Sunday, January 29, 2006

The story of Man!

There is something that we gals cannot do when we get together and that is 'keep quiet'. We love to talk and meaningful silences are as alien to us as Shilajit Capsules or a Suzuki Hayabusa. We like to discuss everything. By everything I mean anything that happened during the course of day from the time we get up and say "Oh my God! I look awful!" (Unlike guys who get up and say "hrmphfxl").

Therefore girls get a little perplexed when guys don’t chatter as much and prefer to clam up and drink alcohol whether they are sad, happy, jubilant, depressed, angry, joyous or forgot to shave.(The latest Mera No. 1 ad is an outstanding testimony of the human Man's inability to verbalize his feelings).

So I approached a renowned historian to learn about this behavior of men. After several pegs of Mera No. 1 Mineral Water, Cassettes and CDs, renowned historian Michael Chakson from Jhumri Thalaiyya told me that this kind of behavior is a genetic predisposition from the days Humans were hunter-gatherers.

The prehistoric Man was our predecessor and was the guy who was responsible for the propagation of our species. (Poor man if he had known this back then, he would have invented birth control before the wheel). Go forth and multiply was his motto er...natural instinct, which is what actually led to the invention of the wheel. And the rest is history Which is why guys with two wheelers behave like Neanderthals while the ones with four wheels behave like Neanderthals on four wheels.

This prehistoric dude was a real modern and hep dude. He had numerous live in girlfriends. He was also the first man in History to have a love child when his first-born came into this world. After delivering several love children the prehistoric women invented "Headache". Which was the first ever recorded form of birth control by early man. The invention of the ‘headache’ also led to speech by early man and the first ever-recorded conversation between humans went like this.

Man: hrmphfxl?
Woman: Not tonight dear, I have a headache.

(Later as man graduated from hunter gatherer to farmer the word cave was replaced by 'hay'. 'Headache' was replaced by 'Migraine', which is supposed to last for an indeterminable period)

Our prehistoric dude's successors successfully kept his tradition alive with several bouncy love children till some barbarians spoilt the party by inventing 'monogamy' and 'marriage'. The invention of the 'headache' and 'marriage' hampered the human man’s style and he in turn invented "Football" to vent his frustrations. This was the first ever-recorded 'vicious cycle' in human history and the beginning of many other vicious cycles that led to the invention of Cricket, Motorbikes and Whiskey.

Anyways, the prehistoric dude had a lot of fun, unlike his modern counterpart who has to content with alimony, child support and AIDS if he tried to emulate his ancestors. But life was not all fun and women for our prehistoric dude. He had the responsibility of feeding his numerous women and love kids. If he couldn’t bring home the bacon er...I mean the Bison he would have to contend with the sad loss of his loved ones to his rival’s camp.(Because his rival’s dining stone was groaning under a rather juicy Buffalo). Not bringing home the Bison had other disadvantages too. He would have to eat the vegetables gathered by the women. The vegetables reminded him of his failure as a hunter and that according to Michael Chakson, is why men hate veggies and love meat. (another example of a prehistoric vicious cycle)

Prehistoric man learnt from bitter experience that silence was golden after this traumatic incident at a hunt.

Man1: Shhhhh!!!! A plump deer at 2 ‘o’ Clock!
Man2: Did you hear that Granite Garry’s woman had defected to Marble Marlow’s camp?
Man1: Drat! The deer ran away.
Man3: Shhhh!!!! A fat Bison!!
Man4: Really??? But I thought Marble Marlow’s wife was messing his gene pool with Granite Garry!!!
Man3: Darn! The Bison took to his heels.

That night, Man 1, 2, 3 and 4 all lost their women to Sandstone Sean and Igneous Isaac. (Well...Granite Garry and Marble Marlow’s camp were rather crowded already).

Silence became an important tool for the prehistoric man for hunting. Besides having so many women put paid his chances of getting in a word edgewise or otherwise. Man continued to excel in hunting but languished in verbal skills.

And that according to Michael Chakson, is why guys are the strong and silent types.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

And pigs will fly !!

I have been tagged by Anil The Great and Whoosh

Rules of the game are...

1. The tagged victim has to come up with 8 different points of their perfect lover.
2. Need to mention the sex of the target.
3. Tag 8 victims to join this game & leave a comment on their comments saying they’ve been tagged.
4. If tagged the 2nd time, there’s no need to post again.

Sex of the target :

PERFECT LOVER ( Guess it will be easier to find the Loch Ness Monster.)

