tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72953458376584794622024-03-18T21:42:58.502-07:00Devil's WorkshopChatzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16941984187880465520noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295345837658479462.post-36090680963711056432017-11-13T11:18:00.001-08:002017-11-13T11:58:11.482-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">My first time (part 1)...</span></span></h2>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">For those who know me well, they'd say I'm a
happy go lucky chap, always up for pranks....And indeed I liked it that way.
Happily nestled at Bangalore, earning my spurs by designing aircraft and
burning midnight oil to watch Chelsea play on those amazing Champions league
nights, life was great. But as some wise man had stated, all good things must
come to an end for the next one to begin. Well, one fine morning (1pm to be
precise) when I woke up rather grumpy...because Chelsea had just been knocked
out of the Champion's league by none other than Jose's Inter the last night, my
dad called me up. After the initial pleasantries, I was shaken out of my
slumber by what he said next- 'beta...you are 27. Is there some girl about whom
you'd want us to know? be free, you know how frank we are with you". As
flabbergasted I was, I was pleasantly surprised. Why not...After all</span><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"> </span><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">I get to meet some girls and maybe...just may
be...start being in a relationship.</span><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">
</span><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">After regaining my composure, I replied "com'on dad...You know I'm
single...and happy". </span><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"> </span><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Thankfully, it
ended there...for the time being.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The very next day, It was
my mom. I guess they were paying one of those 2 on 1 handicap wrestling matches
(WWE) that I used to so enjoy watching through my childhood. Here I was consistently
outmanoeuvred to submission and I was helpless but to listen to them. I always
knew my dad is tech savvy. Thanks to this, my parents had made a wonderful li'l
profile of their dear "sarva gunnnn sampanna" son on one of those
modern day matrimony website. With nowhere to go, I reluctantly agreed to go
thru the profile of a girl who had apparently expressed her interest in my
profile. Trying not to be overly enthusiastic about this development, I asked
them how do I check it if I don't have a login and a password? To my dismay, my
parents, they had all the bases covered. They simply passed me on the required
credentials and a deadline for me to revert to them with my view. This left me
with no choice literally. After the call, I duly obliged. Though I was not
toooooo impressed, I thought...just like you try mock interviews before u shoot
aim for the dream job, I thought let me give it a shot.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"> As my luck would have it, I
had to travel to CHENNNNNNNAAAIIIII....in search of my soul mate. I had spent a
couple of weeks in Chennai earlier, on official assignments. And no offence to
the city, but I felt like a fish out of water during my brief stay in Chennai.
So I dreaded at the prospect of having to travel to the same place, this time
for meeting a ‘prospective life partner’. I thought, the ramifications for this
visit could be fateful. But then, can any ‘good son’ win against his parent’s
emotional attack?? Most certainly NO. And subsequently, just like all ‘good
sons’ do, I was convinced by my parents to meet this ‘susheeeeeeel girl’ and
her family in Chennai. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">After initial hesitations,
I buckled up. After all how bad can it be? For I was travelling to Chennai to
meet this girl (whose profile I had looked up and admired on a matrimony site).
She could be fun to be with. And it was just a day trip. I will be back to
namma Bengalooru by nightfall, the next day. So I boarded the night train that
would reach Chennai central by early next morning. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chennnnnnnnnnnnnaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiii……...<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"> My friends would vouch that I am terrible at waking up early. But the train had reached its destination at 6am. And I lazily picked my back pack and lumbered off the train to the platform. I thought “it would be a good Idea to make myself presentable to ‘my prospective in laws’ when I meet them, rather than turn up in my ‘messed up 6am’ looks”. So I trudged off to the washroom, cleaned myself up in front of the mirror that had a diagonal crack running across it. I realised…I was a mirror cracking material indeed. Then I came out of the washroom but realised that my breath stinks. I suddenly remembered that I had not brushed my teeth. Not a problem though. I promptly took out toilet kit and made my way to a series of taps that were lined up. Done with brushing my teeth, to get rid of the last bit of laze, I started to splash water on my face vigorously. It was then that I realised that a few ladies were shouting at each other. From my feeble understanding of Tamil, I realised that they were actually cursing someone. Well Oblivious to the happening, I continued my ‘clean up’ and then just when I turned back, I realised that those ladies were actually not quarrelling among them, but their ire was directed towards none other than myself. I wondered, what did I do? Then I realised, I was using the tap that was near the ladies wash room. Anyways, I ignored them, moved on…Outside the station, I booked an uber to the address that was provided. All good till now, barring a few minor hiccups.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Once in the cab, though a wee bit sleepy, the enormity of the situation gravitated upon me. I was going to meet a girl…who could potentially spend the rest her life with me. OH SHITTTTTT…..why did I sign up for this….Can I turn back now? Oh no…what would my parents think? Also If I turn back now, it will be like chickening out of the situation….That girl would think of me as a coward. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. With no way out of it, I decided to take on the situation head on. ‘How brave of me’. I did my hair once again, checked myself up on the car mirror…boy handsome. That gave me courage. The cab driver thankfully could speak English. That helped easing my nerves. After about an hour’s drive, I was there….To meet a girl and her family…for the first time… with the objective of spending the rest of my dear life with her…Oh No…God Help me. Why me…?? Pleasseeeee…..ok…..Calm down…u can always reject her…Hell, she can reject u…oh no…that would be embarrassing…Grrrrrrrrr…it’s a mess…what do I do now?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">(To be continued.....)</span></span></div>
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Chatzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16941984187880465520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295345837658479462.post-29207798783979183962017-11-13T11:17:00.000-08:002017-11-13T11:58:17.664-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What the Fish!! (My first time:Part 2)</span></b></h2>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms";"> I had already informed my
‘prospective’ in laws about my arrival after I had touched down. It was around
9am, I was welcomed at the gate of their apartment building. After the initial
pleasantries, we moved in. This being the ‘first time’, I was still a bundle of
nerves. The girl’s parents enquired about my journey and did their best to make
me feel comfortable. Theirs was a small family of 3 and they had shifted to
Chennai a few years before the girl was born. By now, it was time for
breakfast. Being a first timer, I was very careful to be at my courteous best.
