Banter

What's in a name?

2010-04-28T23:47:00.003+05:30

My new job doesn’t allow me to write much. Ironically, it provides me with a lot of material to write on. I travel frequently and considering my affinity to bizarre incidents I often find my tours replete with myriad stories of absolute craziness. Here’s short list of the top stories so far:

1. The menu card of my hotel in Ranchi lists coffee under the section – “Stimulating drinks”. This became the hottest joke in my office for some time. So much so that it was difficult to walk across with a cup of coffee in your hand without inviting “I –know-what-you-are-up-to” smiles from colleagues

2. A lodge on the way to Hazaribagh is named “Café Arson”. I would add a tag line to it – “Walk in only if you have a burning desire”

3. I also came across a small tea stall called – “HIP –SIP”. The name brings indescribably disgusting images to my mind

But what happened today, takes the cake. I am travelling, hungry, dog-tired but I have to write this. So here goes:

After an early breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast and a cup of my favourite stimulating drink, I was waiting for my driver to take the car out of the parking when this man on a bike stopped by and asked – “ Yeh Chutia kidhar hai?” ( Where is this Chutia?)

For the uninitiated let me explain here that the word “Chutiya” is a slang in Hindi which means something synonymous to “stupid”, “foolish”, “idiot” and at times even “disgusting”. Honestly speaking, the word is quite unique and does not have a counterpart in English. It is one of the most widely used Hindi slangs across and I haven’t met a soul yet who hasn’t heard of it. However, no one has ever been able to define it accurately. At least not so far.

So when this guy threw this question at me, I was reasonably sure that I had heard him wrong. With my “sahib” type sophistication, I expressed my inability to decipher his question by raising my brows and moving my ear closer to him. He repeated – “Arey yeh chutia kidhar hai?” I was now sure that I had heard him right and considering this an assault on my decency, I quickly changed my “sorry-I-didn’t-get-you” expression to the best “WTF” expression I could twist my face into. However, Mr.Bike wasn’t moving on without an answer and stood there with a bovine expression on his face, looking at me intently.

My two years of MBA has trained me never to be without answers. A true marketer always has some bullshit to offer so I gave the most generic and yet fitting answer I could come up with. With a philosopher’s look and an expression akin to a man who was beyond the realms of the material world, I replied – “Kahin bhi ho sakta hai” (Could be anywhere). In one swift movement, his expressions changed and suddenly he was the personification of a question mark. I was preparing myself for the next round of assault when my driver appeared to mediate. He spoke to the guy, gave him some directions and got him going. The only logical though unbelievable conclusion I could draw was that there was a really famous fool in the city and everyone knew where to find him. My driver – Munda – was quick to understand my confusion and explained, “Sir yeh Ranchi ke area ka naam hai”. I couldn’t believe it. A place called Chutia??? I changed my plans for the next two hours and asked Munda to take me to there. Seeing is believing.

After a 30 minute drive we reached. A government building proudly displayed its address as “New market, Chutia”. As we moved through the area, I realized that the place had quite a metropolitan feel to it. The area was divided into “Upper Chutia”, “Lower Chutia” and even “New Chutia”.

An unmanned railway crossing read, “Caution: Chutia crossing ahead”. I thought it would be wonderful to have such a sign on display when absolute nuts crossed roads in Delhi. I asked Munda to turn the car around and take us back to office. As we moved out of the area, we passed by the police station with a big red and blue board that read – “Chutia police thana”. I chuckled at the thought of what one might expect to find inside the building; a Chutia police inspector perhaps.

Later in the day, when Munda dropped me at the railway station, I asked him to find out why the place was named so. He looked embarrassed but promised to find it out for me when I visited next. Till then, I am going to tell myself that I am really fortunate that my address doesn’t pass a judgment on my personality. Thank you Municipal Corporation, Noida.

Disclaimer: I prefer to abstain from slangs and expletives. However, the subject matter of the post leaves me with little option. So if this offends you, the blame is on whoever named the place.

I Have Moved

2010-04-02T09:31:00.002+05:30

Hey! If you are of those very few who have found my banter worthwhile, you might want to know that I have shifted base here.
My new blog has almost all the good stuff from Banter and a lot more. I have been trying to figure out the reason for the move but haven't been able to come up with something that sounds intelligent so I am calling it a secret.

Love always,

The Blah Man

Unbelievable

2009-08-29T23:41:00.004+05:30

Found this on Youtube. Hilarious :D

Music to everyone's ears!

2009-08-16T17:53:00.005+05:30

I have been extremely fascinated by the myriad social media platforms that have come up. A whole lot of these are ofcourse quite avoidable but once in a while there is something that completely sweeps me off my feet. BLIP.fm is one such site.

Blip.fm answers the question - " What song do you want to play?" Simply put, It allows users to turn DJs and play their favorite songs. These songs appear on the user's profile as well as on a public timeline (similar to Twitter) So if you logged in to your Blip.fm account you would see a timeline of all the blips from people across the world; in effect giving you an access to the most diverse music collection you could have imagined!

But that's not all. Besides listening to the songs, you also get to enjoy the videos as Blip.fm has an integrated Youtube feature!

Here is a list of "what else" you can do-

Create your own playlist. Simply click on the "Home" tab and listen ( and watch) all the songs that you have Blipped. These songs (Blips) also appear on the public timeline so that others get to know the kind of music you are listening to and enjoy it too.
Search other DJs (users) with similar music tastes and listen to their playlists
Link your Blips to you blog. Every time you Blip, your blog gets updated! A treat to your readers :)
Publish your Blips directly on your Twitter timelines , Facebook updates or Friendfeed accounts
Dedicate songs to other users

The fact that Blip.fm is built on the Twitter platform makes it extremely simple and a delight to use.

There's much more, but it's more fun to find it out yourself :) I would say - TRY IT!

The Wah Man

Announcement

2009-08-16T17:41:00.002+05:30

Just figured out that I have a saner side too ( Yay!). Now the problem is that the saner side wants to write sane stuff and it would be sacrilege to do anything like that here. So after much deliberation I have decided to allow my alter ego to publish here. Just so that any of the readers dont feel cheated, all the posts by my alterego would be signed - The Wah Man

Sincerely,

The Blah Man

Tips on celebrity handling

2009-08-14T23:11:00.006+05:30

I consider myself very lucky when it comes to meeting celebrities. I have met them in shopping malls, gymnasiums, on the road, on the beach, in the middle of traffic, at restaurants and coffee shops, at airports, in airplanes even in the buses from the terminal to the aircraft. One might ask – “ So whats the big deal!” I say, it is a big deal. In a country where people are so obsessed with celebrities that they worship them, it is a big deal to run into celebrities every now and then. In fact the frequency at which I have bumped into them has made me feel like quite a celebrity magnet.

So that technically establishes me as the expert on celebrity encounters and hence I have decided to share a few tips on how to handle celebrity presence. If you think you are too suave to be reading anything like this, you can quickly save this post on your computer and read it in private when you are sure no body is watching you ( some places that assure you privacy are – the restrooms, your neighborhood library, the graveyard and your office’s conference room)

Here we go:

Tip 1: Never balk when you spot a celebrity. The trick is to continue to walk even after having spotted them and then strategically sit down to tie your shoe laces while you watch/admire/ogle them. In case your shoes do not have shoe laces or you aren’t really wearing shoes, you can still pretend to be tying your shoe laces because it’s the celebrity and not you who has all the eyeballs

Tip 2: If you feel like looking at the celeb for a longer time, the shoe lace trick might not really work. While you can continue to keep tying your shoe laces alternatively repeatedly, you can not do it for more than a couple of minutes. Also, you run the risk of being fallen over by people who are walking around with their heads turned towards the celeb and tripping over you. Your mobile phone works beautifully in this situation. Place yourself strategically so that the celeb is well within sight and then pretend to talk on your mobile phone while casually, yet intently fixing your gaze on the target. Make sure you have turned it to the silent mode to avoid embarrassment due to friends who always call at the wrong time. The call can continue for as long as you want to. Animated gestures and intermittent laughter lend greater credibility to this act

Tip 3: A lot of us might want to look at them up close. The mobile phone trick wouldn’t work here because you are obviously talking gibberish on the phone and would prefer to stay out of the hearing zone of the celeb and their companions. If you spot a celeb in a coffee shop or a restaurant, take the seat close to them. Ideally a seat at an angle of elevation of 45 degrees is apt for such a mission. I have demonstrated that in the diagram below for a quick reference.

Diagram: Celebrity and You at a 45 degree angle of elevation

There is a strong probability that the celeb would be visited by other celebs and you don’t want to miss the opportunity of getting two birds with one stone! Order the cheapest drink in the menu so that a refill doesn’t burn a hole in your pocket. You could also order a sandwich and finish it really slowly… then, after you’ve had the sandwich, kill your time by licking the sauce. It comes for free so you can always ask for more.

Tip 4: This one is for those who want to go a step ahead and actually strike a conversation with the celeb. This isn’t easy considering the fact that you might have AWE written all over your face. So the trick is to act as normal as you can strike a casual conversation with something like- “Could you please help me with the time?” and then follow it up with - “ Hey ! I know you.. Are you from the silver screen?” Or if that sounds too obvious then go with- “Excuse me, I think you are on my seat” and then create a row. Celebrities like overwhelming people with their presence but they also hate negative publicity. More often than not, they would try to press upon you who they are and this is the opportunity you need to grab. Here’s how the conversation should materialize:

You: Excuse me, I think you are on my seat...

Celeb: Sorry? But I found this unoccupied..

