myself from sobbing at the display of overacting at its zenith.
Sometimes I feel that God does not exists when I see Sunny Deol dance or Celina Jaitely act, or Suniel shetty shout with saliva dripping from his mouth (that’s a cool poem ; “suneil shetty shouts, saliva dripping from his mouth, makes me vomit everything out, humanity is still alive? I doubt….sorry for deviating), otherwise he would not be so unkind to the earthlings.
If I were sitting in Amitabh Bacchan’s “koun Banega Crorepati” hot seat and a question like “what would me more torturous to you : a) being electrocuted in a dentist’s chair b) being the prime display in a shark’s tasting party c) smelling the armpit of Carl Lewis after he has just won a 800m race in Bangladesh in summer, and d) watching Aaj tak news the whole day”, I would definitely be confused and eventually select option d) not because its my lucky alphabet but because it really would be the answer. I usually never curse anybody no matter how grave displeasure it gives me but people have to literally stop me and keep me tied up to chair with my mouth tied with a cloth to stop me from breaking the TV or not hearing the harangue of expletives never uttered since the age of Cleopatra. These guys are so dumb and melodramatic that I have to resist the urge to pounce on them and strangle them with my own hands. Sensationalism is okay and much needed but this oversensationalism makes me rate Carl Lewis's armpits higher.
For those of you who have seen the pathetic show of epitome of dimwit morons playing cricket for India in world cup, I am sure they will agree with me that there are only two worlds, Heaven and Earth. Even my dogs bowl better than the speedters and my grandma can score more runs than the loosers that went on the pitch in the series. They seem to me as farmers who are trying to reap their crops after an unsuccessful season when they field. And for Christ’s sake, stop looking so disappointed after losing.
Sorry guys, I have vented all my anger in the blog and for those whose sentiments I have hurt I am really sorry but then this is my opinion and I definitely await your opinions too because opinions are like Carl Lewis's armpits, there are always two and both of them stink.

The war and the valiant soldier…………

The saga continues.
I visualise myself as a warrior in the jungles of burma. There is a dense undergrowth of plants and trees (computers) around me and my colleague army men are waiting to be ambushed by the enemy – SLEEP. For all those who have not read my last blog refer to this link here

So we had food and now the stomach has started pumping alcohol to digest the food. Slowly like in a slumber we come back from the cafeteria like zombies to our cabins. As soon as I enter the office the cool air of air conditioner greets me which is quite opposite to the heat outside. I dread at the thought of fighting the sleep. Sitting down on my chair I stare blankly at my faithful computer and switch on the monitor to wake it up from its sleep.

Back at the jungles of burma…..i pick up my bayonet (read mouse) and notice that it has been overused. Maybe this time around my gun will not help me fight my enemy (sleep). All around me the army men are afraid when the enemy will pounce on us and trounce us. In the early stages we keep a strong vigil and make sure that the foe does not come. We are encouraged at our success to keep the foe at bay however the mirth is short-lived. By the time the digital clock shows 2:30 we feel the enemy slowly taking over
“dhub” there is a sound from the a tree (cabin) nearby and the I see one of my team mate fall down (he fell asleep). Martyr to the noble cause staying awake. But I don’t give up without a fight. One by one people around me start going down. It is a scene of total devastation. I feel helpless but still the hope is alive as long as the commander in chief (my team lead) of our army is fighting. I see him as the silver lining around the dark cloud, the ray of hope at the end of the tunnel, the drop of rain on the parched land, the halo around the moon (that’s it, I don’t know any more adages). I vigorously brandish my gun in the face of the enemy. I have to stick till 3 pm till the additional forces come to my rescue (the additional forces here are coffee and a glass of water and possibly some gossip sharing). To my horror my commander in chief falls down, fatally wounded by the blow from the enemy. 15 more minutes I think, that’s the time I need to hold on to the post but the enemy is too powerful. It has surrounded me from all sides and I can feel fatigue set in (I am in and out of the consciousness – eyes barely open) it is so easy to give up that I feel like doing it but the better part of my conscience says that a soldier should never show his back to the enemy (I am taking Satyam’s money and I cant sleep in office hours).
Suddenly I realise it is 3. I get up from my trench – my fighting place (in this case my chair) and with glee I realise that additional forces have arrived.

Back to the office……..i wake all my team mates and we together go to the coffee point to get ourselves the ammunition for the fight that lies ahead of us (the rest of the day).

Hungry kya???

By the time the dwarves diminished from 50 to 8, the other dwarves began to suspect HUNGER.
That’s what happens to me when the clock strikes 12. I feel an enormous tide of hunger creeping over me like some tsunami wave gorging on an unsuspecting surfer. My head begins to reel and my brain goes numb (it doesn’t work anyways) and I feel the blood drain off my face. Slowly I motivate myself to hold on chair and I take inspiration from the PC lying infront of me which untiringly gives me incomprehensible errors since I have joined satyam even though it has had nothing to eat. I allow the adrenalin to pump into my blood so that I can cover that last mile of my journey to the heavenly abode of Satyam’s Cafetaria. By the time it is 12:30 my condition is so critical that if a doctor is nearby then he will surely pronounce me as brain dead (sometimes my sixth sense senses vultures flying outside the building). I start having delusions and see a banana split, pau bhaji, mozzarella cheese filled tacos, and strawberry with cream flying around me. I feel my heartbeat failing and my pulse reducing to a trickle. I try remembering my name but in return my mind devoid of food gives me the name of thai currys and pizza varieties. Slowly as the clock ticks by I announce farewell to my life and just as the darkness threatens to take take over I see the digital clock striking 1:00 pm on the right hand bottom corner of my computer screen. Had the clock not struck 1:00 I would have started looking for food in the office itself maybe targeting some of the weak associates who will offer less fight to my food deprived body. Cannibalism would have been my only salvage. But God has something else in mind.
I get up from my faithful chair to go for lunch noticing that all the other associates feverishly banging their keyboards, sweat gleaming from their foreheads due to overexertion and not noticing that their pupils are dilated way too much. I try to save their lives by pulling them away from their beloved work and have some food so that their souls do not leave their bodies.
Finally I manage to gather a congregation and we march like exhausted war heroes to the cafeteria wielding out wallets instead of bayonets.
“food food” we shout in unison and vanquish the various counters available. We find other hoards of hungry animals like us flocking sheepishly at the food counters. Finally the only solution to our grave problem arrives and we greedily consume the food not even bothering to chew it lest we are able to eat less of it in the given time.
With the happiness of a toddler who has just discovered the pleasures of walking I get up from the table and then go back to my cabin to prepare for another hard battle – fight against the vicious sleep that attempts to trounce any constructive work that my brain tries to indulges in.
The saga continues next time…..keep watching this place for the bloody battle that ravages the campus of satyam and the empty head of their employees.