And the moment for which I had been waiting for had finally arrived. The girl
joined us for breakfast. For all my excitement, I was actually unsure of what
would be appropriate for me to do…Hence I decided, let me concentrate on
food…for I was hungry after all my travails last night. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #BF9000; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: lumm=75000; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: accent4; mso-themecolor: accent4; mso-themeshade: 191;"> Once done with the
breakfast, the parents ‘left us’ to talk in private. I am sure, they must have
been snooping at us from a safe distance. By now, I believed, I had developed a
decent image of myself to them….. At least I thought so. After an awkward silence,
I asked the girl about what she does and if it would be OK for her to relocate
to Bangalore in the future. The entire conversation lasted for about 7 minutes
and spanned no more than 12 sentences (give or take). It was about 10:30 am now
and frankly, I was getting bored. So much for meeting a girl….sigh. My return
tickets were booked for the 4pm and I somehow had to kill time but I was
stuck……like a fly in spider net. Just when such thoughts were clouding my
thinking, her father enthusiastically offered to take me around the place. I
agreed for I wanted some fresh air. Little did I know that ‘my first time
experience’ is only just getting started.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #BF9000; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: lumm=75000; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: accent4; mso-themecolor: accent4; mso-themeshade: 191;"> Once outside, her father
took me around in his bike. By looking at him, I could make out that he was out
for his grocery shopping. Nevertheless I was glad to just make it out of the
house. Then something happened that left me flabbergasted. He told me that they
get amazing fishes in Chennai and took me straight to a fish market. YES …FISH
MARKET. I was dumbfounded. This indeed left me speechless. While I am not
averse to fishes or visiting the fish market, I found myself in a hilarious
position. I was moving from one fish stall to another, wearing my best dress,
among fishes, dead and alive. If that was not enough, I felt that I was
attending a lecture on fishes. I quickly realised that this man has profound
knowledge about fishes, how they taste and how they should be cooked. From one
stall to another, I felt like I was a fish, not just out of water but stuck in
a fish market. At long last, I could see light at the end of the tunnel. Our
man has screened all the shops in the market, but have not been able to net his
dream fish. Relieved, I thought, we will head back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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there was another fish market near by. God why do bongs eat fish? Hell why do
men eat fish? They look good only in aquariums and ponds. Why can’t men just
leave them alone…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #BF9000; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: lumm=75000; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: accent4; mso-themecolor: accent4; mso-themeshade: 191;"> We boarded the bike
again…only to stop at the next fish market. We repeated the same drill…The
lecturer went through all the stall, repeated the same drill once again. It
felt like déjà vu. Same fishes, same story…only a different market. I was left
wondering…what this man was trying to achieve by taking me to various fish
markets. Was he trying to impress me about how he,being out of Bengal for so
long was still a fish eating bong at heart? Or was he trying to show off his
considerable knowledge about fishes? Whatever it was, he was successful in
generating an intense but temporary dislike for fishes in me. After another few
minutes, he was left exasperated that he could not find the fish that his heart
desired in two of Chennai’s biggest and most thriving fish markets. I nodded in
concurrence. Dejected, we headed home. On the way, he stopped right next to a
roadside fish vendor. He seemed visibly delighted. He had his eureka moment. He
had finally found the fish his heart craved for, that too at a reasonable
price. I must admit that I silently appreciated his zeal and endeavour.
Finally, we headed home. Our man had a triumphant air about him by now. He
boasted to his wife, how he had taken me around the neighbourhood while he also
bought his fish.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "comic sans ms"; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #BF9000; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: lumm=75000; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: accent4; mso-themecolor: accent4; mso-themeshade: 191;"> It was well past noon by now. It was time for
me to bid farewell to the family and head back to the bus station which I did
with utmost pleasure. Once I boarded the bus back to Bangalore, my enthusiastic
parents who had kept a lid on their curiosity all thru the day finally called
up. Poor parents. They became my punching bag. While I narrated the story of
the bygone 12 hours, about how my meeting with the “susheeeeeeeel girl” lasted
no more than 7 minutes and no longer than 12 precious sentences. How I am now
an expert about anything that is fishy…read fish, and that I could put a
fisherman to shame by my in depth knowledge about fishes and my adventurous
excursion to not one but two of Chennai’s biggest fish markets. While I was
narrating all this, I could hear my parents laughing so loudly that it only infuriated
me all the more. I cut the call, snoozed off for a while, dreaming of
mermaids…err fishes. When I woke up, it was with a smile on my face….for I
realised, had I not made this journey, I could never have had so much fun (in
hindsight). I called up my parents once again…This time, we laughed about the
whole trip. And finally I reached my humble abode at Bangalore. Still single,
ready to mingle…But more experienced than ever. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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was memorable…This was a trip that I remember every time I buy fish, even to
this date. When I narrated this tale to my wife, she insisted that I write
about this particular one in my blog….and hence this blog. Hope you like it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Chatzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16941984187880465520noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295345837658479462.post-91027914314869665752016-04-09T07:38:00.001-07:002016-04-09T07:41:53.505-07:00The FARRRTTT journey<p dir="ltr"><i>      We were returning from our long awaited honeymoon. And it was worth it. Manali ...it's beauty had my wifey and myself spellbound. We were travelling back to Delhi in a semi occupied Volvo. It was a comfortable ride and we were enjoying the last glimses of those snow clad mountains of Kullu and Manali. The serene tranquil atmosphere of the bus was suddenly interrupted by a biological weapon that is universally called FARRRTTTT. Ok...it can happen sometimes. We tried to ignore the 'sweet strawberry flavoured air freshener' and went back to admiring our surroundings. We even complimented ourselves for how nicely the entire tour was planned.... BaAaNnnNnGG!!!... No it did not sound like a hydrogen bomb...but it sure smelt like a poisonous mixture of 2moles hydrogen sulfide and 3moles of concentrated nitric acid. Wonder what had this gentlefartman had for his lunch that he was producing enough biological weapon of mass destruction to wipe the small town of manali. </i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>   In the seat behind us was a couple who had fully wrapped up. So much so that they had covered their head and ear with scarves and the rest of their face and the the blanket...to the extent that only exposed portion and of their anatomy were their eyes. I joked to my wife saying that they must be from down south and that they were struggling with the cold of Manali even inside the air-conditioned bus. Just then did we realise the  motive behind it. They were protecting themselves from this deadly biological warfare that was being inflicted upon us, the poor and helpless travellers....by this unknown, undercover merchant of FART. We immediately followed suit and covered up in the hope that it would help. ...... Alas...not to be. We realised it was a futile attempt. Suiting up only heated up the already vitiated air inside the coach. We were left to fend for ourselves... Poor souls.... We two.</i><br><br></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>   Divine intervention..... The bus stopped for us to disembark and have our dinner. Not only we ran out of it for some much needed fresh air(minus the H2S smell) but with the hope that our beloved fartman will eat a stomach full to give his biogas plant a much needed 'maintainence break' and stop farting for the rest of the night. I also desperately needed to take a leak..... My bladders were bursting. As a result, without noticing the sign on the door of the scantly lit washroom, I barged inside and relieved myself with a relieved smile on my face..listening to my wifey laugh out loud outside with some other lady. It was then that I realised, I have just relieved myself in the ladies washroom. I thanked God for the washroom was empty when I barged in and bolted the door. For had it been otherwise ...err...let's not go there.