You: You mean to say I am lying? You want me to prove I am right? Do you want me to call everyone in the coffee shop to come and testify?? Is anyone listening? This person has taken my seat! .. Police!

Celeb: (In panic) He.. hello.. excuse me .. I think you are getting it all wrong.. you see I am Kaifreena Kat.. the filmstar…

You: Well yeah? You expect me to believe that? Let’s see your signature… I know Kaifreena Kat’s signatures…. Here.. write something on this tissue .. something like – “ I loved having coffee with you – Love Kaifreena” and then sign..

The celeb would weigh her options and then obviously would see this as an easier way out. She would sign on the tissue and there you go.. an all personalized autograph that you can brag about to your friends!

Tip 5: I call this tip - paparazzo panache. As the name indicates, this one is for fans who not only want to see celebs but also want to click them. Now celebs are really weary of cameras (for obvious reasons) so the trick here is to be as secretive as possible with the act. Two possible ways to do this effectively:

― Sit at a right angle to the celeb and pretend to talk on your phone. With the phone pressed to the ear facing the celeb, click the camera button to capture the celeb at the right moment. This might take some practice but it is an easier ruse to pull off

― If your phone/camera has a timer, fix the timer for around 5 seconds and toss it towards the celeb. The trajectory should be such that the camera should be right in front of the celebrity while on its projectile motion downwards. I would recommend this only for physicists or engineers since a successful execution required complex mathematical calculations

I would strongly recommend against asking the celeb to pose for a picture because I believe in taking natural photographs like this one:

A celeb in a natural pose

Finally, you might want to make one lasting impression on the celeb before either you or she/he leaves. My suggestion is present her/him with one of the following:

― Emptied sachets of the ketchup you licked

― Crumbs of the sandwich you devoured

― The last few sips of the cappuccino you had

These are not the kind of gifts they would normally get so you are bound to make a lasting impression.

A word of caution though - Make sure you bolt after making the offering. I am saying this for the simple reason that I have never stayed back to see what happens if you don’t run. Good Luck.

Sincerely,

The Blah Man

EEEKS!

2009-07-03T11:06:00.005+05:30

It's funny what Chennai heat and customer care executives can do to one's mental state. While all this while I have had bouts of insanity dealing with the servicing team of my erstwhile refrigerator and mobile phone, a friend elevated herself to the next level. She wrote a letter to her boyfriend amidst the frustration of several rounds of futile interactions with the customer care team of a leading telecom company. I am reproducing the content of the letter here. Let this be the benchmark of frustration and the subsequent vent-out of the most effective kind.

TO: J

Subject: Airtel.Is not my friend.

Dear J,

After incessant follow up, submitting documents, running around in the Chennai heat to go to the nearest Airtel showroom, which happens to be at the annoying distance of ‘too far to walk to in this heat, too close for an auto to let go of the chance to be an total chor’, Airtel finally pretends they have received no documents from me and have disconnected my number altogether.

Why baby. Why would they do this.

I am now beyond rage, which is normal when you don’t have a face to target it at. I do however pity the customer care executive who will come face to face with me this evening at the Airtel showroom. He has no idea I cry when I’m angry.

Should be fun.

In recent service awards based on research by Frost and Sullivan, Airtel was declared the best service provider in India. Imagine that. In the whole country baby.

If ever there was a good reason to immigrate..

..And to think, I almost applied to Frost and Sullivan when they were recruiting on campus. Clearly, they are completely retarded and have no idea how to interpret data.

In fact, they might just be inefficient enough to find a job at Airtel.

I will now log off. I will think positive. I will go to Airtel. I will be calm and I will find a good customer care executive who will help me sort this out in no time and my number will be up and running and I shall have no further problems with Airtel for the duration of my time here…

.. and then little fairies will find me and I shall fly with them into the night and take over the world.

Much love.
Yours,
S.

P.S I have taken S's permission to put this up. She and I both believe that this will serve as a pathbreaking example on How to handle EIICS syndrome( Extreme Insanity due to Issues of Customer Service.Pronounced: Eeeeks!)

Regards,

The Blah man

Missing

2009-05-25T22:42:00.006+05:30

MISSING

Two black shoes with 2 grey socks stuffed in them. Last seen in my drawing room on the evening of Friday, May 23,2009. The right shoe is called Jugnu and has a small scar on its right side and the left one is known as Jhingur and has an absolutely clear spotless skin. Both look a good pair together and it is highly likely that they would be found together.

The shoes and the socks were found missing today morning and I have a suspicion that some really visiually/mentally challenged person ran away with them because Jugnu and Jinghur were in the company of other shoes who were far better placed in life like - A white Nike, A black Adidas and some floaters and slippers from reputed brand families. The sudden departure of both of them has left me distraught and utterly embarrased for having to wear sports shoes over formal trousers to office today.

If anybody comes across Jugnu and Jinghur or gets any information on their whereabouts, please contact your nearest police station immediately. I have already registered an FIR to this effect .

Suspects: The Maid, The neighbour (an old man who had been casting an evil eye on Jugnu), One of the Zoozoos from the Vodafone campaign

Sad and shaken,

The Blah Man

P.S: Additional info - The socks were called Sockrates and Sockvinder

How I Got My House: Episode 2 - The Landlord

2009-05-24T17:10:00.003+05:30

Luke and Lea are quiet. After reassuring myself that they had stabilized, I decide that it is safe to put the gun away and start with my story. Just to keep things so, I call R2D2, the family droid and ask him to aim at the kids while I narrate the story with all my histrionics. And so I begin..

Me: It was the first day of our house search - The first Sunday after the day our Landlord- let's call him Doggy,told us that he had decided to throw us out because he did not want bachelors as his tenants anymore. Doggy was the quintessential landlord - about 5 and a half feet tall, the darkest shade of ebony,had a protruding belly, moved around with two mobile phones in his hands and two bluetooth ear peices - one in each of his ears . We had several reasons to believe that he was a blood sucking vampire and hence we always kept garlic by the door to keep him away. Doggy had a terrible anger management problem and to top it all , he was a lawyer. It was common knowledge that Doggy had stopped going to the court several years ago and had taken up blood sucking as a full time job. He owned over 40 appartments in the city which he had rented out to his victims. He also owned 2 hatchbacks, 1 SUV, 1 motorbike and 1 scooter. No points for guessing that he moved around on the scooter. I still remember the first day we had gone to meet him to talk about renting the appartment. Doggy had a special dedicated room for blood sucking. If you were a tenant , you had to be in that room every first day of the month to pay the rent, which he would accept as if he had accepted the price for letting you stay alive for another month. So the first day as we entered the room, we noticed this other guy sitting with an expression that reminded me of a squashed tomato. The squashed tomoto was trying his best to argue his case with Doggy and it appeared to be a money issue. Doggy was however not interested since he had two fresh - still full of life young men waiting for him to suck their blood. We should've seen it coming that day, but we chose to believe that the squashed tomato had probably goofed up really bad to deserve that treatment. It was the second big mistake we had comitted with regards to Chennai .The first ofcourse was coming to Chennai.

There after every month , for 10 months we dutifully went to Doggy's blood sucking room on the first day of the month to pay our rent for the house. Doggy on the other hand never showed up at our place to bother us which we believe was due to the garlic. Never, unitil the day he announced that he was looking for fresh blood and we should start packing our bags.

Lea: So, what did you you do? Did you find another house? Was it as good as the previous one?

Clearly, Lea has found herself completely engrossed in my narration and can not wait to get to the end. But I am no ordinary reconteur. So I ask her to be patient.

Me: Hang on..hang on...this isn't getting over fast. Finding a house is no easy job! One has to take care of several things. Why dont we grab a cup of coffee... this will take time..

To be continued..

How I Got My House: Episode 1

2009-05-15T21:30:00.002+05:30

The year is 2050. I am sitting on a chair and my children are seated in front of me on a couch.They are called Luke and Lea ( I have an uncanny feeling that some hollywood director might just like these names and name his movie's protagonists after them. Also, I feel that the movie might have something to do with space age et al.) Both Luke and Lea are into their teens and have plans with friends, but I, have forced them to sit and listen to a gripping tale of "How I got my house"
Me: So kids, today I will tell you an interesting story of how I got my house.
LU: Aw C'mon ! I've got to go and catch a movie today with Lonku! He's always made to watch The Dark Knight with Uncle Manku and gets an off only on Saturdays when Uncle Manku is busy shooting kids in the neighbourhood..
LE: And I have a lot of geekwork to catch up on with Parthibha, she's managed to get hold of Uncle Partha's Geek gadgets ! He usually hides them under his pillow and we seldom get such opportunities!
Me: I know , I know.. but I've got to tell you this story and you both bloody listen...
I point guns at the kids' heads and they sit back tight to enjoy the tale.

To be continued.......

House That!

2009-05-14T22:15:00.005+05:30

In the month of February this year, Murphy struck more than once. First our Refrigerator conked off and then our landlord asked us to vacate the house. Though both these incidents appear to be very innocuous, they have both gone on to become epic tales which I shall narrate to my grand children some day to establish myself a hero in front of them. I will write more on both these issues on some lazy Sunday afternoon, but for now, here's a classified ad that you might come across if you were looking for a rented accomodation in Chennai:

The picture was clicked and shared by a colleague, and apparantly Mr. Champak is a popular broker who is known for his innovative copywriting. The grapewine is that several ad agencies have tried to rope him in but Mr. Champak prefers to operate solo.

I have a house now but I am sure that if I had come across Mr. Champak's ad before I would've taken a house through his services only.. after all, not everyone can offer you houses of Milk and Jaggery!
Sincerely,

The Blah Man

What's that!