Highway blues......

Whenever I sit to write down something I run out of ideas, like today. So I randomly pick a topic and pen down something on it. Indian Highways seemed to me an apt topic because it’s a unique experience travelling over here. I did not realize this until an NRI cousin of mine pointed me out. Indian roads are not roads, they are part comic opera, part horrific stories. It is a journey pungent with random events and unending drama which makes life more interesting. Here goes my views.
My earliest recollection of the highways is from my village. I used to visit my village once in a year with my family and we had to start quite early in the morning, not because it was far away but because the roads were bad and our Maruti although fitted by the manufacturers with all the suspension to counter the Indian roads, could not go beyond a speed equal to the number of undulations on the road to the root of the number of the fallen trees and rocks and broken milestones on the way.
We used to stop by for refreshments quite often on the way as traffic jams prohibited us from making our esteemed presence at the village earlier. The refreshments usually constituted of “garam chai”(hot tea) and the usual conversation went on “bhaiya, whats the reason of the traffic jam?” and as if waiting for us to ask the question, bhaiya used to explain everything in detail “sahib, Karsan’s cow who used to give 3 litres of milk everyday was run over by a truck on the road, it’s a ploy of the farmers on the other side of the road whose bullock fell in love with his cow, hence they are mourning”.(in the middle of the road!). The traffic then quickly moved on as the homicidal mystery was solved and condolences were given to Karsan.
“look at that audacity of the bullock cart coming the wrong way”, my dad used to yell now and often. How would he know that the bull dung filled the potholes on the road regularly and manured the road side trees.
I was so excited to see the roadside fields and hoped to venture among them some day. Long journey required a strong bladder but we are humans after all. So I asked my dad “where’s the loo”, and the reply was what I expected “behind the tree where else?”. Finding a tree was not as difficult as wooing away the village children who caught fancy of a babu from the city, following me. “aagha jao” I said in Gujarati and again amongst their giggles, “go away” to the same effectless effect. Finally somehow I relieved myself and got back to the car to find my father telling stories that at least you don’t have wild boars running after you when you went about your business behind the tree.
When I was in my college I used to stay in hostel which was situated right on the National Highway. So the regular truck drivers and the roadside Dhaba managers recognized me more than my professors.
The dhabas proved to be a perfect intermission between long journeys where you can exchange highway stories and gossip, eat some fresh albeit greasy food, and take some rest from the sweltering heat of the Indian sun. One such dhaba which had remained unchanged over the years was where we went for our food. The ambience of the dhaba shouted of simplicity and simple people we got to see over there. We shared the same table with the truck drivers and also shared their stories. The manager was an old widower who took the money for the food with the scrutiny of that of a tax collector.
But highways are also known for their accidents. Gruesome stories of collisions and casualties was a harbinger of caution lesson for us.
The inventive and ingenious advertisement boards was what I looked out for when I was on highway. The likes of “speed thrills but kills” and “better late than never” were always ignored but carcasses of collided cars always had an immediate effect.
Its when I am travelling in the city that I realize how boring the city roads are and then the scenes of gushing by fields and the whiff of dhaba food make me nostalgic and I long to be a part of the highway blues…

Expletives explained……..

How often it happens that when you are going to some place and get stuck in traffic. It becomes really difficult to maneuver through the plethora of gas thirsty IC’s running on multitudes of wheels. The mind is preoccupied by lots of things like “he has got a good car, I bet he cheats the IT dept.” or “do these couple really have to snuggle each other on the bike, especially since they are of the same gender” or better still “boori nazar vale tera mooh kala”(that’s a popular one liner on truck’s rear end).
But I am sure that amongst the bullock carts alongside the BMW’s and green, advertisement ladened road dividers in contrast to the footpath straddled with beggars and street peddlers, the thing that must have stood out is the behavior of people on the road.
An auto Rickshaw is undoubtedly a brilliant machine nevertheless the driver residing in it is more awe inspiring. Ever had an experience where your auto is involved in an accident with some other vehicle? Well if you are a god fearing sinless philanthropic being then make sure that you close your ears when the fight begins. The expletives freely flowing from their mouth makes you feel like god has damned the other person forever. I was involved in one such incidence and fortuitously I was in the auto rickshaw and not at the receiving end and I was nonplussed at how, even though it was the auto driver’s fault, the gentleman at the other end had to say sorry and pay currency for the damages.
In the corporate world swearing has to follow some ethics. For example the onsite coordinator receives swearing from the client but it is in an official manner “Mr. onsite Coordinator, your company code is full of bugs and it is not concordant to our URD”. The client is not allowed to swear hence he conveys it to the POC (point of contact) gently. However the onsite coordinator is has no such restriction so he conveys it to the project manager in not so appeasing tone “dear sir, your project team is filled with morons and imbecile deficits. Kindly fire them” there is still some decorum in his voice as he is staying onsite but when the matter is in the PM’s hand who is residing offshore then things start getting ugly. PM is angry and so he calls the team lead and “your freaking brains are not even worth frying and eating, now clean up the mess before I blow up you and your team with the freaking TNT” and no prizes for guessing how the TL will be addressing the team.
When you really are keen on learning some cacophonic obscene words then the appraisal time provides the best environment. Go near the desk of an employee when he is about to look at his appraisal and if it is not good then you will thank your lucky stars that you are not his boss, hearing the never ending gut belching curses from his mouth.
They say lucky is the man who gets married. I’d say the same thing about martyrs dying for a noble cause. When you have a nagging wife with a tongue and little brains then you start believing in reincarnation because of bad deeds in your last life. “you have a hair on your shirt:-!”, “darling it’s a white hair and its probably from a male looking from its color”, “what! You are cheating on me for an old male lover??? You insolent, impudent, pig faced, #$@#**&%^$#$”. Imagine if there is no hair on his shirt, then she would link him up with a bald man.
I swear(that’s ironic) these days the beggars are going way above their head. Inflation and high disposable incomes have snatched the innocence that beggary commanded few years ago. Just look at the guts of this profane beggar who throws back the 1 Re coin back to me with a generous supplement of obscenities about increment in the miser population.
Although not considered good, expletives are one necessary evil in today’s world. It decreases your BP, increases your confidence but when you say them to the wrong person then it’s not good for your medical insurer.
So guys as the saying goes “think before you speak” could be modified to “think before you speak, have your sports shoes on when you are thinking of swearing to a body builder, never speak infront of your mother in law, speak HELP if you are being chased by a rabid dog…………