</i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>    We had a decent dinner while watching India play at the T20 world cup. Clicked a few pictures on the beautiful full moon lit holo night. As the bus honked calling us back in for the night, we reluctantly hopped in, only to find that with the AC being off, while,l our man has turned the coach into a Nazi inspired concentration camp thanks to his muli ki sabzi and hingoli laden food that our man probably had before he decided to screw our night journey. As the bus twisted and turned thru the curvy and mountainous roads, we slumped in our cushioned seats hit the snooze button. By god, my wife looks all the more prettier while she's asleep. A fact that often leads me to click her while she's sleeping. Just when i was admiring her innocent face, our man decided to let one go....BAMMM...poor girl, my wifey woke up with a cringed face with the blanket covering her nose. I was at my wit's end...trying to figure out, just how much and for how long can a a man continue to fart???!!</i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>     If that was not all, our bus strolled into Mandi bus stop where a couple of guys in their early 20s, one of them sporting a salmanesque bracelet boarded the bus. The same hotshot sat next to us. Took out his shining phone, set up his earphones and started listening to his music. I was impressed. For what I had seen during my train journeys, my experience with people listening to music from their phones had been particularly loud and unpleasant. Just when I was slipping back to my sweet dreams, our salman from Mandi started to sing aloud...yesss...our man was singing a hit Kumar sanu number from the late 90s aloud in the bus at 2300hours...beat that! I reluctantly tapped his shoulders and gestured him to keep it low..he apologised...smart kid...I told ya. </i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>     No sooner had he stopped his 'bu(th)sroom' singing, our man called up his friend (a girl probably). And probably to impress people around him more than the girl, he started to blurt out angrezi in desi ishtyle...trust me it was hilarious..."y u not accept my fraaanship request on aaefbee?"..."tum mere fotus ko like and comment karna...it will make me feel good about u"...to quote a few. I could make out from his side of conversation that the other person was uninterested...poor guy.. Reluctantly he hung up and then went back to his music...this time humming them and vigorously shaking his head... He was probably listening to Linkin Park now... Good for his English...</i><br>
<i>       </i><br>
<i>      Slowly thereafter as the night grew, our in-house fartman and smart guy reduced their favouritr activities and I slumped in my seat to my good night's sleep...only to wake up and admire my beautiful biwi's pretty innocent face before I slept again....it was a happy journey afterall...and these memories...they'll last a lifetime.</i></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ59rxoeK43p8eXllMl1RGm5_CzUZYeV41cWuMt1AmznPfFRU6_N39S17_ewOm8rcY6NgD0_1L7_VNxtaLCJX-vqPqwNkF2PSuDvDp0ZohQpjatgO6OQGOatm5IQiXxiper5EwWWai7UGU/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ59rxoeK43p8eXllMl1RGm5_CzUZYeV41cWuMt1AmznPfFRU6_N39S17_ewOm8rcY6NgD0_1L7_VNxtaLCJX-vqPqwNkF2PSuDvDp0ZohQpjatgO6OQGOatm5IQiXxiper5EwWWai7UGU/s640/images.jpg"> </a> </div>Chatzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16941984187880465520noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295345837658479462.post-74616879786839351332014-09-07T07:37:00.001-07:002014-09-07T07:37:40.178-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="font-size: large;">Good
morniiiiiiiiiing Meeee!!!!</span></span><span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;">7:30 : Beep beep....beep beep....SNOOOOOZZZZEE...10 more minutes.</span><span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;">7:40 : Beep beep....beep
beep..aaagghhhh!!! Snooozzze...5 more minutes. Com’on. Why does the mobile
phone has to work with the precision of a Rolex when it comes to the morning
alarm!! It’s just a phone afterall. OK....juuuuuust one more snooze and then I am
up.</span><span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;">BANGGG!!! 8:10 : Goodness
gracious me....How can I sleep for so long....OMG...I had snoozed the alarm for
just 5 more minutes...This mobile is of no use. It can’t even do the basic
function of waking me up on time. Now I will have to race against time to catch
my bus to work.</span><span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;">8:15 : I am finally up and
running. I admire my sleepy looks in the mirror and walk out to pick up the
toothbrush and the toothpaste. On my way though, I find the newspaper, neatly
folded with a full page photograph of Monica Bellucci on the front page. I
wonder how the bombshell can make the front page news, when they were supposed
to be page 3 attractions. Keeping one eye on the clock, I reluctantly pick up
the paper. Of course I could not help but admire this Italian beauty in the
advertisement. Now I know how this paper has the maximum circulation. When such
beautiful goddesses make up the front page of the newspaper, they are hard to
miss, even if you don’t really intend to read them in a hurry. Still keeping
one eye on the clock, I skimmed through the headlines of all the pages and
finally reached the end of it. OH SHITTTT!!!..The clock now read 8:25. Com’on
dude...u have to get ready NOW. Else you have to take the BMTC Volvo and stand
in the heavy crowd through the journey in the morning rush hours....errr...is
that Prachi and Chitrangada on the cover page of the supplement? Of course it
was them, sporting polka dots short skirts. Now how can you miss them even if
you are late? Also it would not be politically right to admire the Italian diva
and give these Indian divas a miss. I take another 4 minutes to refresh my eye
and mind in the morning, after such a tough day yesterday.</span><span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;">8:35 : With great difficulty, I
throw the newspaper away and I’m off to the washroom. The moment I start
brushing my teeth, “WHAT THE HELL...” the toothpaste tastes like soap! I
realise that I had picked up the wrong tube and conveniently replaced my
toothpaste with my shaving cream while admiring those bombshells in the
newspaper.</span><span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;">8:40 : The office bus is to
arrive in 15 minutes. I still have a fighting chance to escape wrestling with
the crowd....that is if I can finish up all my early morning tasks before 8:55.</span><span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;">8:45 : The geyser is on but
there’s no hot water. WHY GOD?? WHY?? WHY ALWAYS ME & WHY TODAY OF ALL
DAYS??? Not that today was anything special, but I used these phrases together,
even if they don’t really convey anything meaningful at most times. I resigned
to my fate and took a cold shower bath (if you can call it a bath...I most
certainly DO). OH NO...NOT AGAIN...Towel...where are youuuu?? I had not brought
my towel to wipe off after the bath. By now, I was used to it though...I have a
habit of forgetting my towel before I take bath....Blame this bad habit on my
mom. In fact you can blame all my bad habits on her – She’s a sweetheart and
she won’t mind. I make do with my tee that I was wearing at night...anyway that
tee needed a wash. Nice then...it got what it deserves...the tee I mean.</span><span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;">The small clock on my bathroom
shelf read 8:55. That’s all right, I thought. It was ahead of its time by 5
minutes to compensate for my sense of punctuality (or rather lack of it) in the
morning.</span><span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;">8:50 : Wow...that was quick..The
shower. Now I feel fresh like a flower. I glance at the newspaper once again.
But this time I restrain myself – “CHILL DUDE....u have the entire evening to
spend with her, after you return from work”. I spend another another minute in
front of the same mirror – dress up – apply deo spray lavishly (for obvious
reasons-refer to the deo spray commercials please), do my shoes, pick up my
bag, put my shades on and one final glance at the mirror before I rush out –
BOY, you are handsome.</span><span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;">8:54 : Why of all the time in
the day, the lift has to go up instead if coming down, when I am supposed to
use it to rush out?? Aaahhh!!!...JUST MY LUCK. I jump 3 steps at a time and
rush out of the gate.</span><span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;">8:56 : I am almost there....I
can see a colleague of mine waiting for bus on the other side of the road.
WOW...YOU DID IT SON!</span><span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;">All I need to do is to cross the
road and reach my bus stop..butttt...the traffic. How insensitive of the people
behind the wheels...can’t they see a guy desperately trying to cross the road.