1. He will treat me like a Queen. Period.
( Thank you girls I knew you would approve)

2. He will have no object of affection except me and that includes his bike/car, his mom and his latest mobile phone.
( Thanks again girls for the overwhelming nodding of heads)

3. He will make me breakfast in bed and say that I am the most beautiful and desirable girl in the whole world at least three times a day.
( Girls! Thank you for that deafening applause)

4. He will be my friend first. Boyfriend, husband, cook, housekeeper etc. secondary but essential. (Thanks again girls for the standing ovation, I knew you would all agree)

5. He will be neat and tidy and not sloppy.
( Girls! It is not lady like to laugh so loudly)

6. He will look after the children if any and make me candle light dinners everyday.
( Yeah girls, high fives from my side too)

7. He will not forget my birthday, our anniversary and the fact that I like long stemmed red rose buds.
( hey stop rolling on the floor girls!!! )

8. He will be comfortable with my friends, family, dogs and hair dresser not necessarily in that order.
( Ok I heard the guffaws grrrrrr)

I used a secret resource called “The License to Dream” to write this tag. I have used it liberally in this post.

I passed this tag around to friends with husbands and boyfriends and I have given their expert opinion in the brackets. I declare solemnly that all that I have written here has been whetted by a panel of female experts and certified as highly unattainable.

I hereby pass on the “The License to Dream” to the below mentioned people.Dream on guys.

He writes with much depth on serious issues.

2. Geo
Here’s a guy blogger who can handle romance and humor with great aplomb.

3. Jithu Wonderful writer. I am glad I discovered his blog.

4. mindcurry
His mission is to save God’s Own Country from becoming Dog’s Own Country!

5. Thanu
Whatever she writes strikes a cord in you.

6. HopeandLove
Read her posts and you will thank God forever for your blessings.

7. Leon
I read this post of his first and was hooked.

8. Praveen
Read his posts to know what the word “refreshing” means!!!

p.s. If you know such a guy then please forward his profile to Ripleys Believe it or Not and CC a copy to me.

Sunday, January 22, 2006

Gentleman's game ladies please excuse !

Saturday morning and I am greeted with the sight that most women in India dread! That of the menfolk sitting glued to the TV watching cricket! I can see the usual Saturday family card session vanishing into thin air. Getting my Dad and brothers to abandon the TV is as impossible as Cauvery water sharing, which brings me to the topic of this post "CRICKET".

No,no...this is no girly rant against Cricket. I love Cricket...but only when India wins against Pakistan. Other times I hate the game that makes millions of wives into temporary widows, children into temporary orphans and sisters into ballboys er...ball girls or whatever it is that younger sisters are called when they have to go fetch the cricket balls that brother and friends hit wildly into neighboring Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh and the Indian Ocean.

I was introduced to cricket at a very young age. My elder brother and friends used to play cricket at the paddy field near my house. And I was the official ballgirl (if there is such a term). And for all my troubles I was rewarded with ice cream at the end of the game. I quite liked skipping after the ball, picking it up and then skipping back to the field after I had chased a butterfly and the batsmen had made their 18th run and were looking desperately to see if I would get back and give them a break.

One day after the opposite team had made about 765 runs, both teams met for a pow wow and it was decided by mutual consensus that when I ran after the ball, it would be counted as a Four and no more. This put paid to runs being accumulated like Sachins injuries.

Now you might wonder why the guys put up with me at all. On weekends my Mom would take off for her weekly shopping trip and my eldest brother had to baby sit. He did baby sit, but as he always says it does not matter how you do the job as long as it gets done. So I was taken to the cricket field along with the other equipment and made to run after the ball if the ball went outside the boundary line. Of course Mom was none the wiser and I kept my mouth shut partly because of a very numb tongue after my 6th ice cream.

Second brother soon got into playing cricket and realized that additional human resources in the form of younger sister was a good idea than running around looking for the ball and getting all hot under the collar. He was however unsuccessful in garnering the available human resource because the human resource had to be fed and would keep wandering off with the ball. This made him mad and he withheld the promised Ice Cream after one match. Human Resource went and squealed to Dad and that was the end of further fielding resources for second brother.

During the course of my glorious innings as ball collector I learnt quite a few cricketing terms.

F**k!!!! means "if I wasn’t watching that gal I would seen that the ball was headed towards my middle stump!"
A** h**e means,"how can you hit me for a six you a** h**e?!?!"

Such colorful terms were very educative for an 8 year old and soon Dad and Mom were called for an emergency PTA meeting. Dad was relieved that it was nothing serious when he heard the Teacher say with a pained expression "You daughter said F**k when the Crayon fell down and broke."

Mom was however horrified and soon the three of us went through a refresher course in English language.

Mom: What is the exclamation you would use when you are angry?
Elder Brother: Damn?
Mom: hmm ok, but I would prefer if you said, “This is so inconvenient”
Elder Brother: Sure

Mom: Ok what would you say when someone swears at you?
Second brother (smirking): What do you mean by 'swear'?
Mom: er...I mean like the language you use in the cricket field!
SB: Ok, I will say, “This is so inconvenient?!”
Mom: Good!

(Muffled and uncontrollable giggling from the students.)

Mom: And what will you say when your crayon falls down the desk?
Me (on the defensive): I dunno.
Mom: You mustn’t use bad words ok?
Me: Ok. But dad says it’s ok if I don’t say it too loud!
Mom: #*@&*%$&+%$$# (choicest Malayalam epithets)

This brings me to another incident involving Dad:

Ms Michelle: Your daughter pinched Chithra yesterday.
Dad: Why did you pinch Chithra?
Me: But dad, she pinched me first!
Dad: (shocked) I hope you pinched her back real hard !!