2009-05-10T16:01:00.007+05:30

I was in Pondicherry last weekend. I thought I would draft a post out of my experience in Pondy and put some sensible stuff on this seldom updated rotten blog which I had hoped would fetch me a lot fo money some day (Sigh...!). Well as it turns out, I was made to realise this yet again that sensible writing is not my forte.

So here it is the most remarkable part of my Pondy experience; While on a beach (locally known as the Paradise beach) I saw this:

I could infer the following from this sight with reasonable amount of confidence :

Aspiring to be a mermaid is not a prerogative of only women
As our nation progresses through an increasingly liberalised economy , it is o.k to use your underwear as your swimming trunk ( Don't question the connection between economy and underwear here, it's a complex mathematical calcullation; too esoteric to be elucidated here)
Indians are not dark skinned, it's just that we like to lie in the summer sun at noon wearing our underwear and unknowingly get more tanned than we'd like to

A closer look into the picture would reveal that our friend also tried to rub some sand on his body to add some oomph to the look. Baywatch babes , watch out!

Sincerely,

The Blah Man

SHIT!

2009-03-07T13:25:00.001+05:30

Almost one year into Chennai, I am still amazed by the sheer volume of content Chennai land can provide me to write about. Here’s the latest:

TATTI. No,I am not expressing any disgust here. I am actually spelling out the acronym for TAMILNADU ADVANCED TECHNICAL TRAINING INSTITUTE; an engineering college in Chennai.

If you were to analyze the implications of being associated with the institute, you could spend an entire day discovering the countless repercussions of the association. I have put down a few below:

1. To start with, you would be called a TATTIan
2. If your uncle asked you – “Beta, what are you doing these days?” your reply would probably be - “ I am currently in my first year at TATTI”
3. If you had to put in your ambitions , you would start by writing, “After 4 years in TATTI, I intend to join a big software company”
4. You could get the “Most outstanding performance in TATTI” award
5. If you were a topper through out, your certificate of merit would say – “ Mr. Chintu topped TATTI consecutively for four years”
6. You would refer to your friends as –“ My friends from TATTI”
7. After graduating, you would fondly remember your TATTI days
8. If you were to come across an old friend from college years later, you would introduce him to your family by saying - “ Pooja and I go back all the way to TATTI, back then, she was known as Poo”
9. You would - over a period of your four years of association- say “I love TATTI” several times. Alternatively, you could also be saying “I HATE TATTI” but then who doesn’t!
10. It wouldn’t seem weird if someone asked you -“Kall TATTI Jaega?” (“Will you go to TATTI tomorrow?”)
11. Also God forbid if you were to miss college for 7 days, you would tell your friends – “ Its been 7 days since I went to TATTI”
12. You would be leave writing leave applications for not going to TATTI when you are sick or travelling home

There are several possibilities, and I leave it to the readers to add on to this. Any more of this from me and I would be prosecuted for bull-shitting

For all the non-believers, here’s the link to TATTI’s website: www.tatti.ifline.com

Sincerely,
The Blah Man

Important Announcement

2009-02-18T18:27:00.002+05:30

I have decided that I am going to abstain from writing long posts. This is a result of an in-depth analysis done by me over the last few weeks. I would spare my readers of the details since they are too esoteric for the common folk and sum up the reasons for this decision. Though there are 5 reasons, I will explain only the first two and not elaborate the other three since they are too controversial and might damage my reputation as one of the finest story tellers of this generation

1.I am too indolent to write long posts at higher frequency
2.It’s easier to talk intellectual bullshit in spurts
3.Reason number 3
4.Reason number 4
5.Reason number 5

For the sake of clarity, the aforementioned reasons are in their order of priority.

Sincerely,

The Blah Man

It's a GOAL!

2009-01-29T12:10:00.005+05:30

It is around 10 in the night. I don’t have a very clear idea of the time but my super human sense of time indicates that it is close to 10 pm. I can feel the heat of the situation; my calf muscles are pulled up and are begging for rest, my heart is racing and the adrenalin is rushing as if it’s chasing the last local train out of CST. Yet, I ignore all of this. All I need now is to keep my focus going for a few more minutes and then the glory shall be mine.

Standing underneath the bright floodlights on a green carpet of soft grass, I look around at the cheering crowd in the stadium. The chants of my name by thousands of fans, banners reading - “We love you No.10!”, and security persons lined up on the upper stands’ parapet to keep my female fans from jumping off in excitement; all these elements urge me to carry on. All 11 of us are dressed in blue, the official color of the Indian cricket team. But this isn’t cricket. This is football, a game that was never a forte of Indians.

I am not probably the best person to comment on how things changed for India and me. I have a feeling that I have the entire story intact in my subconscious mind but somehow after that fateful incident when I was hit on the head by a load of bird shit I forgot all about my past life (I will share the details of the unfortunate incident some other time). Anyway, let me just sum it up in one breath before I start sounding unbelievable - “India is playing the finals of the world cup. The venue is probably Eden gardens, the rivals are some random team dressed in yellow. Our team is in blue and although I cant recognize all of them, I can definitely identify Ronaldo, Rooney, Ballack , Beckham and Bhutia.

At the moment, we are into the last 50 seconds of the game. The scores are tied at 2-2. I know that if we don’t score another goal, our chances of winning are as good as zero. Our goalkeeper ‘D’ was once a wicket keeper for the Indian cricket team but could never do much to keep the small cricket ball from escaping him. He thought he had a better chance at collecting bigger balls and landed into the national football team.
Beckham is taking a shot after a player from the opponent’s team grabbed Ronaldo inappropriately while trying to tackle the ball. As Beckham takes the shot, I can already see the opportunity slipping out of our hands. The shot clearly doesn’t match up to the international levels of professional football. I make a mental note of kicking him out of the team after this match since he has lost his sheen after being dumped by Posh. However, I need to make up for the bad shot and give my best to the moment. I keep a close eye on the ball as it flies almost opposite to the opponents’ goal post, hitting Ronaldo on the face (I suppose it’s just not a good day for him). Bhutia , who is standing just behind the centre line hits it back using his chest in a movement resembling the way our Tennis icons Paes and Bhupati used to celebrate a point by hitting their chests against each others’ . The ball flies almost half the length of the field and sensing an opportunity, I make a dash for it. The ball lands in the opponents’ D and I slide a good 10 feet to make a contact with it and push it through one of the rival players (who I believe is Andrew Symonds). With no time to waste as we move into the last 10 seconds of the game, I get back on my feet and run with the ball towards the goal.

The goalkeeper along with 4 other players, charges at me forming a human wall between me and the goal. I weigh my options quickly and decide to get in my super acrobatic skills into play (I acquired these skills while I was a super hero in Cambodia). I hold the ball in between my feet and perform a semi somersault. As a result, I am on both my hands and my legs are up with the ball caught between my feet. The next moment I toss the ball above the human wall using the momentum of my legs.

Everybody watches with bated breath as the ball clears the wall and soars into the goal post. A blanket of silence covers the stadium for a few seconds. The world has just witnessed an act of unprecedented athleticism. The crowd erupts into a victory roar and all my team mates rush to hug me. I acknowledge the crowd, I toss the ball and with all my might hit it to the stands…..

…… There is an unbearable pain in my right foot. The right big toe is throbbing and I am trying hard to stop a scream from escaping my mouth. As I slowly get back to my senses I realize that I had hit the wall next to my bed in full strength.

I missed the Gym and limped all day. The pain subsided but somehow the memory has refused to get diluted. I take it as my moral responsibility to apprise my readers with this because I have chosen to believe that this incident is only a harbinger of bigger things to come.

Also, please do not be appalled by the mention of international stars in the Indian football team. My extensive research of the dream tells me that this was probably because these are the only names I know from the world of football. My apologies to all football fans if I have hurt their sentiments in any way.

Sincerely,
The Blah Man

Nonty will never be back :(

2008-12-24T19:03:00.008+05:30

With great grief I announce the sad demise of Nonty. After being in the operation theatre for over 60 hours, he was declared dead today at 1500 hours. Nonty was diagnosed with acute hydrophillia; an ailment which ultimately took him to his deathbed.

On December 18, 2008 Nonty landed himself into deep shit when he jumped into a flushing toilet. After being rescued, Nonty was given first aid under a 100W lamp. When attempts to resuscitate failed, he was put under the hand drier in the office toilet but to no avail. It was then that he was rushed to the NCU (Nokia Care Unit). Nonty was admitted amidst serious doubts on complete revival and was put through a lengthy operation from December 19th onwards.
As I waited anxiously at the delivery desk, the chief technician informed me with a somber face and load of spit: " Sorry we khan not be able to rephair it Sir!" Drenched in the conversational spit , I walked out of the NCU;petrified and emotionless. It was only after a lot of words of comfort from my friends that I decided to write down this obituary.

Nonty was a great companion and a Phonetastic photographer. In a lifespan of just 10 months he took over 800 high quality photographs in the most perilous locations like the public toilets of shopping malls Garment stores with shady names and People wearing funny clothes and accessories. All these pictures were contributed to the posts about the city of Chennai on my blog.

Let’s get together and observe a moment of silence for the brave Nonty, who gave up his life in the line of duty.

Regards,

The Blah Man

P.S: In Nonty’s absence, Nannu would fill in for his role.

Monty is Back!

2008-10-25T19:15:00.007+05:30

I have been under tremendous pressure for some time now. The reason is that I haven’t updated this space for 2 months now and hence it becomes imperative that I have a celebrated comeback.
My wait for a seriously ridiculous thing to happen to me was brought to an end when a friend and I decided to watch Hemesh Reshammiya’s Karzzzzzzz last Sunday.
This post is dedicated to HR and his ability to make a star* of himself in whatever he does.