never noticed this news...

Scanning through the newspaper I realized that the news always remain constant. Only the people and places change. How true it is, a bomb blast in Hawaii, a plane crash in Sao Paolo, discovery of natural gas in the Krishna godavri basin, new born Siamese twins fall in love with the same baby girl….and so the news go on.
Sometimes these news become too monotonic to be really exciting. I don’t know but I have noticed people taking sadistic pleasure in tragedies. They always look for a train derailment which has killed in multiples of 100, a breakup between beckham and posh spice, wife killing husband and cutting him and stocking him in the fridge, etc. I have noticed that more the horrendous the disaster or calamity or accident, more the coverage it gets.
Let us analyze the how the newspapers play on the readers mind.
As I am an avid sport fan an undoubtedly cricket catches my fancy. I used to read the sports page in the beginning and then progress to the other news with the front page coming last. Weird it may sound but I found lot of guys practicing the same strategy in going through the papers. I have my mother who never visits the sports page and for her the page is purely a matter of wasted paper and more garbage addition to the house. My dad also fleetingly glances the sports page to stay up to date with the increasing influence of sports in the equity market.
And I am sure that in the various surveys that these shrewd paper printers carry out they must have figured this fact out. Lo! They come out with a strategy to make this piece of news more sensational and exciting. They introduced WAGS in them. For all those who are wondering what on earth this WAGS are, be rest assured that they are not the emotional outburst of a canine through the posterior extension of their buttocks which has become obsolete in homo sapiens, but they are the Wives and Girlfriends of the English football team(notice the ‘s’ at the end of the females – believe me polygamy is still not a thing of the past, talk of the skewed sex ratio in India). These sensational long legged beauties adorn the sport page and suddenly I notice all the uncles and fathers developing a sudden interest in sports and the aunties and mothers too keep close watch on this section to know what their respective hubbies are looking at.
The international page is also the favorite among the youngsters who strain their eyes which if they did in the exams then the unemployment department would have small burden to bear. Scattered among news are sensational topics like new moon found around Saturn, chimpanzee clone involved in wardrobe malfunction, a 60 year old woman gives birth to triplets by getting artificially inseminated by her long dead lover, etc. graphic depictions strewn over the page sometimes overshadows the news itself.
The business section of the paper lacks behind in the glamour department but makes up for it by using caricatures which would make anyone with a funny bone to pause and have a peek. It also generously accolades the vivacious and vibrant Indian economy and describes exploits by the chocolate honchos of the corporate world like Vijay Malya and Ratan Tata.
The least read but the most informative editorial page has surprisingly not received any facelift in the recent times. Although I like them the way they are but it sure does not increase the popularity of the section. Looking forward to how they attract readers to them. These editorial pages are like the tunas in the sea who provide a lot of nutrition and meat but are lesser recognized then the beautiful goldfishes.
The regional additional accessory that we get with the main paper (Bangalore times or Mumbai times) by far breeches the glamorous boundaries set by all the rest of the sections. A section dedicated to pure entertainment truly personifies the page 3 concept. With Sudoku and loop the loop forming a daily routine of one’s life and the congregation of the stars at parties, this section definitely makes life more bearable.
The towering pile of unread newspaper in my room reminds me that I am not at all eligible to analyze them so leaving the rest of the job to you people.

How do I increase the TRP ratings of my blog.

I want everything more. More food, more clothes, more movies, more salary, more freedom, more time, more comments on my blog……
Finally I blurted the truth. So I sat down and began thinking how am I going to increase my TRP rating so that I can witness my name in the top three bloggers mail. Any observation has to be systematic and so I planned to strategise my action based on the information I find.
First step was to see then current blogs and identify the ones which were most successful or which received the maximum number of comments. Blogs after blogs I read and I realized that there is only one success matra. Go on posting blogs, be original and humorous and creative. Now that’s tough. I thought I would make my blog a bit more interesting which everyone would want to read.
I can emulate the largely popular K-Serials which is pretty popular amongst the housewives. I can write stories on never dying grandmas and mother in laws who are beautiful yet evil enough to make the daughter in laws life so miserable that she will suffer silently which prompts the husband to have an extra marital affair for the third time with a vamp whom he disliked earlier but because of the plastic surgery she has done she is not recognizable (she even had her vocal cords changed lest the her voice gives her away) and who has a deep dark secret hidden somewhere behind a closet whose keys are with a tantrik baba who lives outside the city and who can foretell future. I can also mix emotions in there wherein my heart wrenching paragraphs entices the readers eyes to allow so much tears to flow that the kaveri river problem is solved permanently.
All in all melodrama could be my saviour or better I can instil action into the blog where in the hero is able to fend off the rape of his beloved, single handed by fighting with gangsters of nonpareil ferocity using nothing but his hands and feet (to make it more interesting I can cut one of his hands and leg) against all the ultra superior and technologically advanced weapons which even the army of US would envy that the “goondas” possess.
Why not introduce some romance in the blog where in the hero and heroine dance in the whole blogs sometime in Switzerland, sometimes in streets in UK or USA (with the dumbfounded onlookers confused at the circus that is going on) or around the very own trees of India. And just when they are about to kiss either the sun goes down or the lights are automatically switched off or if there is sufficient light then you can see two bobbing heads full of hair (probably smelling the odour of the food, they enjoyed last night, wafting from their mouth).
How can I forget introducing some supernatural element to my blog where the flying ghosts unfazed by the danger of midway collision scares the wit out of my readers with their blood strained teeth and ear-splitting cries to the wolfs in the near vicinity on a full moon night with the soul of a dead kid whose eyes are protruding out of her sockets and who smells like she just had a bath in the toilet flush.
And obviously there has to be some dancing and loud music around for those interested in listening to incomprehensible animal voices under the pretext of human voice with music so bold that Beethoven starts tuning in his grave.
But all this was too much for me and I finally decided to stick to my old ways of writing incoherent crazy ideas and views on the various things going around us. Who wants to be popular with the blogs I want to just get my ideas out of my system to the world like this one “the length of the film should be directly related to the endurance of the bladder” he he

What is the best thing about kids?

