Baby, dont hit one more time

Lately I got a disheartening letter from Limca Book of Records. Sometime back I applied for a record of maximum number of accidents in a lifetime. To achieve this milestone, “I tried so hard and got so far but in the end it doesn’t even matter”. The letter states how badly I am doing. In last 4 months, only 3 accidents. That too not a single major accident. A major accident includes 1 fracture atleast.

But there is good news also, they may give me the award for generosity because at all the 3 incidents I got crashed trying to save people/ animals with their eyes at the back of their head. I am not talking about atypical aliens of Hollywood movies, with tentacles coming from all unexpected parts of body and green color skin. These are human beings with this peculiar deformity in which they can only see themselves and believes all the public resources are their “baap ki jaidad”

My Last accident was class apart. This small baby with god given deformity started crossing the road in an attempt to woo a small girl (“Boys” style, my frns dubbed it for me). Now it was my prime responsibility to let that guy get his love and save him from this “Pyaar ke dushman duniawale”. I skidded to save him. That’s when I hate all these bike commercials, they never show the face of the stunt performer so you can not make out how many performers were hospitalized in the ad shoot. The sight of that baby hugging the baby (female wala baby) took all my pain away. I never knew life is so filmy at times in Yashraj style.

Somehow with the help of the remains of my bike, I reached back home. My heroic attempt to save the child made my bones Jagran and Kirtan whole night. My 1500 bucks trouser became a 15 rupees cleaning cloth third time in a row. My wrist watch made me to go to this showroom lady who believes that I break my watch myself in order to meet her. I am sure, the way things are going, I would be paying EMI’s for a bike which I won’t have.


Kissa Kursi Ka

Atlast, Me and Abhi managed to go for swimming. We were having a gala time till we heard some tortured souls of a “computer wala company”. They were using H1, L1 and B1 as codewords of a top secret mission to US. We couldn control to ask them “Can you help us in booking the movie tickets in E-Square” We hit again “ The way you were saying H1, L1 and B1, we thought you book tickets in cinema halls at nominal charges”

Deleted ( Guess what!!!!!)

To John With Love

I dont know the author, I got it from John in 2005. Only forward which I kept. It is more relevant today than it was. This forward is dedicated to all my frns getting married soon.
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John Jacob
02/10/2005 07:22 PM

To:
cc: (bcc: Shakun Agrawal/INFOCOMM/RIL)
Subject: Here I'm
Importance: Normal Sender’s OU: Reliance


The brown official-looking envelope I received by registered post that day had my degree certificate in it.’ Bachelor of...’ it announced in somewhat gaudy letters as I stood smiling. Bachelor!

Till then I was a boy, a brother, a student and whatnot -- but not a bachelor. All of a sudden, that important piece of paper had given me a new identity.

I know you are dying to tell me things like 'this bachelor is not that bachelor', but believe me, the very next day my phone rang. It was my real-estate agent, an uneasy reminder to the approaching expiration of the initial company accommodation. "Sir, you are a bachelor, are you
not?"

"Sure, I am," I said, almost adding, "and now I have proof of that, if you need."

"Sorry sir. The owner is not willing to give the house to bachelors. But don't worry, sir, I have many other houses. You see..."

So that's how it is. No country for the people of Palestine. No food for starving Somalis. No trees for migrating birds. And yes, no houses for poor bachelors.

They are not welcome in residential areas. Bachelors party and make noise round the clock. They go after the neighborhood girls. They don’t respect the norms of the colony. They come in groups...

Anyway, I learnt my lesson: Bachelors don't have all the civil rights that 'normal' citizens enjoy. But then, what do we have that makes many a married guy cherish the memories of his long-lost bachelorhood?

Palestinians have to cling to their land. Migrating birds are bound by directions. But a bachelor has few restrictions. Except for renting an apartment and walking into one those stupid 'couples only' clubs, he can have everything else.

He gets up at any time and sneaks into the office unnoticed when others get ready for lunch. He sits to almost any time in front of the computer without worrying about anxious where-are-you calls. He stays away from the house for days and no questions are asked. He does whatever he wants on the weekend, in the company of his friends...

Yes. Friends are the most important aspect of any bachelor's life. Without them he practically has no existence, especially if he's staying away from home.

But then one day, over the thundering music and the first round of cold beer in a dimly lit pub, he announces his plans to get married to this cute girl that someone else had found for him. Over the double cheers, the naughty comments and laughter, I become aware of something that hurts me somewhere. My friend's getting married. Of course it's something to celebrate. But then, that also means he's leaving the gang!