* A wise person once said – “A word may not spell what it is supposed to mean”

The movie has some brilliant display of HR’s acting and singing abilities. While he relentlessly continues to croon is songs which are bound to make you NOSEtalgic, his acting abilities surely appear to have been honed since his debut.

A few things that’ll make every HR fan proud:
HR’s open arms: Our Himesh Bhai’s favorite pose. Once in every song, he stretches out his hands, closes his eyes, puts on a constipated look on his face and stands in the middle of a crowd of people to render a unique sound which one would first believe to be a mating call. It has been discovered that this sound has multiple frequency levels and can even be heard by dolphins several thousand miles across. Recently a group of marine scientists in Australia were befuddled when they found dolphins change their behavior dramatically between 12 pm and 12 am everyday. The dolphins were also seen exhibiting a strong affinity to capped men in boats. They virtually jumped out of the sea to reach out to these men and made desperate attempts to pinch their caps. Scientists believe that this behavior can only be attributed to a unique high frequency sound which evokes the dolphins to indulge in this kind of behavior. Whether the sound pleases them or irritates them is yet to be discovered.
HR makes women fall for him at the drop of his cap: Literally. While his earlier movie had shots where the crowd went crazy for him, his second movie shows us what HR can do if he takes his cap off. In the first song of the movie you can see several firang and desi babes fainting as HR strikes his deadly open arms pose. You can also see the ushers and security guards waiting for them to drop so that they can carry them away. All those women who had doubts on Himesh’s CAPabilities, please take note.
HR can play the electric guitar with no strings attached: Our HR needs no cords and knows no chords. He plays the electric guitar effortlessly without any electricity cords attached and to add to it his abilities are so extreme that he doesn’t need to move through the frets of his guitar. He just has to hold it and it plays whatever he wants it to play. At times I feel that he can even produce the guitar sound from his mouth. Especially because he NOSE that he doesn’t need his mouth to sing.
HR has his own favorites: I found this out after watching Karzzzzz. In a particular scene Urmila Matondkar (clearly jealous of HR’s hair ) asks him after smelling his perfume – “Casablanca?” and our Himesh puts on the most somber look on his face , looks into her eyes, flares up his nostrils and says without a smile, “Yes. It is my favorite” I could give him an Oscar just for the way he delivered that line on screen. I am sure a lot of women in the theatres ( if there were any) would have bitten their lips on that one!

A final piece of advice for all those planning to watch the movie: Please take it with a pinch of salt. The movie is actually a spoof of the original Karz, only that the producer has forgotten to mention it. Please do not blame Himesh Reshammiya , IT IS MEANT TO BE THAT WAY!!!
Also, please do not leave any comments bad mouthing HR. I shall not tolerate any such behavior **
Sincerely,
The Blah Man

** I am kidding please go ahead :)

Attention Marketers!

2008-07-21T16:24:00.008+05:30

I was in Kanpur recently for some work (Yes, I also work). A colleague took me to a famous sweet seller and while everybody enjoyed their sweets, I was lost -appreciating the brilliant bit of marketing a low profile Halwai had put into his business.

I took a picture and decided that it would contribute to the first sane entry on my blog

The Tag line says “Aisa Koi Saga Nahi, Jisko Hamne Thaga Nahi!”

Mr. Thaggu planned to diversify. Keeping in mind that his core competence lay in sweets, he introduced a new but related product - Kulfi and aptly named it as Badnaam Kulfi; keeping the notorious brand positioning in mind all the while!

For those who didn’t know, Thaggu ke Laddoo are famous not only in Kanpur but across the country. Also featured in several Hindi movies, these Laddoos enjoy quite a fan following.

Sincerely,
The Blah Man

P.S: I took me an entire day to decide if I wanted to write anything sensible on this blog and a sleepless night wondering if I did the right thing by putting it up.

Adapting to Chennai-Land

2008-07-07T19:28:00.007+05:30

In an attempt to completely paint myself in the colors of Chennai, I have been doing a lot of frivolous things of late. A list of five such things I did during the last week follows:

1. I spat on at least 18 people while talking to them. This averages out to about 2.6 people every day which I think is good progress considering I spat at only 7 people during the week before – This translates into a growth of 160%!

2. I haggled with Auto walas for absolutely frivolous reasons. For example, I asked the Auto walas to charge one rupee less in fare when the prices of milk went up by one rupee citing an increase in my expenses without a commensurate increase in my salary as the reason

3. I moved around with a bovine expression on face. I have a feeling that this conceals the intellectual look I have and makes me look as one of them

4. I resolved to wear a lungi to bed..Soon!

5. I watched a Tamil blockbuster

Of the five things listed above, the most painful experience was sitting through the 3 ½ hour long Tamil blockbuster. The movie has Tamil super star Kamala Hassan playing 10 roles and has turned me into a Kamala Hassan devotee (I am planning to construct a chain of Kamala Temples across the country). For the benefit of the readers let me mention the best thing about the movie. One of Mr. Hassan’s avatars is a Sardar who is a famous pop singer. The brilliance of the script lies in the attention paid to detail with our Sardar pop icon singing Tamil songs. To add to this, the script also offers a sneak preview of cutting edge technology in the field of medical science when after being diagnosed with terminal throat cancer, our star singer recovers completely when he is shot in the throat by a bullet. The logic of course is that as the bullet travelled through his throat , it took the cancer along. Extremely believable.

I have now decided to watch a Tamil movie every month. This would help me maintain a level of insanity and keep my readers happy with more of my trade mark badinage on offer.

For those wondering why I decided to watch the movie in the first place, the reason is free popcorn and Coke that was offered to all the employees of my organization for sitting through the movie.

Sincerely,

The Blah Man

Back to Chennai

2008-07-03T14:23:00.012+05:30

The Bombay tales are over and I am back in Chennai. Just as I was beginning to feel that I've seen it all, I came across this unique sight in one of the most frequented washrooms in the whole of Chennai.

The washroom in discussion exists in the oldest and largest shopping mall of Chennai - Spencer Plaza. The place is always full of people and quite a place to hangout if you want to check out the local crowd.

Believe it or not, but as you enter the Gents washroom, the wall opposite to the entrance greets you with the sign - "LEG WASH"

My reaction - "!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Unbelievable stuff! I clicked a picture even as every other person performing his usual act in the loo was scandalized and tried covering whatever they felt was at the risk of exposure.

Please excuse the quality of the picture as I couldn't get the focus right to avoid a yet another story titled -" Man beaten up for taking pictures in the loo"

And before anybody accuses me of getting Chennai and it's people a bad name, I would like to wash my legs of this affair.

Sincerely ,
The Blah Man

Clarifications

2008-06-25T10:57:00.004+05:30

While I am seldom abashed of my association with Nincompoops, I shall not tolerate incomplete information which might mislead my fellow Nincompoops, Dodos and Super Heroes. It is for this reason that I am putting forth this clarification which throws some light on the events that took place on that fateful night of June at the Mahalaxmi station in Mumbai:

Clarification #1: There was a reason why the man on the station missed the train. While he ran alongside the speeding train-throwing his belongings inside- just as he was about to take the leap into the train, he realized that his belt-less pants were sliding down his posterior. Being a man of noble upbringing he only deemed it fit to give up his pursuit of the train lest he might put to shame all spectators – men and women alike. I would advise correspondents like Mr. Anshul Ajit to put themselves in others’ pants before they write such articles.

Clarification #2: The man on the platform wasn’t the only one to be blamed for the goof-up. Let me throw some light on the other two characters – The man’s friends in the train- who added very essential ingredients to make the incident a memorable one. While the poor guy ran alongside the train, his friends took up the frivolous task of running from their seats to collect the bounty. It was truly a sight to watch as two people sprung in action to grab a wallet and a bottle of water– as if fate had put before them an opportunity to lay their hands on random riches flying into the railway compartment they had occupied. I feel the efforts of the man on the station would not have gone to waste had his friends decided to pull him up instead of getting busy with the collection of the loot.

Clarification #3: While the incident did evoke hysterical laughter amongst the people in the train, there was no such happening on the platform. As the man turned back after giving up his pursuit for the train he was not greeted by hysterical laughter but by astonished and amused faces of the few people present at the platform. Though the man feels that there were people laughing quietly as he turned away there is no evidence of a mass mockery. I have a feeling that most people were rather overwhelmed by the breathtaking escapades of the man on the station

Clarification #4: This is more of a plea than a clarification. I would request the correspondent to change the title line and rephrase it so as to reflect the valor of the man on the station. A title like - “Super man spotted at Mahalaxmi” would have been apt. In case the correspondent finds himself short of ideas, I would be keen to contribute.

Sincerely,

The Blah Man

Nincompoop Spotted!

2008-06-24T14:27:00.006+05:30

I discussed about Nincompoops in my last post. Here is a bystander's account of an incident which depicts a Nincompoop at his best:

Man on Railway platform provides comic relief to commuters

Mumbai, Sometime in June: Commuters on the Mahalaxmi station were witness to a very curious incidence recently…… at approx. 12 midnight a local train stopped at the station and out came a man to buy a bottle of water from a vendor….. as he was about to purchase the bottle …. The train chugged ……. Supremely confident of what he was doing the man quickly grabbed the bottle and started running for the train…. But alas muscle power is no match for a diesel behemoth…. Soon the train got fast to get the man thinking of new and “bright” ideas…. He threw the bottle inside the compartment…. The bottle landed with a thud and startled the otherwise sleepy crowd…. Also it grabbed their attention as until now they were not aware of the ongoings…… the man now was confident that he just has to climb in…. but he had a wallet in the other hand and he wanted both hands to be free to go for the plunge……so what does he do….. u guessed it…… he threw the wallet also into the compartment……what next u might ask….. well he missed the train…… had no money and guess what he was still thirsty…… but this chain of events had evoked hysterical laughter amongst other people on the platform and also inside the train…. To his misfortune both his friends who happened to be on the train had run out of battery on their cell phones…… luckily some kind soul gave them a phone to call Mr. Einstein and all were reunited an hour later…….