Can’t they see the desperation in my eyes? With great courage (call it courage,
valour or call it risk or stupidity), I reach the median of the road...half the
battle won. I plunge into the onrushing traffic and cross the other half of the
road to reach my destination. Here I am, after braving so many obstacles, right
from the attractive women to freezing cold water bath, I have reached the
destination beating the clock. I felt triumphant.</span><span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;"> </span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;">*<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>*<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>*<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>* </span><span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;">9:05 : It’s still the two of us
waiting for the office bus. Normally the bus is more punctual than the official
time keeper of F1 races.</span><span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;">9:10 : Well, like most days, I
had missed my bus. That KAMEEEEEENA bus driver could not wait for 1 more minute
for poor me. Now I have to wrestle with the rush hour crowd and stand in the
crowded bus for an hour to reach work. The newspaper is to be blamed. Why do
they serve the newspaper in the mornings? No...It’s not the newspaper...It’s
the combined trio of Monica, Prachi and Chitrangada to be blamed. If only God
had not made them so pretty, I would not have missed the bus today as well (the
third time in this week). So it’s GOD (and not those pretty ladies) who is to
be blamed for me missing the bus. I felt relieved...that I was not at fault. I
thanked god, took the next Volvo ...stood for an hour before I got a place to
sit...reached office just in time and what I do at work??....I do ROCKET
SCIENCE</span><span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-hansi-font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span><span style="color: #bfbfbf; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: background1; mso-themeshade: 191;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
</div>
Chatzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16941984187880465520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295345837658479462.post-1752352647320032352012-11-27T09:15:00.002-08:002012-11-27T09:51:19.781-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<h2 align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #00b050; font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><u>Growing UP</u></span></h2>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="color: #00b050; font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="color: #00b050; font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">Hello everyone,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="color: #00b050; font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">Remember me? The 'once in a while' blogger. An outsider down
south....rings a bell??? Yeah right....I am back after a break to put into
words about a brief period of my life which I lived in the recent past.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #00b050; font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><o:p> </o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="color: #00b050; font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life was great (at least I thought so
by painting it colourful). I had just finished my graduation from a premier
engineering college (I claim it to be a premier one). I studied Mechanical
Engineering and the class had 43 guys (‘khulle saand’) and a solitary gal
(‘Mech Rani’). By the time I completed the 4 years of grind, I did manage to
land a couple of decent jobs. My parents were over the moon for their li’l kid
has grown up. I do not subscribe to that grown up part though (never will, for
I believe – “There’s a li’l kid in all of us. The day that kid grows up, you
lose the charm of life”). I started to prepare myself to leave the comforts of
home and to face the hostile world outside. Movies, video-games, hanging out
with pals and of course, most important of them all – ZzZZzzzz!! – They all
formed my short preparation for the long battle up ahead (which I am still
fighting and winning, or shall I say surviving).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="color: #00b050; font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
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</span>*<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>*<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>*<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>*<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #00b050; font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On a chilly
October morning, I landed in Bangalore (Not by flight, but by keeping awake
while travelling on the last row of a rusty and rickety bus- back bencher habit
dies hard). Upon taking the next bus to my destination in the city, the
conductor asked for a cool Rs.120 for 2 tickets – I reconfirmed the amount –
not once but twice (probably thrice!) before handing it over to him. I could
not quite comprehend, how a city bus can charge so high for a journey that
would not allow me to enjoy the A/C for no more than 45 minutes (I had never
travelled in a Volvo bus within the city before this incident). That was my
first “real life shock” in the new city. I was going to live in one of the most
happening cities of the world – BANGALORE. The IT capital of India (and
probably the world – at least I thought so, for I had not seen the world). So
much so, that this city would give sleepless nights to the likes of the American
law makers about the outsourcing issue. WoooHooooo!!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #00b050; font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once into the job, it felt like I
was on top of the world. I was supposed to design aircrafts. Yeah. You heard me
right – DESIGN AIRCRAFTS. Though my knowledge was limited to the vague
description of the stress - strain relationship of a mild steel bar under
tension ( my engineer friends would know that this is the most basic thing that
you are taught in college and a definite question in any job interview), I felt
quietly confident. My daily routine changed from “Food-Movies-Games-Food-Movies-Games-Sleep”
(before work started) to “Games-Food-Gossip-Games-Gossip-Food-Sleep”. In
between though, I underwent a few trainings which were aimed at making me ‘fit’
for the job that I was supposed to perform. If only I could keep my eyes open
while attending them.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="color: #00b050; font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #00b050; font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though I must confess that the weekdays
were fairly routine affair, it was the weekends that kept me going. Not only
was I allowed to sleep and drool till the sun was directly above me, the after
dark hours were irresistible. It seemed like I was attending the 9<span style="font-size: small;"><sup>th</sup>
semester of college with friends who were around me. All these things made me
feel, “WOW, Life’s Good”. Other then weekends, everyone loved Fridays. You HAD
to attend office on Fridays for its on Fridays that you get to see ‘colours’ in
an otherwise ‘black and white’ world. It was one such Friday, we were told that
the upcoming weekend would be a working one and that our slog through the week
was deemed insufficient and that the slog had to be continued on Saturday as well.
Though I was not averse to working on an odd weekend, what worried me was the
huge dump of dirty linen that was overflowing out of my laundry bag and
painting a very dirty picture of my otherwise well (un)kept room. Wearing the
undies inside out was a good gag only in campus day gossips. That definitely
could not be done in reality (or could they??) Well I know of men who have been
there done that but I won’t reveal them (unless your offer is really
unputdownable). Washing clothes was a thing that we all dreaded and it had to
be done on every lazy Saturday afternoons...with a working weekend, WHAT NOW??<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #00b050; font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was getting used
to life away from the comforts of home. Probably I was growing up....Was I??
Should I??<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #00b050;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></i><br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #00b050; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; line-height: 115%;">Nayyyyyyy!!!!!!</span></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #00b050; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; line-height: 115%;"></span></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #00b050; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; line-height: 115%;">Love,</span></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #00b050; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; line-height: 115%;">Chatz.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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Chatzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16941984187880465520noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295345837658479462.post-36324935486882948992012-05-04T07:33:00.000-07:002014-09-06T10:35:02.301-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="line-height: 115%;"><em><span style="color: grey;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Travelling ‘cattle class’<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></em></span></u></b></span></div>
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<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><em><span style="color: grey;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was a long day....logged in for work at 7am. Had to finish the mandatory 3.5
hrs in office to get my attendance marked. Then I had to rush to B’lore from
Mysore to catch the 7pm train from Yeshwanthpur. The prodigal son was returning
home after a gap of 6 months....battle scarred yet victorious. I managed to
catch the train...just in the nick of time....and finally settled in my comfy
side lower berth of the A2 coach. Though a li'l tired, I was high on spirits...for I
was going HOME....After an early dinner, I drowsed off. Just when my dream girl
was approaching (in my dream of course), a commotion woke me up, a weird cacophony
of a male, female and kids voice, all speaking at the same time. I glanced at
my watch.....it read 12:05 am. <o:p></o:p></span></span></em></span></span></div>
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<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><em><span style="color: grey;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As my friends
would testify, nothing can actually disturb my sleep...and so given that
reputation of mine, I just ignored it all and turned over after pulling the
curtains again. Just when I was about to get back to what I do best (sleep that
is), a dead weight...probably close to a ton fall on my legs....and it would
not move. That woke me up....and I was grumpy. I saw a 40-somthing lady making
herself comfortable on my seat, at the cost of my precious sleep. When I peeped
out of the curtain, I realised a family of 5 had just boarded the train with
waitlisted tickets.<o:p></o:p></span></span></em></span></span></div>
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<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><em><span style="color: grey;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The men started
with area domination, as the armed forces do after reclaiming the land from
naxalites. The females did their part by sanitizing the area by sprinkling
‘ganga jal’ (water from the river Ganges-supposed to purify anything and
everything). A few drops did fell on me, which I chose to ignore. But hey, I
can’t complain....I was being purified. All the single berth holders were
cajoled off to other coaches, even if they had done their part of area
domination before the melee started at the stroke of midnight. Once the dust
settled, came a pot bellied man wearing a dark but dirty coat. You guessed it
right. He was the TTE. From the corner of my eyes I caught him make a fellow
waitlisted passengers cough off Rs.200 each in lieu of berths.<o:p></o:p></span></span></em></span></span></div>
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<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><em><span style="color: grey;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally the
chaos settled and once the lights were switched off. I thanked God for that for
I could go back to sleep. I was proved wrong though. I strange pattern of weird
noise disturbed me....and it would reach its crescendo every 2minand then get
back to normal. It was the lady next door (berth) snoring her way to glory. The
gentleman, not to be left behind in this ‘Indian-railway-idol’ show, promptly started
to showcase his DJ skills on loudspeaker of his god forbidden Chinese made cell
phone. If that was not enough for the night, the song that played was a popular
‘nasal’ number. I was in the middle of a nasal cacophony – snoring and singing
all at once.<o:p></o:p></span></span></em></span></span></div>
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<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><em><span style="color: grey;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next morning, I woke up to the nuggets of
wisdom from the Alpha male of the bunch, explaining how to be roman when in
Rome. His analogy was stupendous. He said, because they use coconut oil down
south to cook, he would carry with him home made food supplies for the entire
duration of his tour. Roman indeed....need I say any more. Suddenly our man
took out his cam coder from his bag. Its price tag was still intact though it
looked fairly old. He started recording with his pricey but old cam coder, with
running commentary. Though it was a bit awkward being in front of the lens, I
acted normal. Once the train reached Vishakhapatnam, the compulsive commentator
announced to the camcorder and us in general “we are now reaching Vishakhapatnam.