Adolescents under the pressure of their overflowing hormones would say “makin them” as an answer to this question however I overcame my hormones to think what is it really about kids that we like. In search for that enlightenment I did not have to find any banyan tree like Buddha but I just had a peek at my childhood.
Well when I ask my parents how I was when I was small they can come up with lots of adjectives. One is “naughty” and the rest are their synonyms. I mean how do you justify someone putting holi colours in the water tank of their own house? Well my mom always tells me that atleast I could have been smart and put the colours in the neighbours water tank. Breaking window glasses, putting sugar inside the petrol tank of Sunny of a particularly haranguing uncle (I was not worried of revenge as I had a cycle), stealing the glasses of my grandpa, releasing lizards on my sisters and mom’s clothes – rejoicing on their shrieks (I called it fear alleviating therapy), inviting all the street dogs inside my house (I was only sheltering the unfortunate ones who had no roof on top of them) and the list would go on. Winning the titles of “most mischievous kid in the society” and “most naughty boy of the family” I used to get repeated scolding from my elders and neighbours used to come regularly to my house, not because the interiors were good but because they had restrained their anger and instead of killing me decided to do the job the humanely way by complaining to my parents.
However I can claim to have the most fun-filled childhood. This inference led me to the conclusion that kids are meant to be naughty. What I am most angry about is way today’s parents treat their kids. A kids timetable is probably more busy than that of the manager in your office. They have to go to the school, attend the evening tuitions, go to the dancing or the sports classes, go to the art class or a foreign language class, do his homework, meanwhile he remembers that he forgot to go to the loo. I pity at those kids who have to carry a bag heavier than an elephant’s new born baby and study more books than there are in our Satyam library (there are not many here don’t worry). Agreed that the world is competitive and we need to have as many weapons in our repertoire but then I think that a child learns lot of things while playing on the streets and playing pranks.
For example I learnt a lot about teamwork when we beat little munnu and ran away with his new bicycle. I learnt about discipline and silence when I stealthily went into the Magandada’s house to steal my ball which he had unceremoniously not returned to me when I broke one of his window panes. I also learnt about the importance of kindness to animals when I submerged a little puppy neck deep in soil and its mother ran after me. I learnt newtons third law of motions of “every action has an equal an opposite reaction” when I fought with the gang of boys living in the next society. The world is very informative and adventurous and I don’t think classes can teach you that.
Lets not snatch the childhood of children and let them enjoy their life till they become software engineers and write pestering blogs like me.
And if you still have a kid living inside you then don’t stop it from doing that prank. Also a suggestions for the pranksters – don’t throw chalks at your teacher (I barely escaped getting expelled)
I have to go…..have to plant that fire cracker in the bathroom.

smoky dilema

When I was really small I used to gape wide at the TV admiring the bollywood and Hollywood stars. With their macho body, clean or ruffled looks (moustache if its an Indian actor – or actress) fancy clothes and the numerous accessories that they carried. I used to copy whatever they did (except for the censored scenes of course) jumping from a moving vehicle (believe me I am not joking), fighting with guns (the best part was dying slowly after I am shot – the actor took half an hour, a packet of popcorn and expletives from the audience before dying but I finished it quickly so that I can get on with the next act), riding horses (poor liza – my dog – was so scared of me), killing the bad guys (in this case it used to be the old uncle who never gave our cricket ball back) and one particular thing which is smoking.
“oh my god, he used to smoke when he was a kid?” no my dear friend I just pretended that I am smoking. I don’t know if you people are aware of it or not but smoking has been banned in Indian films now.
I still remember that scene from the movie The Good, The Bad and The Ugly where Clint Eastwood has the cigarette in his mouth and he shoots the bad guys without removing it and then puffs the smoke in the air with some equally stylish dialogue. Even Shahrukh, Amithabh, Salman, Rajkumar and plethora of other actors used to smoke cigarettes on screen. So what was the problem that the government had in banning them?
Okay I know that many of you are going to disagree with me on this topic nevertheless I am going to champion allowing cigarettes in cinemas. The primary reason that govt. gave was that it encouraged children and elders (like they need encouragement for this) to start smoking cigarettes seeing their favourite actors on screen do so. Encouragement of cigarette smoking means more people start doing that and as smoking causes many ails in the body, cancer to name the major one.
Some points to counter them
1. looking from the cinematic perspective it is a crime to disallow smoking scenes in movies. What do they want the macho actor to do? Drink milk and eat sugar coated candies. Maybe I don’t know anything about films but I am pretty sure that if a director wants to enact a scene he has in mind and if smoking is in that scene then no matter what other means he uses to convey his feeling to the audience it will always be incomplete.
2. I think that movies does very little to encourage smoking. The government would be better off levying more tax on cigarettes than banning them in movies. I have practically grown up watching movies and never in my life have I once smoked cigarettes.
3. Right now the Hindi movies are at a stage where they need encouragement to go to that bigger platform parallel to the Hollywood movies and such conservationism might take away little advantage that they command.
4. If you need to ban cigarettes then also Ban the cruel action scenes where blood splattering might as well induce children to enact it on their friends and foes, also Ban the drinking scenes (wow! so many would be interested in a sober Devdas) and especially the rape scenes (its usually Suneil Shetty’s sis getting raped).
5. This is democracy and not some anti smoker’s fiefdom. Let the audience decide what is best for them. And anyways govt won’t be able to censor the smoking scenes from the Hollywood movies.