The man is known to have fled to Chennai ever since…….. no one knows who he was……

Correspondent: Anshul Ajit

Incidently, I was in Mumbai sometime in June and all this gives me a feeling of a déjà vu . I leave it to the readers to decipher the rest.

Sincerely,

The Blah Man

The Genesis

2008-06-20T15:05:00.009+05:30

Everybody has a right to look dumb sometime in their lives. While some may have a higher propensity to make a fool of themselves at every opporuntity presented to them, others exhibit this ability in spurts.

As always , I will exhibit my systematic thinking and analytical bent of mind by categorizing the human species into three broad sub categories

1. Dodos: These are people who have transgressed all boundaries of intelligence and have permanently taken abode in the land of the dumb. Born to be extinct, Dodos can seldom attribute their asinine behavior to an external factor and almost always find themselves to be the chief perpetrator of the dumbest act that has happened in their vicinity. Dodos are an onlooker’s delight and a nightmare for any person even remotely associated with them.

Percentage share in human population: 30%

2. Nincompoops: This category has people who are usually mistaken to be normal human beings but when struck by a fit of Nincompoopia , they exhibit a fatuous behavior of the highest order to put even the Dodos to shame. For the uninitiated, Nincompoopia is a common disease and often strikes when there is a possibility of maximum damage which translates into a situation where a maximum number of onlookers can get to watch a fool in action. The disease is highly contagious and one can expect an average of 6 in every 10 people to be infected.

Nincompoops carry themselves with great dignity and seriousness and usually blame an act of stupidity to sheer bad luck and Mr. Murphy.

Percentage share in human population: 60%

3. Super Heroes: This is the most exciting of all categories . Super heroes have special powers which make them superbeings but for some strange reason they prefer to wear their underwear over their pants.

Percentage share in human population: 10%

While I am it, let me make a confession that I fall into the category of Nincompoops.

I grew up like any normal child without showing any symptoms of being a Nincompoop during my pre -teen years. I would do well in school and at sports but somehow never enjoyed quizzing and mind stimulating games. This was probably a sign of things to come. As I moved into my teens, I started exhibiting traits of what I was going to be for the rest of my life.

I still remember the first time I felt I was one of them. It started like a usual school day; the morning assembly, the Lord’s Prayer and a small lecture on discipline by our principal. Once back into our classes we were checked for our conformance to the school uniform.

The law of the school was that any student caught for nonconformance would be taken to the school playground where they would be put to picking up stones and preparing the field for the evening football match. It sounded barbaric but it was quite a fun for the ‘punished’ students. No student ever worked in the field and everybody enjoyed the winter sun as they chatted and rejoiced over the legitimate status to their playing a truant .Often they would split into teams and have a small football match as well. In short, punishment for non conformance in school uniform was everybody’s dream.

In my case, it was no longer a dream. It was an aspiration.

As the prefects walked into the classroom to pick out the lucky ones, I suddenly had an urge to achieve my aspirations on that very day. I checked my uniform – it was prim and proper. I cursed myself for getting it right again which was largely because my mom would never falter. However, since I had made up my mind, I started exploring other options. Whoever said that “A friend in need is a friend indeed” had probably been through a similar situation before because just as I was about to give up all hope I saw my best friend from school. He grinned as he showed his Red socks to me. He had definitely done his homework well by ensuring that he had all the chance of getting caught and in style.

My first reaction was that of envy for I knew that he would soon have the prerogative of the punishment while I would sit through a boring lesson of History. And then, almost out of nowhere, my devilish mind produced an idea. At this moment, I am reminded of a famous Hindi proverb which says - Jab kutte ki maut aati hai to woh shahar ki taraf bhagta hai (When a dog is about to meet his end, he runs towards the city). No points for guessing that I was going to play the proverbial dog here.

The idea was simple and followed the basic management principle of working within ones resources-

The Situation: Two friends seeking the opportunity of bunking a lecture
The Resource: A pair of red socks
The Solution: Share the pair!

So, we did it. I put on one of his socks and he put on one of mine. In effect, my friend had a black sock in one and a red one in the other foot and so did I.

As expected, we were caught and asked to line up in front of the class. I walked out with my chest puffed up with pride and chuckled to myself for having pulled it off so neatly. As we pranced across the corridors, I could see other students peeping out of their classrooms to catch a glimpse of the lucky **** of the day. I wanted to scream out - Sorry guys, it just isn’t your day.. better luck next time!!

The parade of the nonconformists marched across the length of the school and just when I was getting ready to turn left towards the football field, I saw the entire queue turning to the right.

It is important for me to explain the significance of this right turn at this point. The right turn led straight to the only operational room in southern part of the school building. The room belonged to the most loathed creature in the school – The physical training instructor – Mr. L. I asked a few others about the possible reason behind our changed course of path but they were as clueless. For the first time in my life, I felt like a bolt getting ready to be screwed.

As it turned out, Mr. L had decided to change the nature of the punishment. It was no more about cleaning up the field and picking stones. The new punishment was 5 canes each on the butt.

The only person who seemed delighted by the change in punishment was my friend. He started laughing hysterically while pointing at me and I surely knew why.

I was at the end of the 7 member line and hence the last one to get my share of five. I heard about 25 screams of Ahs and Ouchs before I heard five ‘Haiys’ sandwiched between sputters of laughter from the 6th person who of course, was my friend. And then it was my turn.

For the rest of the day I walked in an awkward manner and refused to sit on a chair in the classroom. Back at home in the afternoon, I sulked till evening before my fatigue drowned me into a deep dog-like sleep.

So that’s how it all started. What followed was a string of preposterous incidents that was to last a lifetime. I have already scripted a few here and promise to script many more as and when they happen and I get over with my initial bouts of humiliation to eventually laugh at them with others.

Sincerely,

The Blah Man

The Spelling Techniques of Chennai - Part II

2008-05-30T11:45:00.014+05:30

With my stay at Chennai hitting the 2 months' mark, I have found myself wiser, smarter and better prepared for the city and its people. The latest addition to my vast and ever-expanding ocean of knowledge is in the area of language (again).
In my last post on language I had written about the strong affinity that people fo Chennai have for the letter 'H'. I was convinced that 'H' was the king of letters untill I discovered that even 'H' hasn't been spared the persecution.

The Prosecution of H - Justice Delayed, Not Denied
Every word - common noun, proper noun adjectives, adverbs etc. that rightfully has an 'H' somewhere within it will have its 'H' pronounced as 'GH' .
E.g. Mahindra becomes MaGHindra, Ahmed become AGHmed etc.
This results in a sound which gives an impression that the person is launching a massive load of his ususal conversational spit. The interesting bit is that while 'H' was busy getting appended to every other letter, it did not see its neighbor closing on it from behind.
Retribution at last.

The BlaGH Man

P.S: I can imagine the other letters hailing justice and having the last laugh - GHa GHa GHa...

The Smart Ass Gets a Kick

2008-05-02T13:11:00.022+05:30

Ass; Everybody has one. I have one too, only that I thought mine was a real smart one. Having stated that, I must also confess that my perception changed yesterday.

I am currently in the process of furnishing my new home. I woke up yesterday a bit early and after doing the usual morning business sat down with the to do list that I had meticulously prepared the day before. I have this habit of letting out a little chuckle as a token of appreciation for my systematic and efficient way of doing things and I knew my to do list here deserved at least half of it. So I let it out as I read through the list:

Move the luggage from the guest house to the new house
Receive the delivery of the new A/Cs
Get the A/Cs installed
Get a Mattress and a small Cupboard
Get a T.V, Refrigerator and a DTH connection
Celebrate the successful moving in with a nice dinner and enjoy

It all looked pretty simple. After all , I had planned everything. A light commercial vehicle had been booked the previous day to carry the luggage, the A/C guys had been provided with the address and the time for the delivery, the installation guys had also been kept in the loop and ofcourse, purchasing a mattress and the white goods was going to be a cakewalk.

The guys who were to come to pick up my luggage didn’t turn up on time. I was starting to get worried when my phone screamed out for my attention. I composed myself and took the call -

Me: Hullo?
The voice on the other end (TVOOE): A/C Delivery sir!
Me: Oh yeah.. Sure. Please deliver it at Flat#5, residential unit, opposite Konika, M.G Road, Shastri Nagar, Adyar. And could you tell me how long are you going to take? 'Cause you see, I am not there right now so it's going to take me about half an hour to reach. In case you reach before me , please wait outside and I'll be there to take the delivery. Is that O.K?

There was absolute silence on the other end so I Hulloed a few times to check if the line was still active.

TVOOE: Sir! #$!!!*&^++)(^^& A/C ^%##$!%%$!!!! Adyar #*^%$$%^ Delivery Sir!

All the special characters written above and all that are to follow denote TAMIL words

Me: No Tamil ! Tamil Illai! English speaking?
TVOEE: English sir!
Me: Yes English Yes!
TVOEE: #$!!!*&^++)(^^& A/C ^%##$!%%$!!!! Adyar #*^%$$%^ Delivery Sir!

It was the same code that I couldn’t decipher; I thought maybe he didn’t understand the address so I repeated the same to him.