Dad was declared persona non grata in school after that.

To come back to our narrative, it is Saturday morning and after a long time, the gender balance in my house is at a level. With my brand new sis-in-law we are now three females vs three males. My mom calls herself a Golf widow and me a Golf orphan, and today my brand new sis-in-law got a new name ‘Cricket widow’. After watching the guys in disgust for half an hour, I did the kindest thing I could do to my new sis-in-law. I took her to Forum for an expensive shopping spree. It will be nice to see my brother’s expression when the Bills come home to roost. thy name is woman!

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

Behind the scenes...

Sometime during my teens I stumbled into advertising and worked in ad agencies during weekends through pre university. By the time the stint was over I had learned all that is know about advertising and was all set for an illustrious career in anything other than advertising. The tricks and gimmicks that I have learned working in an ad agency will be very useful for people who are contemplating an advertising career in the Creative side...

The web defines Advertisement as "Item of publicity to promote a product or service in newspapers, magazines, on TV etc."

Let me take the example of the following products/service to illustrate this point.


Marketing guy from shampoo company (MG): Ok, We need to push up sales of our Gopika shampoo.
Creative Director of Ad Agency(CD): And what is unique about your shampoo that we can highlight?
MG: Nothing.
CD: Great!

CD sends out a talent scout to look for a gal with long lustrous hair.

Talent Scout (TS) to gal with long lustrous hair: Ma’am you have lovely hair
Gal: er.. thank you. Do I know you?
TS: I am from ABC Modeling Agency, would you like to model?
Gal (jumping up and down with glee): wow !!! What will it be? Revlon cosmetics, Lee Jeans or a Mercedes car?
TS: could call it cosmetics...

After the confirmation and paperwork CD sets up the photo shoot. The gal’s hair is washed and cleaned by an expert beautician using the best imported shampoo and lots of photographs are taken of her hair in various hair styles in landscaped gardens, in the shower, in an office setting etc.

Scene at the studio

Gal: what the f*&%$ I thought I will be modeling for cosmetics, why are you photographing my hair and not my face?
CD: er, this is just the beginning; we will unveil your lovely face in a phased manner.
Gal (happily): Oh ok.

After the shoot she is paid a pittance and unceremoniously shown the door.


MG: I know our Raja Toothpaste sucks but I gotta sales target to meet here.
CD: Whatever!

Talent Scout is sent to various colleges during lunch break. He shortlists a couple of gals and guys with the widest grins, and gets them over to the studio where a dentist waits with white paint.

Scene at the studio

Gal no. 1: What’s that? (Pointing to the white paint)
Dentist: This is XYZ teeth cleaner.
Guy no. 2: What does it do?
Dentist: It cleans your teeth to a sparkling white. It is IDA certified.
Guys and Gals: That’s neat!!
Dentist to assistant: Give them all my visiting card. They will definitely need it by this time tomorrow.

The guys and gals are clothed in funky college costumes and their teeth painted white by the dentist. The photographer adjusts his filter to subdue the shine from their teeth and takes numerous group photos of the guys and gals grinning widely at the camera.

After the shoot they are paid a pittance and unceremoniously shown the lift, aching jaws and all.


HR Manager: We need to get the best talents into our company.
CD: Ok, so what are the benefits that your company offers prospective employees?
HR: Benefits?? What’s that?
CD: Ok, I get the point!

Talent Scout is sent out to Engineering colleges to look for very ordinary looking guys and gals (VOG)(This is for a more realsitic effect). After short listing a few he approaches them.

TS: Hello I am from XYZ Modeling agency; we are looking for your kinda face for our latest ad campaign.
VOG: Us?
TS: Yes !! You guys kinda fit the role. What are your names?
VOG no 1: I am Nadamuri Tharakka Venkatravamma and these are my friends Marudur Gopala Krishnan , Shinykutty Johnson, Srilakshmi Venkatachalapathy and Konkona Roychowdhury.
TS: Whew that was quite a mouthful. You will look just right for the role I have in mind.

VOGs are dressed in office wear with access cards around their necks and taken to Taj Westend. They are made to sit in the conference room and photographed looking seriously into laptops. A blond man staying at the hotel is persuaded to sit with them for the shoot for added effect. Then the guys’ strip into swimming suits while the girls enter the pool in their Salwars and pose like they are having a blast. Finally they are taken to the in-house discotheque where they are photographed dancing and presumably having fun.

HR to CD: Make it look like it is great working for Really Soft Technologies Pvt. Ltd. even though we are a 24/7 sweatshop.
CD(sarcastically): Shall I shoot the Vidhana Soudha as the new Really Soft Technologies Pvt. Ltd. building madam ?
HR: Why not! Personally I would have preferred the Taj Mahal but we don’t have the money to send you even by second class three tier to Agra.