This is the capital of Andhra Pradesh” For a moment I could not believe my
ears. I could not help myself and told him that Hyderabad and not vizag is AP’s
capital. Bang!!!! Came the reply with an air of superlative sanguinity, “u don’t
know dear, its Vishakhapatnam now”. WOW....that was it...What could I say....geography
re-recorded. <o:p></o:p></span></span></em></span></span></div>
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<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><em><span style="color: grey;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For GOD SAKE....I
was travelling in a train on a valid ticket, in an upper class coach. I was
wondering, if u have deaf and dumb as co passengers while travelling by air,
this must be the ‘great Indian cattle class’, the term now made famous by a
very well respected former minister.<o:p></o:p></span></span></em></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-MpeHh2ylgPU2vUKztxXqEz1oG5gQtzXWJT3rObIx3DKNTVG37xUZBfZFl5yx51yQaGIN_pI6Nfhe7BjcIMKVuJB33LiSIYwxvP2ikS8tS_F4JWCDAP__GkZCeHUV4p9Xj-qvX6k_3a15/s1600/train.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-MpeHh2ylgPU2vUKztxXqEz1oG5gQtzXWJT3rObIx3DKNTVG37xUZBfZFl5yx51yQaGIN_pI6Nfhe7BjcIMKVuJB33LiSIYwxvP2ikS8tS_F4JWCDAP__GkZCeHUV4p9Xj-qvX6k_3a15/s320/train.gif" height="226" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><em><span style="color: grey;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> I thanked God for that was the last leg of the most irritable
train journey I had till date. But on the hindsight, it was fun. I still LMAO
about it. For if it had not happened, ‘this’ would never had come up. And I
sincerely hope Mr. ‘Know it all’ DJ get his facts right next time he is trying
to shoot and comment on something.<o:p></o:p></span></span></em></span></span></div>
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Chatzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16941984187880465520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295345837658479462.post-48428706817940973402012-01-08T09:54:00.000-08:002012-01-10T11:08:04.096-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em><span style="color: #ffd966;"><u><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><strong>Kitna badal gaya INSAAN</strong></span></u> </span></em></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em><span style="color: #ffd966;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<br />
Kitna badal gaya insaan…..I remember hearing this tune on TV….Never once did I realize that it would be applicable to me as well. It struck me while I was working at the Devil’s workshop (read…when I was Idle).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></em></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;"> <em></em></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em> As is the case often these days, once I’m done with my office….I browse the net or I become the slave of the Idiot Box. On one such mundane evening, it was the later entertaining me. While flipping through the channels, suddenly I saw ‘THE ROCK’ in one of the channels…..immediately I stopped flipping the channels. The much adored WWE (the then WWF) was on air and the long gone yet not forgotten ‘Rock’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>was back…albeit for a guest appearance. WWF used to be such a fad during my school days that I could remember the vital stats of most of the wrestlers ….at times, at the cost of the formula of Benzene/ methyl<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>alcohol. I used to pick up fight with anyone who dared to say a word about the much revered kings of the ring. I don’t know what Mr. Dwayne Johnson was doing at the WWE, but his antiques certainly brought a smile to my face….it made me ponder how much I have changed, for now I laugh at the theatrics that’s on display on the same show.</em></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;"> <em></em></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em> This was not the only instance. There was a time I would not miss a single episode of ‘THE ROADIES’. As much I detested those swearing participants for the amount of filth they poured on TV, I adored the program still. Now that THE ROADIES has grown bigger and probably better, yet I find myself no longer a follower of the program. Though I must admit, I learnt most of those expletives from the show. Wry…isn’t it?</em></span></div><span lang="EN-US"><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em> </em></span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em> Further down the memory lane, on Friday & Saturday nights, those so called ‘super hit - fillum’ which were aired on DD, just could not be missed. It looks like yesterday, when I pestered Dad about what’s there to listen so much in the news? And what’s the difference between NDTV and NDTV profit? After all, both were news channels. Now, News is the only thing other than sports, which I see on TV. Guess mai<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>bhi buddha ho raha hoon.</em></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em> Birthday parties during school days were fun. You could be dressed in your best, cut the cake, share it with your buddies who in turn would gift you with so many wonderful b’day presents. Probably this is why, I celebrated my birthday every year, and immediately after all the guests were gone, I would rush to the room where all the gifts were kept to open them up and see my latest possessions. It was so much fun. Well these days, it’s a fun of different kind. At times outright painful and messy. On birthdays, you have to treat all your friends, who in turn would smear you with cake, toothpaste, boot polish and other god forsaken things. And not to forget those birthday bumps on the stroke of midnight, when you can’t even scream at those full blooded kicks to your rear, lest your landlord ousts you the next day on the pretext of being noisy neighbour. Zamana badal gaya mere yaar.</em></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjglNQ9GJlDz4LmuRbnG9732zkiOnQyDTCk40srSNU5ekBEqAQ6IdU3kTcr9jggpw7XDGg2gZ7F7fmOBZJs1vsls2hxEUlTa0esFeMlI2k77LyLUhQ6DwSPQh7OhQQ2-KVpdjKHiQIjKPO5/s1600/change.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjglNQ9GJlDz4LmuRbnG9732zkiOnQyDTCk40srSNU5ekBEqAQ6IdU3kTcr9jggpw7XDGg2gZ7F7fmOBZJs1vsls2hxEUlTa0esFeMlI2k77LyLUhQ6DwSPQh7OhQQ2-KVpdjKHiQIjKPO5/s320/change.png" style="cursor: move;" unselectable="on" width="320" /></em></span></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;"> <em></em></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em> When I stayed with my parents, I lived in a home. Life was easy….everything I wanted was made available to me on a platter. Yet I was not independent. I would wake up early every day, be it a school day or a holiday. I would have breakfast daily. Read books, play games almost every day and develop myself, in one way or other. I would yearn to be an adult some day and stand on my own feet. Now I am an adult. I can take care of myself and hence, I no longer live in a home. Sadly I stay in a house. Though I am independent and can take my own decision, very often I skip my breakfasts and at times even my lunch. I no longer care to read often and development has taken a back seat. I read only when I have to and I prefer sleeping to playing games. Sochta hoon ki as a kid, kya mai yahi chahta tha?</em></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;"> <em></em></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em> Speaking of change, it reminds me of a forwarded message that I received some time back…..It’s so true to the core and thought provoking. Here it goes-</em></span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>I want to go back in time </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;"> <em></em></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>When GETTING HIGH meant on a swing,</em></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>Not promotions.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;"> <em></em></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>When DRINKING Meant Rasna Orange,</em></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>Not beer or whiskey.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;"> <em></em></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>When Dad was the only HERO,</em></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>Not Depp or Tom. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;"> <em></em></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>When LOVE was Mom’s hug,</em></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>Not the girl / boy-friend’s kiss. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;"> <em></em></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>When dad’s shoulder was the HIGHEST PLACE on Earth,</em></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>Not your designation.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;"> <em></em></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>When your WORST ENEMIES were your siblings,</em></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>Not your manager. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;"> <em></em></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>When the only thing that could HURT were bleeding knees,</em></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>Not the TEARS falling down your cheeks. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;"> <em></em></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>When the only thing BROKEN were toys,</em></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>Not your little heart. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;"> <em></em></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>And when GOOD-BYES meant till tomorrow,<br />