Me: Shastri Nagar!
TVOEE: SHASTRHRI NAGARAA !!!
Me: Konika!
TVOEE: KHONIKHAAA !!!

I was beginning to see light at the end of the tunnel.

Me: Opposite!
TVOEE: OPPOSITE!!!
TVOEE: #$!!!*&^++) (^^& A/C ^%##$! %%$!!!! Adyar #*^%$$%^ Delivery Sir!

The same code! I knew this wasn’t going to work so I rushed out of the house.
As I ran outside, I looked for any person with a friendly expression on his countenance. After about 2 minutes of panic I saw him. He had big black eyes and pearl white teeth which were showing through his benevolent smile. He was surrounded by three ladies who seemed to be in an intense discussion with him; all of them at the same time which made them sound like Emenem, Usher and Puff Daddy all trying to rap together. Tall, very dark and handsome – The friendly neighborhood Sabziwala

Me: Hullo, English speaking?
T.F.N.Sabziwala: English Yes!

I sighed in relief.

Me: This man on phone, he not knowing English, I not knowing Tamil. Could you talk and help?

I crossed my fingers and my toes.

T.F.N.Sabziwala: Oh yes! Give phone.

What followed was a session of absolute gibberish to me. I tried guessing what was transpiring between the two from the expressions and tone of the Sabziwala. Finally I was told that the A/C delivery guy had reached there and was waiting for me.
I rushed back and asked a colleague who was to share the new house with me to get to the address to take the delivery while I’d wait for the luggage movers to drop in.

Later in the day, after the luggage had been moved and the A/Cs had been delivered, my colleague and I faced an even bigger challenge of handling the A/C installation guy who also just like his delivery counterpart had no idea about English. I gave up and let him do whatever he wanted. He knocked down the windows, cut the wood, and shoved the A/Cs into the walls. While he was at it, there were several instances when he asked us to choose between options. But his renditions were too complex for me to understand. I simply resorted to a simple O.K to his every query and hoped that the end result didn’t have the A/Cs cooling the other side of the walls.

It was late evening by the time the A/Cs were installed. I calculated that there was only enough time to get a cupboard so I went straight to a market which had a series of furniture shops.

I think the people here love to let their emotions flow over trifles. After trying about 3-4 shops when I couldn’t get a cupboard, I decided to ask for a Made to order cupboard. The small discussion that I had with one of the store owners is worth a mention.

Me: Can you make a cupboard on order?
Furniture Man (FM): Yes Yes!! We make on Orderr!
Me: O.K, so here are the dimensions…

I gave him the specifications which he jotted down with his tongue sticking out of the left of his mouth as if he was being strangled.

FM: O.K Sir! It Costing you 4,800 ruphees!
Me: Hmmm.. you see that is expensive , I am looking for a very basic one, can you make a cheap one?

I had never thought that asking a furniture guy to make a cheap cupboard could offend him. He looked at me with blood shot eyes and spat a litre of what I call the conversational spit as he replied.

FM: Cheap cupboard not PHossible ! QHuality not comPHromise!! 4800 BHest PHrice!! Cheap not GHetting anywhere in Chennai! Not PHossible!

I wiped my face, apologized and left.

Back at the guest house , I decided to call it a day and sat down to make the to do list for the next day. There was a small addition to the title though.
It read: To do (if possible.)

Regards,
The Blah Man

The Spelling Techniques of Chennai

2008-04-24T12:37:00.002+05:30

I've recently moved to Chennai where I'd be taking up a new job. For the unitiated , Chennai is the southern most metropolitan of India. Everyone who gets to know of my current abode greets me with a "Tch tch.. I am so sorry for you" expression /tone.

I have no idea why they do so. In fact I dont even want to know.

One of the first things I noticed about this place is the way people spell here. Every proper noun with a "t" has to be spelt so as to make one throw the maximum spit out of one's mouth when pronounced- A deadly weapon to keep people from asking your name if you carry a "t" in yours.

E.g. Savita is spelled as S-A-V-I-T-H-A ,Gita is spelled as G-I-T-H-A and so on.

Although it is predominant in proper nouns, this technique of spelling/pronouncing is also efficiently utlized in other types of words or sentences. E.g. Common nouns : K-U-T-H-E! or B-A-T-H-A-M-E-E-Z (You get to call people names and also spit on them in disdain here)

At times, an extra "h" could also be added to an unsuspecting letter when there arent enough opportunities (i.e, "t"s) to spit while one says something. I could notice this only for hindi sentences since I am not familiar with Tamil.

E.g. "THumhara naam kHyaa hai" or for that matter - "THum THo thehre PHardesi, saath KHyaa nibhaoge"

All in all a brilliant idea to take people by surprise and moisturize their faces. As someone who practices this technique, you also stand a fair chance of being remembered as " The person who THOOK on the world"

My advice to all who enjoy this spitting act is "Spit thrills but Kills!" - Very original one would say.

Anyway, I am still in the process of dicovering the reason for this peculiar spelling technique in this part of the country. Any comments to enlighten me here are most welcome.

With warm and wet regards,

The Blah Man

P.S: Please ensure that your comments do not carry a lot of depth. I express my absolute inability in deciphering such comments

Rendezvous With a Doctor

2007-05-26T02:49:00.007+05:30

It was a bright Sunday afternoon. I had been through a grueling week and was looking forward to spending some time doing what I do best- Nothing. It has always amazed me how busy I have kept myself all these years doing ‘nothing’ – an activity I started indulging in while I was an engineering student. My friends and I would get over with the classes and then dutifully visit ‘Pandey Café’ where we would sit for hours together munching on chips, talking and wasting the valuable time of some studious engineering student while trying to explain to him that life was about having fun and not stressing oneself out with studies. How doing ‘nothing’ translated into having fun is still beyond me. However, this Sunday afternoon I was determined to rekindle old memories of my engineering days and with no quizzes and presentations lined up, I was all set.

I had almost started feeling busy with my nothingness when I heard somebody knock at my door. I could never make a mistake in identifying that knock. A knock which carried the urgency of a person who had come to inform that the world was coming to an end in the next 5 minutes and we might want to bolt while we could. A knock typical of Shuvi.

Shuvi was one of my closest friends in business school. We had quite a few things in common- Short height, flair for speaking and arguing, falling hair, sense of humor and stomach disorders. In fact a lot of people would have regarded us Siamese Twins –similar and inseparable - had it not been for one big difference. Shuvi hated wasting his time in doing anything that he found unproductive. We had several arguments over how doing nothing could have its own productive outcomes but we could never agree with each other’s points of view. Shuvi believed that he had come to a business school to study business and this required him to stay busy all the time. Nothing could ever distract him from his studies except a health disorder. Shuvi was extremely cautious when it came to matters of his health. He had somehow concluded that all the bacteria, viruses and bugs in the world had resolved to make him sick and hence was always at war with them. He sprayed his room with myriad insect repellants which served a two fold purpose of keeping the insects as well as me away.

So when he knocked, I was sure that either he had come to remind me of my responsibilities towards a project work or there was something wrong with his health.
The very thought of doing some work disrupted the peace of my mind. I crossed my fingers and opened the door. The expression on Shuvi’s face cleared my doubts. Drooping eyes, emaciated face - I was relieved that it wasn’t about work!

Shuvi had been bitten by a bug a few days ago. The news would have made the headlines of our school newspaper (if there were one). You could observe people all over the campus talking in whispers about how a daring bug had managed to stay alive in Shuvi’s room and bitten him. It was noteworthy that everyone talked about it with respect like that for a martyr. It had succumbed to the fatal injuries after it had been squashed by Shuvi but had managed to hit its target before falling in the battlefield.

The bite had resulted in a boil which had grown bigger over the last few days .Shuvi was unable to concentrate on his business of being busy because of this so, of course, it called for immediate attention. I changed out of my pajamas and we decided to go to the official school doctor – Dr. Dhingra.

I had thought that the name was a mere joke when I had heard of it the first time from seniors. Dr.Dhingra sounded like a name straight out of a Hindi flick but other students had confirmed that he actually existed and I was waiting for an opportunity to see him.

We reached his clinic and waited for some time before he called us in. Dr. Dhingra was a short man with no neck and wore rectangular glasses which rested on his big-wide nose.

I had a feeling that this was going to be a memorable meeting. What happened next would best be described through the actual conversation that took place among us –

Shuvi and S: Good afternoon doctor!
DD: Good afternoon young men!

Shuvi took a seat next to the doctor while I sat across them.

Shuvi: Sir, I have been bitten by a bug on my neck and it’s not getting any better.

Dr.Dhingra observed the boil and smirked as if to mock at the boil and the late Mr. Bug

DD: Very well, here are a few medicines (he scribbled a couple of names in his illegible handwriting) take them for two days and you’d be fine!
Shuvi: Sir, are you sure that there wont be any side effects?

Dr. Dhingra’s facial expressions changed as if he had just been challenged for a duel. His nostrils flared and I could see his lungs through them now.

DD: SIDE EFFECTS????? Did you just say side effects??

I swear I would have apologized to him and promised never to use that word in my life had I been in Shuvi’s place, but even Shuvi seemed to be getting ready for the duel.

Shuvi: Yes Sir, aren’t allopathic medicines supposed to have side effects?
DD: Son, tell me one thing in the world which does not have side effects!

Shuvi smiled as if he had a winning answer to Dr. Dhingra’s question ready.
Shuvi: Water… water sir! It doesn’t have any side effects!
DD: Aha! Let us have a discussion on this one! I love discussions!

I was panicking! This wasn’t looking good.