After the shoot the VOGs are paid a pittance and ceremoniously shown the Taj Westend gate by the liveried Gatekeeper.

The copywriter then takes these photos, writes a catchy headline a smart body copy and makes a snazzy advertisement, which is splashed in various publications for your consumption.

I think I will stick with Shikakai powder, Neem twigs and my present company.

Monday, January 16, 2006

The silent killer !

This is a true incident that happened last year.

Last summer me and three other girls were living in a house in a less populated part of Koramangala. My roomies were out-of-towners while I was a ‘fringe-Bangalorean’ that is my folks lived a little away from the city. In order to cut short the commute time I had convinced my parents that I should stay in the city during weekdays during summer Internships. My parent's reluctantly gave in when they met my other roomies and the landlord who was a nice gentleman. I was maha thrilled to be living alone for the first time in my life, that is if you discount the months before final exams when I usually stayed in the college hostel (but then that was more like being in the Central Jail, without the benefits.) The house in which we all lived like merry bachelorettes was a four bedroomed house, which means we had our own private rooms. My room was slightly bigger than the matchbox size of the other rooms and this was willingly ceded to me to accommodate my PC.

My room mates were a mallu gal ‘A’, a Bengali gal I used to call ‘Chikoo’ for obvious reasons ( she was plump) and ‘P’ a girl from Chennai. I was the only non-techie and Intern in this crowd. From day one, the four of us hit it off quite well. None of those "your-wet-towel-was on-my-bed" and "you-borrowed-my-shoes" frictions that happens to gals living in hostels or sharing rooms. I think having our own rooms was a big blessing.

One day I was very late coming from office. As a drove tiredly into the house I didn't notice that the streetlights were off. There were several empty plots near our house and a huge wooded park sprawled opposite the house. I pulled into the driveway and in the faint light of my bike headlights saw that my roomies bikes were already parked in the driveway. After I had switched off the light of my bike I noticed that it was pitch dark everywhere. Groping my way to the front door I felt around till I found the switch to the light on the verandah and flicked the light on. The verandah was instantly bathed in yellow light and I noticed that the front door was ajar. The house was pitch dark save for the flickering of the TV and there was no movement within. I felt a chill run up my spine. I fished out my mobile from my handbag and called the landline in the house. I could hear the phone ringing but no one picked up the phone. I tried my roomies mobiles with no luck.

Fearing the worst I gingerly went inside the near dark hall. The light switch for the hall near the front door was useless as there was no bulb in the socket. That left the tubelight with its switch at the other end of the hall. As I walked into the dark hall groping my way around I could get a terrible smell. The smell was quite overpowering and I felt nausea welling up within me. Covering my nose with my jacket I groped around till I found the tube light switch and put it on. As the tube light flickered I got the terrible glimpse of a dead body that lay sprawled in the hall. Stifling a scream I rushed wildly out of the hall and into the kitchen. Quickly closing the door to shut out the terrible sight I put on the light switch with a trembling hand. I froze in horror at the sight in the kitchen.

Crockery and cutlery lay everywhere and the kitchen was in a mess. On the kitchen platform were my roomies their eyes wide with terror, mouth open in a silent scream. ‘Chikoo’ clutched a blue plastic packet in her cold hand. It had “Bellona Cockroach Repellent” written across in bold letters....

And judging from the dead body of the cockroach in the hall it was damn effective.
The salesman was right, it was ‘deadly’.


Trackback: In my absence, one of my roomies had lit the Bellona agarbathi thinking that it was a regular agarbthi. This had caused the cockroach to come out and breathe its last in the hall where they were sitting watching TV. And since all three were terrified of cockroaches they would have fled to the nearest room i.e. the kitchen on seeing the roach in the hall. But to their bad luck the smell of the agarbathi had made the roaches in the kitchen to crawl out too to die on the kitchen floor. This would have made them jump on the kitchen platform effectively trapping them till I came back from work.

I took a broom and gathered the lone ranger in the hall and the other fellahs in the kitchen and put them to their final rest in the drain outside. After a thorough inspection of the house and lots of reassuring my roomies finally climbed down from their perch of one hour.

A’ gets married in May and ‘Chikoo’ in March. Me and ‘P’ the youngest amongst the four are now back with our parents. But this is one incident that we will never forget for a long time to come.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Forever young !

Thursday morning, and the usual avalanche of SMS’s fall on me as the gals plan Friday night’s jam session. I am caught in the middle of a crossfire of SMS’s going back and forth for a good one and a half hour.

1. silverine’s place, we can have a barbecue
2. No! 2 far + pesky brother how about N’s place?
3. No, pesky brother there too, how about S’s place?
4. No, her mom will close us by 10
5. Shobha?
6. Pesky younger sister
7. Ok then it is silverine’s place then
8. Ok.

It’s a wonder we get any work done at all on a Thursday.
Next round of SMS’ starts post lunch.