We attend his wedding, the most colorful function of his life, in full spirits. All of us. We give him gifts, wish him good luck and retreat to our good old world, one member less. It does not take much time before we find him reduced to much-delayed replies to our bunch of mails -- and as for phone calls that comes only once in a blue moon.

For my part, I watch the pile of wedding invitations in the corner of my desk grow at an amazing, alarming pace. Before I know it, most of my cool buddies are gone. And the rest of us soon realize that we are not always welcome to the new circle the married men have formed. So we seek solace behind those office doors where the
sun never sets.

I do meet my married friends occasionally. In the office, on a casual walk, or in a busy restaurant. They are my friends still. And they are still friendly as much as their new lifestyle and added responsibilities permit.

But...
Oh heck, there's my telephone. I think it is my real-estate agent again.

Swayambar

Setting: Kamath’s at JM road, Sunday Noon

Genre : U decide

Actors : Me, my friends and extras

Action: Coming back from Kalyani Nagar, I and my friend decided to have brunch at Kamaths. Life’s one of the problems is to choose what to eat from a Menu. So we started playing musical chairs and passed the menu till one decided we will go for some usual tried and tested stuff. On the table next to us there was a drama going on. One end there was a guy and his parents and on the other hand lady and her parents. I never knew that the next 30 minutes are going to entertain more than usual comedy movies. The lady to the gentleman “What is your long term goal?” And we started laughing. If I would have been there “my long term goal is to become gangster. Our son will run the show in Latin America. I will keep Paris Hilton as a maid for him and George Bush as a cleaner, Oprah Winfrey as teacher LOL” I mean what is the significance of long term goal. In my 10th standard, I wanted to become doctor, 12th , head of operations; engineering, scientist in AI; job, fin guru and MBA, entrepreneur and so on. With so many changes already I might end up becoming someone I never thought of. Obviously, everybody likes to do something good in long term but at times we don’t have control over circumstances. This question baffles me.

Coming back to the point, the guy was answering everything with such composure as Sachin is to sledging. I am not favoring that guy but that particular girl looked finicky types. Given a chance she would have asked him to show how he would escape “belans (That cylindrical thing which hits really hard)”. After so many rounds of police enquiry, the guy and gal were left alone. And when they joined again, the guy’s face looked as if his parents have caught him at Bandstand. The show continued and we left after some time.

I had one more such experience. One of my friends took me to accompany him to face the “battle of Bangalore”. Ya that’s how I recall it. Only motivation for me was to go and grab a free lunch in a good hotel. But I regret it till now. The gals parents asked everything to my friend other than asking him to pull his shorts down. I mean it was embarrassing. To be sure that you wanna right guy for your Sita types gal (who never dated vibhishana), you can’t put a guy in front of Ravana and expect him to behave like Ram. (Ravana is metaphor for nonsensical questions and so on).


(Swayambar: the reason for title is so many dishes to eat in Menu and we can choose one among them, kinda Swayambar na.) Please don’t try to find any second meaning into it!!

Trash

"One of the symptoms of nervous breakdown is the belief that one's work is terribly important" Karthik’s status on Gtalk.

“College ke is taraf hum duniya ko nachate hain, aur us taraf duniya hame” From RDB

I would have done better as an artist, sociologist or art director. I don’t want to finish as just another XXX in some IT company. Don’t know the path yet.

So many things going in my mind. Good thing none is related to work, bad thing I don’t have time to pursue.

It takes 2 days to come back to your normal self and 1 hour in office to feel something is wrong with you.

Westerners understand the importance of work life balance. Indians have too much of “achievement motivation”. Misplaced!!

I took MBTI again and my personality type (INTP) came same again after 2 years.

Whatever job you do (However fundoo), once you know it, it is all the same. Research could be an exception but if it is not applied research, what’s the motivation? If you can’t change life of people, does it make any sense, it is abstract. I am nothing against it, just wanna say, it is important to enjoy whatever you do, nothing is extraordinary in this world.

I meet this guy every weekend. I hate him to the core. He shows too much of unnecessary atti. He reminds me of Bobby (not deol, but chakka, bollywood fame)

The only reason I removed counter from this blog because I don’t want to face I am the only reader.

Today seems to be a chill day in office. Hope so!!