Shuvi: Sure Sir…so what do you say about water, eh?
DD: You keep on drinking water …don’t stop and keep drinking. Eventually your brain would be bloated and you’d die – SIDE EFFECT!

Touché Doc! I thought as I nudged Shuvi to signal him to give it up. But Shuvi had taken up the challenge; he wasn’t going to run away from this one.

Shuvi: What about oxygen sir? We take it in all the time don’t we?
Dr. Dhingra glared at us. I thought his eyes were going to pop out any moment.

DD: Are you a science student?
S: Err…Yes sir I am!

I realized what a grave mistake I had committed the moment I said this. Dr.Dhingra had now assumed that I was an ally to Shuvi and I could see that I was going to be slaughtered.

DD: So, if I kept a man in an oxygen chamber for a few days and then I took him out, what would happen to him?
S: Well, I think he’d be just fine…. except of course he’d be furious for being locked in for so many days!
DD: Hah!

Dr. Dhingra looked at me and I knew something terrible was about to happen to me. I cowered in my chair.

DD: WRONG! He’d die!!! Because his body would have gotten used to all that extra oxygen and when he is brought out, he would die due to lack of desired amount of oxygen! To add to it, don’t you know that Oxygen helps in burning? What happens when you fry some stuff.... O2 breaks down into two atoms... if a few single atoms are left on the surface of the food when you eat it; they go down your throat burning everything in the way! Acidity......SIDE EFFECT! Beware of oxygen!

I was almost petrified. Never had I thought that oxygen could do so much harm. I held back my breath for sometime in fear but then concluded that it was better to die with oxygen than without it.

Shuvi and I had by now decided to give up. We found it necessary to keep our sanity. But Dr. Dhingra had smelled victory, he was going for the kill!

DD: O.K., tell me, is exercise good?

This was an easy one! We replied in affirmative vigorously nodding our heads.

DD: Wrong!! It’s BAD!

Now this put me off, I was quite a fitness freak then and I could argue that exercise if done properly could never harm.

S: But sir…
DD: No But! Listen to me first! How long does a tortoise live?
Shuvi: 150-200 years approximately.
DD: Have you people ever seen a tortoise which moves fast?
S: No sir. In fact it is one of the slowest creatures.
DD: Precisely! What about an elephant? How long does it live?
S: My guess would be around 70 years!
DD: Ever seen it move fast?
S: Nope!
DD: Now tell me how long does a mosquito or a house fly live?
Shuvi: A few weeks…. a couple of months at most!
DD: Don’t they keep fluttering around all the time without staying still a single moment?

We nodded in affirmative wondering what he was leading us to.

DD: See!! I told you!!! You move around a lot, you exercise a lot; your life span would be short. On the other hand, if you chose to be a slug, you’d live much longer!

We were baffled! I wanted to pull my hair out and scream. Even Shuvi looked like he’d been stung by a bigger insect.

Shuvi: Sir, I tell you, I have never been exposed to these universal truths before!
DD: Aww Come on! I was just warming up. By the way now that you have mentioned, I have some very potent arguments against some universally accepted theories!

We knew it; we had to make a dash. If we stayed any longer we’d need a psychiatrist so we got up at once.

Shuvi: Thank you sir. May be some other time. You see, we have a class!

Dr. Dhingra was clearly disappointed.

DD: Oh! I see. But you people can always come over later. It would be good fun having another discussion .What say?

We didn’t say anything! With our tails between our legs, we just ran. We ran till Dr. Dhingra’s clinic was out of sight.

Back to my room I slept like never before. In fact the effects of the rendezvous with Dr. Dhingra didn’t wear off till late evening and it took me 4-5 hours of absolute nothingness to recuperate. Shuvi simply dug his head into books and went into a self imposed exile till all the traces of the bug bite were gone though I am sure that the traces of Dr. Dhingra's atrocities would have taken a long time to vanish.

I had a couple of more visits to Dr.Dhingra over the next one year but I ensured that I never took the bait from him for yet another argument. As for the exercise, I gave it up.

Regards,

The Blah Man

An Experience

2006-12-10T23:02:00.003+05:30

I did a two month internship in Mumbai in the summer of 2006. The place is full of challenges and made me realise that there is so much to learn in life. Some really funny things happened to me on the day I first set out for my training . There were two more friends with me. I scribbled my memories for the day in a mail and sent it over to friends for some fun filled reading. I think it deserves some space on my blog too...

I woke up at 6 in the morning.. perfect start of the day as planned a day before.. I am putting up at Chembur and had seen and studied my route to Worli ( my workplace) a day before. Sharp at 7 I left my place.. I was already feeling proud of how organized I had become in just 2 days in Mumbai. Took an Auto to chembur station, this was done deliberately though I had to catch my train from Kurla. The reason being that I had l learnt the other day that the ticket queues are long @ Kurla. After taking a first class ticket( I also learned that if one wants to go standing all the way, he should take a first class ticket.. in case you want to see yourself hanging out, the normal ticket would do) from Chembur, I carried on to Kurla in the Auto.. the long queue at the ticket counter there made me feel proud of my clairvoyance.

Like an innocent lamb ready to be slaughtered , having little idea of what lay ahead, I moved ahead.. just as I reached the platform, I realised that my train had arrived and was ready to move.. so I took a sprint... the first class had moved to the end of the platform so it was quite a chase.. as I stepped in, the train moved.. and I felt glad that I had won another battle.... however I felt a little uncomfortable by the way a girl sitting right in front was staring at me.. I thought maybe thats how girls in Mumbai are ( PLZ no offence intended to people from Mumbai\) and then there was another Aunty starring at me.. all this unnerved me a bit.. dressed in new crisp formal wear.. had I suddenly started looking that good? I was wondering ... and then I saw IT.. my jaw fell open and my face flushed.... there werent just two faces... there were many.. DAMN! In the hurry to get onto the train, I didnt realise what I had got into..

It was the LADIES' coach! for a moment I felt like jumping out... but then I had read of the countless deaths in Mumbai due to local train accidents.. I definetely had no intentions to form a news in the papers of the next day...so I stayed.. turning my face away and looking out all the time... the train had a small halt at a station and I changed my coach. Out of the train at Dadar, I felt releived .. I had just made it through a very hard time and I felt glad.
I took a Taxi from Dadar to Worli and reached a good one hour before time... I was feeling glad that I was so punctual. The reporting was @ 8:45.. Vineet and Rahul joined me by 8:40 and together we moved in like warriors who had come to conquer. Inside, we were asked to sit and wait..and wait we did... for 1 hour before we felt something was wrong.. I had kept on cursing the lack of proffessionalism on the part of the company all this while waiting for the HR Manager to arrive.. and now I was doubtful... why is it that its only the three of us who are there.. are we special enough to have a seperate induction amongst the 40 odd trainees?? We soon got the answer.. the Hr Manager arrived and was surprised to see us!" what are you guys doing here??" I thought-Ma'am.. we are here for the summer training remember?? She told us that the joining date had been postponed to 5th! and this was communicated to the place com!! . I felt a bit Hysterical.. but held on... she gave us our project breifs and asked us to be back on 5th with other trainees .. a peon had come in to ask for coffee.. we had even nodded our heads.. but seemed like he forgot and Ma'am bye byed us.

Outside the office, we decided to do some house hunting.. somebody told us of a place closeby where accomodation was available " baaju mein hai bhau... seedhe jaane ka!" he had said. So we walked... and we walked..3 Goddamn KMS!!! The guy at the location had just the right words to say to us.. " Kisne bola aapko? apan ke paas aisa koi accomodation nahi hai na!" hehe .. we couldnt beleive it .. screwed up again. We decided to chill out.. had seen enough action since morning.. it was time to unwind.. we moved ( in a bus) to crossroads ( one of the oldest malls in Mumbai) near Haaji Ali. After getting down , we decided to have something to drink... not in the mall... we werent stupid to spend 60 bucks each on something to drink while on our STs.. this was the time to learn.. time to save.. time to manage. We saw the answers to our problem.. there .. right in front of us a shop read" HAJI ALI JUICE CENTER" bingo! We went in and asked for 2 mango and 1 strawberry juice... and I tell you they were good!

Vineet, Rahul and I felt proud of our wise decision and praised the juice while we relished it and quenched our thirsts. " to bhau kitna hua?" ,I asked. I guess it was one of those days when it is predecided that anything and everything around you existed just to screw you. The man said " 210" hehe... we had had enough I went crazy laughing.. I couldnt beleive it... 70 Rs a glass...I swallowed my tears which had followed the laughter and paid.

We went to the mall.. all three of us shaken.. sat in Mc Donald's .. didnt have anything.. we had to save money.. came out went to the road side pao bhaji waala... ordered 3 sandwiches.. suddenly I remembered the lesson learnt not so long ago at the juice shop.. I asked " bhau yeh sandwich kitne ka hai?" " 35 Rs" , he said.. STOP!!! (I almost screamed). We later went to Mc Donald's and had burgers worth 40 Rs.. I was feeling good about myself.. had proven to be a quick learner. The last blow of the day came on our way back... Rahul had left and Vineet and I had to go in the same direction so we were waiting for a bus.. It took only 5 rs so it was quite cheap mode of transport.

A bus came by.. and we asked the conductor.."Worli?" He asked us to climb in and we were happy that we had made it before the mumbaikars as they sat at the bus stop.. probably crying over the lost opportunity that two guys from delhi had grabbed.. or so I thought. It turned out that the bus was an AC coach and we had two shell out 7 times the amount for a small ride to Worli . From Worli we took a NORMAL bus and came back.. exhausted, drained and flagellated. I slept like a dog last night.. Mumbai is going to teach me a lot of stuff.. at least now i know that road side juice waalas aint that cheap.