1. Bacardi Breezer for me
2. Rum, OM
3. KF Beer
4. Smirnoff
5. Blue Riband
6. somebody please get the softdrinks too
7. I hate Smirnoff , make it Absolut
8. I hate KF Beer, get me UB
9. Grovers White Wine
10. Who will buy?
11. Silverine and Nisha
12. Why us?????
13. (silence)

Friday evening me and Nisha set off for Sunday to Monday (S2M). Nisha grumbles that it took her a good half an hour to write down the booze list from her mobile while I look around furtively to see if any relation/friend of the family is around. I will never bump into a relation/friend of the family when I am shopping for groceries, but the moment I pick up a bottle of booze they appear miraculously from nowhere.*sigh*

The coast was clear. S2M was thinly populated with housewives and snotty hyperactive kids. We take our trolley and with the air of experienced boozards begin filling up the trolley. Pretty soon it is evident that we will need another trolley (because we had to keep the bottles horizontal in single file to avoid breakage). I walk across with an air of great interest to the Masala section, see an abandoned trolley and quickly grab it and we begin filling it up. After some time it becomes evident that something was horribly wrong with our booze shopping list because we are in need of a third trolley!!!!!

Time for SMS’s again.

1. Ok, tell us exactly how much booze you all want!
2. I want 3 breezers, orange flavor
3. 3 UB beers, pint
4. One wine, very chilled ok?
5. Smirnoff, 250 ml yaar
6. one 500 ml coke, sprite, fanta
7. if they don’t have OM get Celebration Rum,
8. They don’t have quarter? How dumb!
9. Ok then get me a 500 ml
10. Sausages over at Foodworld, can you get it instead?
11. Hey I am Veg remember?
12. Yeah, and I am Miss India

And so on and so forth. Pretty soon we are cursing and swearing and jotting down the ‘orders’. Now we know why waiters give us the cruel eye when we get into a debate on the merits and demerits of various brands of alcohol while he is waiting, pencil poised to take our orders.

After filling up for the second time, we go to the billing area near the exit. I see my Uncle John, my Dad’s drinking buddy coming straight at us. I duck behind the plastic wares shelf leaving a flustered Nisha with two trolleys laden with booze. Uncle John takes his time at the toiletry section and Nisha manages to push both the trolley amidst curses to 8 generations of my ancestors to the billing area. We are 5th in the queue consisting of a beautiful grey haired grandmom buying cheese and sugarless cookies, an old couple buying papadams, a mom buying half the store, and two guys buying Maggi Noodles and Sprite ( guess they were eating in style that day).

And as is wont for people waiting in the queue, everyone is casually looking around at the people coming in and the people waiting with them and at the …..trolleys. Our trolley looks like a bootleggers tempo and bottles stick out like fluorescent sore thumbs. The elderly gentleman standing in front of us with namam on forehead looks disapprovingly at us. He whispers something to his wife. She looks at our trolley pointedly, then stares at us coldly making both of us squirm like two worms on a hot plate. Then mom decides to look around. Her eyes freeze as she spots our trolley, widens in disbelief and she looks away disapprovingly. Then one of the not-so-merry bachelors standing behind the Grandmom espies our trolley. He nudges his friend and both giggle like two school girls who have just seen a packet of condoms. I suggest to Nisha that we give a swig of the wine to these people and both of us collapse into giggles at the very thought. (More disapproving stares)

Our turn comes at last and the cashier starts removing the bottles one by one painstakingly scanning the barcode one by one blessed bottle at a time. We ignore the stares and smirks of the growing queue and finally manage to leave the place after what seemed an eternity.

As we were walking out cursing and grumbling and groaning at the weight of the bottles and the ‘narrow minded” people, we heard a voice calling out - “Girls!” We look around and see that it was the white haired Grandma who was ahead of the sober bachelors in the line. She waves, smiles and then winks and says. “Have a blast, girls. And have a large one for me.”

We smile right back absolutely bowled over by the spunky lady.

At last!!! Someone who understands us. Someone who is our age !! (at least at heart.)

As we walk away I catch myself singing "Forever young, I want to be forever young"

Sunday, January 08, 2006

One for the road!

Dear Bengalureans!

Namaskara! I am Doddappa. Senior Driver BMTC. I am working in BMTC for past several days and hence the promotion as Senior Driver. (I would have been a Class I driver but for the blindness in one eye and color blindness in the other)

First of all, you pedestrians should realize that I love each one of you like just like my own brother or sister. Not that I don’t have any of my own, but then "the customer is always right yadda yadda" and I have to make the right noises according to the management this year....and I am not talking of the bus horn.

My bus is named Road King. I love driving. But I hate the people who come under my wheels. It is kinda uncool to have your tyres dirtied so often you know. So people, please try and keep out of the roads and if you must venture out, do it in a BMTC.

To drive home this point we drivers have adopted a new motto this year.

The safest place in Bangalore is INSIDE a BMTC bus”.

On this auspicious occasion I have New Year message for all you lovely people of Bengaluru.