I completely agree with the fact that smoking is dangerous for health and earth would be a better place without cigarettes but if you want then ban them completely but its pointless to target the entertainment industry alone.

Politics - Poly=many, tics=bloodsucking insects

When I was small many people would ask me what I wanted to become once I grow up and I used to think up lots of interesting profession to impress them. Astronomer and scientists topped the list while pilot and doctor closely followed (a friend of mine wanted to become gynaecologist and we laughed our hearts out). Never once in my life I imagined that I will be becoming a software engineer. I guess that has happened to most of the people around me (life is like couples sitting on a round table during dinner when all the couples think that the partner of their friend is better than theirs – same way as you think that your friends job is better than yours).
But hearing something like “I want to become a politician” is as obsolete as a road devoid of cow dung in India I thought a lot over this and I didn’t realize why was it that people didn’t want to become politicians. I mean you have got a good job where there is a definite job security (it is more secure than your marriage I assure you – I am sure that your job would never run away with your driver) no matter how hard you try not to work. I don’t know if you have noticed or not but the governments change quite often but the bureaucracy remains where it is. The financial security is also promised (what can be more pleasurable than after retiring you get a pension till you die and you don’t have to pay a single penny as tax). There is a bit of back pain when you have to bend your back a little while receiving money under the table but hell, that’s bearable. You get chauffeured driven car (although it is a roomy ambassador – but they designed it specifically for the ever expanding politician’s family who have a propensity to overtake their predecessors in the number of children they produce and also the amount of bribe they accept), free travel in trains all over India, get to make as many promises as you want without the pressure of fulfilling them (people don’t expect you to keep your word), you have the facility to buy your pet cows fodder worth 900 crore dollars and then when you retire you can earn those extra bucks by writing an autobiography. Aint it wonderful?
But still politicians are looked upon as some filthy creatures. I used to compare politicians with my old AC which makes a lot of noise but delivers very little. The truth is that 90% of the politicians give the rest 10% a bad name. not all the devils….sorry politicians are bad. Why just look at our Atal Bihari Vajpayee. Honoured with the title of the most honest politician he did make a difference in the Indian television industry. Without him several mimic artists would go hungry and we, without a laugh (my friend once had loose motions and he could frequently relieve himself midway of the prime ministers speech without missing a word – the advertisement companies have a ball when he is delivering).
But they tend to change often. I once asked my little sibling the name of the current PM and he said who cares remembering them when they behave like Indian batsmen in worldcup wherein you barely begin recognizing their names that they are gone. However it is necessary I think. Changing leaders do prevent stagnation of ideas. In fact I think politicians and diapers have something in common – they should be changed often and for the same reason.
But I do encourage my smaller siblings to take interest in politics and one day change the face of India however I am speechless when they ask me why I didn’t choose that line of career (its never too late for anything except when you have a locked bathroom door).

Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding whether it exists or not, diagnosing it incorrectly and applying the wrong remedy.

When can laughter be harmful

I am sure that all of you remember that when Mrs (an extra ‘s’ for the polyandry she practiced) Draupadi laughed on Duryodhan it resulted in the great war Mahabharat. So it is highly probabilistic that laughing can sometimes be dangerous. Hey what is this guy talking about? Laughing is dangerous? Not exactly but there comes a time when restrain on your laughter is just the best thing that you can do (never stop laughing at yourself). Contrary to that I always encourage people to have a hearty laugh whenever they get a chance even on small petty things cause growing old is mandatory but growing up is optional. People do call me crazy but then I give the reason that when someone runs around in circles then you call them crazy but when planets do it you say they are orbiting. Hold on! I was supposed to talk for the topic and not against it
Right my topic was about “never miss a chance to shut up”. It’s true.
Now my naughty mind is thinking what all situations can arise when laughing should be avoided.
1. I firmly believe that you should not be laughing when you are in your office and your boss just walks in with his wig inserted the wrong way then laughing right in front of him with your fingers raised would no doubt be pretty valiant and exciting nevertheless a substantial reason enough to kick you out the company.
2. When your friend’s wife falls down the manhole suddenly when you are on evening walk. I am sure that your laughter will either earn you a punch from the friend or at least a push to your wife down another manhole by your friend (now which husbands have got an idea to take revenge with their wives?).
3. When your friend fails the exam that matters to him most like his BE exam. Laughing at the extension of his “Bachelorhood” would certainly not be appreciated by him and might give you a black eye in return.
4. When your wife asks you whether you liked the new dish she has made or what you think of her mother then a jolt of mirth from you may as well end up you giving up half your property as alimony after the divorce.
5. Here is my personal favourite – sneering at somebody’s funeral making fun of the clothes that the corpse has worn can incur the wrath of the near and dear (also rear) ones and you could be an addition to the burning pyre.
6. How about laughing at your small nephew when he is crying really hard (it doesn’t seem that serious but trust me I have done it and I was pretty badly bitten – why do kids have teeth?)
7. Try laughing at the stranger who just accidentally farted in public. Apart from the numerous stares from the same public you might also be mistaken as the producer of that biogas (any amount of cajoling then wouldn’t make them believe otherwise and then whenever anybody farts the blame is yours by default – that’s why people keep staring at me when my nostrils flare due to someone else’s indigestion).

I think that these are reasons enough to prevent you from sharing your happiness with others in some critical times. You can always have a plaid face in front of your laughter instigators and then laugh aloud in the loo afterwards because remember never insult the alligator till after you cross the river.

NRIs - Nice Remitting Indians

Winters are great season, especially in India. The whole year the season stays hot (I am definitely talking about the climate) and its only in winters that you can think of going out in the afternoon to enjoy the sun (nowadays getting sunbath is a crime, nobody would want to get darker but on other side it is a good proposition for the fairness cream manufacturers).
But winter also brings along with it lots of other goodies like you get lots of green vegetables to eat (I will kill the chef of Satyam if he gives me another broccoli sabji for lunch), if you have a girlfriend then you will enjoy a sigh of relief as she wont be able to wear revealing clothes and hence your friends and enemies alike will have lesser reasons to stare at her (Possessive??? Nah I was just sick the day they taught sharing in kindergarten), with the winter cap veiling your face you won’t be recognized when you fart in public (I know I have gone a little too far) and etc etc…….