I guess life is all about making memories, I would love to make many more even if that means making a thousand mistakes worth laughing at in the end.....! Damn! Did I just sound sensible?

Regards,

The Blah Man

The Three Kinds of Learners

2006-11-06T18:31:00.006+05:30

Life is a learning experience; it teaches us of its vagaries in numerous ways and prepares us to face ups and downs as they come. There are essentially 3 types of learners*:

1.The Fishukawas: These are the front row students of the course; they are smart, seldom make mistakes and are quick learners. They believe in the adage: Prevention is better than cure and hence always ensure quality control. (Source: Total Quality Management )

2.The Bishukawas: As the name suggests (I don't know how though) these are the back benchers. They don't care about anything; they are there to have fun and give the life and its lessons all the shit they are worth. They make all the mistakes but refuse to learn. They take everything in their stride.

3.The Mishukawas: Clearly, the middle benchers. Thoroughly confused, life is like a quandary for them. They get hit all the time but never get to know how. Their most frequent question is usually "Why did this have to happen to me?" They try with all their might but never get anywhere and for some strange reason others find their confused demeanor funny and at times cute and their friends are Prof Murphy and his ghost.

*The names have been deliberately chosen from the Japanese language to make it easy for readers to remember and relate to.

This masterpiece of writing here is dedicated to the third kind of learners, The Mishukawas(I will address them with the abbreviation XXX although I understand that it is difficult for the reader to understand how I arrived at that. However, the reader is ensured that a lot of mathematical calculations have gone into that). To understand XXXs, it is imperative that we are acquainted with Prof.Murphy and his law. Murphy's law states that "Things will go wrong if they have to and in a way so as to do maximum damage". XXXs have a strange affinity to this law and its consequences and in this little piece of work here, I will narrate an incident which will make my point clear.

To start with, I must inform you that I myself belong to the XXX category and this is my little story.

I have had this knack missing out on at least one question or a part of it in every other exam I take. It has been happening very frequently with me of late. It has often happened that I miscalculated time or misread it and ended up missing a question or two. It left me dejected and I felt like a loser but I guess when you have had enough of adversities, even Gods are shaken up and they themselves resolve to help you out. I had no idea that Gods had woken up for me today. It started like any other exam day, only that I had this firm determination in my heart to take the question paper by its horns and pin it down in time, and I could feel a strange 'force' hell bent upon helping me out. I wore a winner's smile as I entered the exam room. I wanted to shout –"Get aside morons, the star has arrived!"

The exam paper was a bit lengthy, but I was prepared for the bouncers. I was ready today….! I started writing at a pace which would have turned Mr Schumacker and his companions pink (Let's assume the color of jealousy is pink). Excellence in time management was on my mind, and 'the force' was also there to help. I knew I couldn't go wrong. I cut down long answers short, I wrote in bullets, I used acronyms and abbreviations (as profound as XXX), drew figures without scale and rarely bothered to correct grammatical errors. This was a race and I had to win, people who would care to decorate would find themselves out of it. “Morons!”, I thought again and smiled as I answered each question.

I knew that I wasn't answering well in terms of the content, but then nobody who had to complete the exam in the given time could and so I rode on. However, I did have my anxious moments. Just as I saw my watch show that only two minutes remained, I realized that I had missed out on one question. I could see the walls of my fort crumbling…. I couldn't have given it up then. I looked up to the heavens and asked for some extra 'force' and got back to work. It amazed me to see my pen move with such finesse. I was a master warrior and my pen was my sword (at this moment I formulated an adage –"A pen is mightier than a sword" and I have a feeling that it will get famous someday). So, as the clock ticked towards the end of the allotted time, I started getting up from my seat almost pretending that I was about to submit my answer sheet. I was scribbling rapidly on the sheet to complete my answer before the answer sheet could be taken away by the invigilator. For those who have been in similar situations would agree that it's a weird position you get into under such circumstances. You get 'half' up from your seat and pretend to be ready to hand over the sheet and yet continue to write in a desperate attempt to finish. I was in that situation.

However, my hand ached but I just wrote those final words. Words which read victory for me... I got up (completely this time) and handed over the sheet to the invigilator and dashed out of the room to proclaim my victory. In the corridor though, there was not a Kaswahaza (that's an animal from my nightmares and I have a feeling it's Japanese too) to greet me. And then I remembered the last bit of Murphy's law, the elusive bit... it said-" Nothing in the world is right, so if everything seems right, there is something wrong" it echoed to me from the heavens and I almost turned brown( lets assume it's the color of fear and shock), peeped back into the class and asked a classmate why nobody else was moving out and his words shattered me; he spoke in crisp Spanish ( I understand Spanish well)- "Paper 2 ghante ka hai bhai!" There was lightening and then it rained. Only over me though. Heavens were crying; I had done the impossible only that it wasn't required!

But then I walked out feeling self actualized. I had seen another one of life's vagaries and was a stronger and more learned man though a bit more confused.

I met a few friends and told them my sad story; they sympathized by laughing only for 15 minutes over it and promising to tell my story to only a few more people.

So that's how XXXs are. There is more to them though and as a responsible member of this category, I shall write more on them later.

Regards,

The Blah Man

PS: I got to know of this person who managed to give a new angle to the famous BCG matrix by replacing the category-"Dogs" with "Donkeys". I don't know which category he would belong to, but I guess he feels like a brother to me!

The Attack of Common Cold & Some Medicine Mantras

2006-10-13T07:22:00.006+05:30

Never thought I'd write this .. medicine? From an engineer?? Well this one is not so much about my mantra on medicine but it has more to do with the failure of some trusted and validated mantras in my case.
There is one disease which has always scared the s**t out of me it's not cancer, its not any tumor its not even AIDS.. it's called Common Cold(CC). As far as I can remember through the convoluted lanes of my memory, I have always dreaded it and today it's no different. It's 6:30 in the morning and I am still awake. Stayed up all night not for work or party but for this wretched cold! This time around though, I was determined to get rid of it . So I tried.

The first mantra: Hot Tea. They say it works miraculously . Let me tell you here that I have had tea just once before in my life and I had puked then.However, with grit, determination and the fear of CC , I set out to have tea.With over flowing enthusiasm, I asked for not one but two cups of tea. I swear it tastes horrible and I thought of spitting out the first sip but I could see the viruses of CC waiting to dig their fangs in my skin. So I mustered all my courage and gulped it all down.
I waited but nothing happened, the cold was only getting worse, the nose started running and so did I .. CC was going to attack full force.

The second mantra: Vicks! I remember how mom used to apply vicks on my nose and chest and often provided me relief. My nose was now choking up so I made the SOS call for Vicks to a close friend who had been subjected to extreme persecution from me (which accompanies every time CC approaches, perhaps for self defence, but trust me the CC virus is deadly and fears no mortal, so my behavior didnt quite bother it) and I must thank my poor friend here for bearing it. So I applied the Vicks, almost everywhere that I could ( and trust me I am regretting that now), the CC did balk a bit but came back with a war cry to hit me harder; my nose completely blocked and head heavy. Another mantra down the drain.

The third mantra: Peppermint oil. It's said to be an instant reliever - the saviour of tortured souls, the one with the reputation of slaying the CC viruses like a lawn mower wipes off the grass.So my friend said- "Try this , it never fails- my mom recommends it" So from my mom's recommendation I moved to her mom's recommendation, I had already made plans that if it worked, I would boast about it to my mom and get a chance to put forth a recommendation which was better than hers. Peppermint oil is supposed to be put on one's pillow so that one can keep inhaling the aroma and poison the CC viruses. I applied it to the pillow, to my nose, to my shirt, trousers but refrained from going any further as I had learnt it the hard way in the Vicks experience, and waited for the result. Nothing.. absolutely zilch! I started believing that moms no longer had foolproof mantras.

The fourth mantra: Inhalus Ultimatus. Thats what I call it, my dad's mantra, I had forgotten about it but my friend reminded me of it. It involves heating water and adding Vicks to it and then covering the head with a towel and inhaling the vapors. So I played against CC for one last time.Kept myself under the towel for eternity, lost all the blackheads on my face but the gallant CC refused to budge.In a nutshell - FLOP.

The Final mantra: This one is original, the last resort, I discovered it today.When nothing works, flee the battlefield. So I gave up , bowed to the mighty CC and decided not to try to sleep.Instead I stayed up the night to write down my experience. Surprisingly, CC has slowed down its attack. I guess, if you respect the more powerful, you are likely to get some mercy. I got it,at least enough to let me breathe!
So my mantra for those who dread CC just as badly as I do-Surrender.

Regards,
The Blah Man

P.S: Another friend recommended his mantra: stand upside down on your head, the mucus in your nose runs out of the ears to beat CC.I dont know if I can give this one a try, but it's a mantra nevertheless.

Blah #1

2006-10-12T01:47:00.002+05:30

This is to introduce yet another one of those millions of blogs in the cyberspace. If I were to sound sensible I would have probably introduced my Blog as following:

"I want my life to be a collection of memories which I can cherish for as long as I live. And I have a knack for making happy memories, so no matter how bad the situation is, there is always something to laugh at when we look back at it. On my blog here, this is what I intend to do by bringing out the lighter side of my life. "

However, sounding sensible is definitely not the idea here . So I wouldn't make any tall claims and I promise to all who end up stumbling upon my blog by mere coincidence and sheer bad luck , that this space would never talk anything meaningful or sensible. However if it does sound meaningful please be sure that I had no intention of writing such a post. It just happened and I'd take no responsibility for it.

All my regards,
The Blah Man