My first message is for you young and bright bike riders. The road is for the big boys period. Think of your mom, sister, wife and other female relations when you decide to step on the road. Won’t they miss the chance to cook and feed you and keep your home, wash your clothes etc etc etc (and whatever else it is that women do) when you are dead? Therefore keeping them in consideration, hop on my jolly jalopy and enjoy the ride. Do us a favor. Lose the bike.

My next message is for all you irritating...well I meant well heeled four wheeler drivers. The road is not for woosies, period. Think of the size of my four wheeler.Then think of the size and EMI of your four wheeler. Then think of dealing with our Traffic Cops when you get your Merc dented! Then think of that nice garage you have at home. Then think of your car parked safely in the garage! Hope you are getting the big picture here....

Third message goes out to our tempo drivers, lorry driver etc."You scratch my back I will mangle yours right back tee hee."

Fourth and final message goes out to our dear Auto Rickshaw Drivers." F%&@ you all !!!"

I end my message wishing all pedestrians......I mean Bengalureans "Hosa Varshada Shubhaashayagalu!

Translated into English it means "Happily New Year!"

Please remember, “The safest place in Bangalore is INSIDE a BMTC bus”. Kapiche?

Your's very sincerely,


Thursday, January 05, 2006


Today as I sat at my comp hard at work, a chat window pops up in front of me startling me. It was my friend Sunitha and her message read “I can see what you doing, you bad girl !”. I was battling to keep my temper in check after a mail from the Printer telling me that the printing matter that was to be delivered today would be delivered next week as there was a huge traffic jam near the Printing Press!!!! The stupid fellow always gives such innovative excuse because he has not done the job. That’s when the chat window pops up on the monitor.

This particular incident got me thinking. What if in the near future someone develops a a Camera like software programme that could be sent to other peoples computers as a malicious attachment to capture images and sounds of the person using the computer, his surroundings etc? (Do I hear that it is already under development? *shudder*)

At the rate at which technology is leapfrogging frontiers I wouldn’t be surprised if such a thing does happen soon. The enormity of its impact on our day to day lives I am sure would be tremendous. Imagine putting on your comp and then running a “cameraware” scan to remove malicious camera programmes every time you use the comp? And be forever wary that you are being observed by “cameraware’ that slips in like adware into your computer. It would be like living in fear forever! Even pesky adwares are difficult to remove completely as they keep reappearing, so a “cameraware’ would be just as difficult to remove completely from the system. Besides such a programme may be able to read or scan important files stored in your computer and send it out using your email to a remote operator.

Computers will be confined to isolated rooms in homes as you dare not keep it in your bedroom because you change your clothes in there. Or in any other room for that matter because a your comp is now a potential peeping tom. A ‘cameraware’ will become very useful for industrial espionage as it will be easy to install and use unlike bugs.

I can think of dozens of potential hazardous applications for a ‘cameraware’ none palatable. I am sure Symantec and Grisoft will make their billions making Anti Cameraware programmes to combat the growing intrusion into our personal space. And as they make software to detect hidden Cameraware, so will the makers of Cameraware make newer and more sophisticated editions of Cameraware that will be increasingly devious and difficult to detect.

Someone please tell me that this is a technical impossibility!

( p.s.dreamslittle has elaborated the impact of such a technology in his blog)

Tuesday, January 03, 2006


Many years ago (exactly 55 years, 2 months and 4 torturous days ago) a little baby boy was born in a small village of Karnataka. His name was Puttanna. Puttanna was a chubby child with a distinct fondness for food. He held his first ever-greasy serving spoon at the tender age of two and his parent's just knew that he had a great future as a Cordon Bleu Chef.

At the tender age of six he chopped his first putrid onion. By age eight he was mixing masalas with his right hand while digging his nose with the left. By age twelve he could ambidextrously scratch his unmentionables with one hand while stirring the sambhar with another. He thus showed the qualities of a great cook at a very early age and by age 16 he was made an apprentice with the village wedding cook Ranganna !! On his 18th birthday he made his very first Rasam. Alas!!! Ranganna died soon after tasting the Rasam.

And thus Puttana was elevated to the status of the village wedding cook. It was a proud day indeed for his parents. Puttana soon became world famous in his village and much in demand as it was noticed that there was a marked fall in wedding attendees when word got out that Puttana would be the presiding chef!

Puttana soon got bored with the same old routine of a wedding cook, after all there were only so many dishes he could butcher er...master. So one day he bid farewell to his tearful parents and set out for namma Bengaluru to seeku his fortunu in a five star hotelu er...hotel. What happened after he landed in Bengaluru (erstwhile Bangalore) is hazy but some people say he was arrested for poisoning a wedding party and thus landed in the Bengaluru Central Jail. In jail he befriended the prison cook and became his assistant thus further polishing his cooking skills. Puttana was an instant hit with the jail authorities because he greatly reduced the prison food bills. The money thus saved could now be used to treat inmates of the mysterious gastric ailments that nearly killed and maimed quite a few inmates. It was said that during Puttan's term even hurly burly rowdy sheeters quaked in fear when the meal gong reverberated in the jail corridors. Prisoners had to be dragged to the dining hall and there were many cases of jail break attempts.