Can you think of anything else other than this? I can. there are lots of marriages in winter (to save on the electricity bill and it is also proved that elders take less dowry in lower temperatures) and when there are marriages then there are NRI’s coming to the marriages from outside (mind well, I am not talking about NRI’s living in Srilanka, Nepal or Ethopia). “yo dude, how about some fosters”. Allow me to introduce you to one of my cousins who came from Australia. His name is vish (it used to be vishal but I guess that was too long for the linguistically challenged people of Australia and he had to compromise). Rarely does he speak in hindi or gujarati but constantly goes on blabbering in slang Australian language. “Ay, Gary (is this name so obvious), you think that we could freak outta this sham bam place to some pubs”
Okay control Gaurang, why are you getting so frustrated with this language, its just that he has been in Australia for a long time and he has this accent and slang ingrained in him, don’t eye that baseball bat lying in the corner remember he is your cousin you cant hit him.
NRIs have a solid knack of revealing that they truly are NRIs. With those flashy clothes, ironed out neatly combed hair, sunglasses bigger than windshield of my car (ok I went too far but was talking about the toy car) and that jewellery certainly give them in.
But someone will ask me how do I recognize if it is an NRI. Well go to any of the malls and search for the lady with largest number of shopping bags in her hand. If that test fails then search the lady with the largest amount of makeup on her face (you can also include highlighted hair and those high heel sandals). Then if she has a kid with her, notice if it is behaving weirdly like looking at passer-bys with an expression on his face saying “I am not an Indian, I am not an Indian, yeeoow they smell so bad and have such bad dressing sense”. Or search for the males in three quarters and a tee boastful of the entanglement of body hair exhibited in public(obesity is their birth right). Also they will have a Bisleri bottle always there in their hand.
Okay it seems that I have been pretty harsh on the NRI’s but the reality is that the non-residential Indians are better than non residential Americans or non residential Europeans etc. if you see the records then the NRIs are a huge contributor to the Indian economy. The remittances from the NRIs are the highest in the world even more than that of china so I have no qualms if they behave like aliens. After all they are the golden egg laying goose of India.

So getting married huh? Congratulations (puking sounds)

So continuing from the last passage. The easy job comes along(easy for me to narrate but difficult for the couple who are about to be sacrificed on the altar).

Dad has agreed and so has mom (with great persuasion from the aunt – mothers tend to be more worried – oh my daughter is going to prison – fathers are cool – let the fool also suffer) now the couple meet everyday (imagine a situation where there are limited number of benches in the park and the couples are fighting for that space – the boyfriend has to come an hour early to book the seat – holy cow!@#$ he beat me again). Engagement takes little time and soon the music (death knell) of marriage begins. Millions of people whom you might have never met in you lifetime and will never see again in this lifetime will congratulate you and give you blessings (no prizes for guessing why).
Then comes the most interesting and fascinating yet unventured territory which few discuss and which is my central attraction for today. It’s the first night…………..
Now now stop blushing you there in pink shirt and you mam in yellow tee (this is going to be hard for me to explain in humorous tone).
Now as I am unmarried and I definitely haven’t had the fortune of experiencing the first night (some people will go oooooooooh) I don’t know much about it but my sharp ears and suddenly sharp memory has recorded every discussions on this topic.

The first night is usually the most clumsy and uneventful one (so tells my secret resources) clumsy because it takes the bride an hour to take out all the jewellery from herself (primitive people must have had a pretty easy first night - no clothes – no jewellery – no marriage) by the time the groom is either so restless that he instantly condemns marriages or so tired that he falls asleep.
The most funny part is the milk offering ceremony where the wife gives the husband milk with the saffron flavour(isn’t it very similar to a pundit offering milk to snake – or is it just a coincidence). She goes over to him with the milk and he goes “sorry, I only have bournvita”.
Or the milk spills and the wife starts crying.
Husband : “don’t cry over spilt milk”(its like advising that we should not lament more on the big mistake that we have made). “Nothing bad is going to happen”
Wife : “I am just worried about the sari”.

If that initial obstacle is surpassed (bow to the audience) then comes the shock of the lifetime to the groom. “This marriage is cancelled, you never showed me yourself without the makeup, mummyyyyyyy…” or “you look just like the last one”(SLAP comes a resounding sound) or the conversation goes like this
Husband : “what would you think of me if I say that I had an affair with your best friend”
Wife : “that you are gay”

Terrible things happen in the bedroom on that night. When the groom starts to kiss the bride “the false teeth come off” or worse you accidentally choke her (good judgements come from experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgement).
Or before they begin the wife says “darling will you tell me something honestly, do you really have a good maid” (that’s what all the wives are worried about these days).
Or even worse “eeks you have hair in your nostrils”(can somebody please invent a nose hair remover?)
But as the saying goes all is well that ends well. The husband is satisfied that his wife is as dumb as he is (talking of feeding your ego) and the wife is all the more happy to give him that impression.
Well as exciting the first night is, dull is the life after marriage.
Adam and Eve had an ideal marriage. He didn't have to hear about all the men she could have married, and she didn't have to hear about the way his mother cooked.
Whenever the husband comes out of the house happy it means that the wife throwed a utensil at him and she missed and whenever the wife comes out of the house happy it means that they will have to buy a new utensil and maybe a new husband too.
There are some happy marriages too like a friend of mine once confessed.
“I love my wife and am loyal to her. I married miss RIGHT” and then he added rather ruefully “but I didn’t know that her first name is ALWAYS”


Well humour is something that I try to introduce in all the topics but there are times when they are not digested by some. For those I am extremely sorry and I assure you that I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. The truth is that marriage is the best thing that can happen to someone and this relationship is more sacred than what we perceive. Marriages are made in heaven and realized in hell, but in this hellish world it sure keeps reminding us of heaven

Will you marry me???