Not for years and years.</em></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; mso-tab-count: 1;"><em> </em></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb2SWk-cHjE0PHBD_rUdPz0_1p4dxA6eM8SDzrj-JWCwVNnTanseYg4_oDlqgc7I6JIiofBORQr4oV_BPxsGm5ULCXrdJkWO10rQBwxkBl2OhkKDta3org2hyphenhyphenKXUcbfVA1oYwZw0y78uoX/s1600/shanti.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em><img border="0" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb2SWk-cHjE0PHBD_rUdPz0_1p4dxA6eM8SDzrj-JWCwVNnTanseYg4_oDlqgc7I6JIiofBORQr4oV_BPxsGm5ULCXrdJkWO10rQBwxkBl2OhkKDta3org2hyphenhyphenKXUcbfVA1oYwZw0y78uoX/s320/shanti.jpg" width="320" /></em></span></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;"> <em></em></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #ffd966; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em> Zamana badal gaya pyaare, purani baat nahi chalti; Change with time or perish, for change is the only thing that is constant. I just hope and wish that these changes are for the betterment of us all and don’t come at the cost of our values and morality. As they say….change is good….and so be it….AMEN.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;"> <em></em></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #ffd966;">Love,<br />
Chatz</span> <span style="color: #ffd966;"> <em></em></span></span></div></div>Chatzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16941984187880465520noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295345837658479462.post-5360103692334917582011-08-05T12:30:00.001-07:002011-08-07T01:05:16.406-07:00Frustrated Night<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';">Grrrrrrgrrrrrrr.. Grrrrrrgrrrrrr</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
“Hello,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
plss.. talk to me… y u r not picking the call?????”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
“everything is all right?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
“what allright.. nothing is alright.. see the time.. its 11PM..n I'm coming now from office..<br />
no food for me.. now i will cook… from past 3 days..I'm eating only Magi… n my PM eating only me..<br />
see the price hikes, everything is 2/- more from yesterday.. except my salary… i think the begger in front of my office.. earns more than I do.. what should I do…?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
“what happened.. what r u talking”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
“what i'm talking???? no, i'm not talking.. manager don't allow anyone to talk except the client.. who always talk something.. from past 3 months I didn't take any leave..now from 3 weeks.. I'm begging for one damn leave.. n what response I get….’why u want to waste an important day of ur life??’<br />
Final<span style="color: navy;"> </span>I'm gonna quit this project… but, I can't. no, I can.. but I won't..<br />
uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…” :x</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
“ok.. now Relax…”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
“How can I relax… for relaxation people do yoga, but its night so I can’t. Else they watch movies… but see, in every channel all bogus movies gets repeatied.. ‘Welcome’, ‘Suryavansham’, Govinda’s movies… it really irritates… everyone is faking in TV, fake news, fake stories, fake swaynwars, fake reality… ahhhhh see the movies u will get to know…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
in Rockon’s last scene… Arjun Rampal’s wife says to taxi driver to hurry up, "we r getting late for Airport…” Airport…??? I thought he found a job in Cruze.. not Airlines..<br />
In 3 Idiots… starting scene… Madhvan does the drama to leave his flight, then what happened to his luggage??<br />
In the same movie… Kareena is a doctor.. that too a surgeon.. to become a surgeon it requires at<span style="color: navy;"> </span>least 5[MBBS]+3[MS] years..<br />
so she should b 28… n Aamir as a student.. only 18 or 20 ?? then after 10 years they decide to marry.. means she is 38??<br />
i dont understand, how can spiderman reach to the church-bell in part-3, when he lost his power??<br />
I still dont understand how could Rajnikanth fly without wings? i just…..”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
“hey stop it now..”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
“Am I a train who will stop it, by pulling chain???… ohh train.. i didnt saw last 3 months… how will i see, all the time monitor is in frnt of me.. in night also wen i open my eyes, i found username and password window..<br />
i need to cool down..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
but someone tell me howwwwwwwww.. :x Every time there's power-cut here..<br />
except when I' m not at home.. Home what rubbish, its a damn single room.. where I'm living alone with my pillow..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
i also want girlfriend yaar, like my rivals have..<br />
smita, rashmi, sujata, priti, komal.. anyone frm my odc is ok, but they all r engaged, u know y?? bcoz their boyfriends do not work in IT, outside girls do chat wid me only on my salary day.. i got rejected 31 times.. u know y, each time i propose them, they ask where do u live.. i say in my Cubicle.. bcoz thats the only place u can find my soul all the time..”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
“hey man, u better take rest, we will talk in Morning”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
“Morning.. are u talking the same morning when sun rises, bird flies, omlette fries, employee cries… damn, I didn’t see the Sun for 3 years.. how it looks like… morning I catch shuttle, reach my birthplace ‘cubicle’, work n leave when Sun uncle is not there… I don’t understand how can I be so nice to my colleagues..<span style="color: navy;"> </span>each time they want leave, they repeat the same dialog… “my sister’s marriage”.. my colleague's 9 sisters got married,<br />
3 times grandpa expired,<br />
5 times his frnd went to ICU.. but my colleague is fine..<br />
and favourite dialog “<span style="color: navy;"> </span>I need to drop a frnd to hospital, as he is not feeling well” later i find movie tickets in his purse… then my PM’s motivational speech.. ‘u work.. u grow’.. means if i wont work.. i will shrink or what… when i need hike, i'm junior.. still need to grow.. when i do mistakes.. c'mon man u r a senior, u cant do mistakes.. ahhh God gimme some power to understand the greatness of a super natural person known as PM in this world..”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
“ok enough now, i m disconnecting”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
“wait.. i called you.. n u r disconnecting.. u know previously i was normal, when i was in college, i used to talk continuosly watever i want, now i m talking only this much… ‘yaa its done’, ‘e-cube is filled’, ”Please..’, ‘good morning’, ‘lunch’,'tea’,’snaks’..</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
I don’t know wat i m talking abt, i shud b happy.. I have Saturday & Sunday .. saturday to recover from the disaster been made from monday to friday.. sunday to think about upcoming disaster from monday to friday.. cool naa..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
u heared that 2012 earth will end.. then also my ODc and my cubicle will remain as it is.. u know why??<span style="color: navy;"> </span>because that’s not part of earth.. n we are employees not human beings… we are aliens… </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
so better before u start getting headache… go have a nice dream.. I will again start my day tomorrow like i m starting everyday..<br />
good night…” :(</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
beeeeeeeeep…beeeeeeeeeep…<wbr></wbr>beeeeeeeeeep</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
******************************<wbr></wbr>******************************<wbr></wbr>****</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
Next Day, in office:-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
“Saurabh, Please come here”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
“Yes Surya!!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
“I approved your leaves.. i think you should go and have some fun”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
I happily came out, and checked my phone’s Dialled call log.. :D</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
“Ohhh my God, yesterday I called my PM … shit” :lolz:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';">Love,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Kristen ITC';">Chatz.</span></div></div>Chatzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16941984187880465520noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295345837658479462.post-16821237345110590762011-02-04T10:35:00.000-08:002011-02-04T10:52:53.943-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ead1dc; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><u><i>Ani - GOD's favorite DEVIL </i></u></span><br />
<br />
Not for nothing that I call myself so.......GOD's favorite DEVIL.<br />
For a lovable Devil that I am...wink ..wink.<br />
<br />
Born on the 23rd of June,1985...the day India saw it worst air disaster.....I had to be one...<br />