Soon physically taxing interrogation sessions became a cake walk in Bengaluru Police Stations. A bowl of Puttana’s best rasam if placed in front of the criminal would make him sing like a canary. Till date Amnesty International never found out how, many a prisoner died during interrogation. (No pathologist ever thought of looking for Puttanas signature bondas in the dead men's entrails and all such cases were filed as “Unexplained Phenomena.”)

Soon after Puttana’s jail term was over he came out and looked at the Bangalore skyline. He was impressed with the numerous glass structures housing IT companies. They looked more impressive than five star hotels to his untrained yes. He decided that after conquering the taste buds of prisoners he would now conquer the taste buds of people working in these glass structures. He soon established a company called Ganesh Enterprises (GE)( or “Gastro Enteritis” as it is known in our company).

Today GE proudly runs our cafeteria and is a standing testimony to the fact that “bad cooking never killed just maims your taste buds for life”

GE Menu Card a.k.a. Choose your own suicide method.


Breakfast: Granite idlis, rancid sambhar and gunpowder chutney. (bring your own hammer and Fire Extinguisher)
Snacks: Ferocious Chilli Bhajji , tame coconut chutney. (guaranteed to give you an ulcer in one hour or your money back guarantee)
Lunch: Horrors!!!!
Evening Snack: Pakodas with ignorance-is-bliss fillings (curiosity killed many an employees appetite)


Breakfast: MRF Tyre like Dosa, baby poo colored vapid chutney and thinner-than-water sambhar ( MRF’s Envy, Puttanna’s Pride)
Snacks: Mortar Vadas with tomoto kichip or you may call it tomoto saas ( one part red sauce, 10 part potato paste) !
Lunch: Gulp!
Snack: Samoosas (Friday's stale chapathi filled with Thursday's Potato curry and deep fried in engine oil.)


Breakfast: Super Gluey Upma (toothpick absolutely FREE to dig out upma from roof of mouth)
Snacks: Puttana's Signature Bonda (buy one get one FREE on Wednesday, eat all you can FREE on other days.)
Lunch: O.H M.Y G.A.W.D !!!!
Evening Snacks: Yegg Sanveg, Chiss Sanveg, Vigitible Sanveg
( Yegg = butter and Egg Powder , Chiss = butter and the firm belief that you are actually having cheese, Vigitible = butter with a choice of very lifeless vegetables, ignore the caterpillar, he is friendly)

You guessed it, GE's credo is " We bring things to life!"


Breakfast: Dunlop Tyres like Puri and Potato Curry. (boiled potatoes in hot water, bring your own masala )
Snacks: Vigitible Cutlets* with tomoto kichip or tomoto saas ! ( *pop it right in, don’t dare to look what’s inside, Pray)
Lunch: Two deworming tablets please!
Evening Snacks: Pisssa, An exotic dish made with a white chapathi, tomoto poori (puree) topped with vigitables and a generous 3 mm coating of the best Italian chiss supplied by Guttihalli Bakery. (no additional charge for cockroach/lizard and other assorted animals)


Breakfast: Gelusil / Digene
Snacks: Gelusil / Digene
Lunch: Gelusil / Digene
Evening Snacks: Gelusil / Digene

Wash above mentioned delicacies down with Coffee that can be an excellent substitute for Weak Hydrochloric Acid and Tea that can also double up as hot water.

Saturday: Check into nearest detoxification clinic if you are still alive.

Monday, January 02, 2006

PR in Heaven !

It is New Year eve and God is in a tizzy! He is alarmed at the rumors going around on earth about Heaven being a staid and boring place vis a vis the image of hell ... which was that of a rocking party zone where all sorts of immoralities could be carried out without the fear of God. God convenes a emergency meeting at 2 am celestial time with St. Peter , Archangel Gabriel and some other important Saints to discuss this serious development. St. Peter, who during his office timings at the Pearly Gates is wont to wander off to have a sneak peep into Hell is the first one to speak. “ We should hire a PR person and go for a complete image makeover of Heaven. We are facing a very techno savvy Internet generation and our traditional propaganda will not cut ice with them. I have seen the wonders that word-of-mouth-publicity has done for Hell!!” Everyone present at the meeting nod their assent leading to a lot of halos banging and jangling against each other. God surreptitiously removes the cotton balls that he keeps for such meetings and stuffs them in his ears. (The jangling noise was getting on his nerves.) For this brilliant suggestion St. Peter is entrusted with the job of finding a suitable PR person to undertake this Herculean task.

Next day St. Peter bids goodbye to all the angels and saints and after entrusting the task of gatekeeping to Gabriel sets out to look for a suitable PR person for Operation Yo Mama (the secret code word for the PR operation) He searches the Heavens and Earth for weeks but is unsuccessful in his endeavours as all the good PR people were in Hell!