Have you ever proposed anybody anytime?
Pinky: I once proposed to my boyfriend and he said “I also love you sheena” and I broke up with him
Camilla: I once proposed a pretty cool guy (with those nose piercings and gelled stallion look hair) but out of nervousness he farted and I had to leave him
Bob: ummmmmm whats a proposal?
Jane: I did propose someone but he turned out to be she (who’s giggling?)
Savitri: are you crazy? How can you utter something so sinful (followed by some 100 gods names)?

For all those who think that proposing someone is difficult I assure you that it is a very easy and straightforward thing. But there are some precautionary measures to be taken before you venture into this frightening world. One is that you need to be prepared for anything. Go join the gym. Well you need to build up some muscles to fend off the boyfriend that the girl has(nowadays it could even be a girlfriend). And yes as helmets are suggested to all the bike riders (you don’t always need it but it’s a precautionary measure against accidents or rash opponents) you need to analyze the opponent before you propose. If she has a history of beating the pulp out of proposer then helmets are essential(unless you have an iron head and a propensity for getting you face smeared with dirt and mud from her sandals). I can see the smile on the face of the all the unfortunate guys who were meted by that hospitality.
The next thing is that you need to be prepared for all sorts of answers. “I will think, about it”(lady this is not a proposal for a project, it’s the matter of heart) or “ ” (that’s called silence where you cant make out what she is telling and have to do with the facial expressions-if she is crying then its yes/no, if she is smiling then maybe she is saying yes or she might be making plans to tell this venture of yours to her uncle who is in the police, and if she has fainted then you are in a big trouble mister).
How do you propose? “will you become the mother of my children”(that’s what I call disregard to the family planning committee – mister first marry her and her family) and if she is really dumb but madly in love with you then she will say “sure how many children do you have” (this time around the boy faints) or you can go ahead and give her a ring “will you accept my ring and become my life partner?” and she goes “I don’t mind, incoming is free, its just that the phone at our home is not working”(you call it a joke?). but its traditional to gift her the ring at the bottom of her champagne glass (which is dangerous as she might gulp it down with the drink and there goes your priceless love down the intestine of the lady) or you can confess your undying love infront of a large crowd on a mike when she is least expecting “sheena I love you”, “my name is heena and I am engaged”.
So precaution for the maverick and misadventurous lovers is to get you stats right first(and then distort them as you please) and conjure up a safe way to propose.

The sweetest love story is like this – a boy proposed a girl. She refused. And he lived happily ever after.
But unfortunately if she accepts your proposal then you have to convince her family. “uncle can I ask for the hand of your daughter” and here is the answer “and what about the rest of the body?” or “are you a body parts smuggler?” or “which one you want” or “cant you marry my first daughter” he he.
Now that the hardest part is over comes the easy one and that is marrying her (nobody told me she snores at night).
Well the blog is getting pretty big so I have decided to keep that topic for the next blog.
And for those doubting thomases who have never proposed but are planning to do so in the near future or are afraid to do it (hey nowadays even the kids propose each other) then go ahead and do it instantly cause “insomnia can only be solved by sleep”

Who planted that plant by my wall??

Philanthropy is a very good thing. I have noticed that people are very generous nowadays. Maybe the PQ (philanthropic quotient )has increased in India.
You don’t believe me right? Well I will give you plenty of examples.
We had a really big rat coming into our house everyday (how nice of Mr. rat to give those daily visits) and he used to taste everything in our house (like the tomatoes lying in the kitchen) and that’s not all he also used to leave us a present behind (those lovely enigmatic shape things which is the end product of food intake and lots of exercise-still didn’t get it then personally mail me for the answer) on the kitchen platform everyday. My philanthropic friend decided to give him a nice surprise and one fine evening when the rat was fearlessly roaming in the house he gave him a friendly smack with the broom and the rat instantly went to heaven for the reincarnation process (that was so nice of my friend to finally end the life of the rat – he might be reincarnated as human again). There is the sign of a selfless act wherein you don’t think about your own but help others as much as you can.
Then we have a lovely dog living in the basement of our building (he is so cute that you can actually see the ulcer he has under his tongue when he barks at you – don’t worry he is not rabied. He has bitten lots of people and nobody has died). I decided to give him some present one day and when it was standing down the stairs I jumped on him to give him a pleasant surprise (research has proved that startling someone can cause the blood pressure to rise and thereby increasing the blood flow through the vessels thereby increasing the energy and oxygen in the body). He has never forgotten me since then and whenever I meet him he shows me all his teeth and barks incessantly at me till I run away (how sweet of him)
But wait a minute what does the topic heading have to do with all this?
Oh I forgot. I wanted to discuss about the selfless activity that people pursue on the streets and in the gardens. Now who is going to tell me what it is that I am talking about. Anyone anyone? No one? Yes people I am talking about the water harvesting system that god has provided to us and which the Indians use liberally all over(unfortunately this good deed is done only by the male species in public). Hey don’t feel shy talking about it. Do they feel shy doing it in the public? No then it becomes our moral duty to applaud them in public and felicitate them in return for the exceptional selflessness feat that they perform day in and day out.
When asked these perpetrators of pissing on the roadside what impelled them to be so generous and increase the water table at the cost of their humiliation, they promptly replied (albeit pretty modestly) that this altruistic venture is a result of either their increased metabolism or they did it under enormous pressure (literally speaking) and since they had to face this situation everyday they have made it a habit to oblige the citizens of India to showcase their talent (no wonder the road side walls are so neat and clean).
Did anybody thank them for the increase in the olfactory delight that they provide in the process (I simply love that odor). That is really bad of you people, cant you atleast acknowledge their good gesture. Cant you see the environment enhancing effect of their exploits? Its because of them that the road side dry areas are capable of supporting green plants and trees. Not to mention the increase of water in the depleted water table due to their penchant for philanthropy. The bloody government tried to discourage them by building public toilets in crowded places but they stuck to their task and didn’t dodge from their goal(I salute to the valiant untiring efforts of these national heroes).
Maybe India is a poor country but the hearts of people living here is huge. They contribute to the already piling filth by spitting on the streets, throwing all their mess in the house on the streets, giving loud lovely expletives when in traffic, giving knives in stomach on smallest of fights (I am sure it helps in reducing weight) and god knows how many more altruistic deeds.
That plant by my building wall was never so green even though I don’t water it. Thank you guys on behalf of all the dirty and selfish people who pursue the pissing activity inside toilets and never think out of their shells.
My dog and small kids are also philanthropic. I need to learn something from them.
I have to go the sweet odor is calling me again.