Laziness draws its inspiration from me.....so that makes me a LAZY DEVIL as well....so quiet harmless.<br />
<br />
Always game of anything that u might throw at me....I specialize in bugging my buddies to the extent of driving them NUTS....A recent example would be the incident where I wrecked...and I mean WRECKED the wrought iron cot of my unfortunate roomie....when I jumped over that fatass...He had to spend the night cuddled up as a BOW on his arched bed.<br />
<br />
In another incident.....years ago...I was chased by a girl for I placed the dust-bin on top of the door and when she pushed the door open...she found herself capped by the bin. The chase incidentally ended with a cracked skull (mine of course) and a very very scared girl (the one who was chasing me to get a piece of me). She still has not changed one bit...Still feisty....... still adorable...and still a very good friend.<br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ead1dc; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOn5e81qCQcmRuCWt5vC6glalcFCqyVWyeVE_2LDShGpORIKh9gwWxdNLB-UZOwpwiZJSVieMFkrgyO9MTAxvBtGB1tvDw85WPkr4ECokXuvF2P2GdSEnSLwh7IEWJB7KXmGFJn8MEgq3z/s1600/DSC01971.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOn5e81qCQcmRuCWt5vC6glalcFCqyVWyeVE_2LDShGpORIKh9gwWxdNLB-UZOwpwiZJSVieMFkrgyO9MTAxvBtGB1tvDw85WPkr4ECokXuvF2P2GdSEnSLwh7IEWJB7KXmGFJn8MEgq3z/s320/DSC01971.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ead1dc; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
I am AKA <i>mastermind....</i>for my exploits with my extra-ordinary budhi...albeit in the ingenious ways, it’s to poke my friends. The manner in which I manipulate it at times, looks way too much for an ordinary human being...be it spilling ink using medical syringes on the white uniform of Traffic police while travelling back from school or drawing modern art on all the pages of the only notebook that my classmate used to bring to college to take notes. Thanks to such daredevilry, I celebrated my b'day almost every single day...by being on the receiving end of 'all are invited' B'day Bumps throughout my campus life....trust me..the thought of it still hurts....<br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ead1dc; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXFg5kvGl6ShwHKZCrCaQJ2nD2ZhOBxkztuyOs8jgBx5g85SQv27Hh5ZcQrsAccuxT7Kxa4Q7IR8hcKLu5jLRucjBTJa9n5ulxt00RrJtX0cfACL6BwYlj9xcMdnpQHwADxO0-dfrpL8qU/s1600/365x444.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXFg5kvGl6ShwHKZCrCaQJ2nD2ZhOBxkztuyOs8jgBx5g85SQv27Hh5ZcQrsAccuxT7Kxa4Q7IR8hcKLu5jLRucjBTJa9n5ulxt00RrJtX0cfACL6BwYlj9xcMdnpQHwADxO0-dfrpL8qU/s320/365x444.jpg" width="263" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #fce5cd;">Lovable Devil.. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ead1dc; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
Once my Mom discover "I LOVE U POOJA" in one of my notebooks...Frankly, I don't remember having a friend named Pooja. It was while I was in 3rd or 4th std. So Ms.Pooja...if u r reading this, trust me I meant it...and if u are still single....I'm still available. Others are welcome as well. <br />
<br />
Enough said. Now I'm gonna stop this, lest my victims feel the need to take rrrrrrrevenge for all my deeds. Trust me guys...there was no malice in any of these acts and given a chance I would most certainly like to repeat them again...as long as I'm guaranteed that i would continue escaping after all these '<i>deeds</i>'.<br />
<br />
But for a lovable devil that I am....I plan to continueeeeee.....<br />
<br />
Luv,<br />
Chatz.<br />
[P.S. for those not so lucky victims of mine (e.g.-Manu, Pai, Kochi, Motabhai and others) whose story I didnt speak out....plz forgive me. In case u insist.....I'll be happy to explain those incidents involving u in detail...]</span><span style="color: #fabf8f; font-weight: bold;"><o:p></o:p></span></div></div>Chatzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16941984187880465520noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295345837658479462.post-19807006843322389222011-02-01T07:24:00.000-08:002011-02-01T07:24:13.431-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="Publishwithline" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><u><span style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">An outsider down south - 1</span></strong></span></u></span></div><div class="PadderBetweenControlandBody" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><div class="Publishwithline" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><em>Namaskaram, Vanakkam</em></span></span><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">…..this is how people greet you here. Butterfly coloured lungies folded way above the knees to make u read the boxer brand…..that’s how men dress here. Water proof floaters and not shoes are in vogue round the year and add coconut oil for aroma & flavour….Welcome to South India.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">One fine evening, dad broke the news that he has been promoted and in the bargain has been transferred to Ernakulam. For someone who has travelled and worked throughout the length & breadth of India, Ernakulam was just another square on the chess board. But for me, born and brought up in Kolkata, it was a mixed feeling, for I was going to miss my childhood buddies. When I informed my friends about it, they enquired…Erna…WHAT?? For Ernakulam is not as famous as her twin - Cochin.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">When we landed in Ernakulam early in the morning, my dad’s colleagues greeted us by saying “welcome to ‘</span></span><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><em>Yearrrrnagulum’ Saaar</em></span></span><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">”. I wondered if I had boarded the correct flight at the Kolkata airport for the name sounded unfamiliar... Once at home, our neighbour cordially invited us to have breakfast with them. I was fond of appams, dosas and idlies right from my childhood. Little did I know that I was in for my first southie experience. </span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">We were served steam cake - baked hot with ‘kadala’ (dark chhole) curry – A Kerala delicacy. Steam cake – it sounded a vapour like thing ….how could u make a cake out of steam? They called it ‘</span></span><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><em>putttttt </em></span></span><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">’. It’s called steam cake coz it’s made by baking smashed rice in steam. After the first gulp, I glanced at my mom asking her the silent question: “mom…don’t you think that they had forgotten to add any masala to the dish?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Coz my taste buds didn’t pick anything on their radar. She nodded in silent approval. If this was not delicious enough, the kadala curry was cooked in coconut oil….COCONUT OIL..!! My understanding was that coconut oil was to be used as hair oil. My dad on his part was eating nonchalantly, as if having golden fried prawns for breakfast. I had my first taste of SOUTH.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">The next day I was enrolled in KV Ernakulam. It was the month of December but the mercury hovered around high 30s. How I missed wearing my oversized navy blue uniform sweater. At school, I made a lot of friends. But somehow, could not make a name for me for I was addressed as amirkhans to anibhuns and annieebuns to annieban(sounded like Ban on Ani) as well. Never thought that a 7 letter A-N-I-R-B-A-N could be such a tongue twister for any Indian. Thanks to Bankim Chandra Chatterjee, that my surname was famous and pronounceable. Thus being the only northie in class, I made my name with my surname-C-H-A-T-T-E-R-J-E-E. I still wonder, had it not been for Bankim babu, I would have gone to oblivion without a name.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">The life at school was good….and at times outright hilarious…only for me though. Hindi was often taught and explained in English. For once I wondered, if it was vice-versa in the North. The letter ‘H’ became ‘Hechhh’ (As u sneeze) and ‘Z’ came to be known as ‘eezeddd’ (With a thud). The combination - ’ZHA’/’ZHI’ were to be pronounced as a god forbidden form of R – rrheeaeeaaa….Sorry. That was a futile attempt to make the reader understand that ‘ZHA’ can be pronounced only by a malayali and none else. Don’t even think about it…u may end up at the ENT/ Dentist/ Oral surgeon’s clinic with a forever twisted tongue, next time u try pronouncing ‘ZHA’, unless of course you are a malayali.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">For someone who had taken for granted that the SUPW & Music periods were equivalent to games periods, I was dismayed to find that in my new school my classmates maintained regular class work notebooks for these subjects. My music teacher at school was incensed on learning that there was no such ‘notebook culture’ in my previous KV for subjects of such importance. To test my ‘skill’ she made me to sing aloud a community song in class. Though I found it juvenile, thanks to my bathroom singing talent, I assumed that somehow she was impressed. Nevertheless she still wanted me to write down all the songs that a ‘good KV student’ was supposed to learn throughout 12 years in school in a notebook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never attended the music period ever after….and somehow I’m glad about it.