On his return to gatekeeping he is as usual taking his Milk and Honey break sitting pensive on Hell’s walls peeping into Hell and ogling at the ladies when the Devil appeares and says to him. “ Petes my dear friend!!! I know what you are looking for. You need a good PR person right? I know of someone on Earth who can do the job well. She is known as Miss Communication and she is known for her good PR skills. ( the devil is devious , he knows this gal has made a hash of the PR job that was entrusted to her for only one day. He is hoping for a similar goof up.) St. Peter is immensely relieved, as God had threatened to demote him to a Milk Bar Vendor if he did not get the PR person by the weekend. ( poor St. Peter he loved his Scotch and being next to the Neon Gates of Hell, could occasionally sneak into Hell for a quick swig). The thought of pouring milk for the heavenly inmates for the rest of his life was unnerving. The last milk vendor in Heaven was caught spiking the milk with Scotch to contain the rebellion of the souls who were fed up of the constant diet of milk and honey. He was then demoted as prayer vendor. He was again caught this time tampering with the prayers by inserting the word Big Daddy instead of God and Holy Molly instead of Holy Spirit to make it more interesting for the inmates bored of repeating the same prayers day in and day out for Eternity. He was again demoted to a gardening job in Eden. In the Garden of Eden this soul was again caught making illicit liqor from the grapes and further demoted as Halo Polisher and the saga of sacrilegious crimes continued. He was the first serial offender in the history of Creation.

Anyways to cut our narrative short St. Peter land up in namma Bengaluru( a mysterious place from where a lot of souls are seen entering the Neon Gates of Hell) and convinces MS to undertake the job.

Upon reaching Heaven, MS is shocked at the very pansy, pearl studded Pearly Gate. It was no wonder that many souls cast into heaven preferred to deviate to the flashing Neon Gate of Hell right next door. The Pearly Gate was also defaced with obscene grafitti by the heavenly inmates. One of the graffiti that made her gasp read:

It’s Hell in here,
Heaven next door!

She decides that in order to present Heaven as an attractive alternative to Hell, she would have to do some PR work for the heavenly inmates too. (So that they would stop making those ugly holes in Heaven’s pearly walls to stare shamelessly into the going ons in Hell)

On Day One she tears down the Pearly gates and installs a really funky doorway with an flashing illumination signboard in psychedelic pink, blue and orange. The signboard reads “ Enter at your own risk” and the Pearly Gates is now re-christened “Gateway to Heaven” to give it that air of adventure and thrills that was missing earlier.

On Day Two she attacks the boring white hospital robes of the heavenly inmates. She ropes in famous designer Michael Jackson for a complete redesign of the heavenly uniforms. Michael Jackson wields his/her magic scissors and soon the inmates are like the weirdos in Hell!

On Day Three MS's agenda was to reduce the overwhelming presence of Milk and Honey bars in heaven. She prevails upon St. Peter to get permission from God to operate Holy Wine Bars so that the inmates would get a break from their usual bland liquid diet. The inmates rejoice as this means that they need not sneak out of heaven to the seedy bars operated by Hell outside the Pearly Gates.

On Day Four MS pulls out all the angels patrolling Heavens boundaries and sends them for dance classes at the famous Bollywood Jatka School in Mumbai. Upon successful completion of their Dance classes they were to provide alternate entertainment to combat the steady stream of jumpees into Hell from Heaven.

On Day Five the rivers of milk and honey is dammed and replaced with Scotch and Vodka to combat the illicit bars outside the pearly gates from where the Guardian Angels had to regularly drag heavenly inmates back to Heaven.

On Day Six MS removes the Harps and Lyres played by the inmates and replaces them with the loudest electronic musical instruments available in the market. (Noise proofing Heavens walls to keep out the loud music from Hell did not help due to numerous holes made by the inmates)

OnDay Seven MS Wi-Fi's Heaven and Arch angel Gabriel is made the System Administrator ( He was suitably experienced in the job anyway due to the long hours he spent with his hellish counterpart in Hell's Network Neighborhood.)

MS looks at her creation and is satisfied. All she needs now is another client to meet her sales target this year.

The Devil in the meantime was getting increasingly alarmed with the transition of Heaven into a Hell-like-zone. He was now determined to get rid of MS and stop her make-over frenzy which was beginning to hit his bottom line and image really hard. (Just yesterday an inmate of Hell actually jumped the Pearly Walls into heaven when he saw the angels doing a “Pardesia” remix number to an appreciative audience) So one day the Devil sneaks into Heaven wearing his God costume that he has been successfully using from the time of Creation and lies in wait for MS in the garden of Eden. At last he spots her and confronts her.

Devil: I am God! I demand that you stop the makeover work in Heaven!
MS: What a long tail you have my Lord!
Devil: is the latest fashion accessory
MS: What sharp fangs you have my Lord!
Devil: needs a lil trimming I know.
MS: And what an ugly face you have Mr. Devil!
Devil: er...was it that obvious?
MS:Hire me! I can make you look like God himself!
Devil: You are hired!! But make sure I look better than God.
MS: Of course!!! I will send you an Estimate for the job immediately.

PR gal successfully gets another client and the rest is history.