“the more you cry the less you have to pee”

Smog/Fog what difference does it make???

Once I went to Dalhousie and in the morning I got up and saw an amazing panorama. The whole garden was filled with fog and I couldn’t even see anything even 2 feet away. That was really picturesque and I really longed for that moment again. You know finding your way in the murky atmosphere and relishing the excitement of uncertainty poin front of you.

But what I didn’t know was that I was soon going to experience the same thing in Bangalore. Hey now don’t go scampering around in Bangalore finding that place (although such a place would be the perfect excuse to put your hands on your best friend’s girlfriend). But yes if you want the “pirated version” of that fabulous climate then its right here.
Did someone just say “he’s talking about the pollution in the city”. You are right Mister.
I am talking about the lovely mélange of the gasses that you experience in the evening while going home. You have the lovely Mr. Carbon Monoxide, Miss sulphur di oxide and who can forget the old but mischievous Mr. Carbon particles floating around in the air.
I was not exactly overjoyed at seeing the sight as the continuous coughing was disturbing my concentration and the blurry eyes from the smoke was obstructing the view. But the traffic of Bangalore was very helpful and like a good friend it gave me the opportunity to enjoy the moment for a little longer (I was struck in the traffic in the same place for half an hour)
I don’t know whether it was the nostalgic feeling or the extra gladness from the terrific view that gave me headache (had I stayed there longer then I would have surely gone unconscious ) but I will forever keep the pleasant (my foot) memories in my heart.

But people, the story doesn’t end here. God made me fortunate enough (was I so sinful) and gave me this opportunity to enjoy this atmosphere everyday (I was atheist before but now I am a godfearing believer).

Well people are mad saying that you shouldn’t use automobiles while traveling short distances to save fuel and to control the pollution. I mean if you got a car then why not use it. I everyday see lots of Software Engineers traveling through cars all the way to the electronic city and the sedans are all empty except the sole driver. My dear friend joked that cant 4 software engineers travel in one car and come to the office together thereby saving the fuel on the other three cars and I laughed out till my eyes filled with tears.

They say that a flyover is being built which will make the congested traffic obsolete and thereby preventing more pollution. What spoilsport these officials are. Don’t they know that it is because of this traffic that Indian rickshaw walas are learning to navigate proficiently through the traffic and hence preparing a force for the upcoming F1 races in the new season.

My dad used to tell me that there was a time when nobody suffered from respiratory illnesses like asthama and bronchitis. How boring. I wonder how the doctors made their living. He also says that no one was obese because they had to either walk or cycle long distances which gave them good exercise. How would he know the thrill of riding a fuel guzzling motorbike where the rear mirrors become unnecessary as the smoke generated from the bikes obviate the need to look behind. And automobiles are essential to keep up with the tight schedule of meeting all your girlfriends.

Now I don’t have to go to any hill station for that foggy weather and I hope that you people also don’t fall into these enviornmentalist’s traps about saving fuel and preventing more pollution. These brats have nothing else to do.
Believe me few years down the line when you don’t see any trees around and your children ask you why does everyone has cancer from the pollution then you will find a perfect answer “child your @#%^& father/mother did not think of the consequences while using their automobiles”


Man must exist in a state of balance between risk and safety. Pure risk leads to self-destruction. Pure safety leads to stagnation. In between lies survival and progress.

Why thinner is better.

So keeping the tradition of writing something useless and making everyone cry aloud in frustration (and an acute urge to hit the author) here I am presenting you something humorous.

The topic for today is why thinner is better.

Well first of all I will give some advantages of being fat so that the democratic masses of India who oppose me get some points to ponder over.
1. you are well equipped with fat and blubber so in times of emergency when there is not enough food to survive on then, you can use your spare resources namely the tire bulges around your avoirdupois waist to necessitate your survival.
2. upon falling from top of a height you will not hurt any of your vital organs as the protective carapace surrounding your body will be enough to even deter an intrepid bull running at you thinking you were the reason its cow was disloyal to it.
3. the irksome task of ironing your clothes will not discommode you as you will be able to finish this activity with the simple act of sitting on top of it (for the chafing wrinkles you need to keep producing those warm gases from the posterior cavity with unflagging resolve)
4. your ever expanding tummy can serve as a table for that saucer when you are drinking tea.
5. your clothes can double serve as clothes and bed sheets when you are not wearing them.
6. you can treat yourself whenever someone comments that you are looking thinner than before(dont fall into those trap they are just joking)

The other day I was watching an Indian family traveling on a scooter. The family consisted of four occupants and except for the scooter all the rest of them were enjoying their ride. But I really felt for the makers of LML as they must have thought quite a bit before venturing onto an almost inconceivable task of constructing a vehicle that can endure the weight of this Indian family.
So why do people don’t get health conscious even if they know that being thinner will be so much more fun. Maybe the ads featuring this health consciousness efforts are not that efficacious or the victims of obesity are not subservient. Or maybe they find that being fat is being different from others although this assumption will prove wrong as most of the people I see are ratcheting in the direction of this corpulent way.

But the better part of my cerebral says that it’s the people who don’t want to change. Change has been despised since ages and it takes a lot of courage (ask the beleaguered mother who has to change the nappies of the refractory wailing kid in the middle of the night) but my friend remember that when you are too comfortable and you are not changing then you are not progressing.

Not deviating from the topic, being healthy has its own advantages like you don’t get to indulge in street fights as you are allowed to stay away from violence considering your fragile figure, and god forbid if you ever encounter a tiger in a jungle when you are with your fat friend then I am sure that the tiger will want to have a hearty meal and not skins and bone package (unless of course the tiger is itself fat and is sensible enough to think of reducing its by dieting which is highly improbable). Or plainly you can save a lot on your two wheeler gas consumption as it is directly proportional to the load being beared.

So guys and gals get that sport shoes on and get going. who knows maybe you might after all get a chance in that movie as a hero.