</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f"><stroke joinstyle="miter"></stroke><formulas><f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"></f><f eqn="sum @0 1 0"></f><f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"></f><f eqn="prod @2 1 2"></f><f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"></f><f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"></f><f eqn="sum @0 0 1"></f><f eqn="prod @6 1 2"></f><f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"></f><f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"></f><f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"></f><f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"></f></formulas><path gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect" o:extrusionok="f"></path><lock aspectratio="t" v:ext="edit"></lock></shapetype></span></span><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-xelRx3KVmAiVyXoySeY3kMAetr5a701m1lvO6qPeuXGzMDgjzXi2JOu2Zar7C3brKUwysScsiW4TB7qs_icvABLo9fiTS8LvJjhd9_a2ehXgflcp_dkGREb8YX5fTGnr7GGqMkT0_3gQ/s1600/Untitled.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-xelRx3KVmAiVyXoySeY3kMAetr5a701m1lvO6qPeuXGzMDgjzXi2JOu2Zar7C3brKUwysScsiW4TB7qs_icvABLo9fiTS8LvJjhd9_a2ehXgflcp_dkGREb8YX5fTGnr7GGqMkT0_3gQ/s320/Untitled.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Slowly I started to learn Malayalam thanks to my school. Though a KV, Malayalam was the most preferred language there. I started watching Malayalam movies. I must admit, they were any day better than most of the contemporary bollywood releases. The heroes though, courtesy their ‘shape’ & mushes (</span></span><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><em>meesha</em></span></span><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">)….could give the best bollywood Mogambos a run for their money. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But none can cast any doubt about their acting skills. The actresses were also ‘take home-able’. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">I was settling in a nice life with parents and was starting to love it – be it the coconut oil fried food or the way people called my first name or be it the Hindi lessons being taught in English. I even got used to the climate. And there I was having spent 5 years of my life in ‘enthe swantham Ernakulam’ (my very own Ernakulam), readying myself to leave home for the first time in life.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Love,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Chatz.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">END OF PART-1.</span></span></div><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #969696; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[P.S. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dear all, who might find this piece of writing offensive and to those who may not exactly like what I have written, I have spent more than 9 years in Kerala, and those were the best days of my life so far. These are experiences that anyone from north India would have had in the beginning. And same applies to a southie on his first north India trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s all about adaptability. Thank God, I adapted well and made such good friends. Given a choice and a chance, I would definitely choose to go back to Ernakulam </span></span></span></span></div></div>Chatzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16941984187880465520noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295345837658479462.post-52447050628604320042011-01-14T12:08:00.000-08:002011-01-14T12:21:57.647-08:00Just about a decade too old<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif"; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #4f81bd;"><em><span style="font-size: large;">Amazing na..?? The world that aaj-kal ke kids see today, when compared to what it was when we were children. For the fact that Change is the only constant, I am just trying to list the changes between what I saw & thought growing up and what aaj-kal ke kid’s mindset is as they grow. This thing struck me when I was having a casual chat with my little sis, who happens to be 13 years younger to me…She actually made me feel like an old-old man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Priorities have changes though the basic needs haven’t…Wry but true.</span></em></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif"; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #4f81bd;"><em><span style="font-size: large;">For someone who had student life spanning more than 17 years cost him no more than 30K as fees to the various educational institutes I attended, a donation of 50K to get a kid admitted to a popular school looks astronomical. Back in those days in primary school, I and my friends used to be proud of the number of ‘rakhies’ of female friends used to tie on the rakhsha-bandhan. Today, my neighbour’s kid bunks his classes on rakhsha-bandhan days, lest the lass he has his eyes on makes him a brother…Guess aaj-kal ke kids grow up in the womb before they are born. </span></em></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif"; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #4f81bd;"><em><span style="font-size: large;">When I grew a bit older, I kept nagging my dad to get me a cricket bat. The willow had Kapil paaji’s autograph on its face and it became an instant hit among my pals. It was the latest show-off stuff - a thing of pride. We used to spend every available minute after school playing cricket, getting dirty on the field. Our bechari moms used to yell at us for they had to wash the stains off those dresses, coz the washing machine was rendered ineffective given the caliber of dirt & stains that used to be accumulated on the shirt. A few days back, my uncle’s son was proudly narrating about how he scored a century in the previous game. And he wanted me to join him so that he could repeat his heroics again. I too was interested as I had not touched the cricket bat for ages now. I immediately picked up the bat and was about to leave when he called me in with the game ready to be played on the TV screen with his latest play station. There was one similarity- His mom too was yelling at him, not for the dirt part though. It was to prevent him from being a slave of the gadget. I concluded – Thanks to technology, gully cricket has moved from the neighbourhood gullies to the living room of the urban kids….but should we be really thankful??</span></em></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #4f81bd;"><em><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif"; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">The other night, my sweet li’l sis called me up to say that she was very sad for she has broken up with her boyfriend – <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif";">BOYFRIEND… #$@&^#$ BROKEN UP @#*^% ....</span></span><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif"; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">.</span></span></span></em></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif"; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #4f81bd;"><em><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>FYI, she is indeed a very pretty gal and is a student of 8th std. in an elite school. For someone who had somehow never been in a relationship (crushes apart), it was difficult for me to comprehend. My li’l sis enquired “Dada, don’t you have a girlfriend? If you have one, then you should never do what ‘my ex’ did to me”. Her ‘ex’ had unfortunately gifted a dairy-milk bar to another classmate of theirs who also happens to be a girl. Phew!!! I thanked God for I’m still single (not that I don’t have girlfriends….just that they don’t see me as their boyfriend…sob..sob) and happy, though I won’t mind having a decent girlfriend…wink wink (anybody there???). </span></em></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif"; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #4f81bd;"><em><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To conclude, all I would say is a WOW to aaj kal ke kids…….But then we, who happen to be just about a decade too old aren’t that outdated as well….just that we are a generation behind. With the hope that our kids don’t call us obsolete……… </span></em></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif"; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #4f81bd;"><em><span style="font-size: large;">Love,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></em></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #4f81bd;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif"; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><em>Chatz.</em></span></span><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif"; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> </span></span></strong></span></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong><span style="color: #4f81bd;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; mso-ascii-font-family: "Palatino Linotype"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Palatino Linotype"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span></span><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif"; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">..</span></span><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; mso-ascii-font-family: "Palatino Linotype"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Palatino Linotype"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span></span></span><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif"; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span></span></strong></span></div>Chatzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16941984187880465520noreply@blogger.com1